Could it be the weather? Or is it something more sinister?

It's been a while since my last post. I was off the grid for a while. With a boy....

Before you get too excited, you have to engage with me in a process of hyperanalysis. Because that is what I do.

So, through Schmeeharmony I met a guy who was clearly out of my league. We called him Mr. Hunk. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't too enthused about Mr. Hunk. After we went on our date, it became obvious on a couple of different levels why this might be. But, gentle reader, I don't want to put the cart before the horse.

As you may or may not know, I have been engaged in a bizarre "Go-Away-Come-Close" game with Mr. Cheesecake, who I met on a scary free dating website. I decided to accept a date with Mr. Perfect after Mr. Cheesecake failed to phone me for a date a week ago Thursday. While Mr. Cheesecake and I spent countless hours talking on the phone, texting, emailing, etc., it seemed that this never translated into a date. Granted the fact that I lost it on him a few weeks before and sent him a tres snotty email could have had something to do with his reluctance, but still....

So I accepted the date, however, on my way into the city, my erstwhile Cheesecake phoned me and made casual conversation. He then asked me, after a 45 minute general conversation, what I was up to. I told him my general plans, and he asked who they were with. Awkward pause on my part - even though I knew that Cheesecake was all over chasing other girls, I still felt oddly traitorous about what I was about to do. So I asked to "plead the fifth" (we don't actually have the fifth here in Canada but everyone knows what it is). There was a stunned silence on his part. Followed by a strangled "I should let you go" from Cheesecake and then silence. That was weird, I thought. I sent him a text apologizing for the awkwardness, and he sent me one back saying that it was alright, he was used to being alone. I snorted when I read this, and texted back that he had failed to call me for the Thursday night date probably because he was too busy juggling all of the girls. There was no response to this.

So Mr. Hunk and I decided to go to a jazz concert and a fancy restaurant for our date. When he showed up, I thought "wow, you are...cute and short." At first, he seemed relatively attentive and polite. But then...well, the weirdness began.

It was, more so than most first dates, like a job interview. He questioned me closely on family health, relationships, my attitude toward my career....I fully expected him to ask me where I saw myself in 5 years. I was starting to get more than a little miffed by this attitude. I mean, is he sooooo great that he thinks I want to interview for the position of his girlfriend. And then, I swear to goddess that he caught sight of himself in a semi-reflective surface and couldn't look away. And, to be honest, the whole time, I was comparing him to my erstwhile Cheesecake, who remains unsurpassed in the areas of comfortableness and passion.

So we ended the date, and the clod did not even walk me to my vehicle. He shook my hand and told me to "keep in touch." A job interview right to the end.

Early the next morning I received a text from Cheesecake, asking me how my date was. I told him "M'eh". I asked how his time with his family was (he had gone up to his hometown for a visit). It turns out that he was sad about me going on my date, went to the bar, downed 40 rye and coke, and then promptly got his butt beat up by two local thugs. He said his face was "pretty bad." Then he asked me if I wanted to go to a movie.

So into my car I went, and I drove the hour to his city. We went to a movie, and then he invited me back to his place. His face looked awful!!! We ended up having an impromptu nap on his couch, and I woke up in his arms. I won't tax you with the details, gentle reader. Suffice it to say that none of the magic had faded in our time apart.

I made motions to leave, after a decent interval of time. He looked puzzled as to why I would say such a silly thing. So I made arrangements for my neighbour to scoop up Bob the Dog, and I settled in for the night. For the next three days, I would get up, mention that I should go, and he would talk me out of it. We went to movies, out for supper, drove through the countryside chasing thunderstorms. It was wonderful. I thought that maybe it was turning into something special by the third day.

The second night I was there, we went to a movie called "My Sister's Keeper." It was actually his pick, although I found out later he chose it merely because he thought I would like it. It is a sad movie, and in one particular scene, the terminally ill girl and her family go to a beach together. They play a song called "Feels Like Home", which I love. But I whispered to him that I liked this version better than either the Bonnie Raitt or the Chantal Kreviazuk version. When we got back to his place, I looked it up and it is done by Edwina Hayes.

The next morning, he got up first, and I was still in bed. I woke up slightly because he was fiddling with something. All of a sudden "Feels Like Home" by Edwina Hayes filled the room, and he climbed back into bed and held me. Gentle reader, I physically felt some of my careful defences crumble. I really did.

So, you know there has to be a catch to all of this wonderfulness. The enemy in this scenario was the impending Contiki Tour (known secretly to myself as "Slorefest 2009"). He was leaving five days after our movie date.

Our fragile little new beginning was subject to an busload of debauched Aussie girls. Although I smiled and was supportive about his little trip, inside I really really really hated everything about it. I even helped him repair his favorite shirt, the one he wore on our first date, so that he could wear it on Slorefest 2009. Ugh.

My only bright spot was that he introduced me to his parents on the third day, and we went for a three-hour lunch with them. I think I made a good impression, despite the fact that I was wearing Walmart underwear due to my unexpectedly long stay, and had scary hair. I thought introducing me to his parents was likely a good sign.....

The last morning, the morning of the fifth day, we stayed in bed for three hours, talking about past relationships (for the first time) and life and assorted other things before I had to leave. No promises were exchanged, although I did tell him that I was going to miss him. He promised to keep in touch via facebook, as his cellphone didn't work there, and in typical man fashion, he hadn't thought to arrange for another one. I drove away scared stiff that he would forget all about me once he got on the Sodom and Gommorah bus.

He phoned me on his way to his departure city, which was 2 hours away, and we talked for the two hours. Then he texted me a few times from the airport. And then he was gone.

I have heard from him once since he left 4 days ago, nothing mushy, just updating me that the trip was great and that he was in Switzerland. I am trying to stay calm and focused on other things.

I don't know if this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach is premonitory, loneliness or just my ulcer acting up. I just really hate this.