The New Guy

New Guy is moving fast. He texts me many, many times a day. He called me the other night to talk for an hour about nothing because he had to go back in to work late. And yesterday, he invited me to have drinks with his friends.

It would be great. That's precisely the level of engagement I'd want--any girl would want--in a boyfriend. But he's not my boyfriend. We went on one date a week ago. We've yet to establish the commonality necessary to sustain an hour-long chitchat, and I'm not going integrate myself into his social circle until I'm sure he's a keeper. Which he may turn out to be--if he slows down.

Curly Sue may be to blame for this. When we were talking post-first-date, she mentioned that New Guy never falls in love or really cares much. I said I was looking for someone who would be engaged and care as much as--but not more than--I do.

If she told him to stalk me to appear "engaged," I'ma whomp her with a sock full of pennies.

I know that no good comes of comparing him to Hot Mess, but I can't help it. Things with H.M. were just so simple from the very beginning. Conversation was fluid. Text frequency was ideal.

But now that I think about it, that wasn't terribly equal either. At first, I thought he was far more into it than I was, and of course we've since discovered that he's into it far less. So maybe this is a good sign. Maybe this is a sign that, six months from now, I'll be tragically in love with him and he'll be leaving town without a backward glance.

Oh, goody.