I'm laying here in my plaid flannel nightgown, waiting for my coffee buzz to die. So I will tell you a tale. The tale of my date tonight.

Just so you have some emotional background on this issue, I must tell you a few things. Truthfully, I was not all that excited for this date. The last one left me feeling so blah, that I've been making fun of the guy to all my friends. This did not serve to make me excited for the impending date. But I promised myself I would give him another shot, so I steeled myself for tonight.

After class this morning, I laid around for most of the rest of the day reading concert reports. Then I decided I owed myself a nap. I laid down at around 3PM and didn't wake up until 6PM. I soon found out why I was so exhausted. I had started my period. Blech. What a way to make a blah situation even more blah.

I had decided this week that my outfit was going to be much more casual than the first two, so as to mix things up a bit, and give him the impression that I wasn't total ga ga serious about him. I'm sure he never noticed. So for the Fashionistas, I wore dark blue jeans with a little stretch so they looked kinda tight; my brand new black and white striped shirt from the Limited that has detachable collar and sleeves, the fugliest socks I own(pink and purple argyle with red cherries), and my Sketchers platform sneakers. I also decided to take it down a notch with the hair. I had my full page boy type bangs with the back a little fluffy and flippy. Make up was subtle nightwear, with green eyeshadow.

So anyway, (OMG did I tell you that he says that every 5 minutes?) I get to the place, the same dance club where we met, and I spot him in the lobby area. He immediately tries to pay for me, but lo and behold, it was LADIES night, so no cover! Sweet! My attitude toward this evening was to show him that I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I didn't want him to feel like he had to do everything, because that's just annoying. So I paid the coat check girl with my own money and left her a tip.

He expressed some sympathy over the loss of my job. At first, totally the right amount, but later, wouldn't shut up about it. I'll get to that later.

So the place is a little less crowded than last time, which is good because it gives us some room to do our stuff. We jump right in to dancing. It's good. A little less of the spinny stuff which is what I wanted. We were together, but not joined at the hip, very good balance. Minor complaint is lack of eye contact. Another minor complaint is his lack of interest in particular songs. I like to sing along to songs that I like and get noticeably hyped up when one I like comes on, he does not. It must be all about the moves to him. No biggie.

Here's the shit-kicker (TM Jennifer: We were really working up a sweat dancing, so at one point, the guy takes his shirt (which was NORMAL this time, a nice black and gray striped shirt with a collar) and wipes his face. This may sound, on the surface, to be kinda gross, but you must imagine what that action would reveal. Dudes, I saw his belly. And I took the Lord's name in vain in my head. Which I immediately chastised myself for. OK let me try to describe the belly...I'm not calling it a six-pack. It really wasn't a belly at all. Just flat, slightly hairy perfection. As if I needed another confusing element to add to the "do I really want to date this guy" dilemma. Wow. Just wow.

Another resolution I had made about the evening was that I was going to just be myself, because there was nothing at risk here. So when "Dancing with Myself" came on, I literally broke from his grasp and proceeded to jump and dance in a circle, tossing my head and hair every which way, arms flailing, terrible voice screeching along with Billy Idol. Every couple of minutes, I would look at the guy, to see what he thought. No change. Didn't seem perturbed, or shocked or anything but what he had been before, the moves man. This was slightly comforting to me. He didn't try to grab my hands again and stop my mad, exhausting punk ass. He just danced around me.

After a little while longer, I made two decisions. 1)The fun must stop. 2)If I danced anymore I was going to pass out from lack of food. Let me explain. I knew the dancing was going to be good. That was actually the problem. If the fucker would keep his mouth shut, there would be no question about dating him. But I needed to see if he still irritated the hell out of me in a conversation. So I asked him if we could go get something to eat. He complied and we headed over to National Coney Island.

I am happy to report that he did not order the same thing that I did. What I am slightly confused to report is that on the way out of the club and into the restaurant, he insisted upon holding my hand. I was trying to give him the uncomfortable hand vibes, but there must have been a transmission error.

So we sat at National and BSed. I tried to control the conversation and actually made the sacrifice of getting coffee so that I would be talking non-stop.

He ordered a Veggie burger, I ordered pancakes. He must think I'm such a dainty fucker, because of course my stomach decided to be not hungry as soon as I started my meal. I must have eaten a quarter of those flapjacks.

Little did I know that my meal choice would reveal something a little unsettling (to me) about him. I haven't thought about Lent since I dated Matthew. This guy thought I was observing it by ordering pancakes. I just calmly told him that I was not Catholic. Why do I attract Catholics? I'm not being bastard here, but I always seem to attract people who's religious beliefs are not my own. Not a problem with friends, but with a potential BF, not good. We saw how great my relationship turned out with Matt...

All in all, date was better than the last. There was still the awkward kiss attempt at the end of the night, which I mildly squelched, because it was too embarrassing to behold.

So my question, dear readers, is what do I do? If I was the fornicating type (and I suspect that even if I was, he isn't), I would keep him around for certain activities. But I'm not, so I'm in an interesting, if common situation. Cute guy, nice dancer, TERRIBLE conversationalist with irritating personal traits. Do I keep going out dancing with him, all the while trying to avoid making him feel led on? Do I end it because he might be incapable of only having me as a dancing partner? I need HELP!