To Text or Not To Text

I am embarrassed to admit this after my last post but when Bachelor number 2 text messaged me last weekend, I replied flirtatiously. My excuse: I had been drinking and I was surprised he bothered to contact me again after the last text debacle. Anyhow, I text him back and we meet up on the long weekend for a late night date.

At the time, I didn't really see going to meet him for dessert at 10pm as a very dangerous proposition. He had dinner plans that didn't end till 9:30 so I agreed to be fit in afterwards. Of course, after sharing some sweets and some chatter for an hour at the restaurant, I ended up sucumming to the end of date question, "Do you want to come back to my house?".

Before you start thinking "Summer, you slut!", keep in mind the invite was only to watch a movie that we discovered we both really like: the John Cusack rom-com 'Serendipity'. I thought it was so cute that a guy would admit to liking that film that I fell into the trap of leading him back to my abode to watch it.

The situation had danger written all over it. I mean two single, twenty-somethings curled up on a couch watching John Cusack in all his cuteness fall in love with Kate Beckinsale in all her cuteness because of fate; destiny bringing them together.

At first we just sat next to each other, not really touching, and watched the movie. Then at some point he started to lace his fingers with mine and I began to feel the tingles; the snap and pop of electricity. By the end of the film, my head was on his chest and our fingers were magically entwined. Thus, the kissing commenced. Sweetly at first and then more passionate. At first I was surprised because I wasn't even sure he was interested in me and I said as much to him or that I was interested in him, which I kept to myself. I probably should have denounced it all as symptomatic of watching a mushy movie about true love but I felt a bit caught up in the moment. I actually got goosebumps.

So, when I finally unwound myself from him and he finally managed to pull away long enough to leave, I was feeling more than pleasantly surprised - a bit enamoured actually. We kissed goodbye as he left and I felt like, as gentlemanly as he had been, that there was quite a passion there between us. When I received a text message the next morning of a simple "Good Morning:)" I was smitten. I sent him a cute reply and waited for the inevitable call to arrange the next date...maybe even that night, I thought, because I certainly wouldn't mind feeling some more goosebumps.

But you see, as you've already guessed, he didn't call. Or text. And I haven't heard from him now in week. The next weekend has come and gone and there was no follow up date to test out the chemistry more. Not even a chat to check in and see how I was doing. So, I've begun the stupid girl self-talk: Maybe he didn't receive my last text, maybe I should text him again, maybe he forgot to mention he was going away, maybe some emergency came up or maybe I should call him and say hello because he doesn't realize that I'm interested (oh, bull, I know he knows that).

I partly blame the medium of text messages. The instant gratification that they provide is overshadowed by the uneasiness feeling they leave most times because a) you cannot hear/see the person and get the underlying gist of their intent b) you expect immediate response to them so when you don't hear that ping within 30 seconds, you feel abandoned c) sometimes they really do get lost in the cyberspace of radio signals so you aren't exactly sure your message has reached your intended destination.

So, I, Summer DeMilo, is left with another unsavoury quandary: to text or not to text. I already know that I don't want to because I feel stupid about the whole night. Obviously, the look in his eye and what I felt against my leg shouldn't have been confused with actual affection for me. Maybe I am just a bad kisser. And what if now a week and half or more later he does text or call me, do I pretend that I don't notice the vast difference in contact times? Do I say in a perturbed tone, "Am I the girl you see on the first and third weekend of the month only?".

Thank the dating gods that I am dating more than one bloke or I think I would actually break down and text him in a hedonistic chase of goosebumps and warm breath against my neck. However, dating more than one guy, just means more than one guy that you have to ask yourself about, "Do I text or not?"