The Jig Is Up! Dating a New Man; Now What?

I am dating someone new which is wonderful and strange all at once. Over the past four years there have been several comers but no takers in that department.

I feel like I’ve just slid into the driver’s seat of a shiny new car and while taking it out for a test drive is fun and exhilarating I still have a few questions about what’s under the hood and how much mileage I’ll be able to pile on because, let’s face it, unlike a car, a new relationship doesn’t come with a warranty and there are certainly no guarantees.

Of course, before ever climbing aboard, certain inquiries had to be made:

Is he single?

Is he gainfully employed?

Is he a serial killer?

Normal things like that. But once I was satisfied that this was indeed the ride for me, that I had a PB (Potential Boyfriend) in my sights, many other questions have come to the fore.

For instance, how long before I can let him see me in my sweats? I’m not talking dumpy, stained sweats but attractive, loose clothing that don’t require pantyhose, spanks or any other form of sausage casing I might have wriggled in to the first few times he saw me. (I guess once he’s seen me naked the jig will be up anyway so I might as well let the jiggling begin, but still…)

How long before I let him see me without makeup or on a bad hair day?

Should I refrain from cooking for him right away, even though I love to cook? (I always felt that I did this too soon with my ex-husband and it was one of the reasons he took me for granted.)

If he snores should I shake him? Repeatedly?

Should I still try to play it cool even though we’re dating? Should I continue to tell him that he drives me wild (he does) or will I start to sound needy?

These are the kinds of thoughts racing through my head at an unbelievable pace, and even though I’m sure all will be revealed in its proper time I want the answers in record time; ever the patient one. If I was wise I would focus on the fact that he likes me, he really likes me, and just do what comes naturally even if it means refraining from the urge to wake before he does to put on some blush and mascara and do something with my hair because in the end, it’s what’s underneath my hood that really counts.