From the Front Lines of Love

Once again, my engines are revved up and I'm back in the race - just in time for the big V-Day. I'm dating up a storm here in Denver which is both delightful and painful. Even the fish I throw back, I feel for. They are trying hard – sometimes too hard – in an effort to locate a suitable companion. Who can blame them? It's like one long game of musical chairs and I always seem to be at the bar getting a refill when the music stops. And so I remain standing.

First off, I can't say enough how GREAT it is to work with a level playing field here in Colorado. The C-Man Buffet offers a wide variety of worthy dudes to investigate. I'd recently corresponded with an editor at 5280, complimenting them on the recent Love Issue. She wrote back, offering good wishes on my journey:

"While the 'Menver' theory doesn't hold in terms of numbers, in terms of educated, fit available, non-25-year-old guys, it does. Hope you find it fertile ground here!"

Indeed. I've got two balls (technically, four, I guess) in the air at the moment so I must be giving off a whiff of something. One is a fellow I met just last Sunday at a superbowl party. Last night was our first date and already, he's planned how we will spend our lives together. At 6'5", he's a big dude and I like 'em big but I learned long ago that Big Men actually come in a variety of sizes.

Already, it's going a bit fast for me so I may have to put on the brakes and possibly, change my phone number. He married at 20, divorced last April and has already decided I will be the New Woman. He's thinking about buying a five-bedroom house in Estes Park – perhaps, he wondered aloud ON OUR FIRST DATE, I could live there with him? I'm confident he hasn't the faintest idea who he is dealing with nor is he terribly interested. If MonkMan taught me anything, it was to think twice before tossing aside my own life plans for some starry-eyed fool entranced by an idealized version of me.

Furthermore, he has a 14-year-old daughter which terrifies me to no end. That was me, you see, dealing with a father busily upgrading to a new wife model. Vexing and quite damaging to a young girl on the brink of womanhood, I can assure you. After Big Dude left my apartment, I suddenly burst into sobs, missing a love I left behind in San Francisco. (Every time I hear that fucking Tony Bennett song, I want to break a window.) The comfort of the familiar, the devil you know and so on.

Thankfully, there is another fellow on the horizon more my speed. Plus, his existence adheres to my new policy which is: "Proactive, not Reactive." In other words, instead of just liking whoever likes me, I must take a more involved approach and carefully scan for red flags instead of making bed spreads out of them. Pick them out, y'see, and for the love of all that is holy and righteous, pay attention! Most ladies do this naturally; I have to leave post-it notes.

I picked this fellow out in a bar some weeks ago. He looked around my age (very important) and had a handsome, open face. I began a conversation and it flowed quite easily, mostly on the all-important topic of music. He eventually earned big, big, big points for uttering the following sentences:

"Yeah, I heard about them on KCRW, there's a show called 'Morning Becomes Eclectic' have you heard of it?"

"I HATE Disney."

"I'm not really a morning person, I hate waking up."

"My family is confused about my life because I'm not married.'What exactly do you DO with your time?' they want to know."

"I play bass."

I then asked for his phone number on the spot, putting it immediately into my cell phone and eventually made the first call. This is unprecedented Heather behavior. Quite simply, I prefer to be pursued, not the other way around. This may explain why I also find male strippers very, very unsettling. "I am the sex object, not you! Now get down off that stage and rub my feet like a real man."

After our first date, he called me later to make sure I'd made it home safely and bid me good night. That's whatcha call class, people! He said he'd call the following week but didn't hear a peep until last night, when he called as I sat waiting for Bachelor #1 who was two hours late! Bachelor #2 had lost his phone (my number along with it), apologized all over the place and was quickly redeemed. He's got plans for us to check out some music or the new exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art.

In the words of my mother: We shall see.