He Likes Me, He Likes Me Not

He likes me.

It's a weird feeling, being liked--romantically-speaking, that is.  I'm so used to flakes and douche bags who care more about their schedules and themselves than me that it almost shocks me when a man wants to spend his entire afternoon with me.  When he wants to see me one evening and get breakfast the next day.  When he asks when my birthday is, and then pauses and looks away for a second, as though trying to commit it to memory.

I saw him again Friday night.  We played putt-putt in City Park (I won by a lot) and then walked over to a  bar and played pool (he won by a little).  In the meantime, we talked about life and work and religion and family.  And when we got back to my house, he hugged me and told me that he liked me.  I realize that that sounds really corny, but as Kate Winslet says in The Holiday, "I'm looking for corny in my life."

It's the first time in almost eight years that I've heard "I like you" without a "but" following it.  Part of that is my fault; I like to go for guys who are "carefree" and unattached, both of which are euphemisms for "won't give a damn about me" and "will tell me I'm pretty and then not call for a week."  And that shit will mess a girl up.  I find my past bad experiences already affecting my not-quite-relationship.  I find myself focusing on all of the things that distinguish us, stacking them fact by fact, as though building an emotional brick wall.  He's a vegetarian.  He's not a Christian.  He smokes on occasion.  He works nights.  He's a child of divorce.  And I wonder, each time I hear something new and different from me, if I shouldn't just cut it off now.  Before we fight over his smoking habits.  Before we argue over whether or not God is God.  Before I start to resent the fact that he won't eat anything I know how to cook.

I know it's kind of crazy.  Not only is it impossible for me to end up with someone exactly like me, but it's impossible that that would be a pleasant experience anyway (there do not need to be two of me).  And it's crazy to worry about all of our differences now, only two weeks in.  Maybe we won't argue over religion.  Maybe I'll learn how to cook vegetarian dishes and save my chicken fajita soup and barbecue pork for meals when he's not around.  And the truth is, we're already learning about each other and adjusting.  He promised not to smoke around me.  I'm already keeping his off-nights as free as I can.

On top of that, we have a lot in common.  We're both kind of wusses (we don't like scary movies or roller coasters).  We're both athletic.  We're both from New Orleans.  We've both had our awkward phases and managed to survive them.  We both like outdoorsy things and traveling.  We both like listening to live music and watching movies and reading.  We both like each other.

In the end, only time will tell how things play out.  Sure, there's a significant chance that things will end, and we'll both get hurt.  But that's the chance you take, right?

For the time being, I'm going to force myself to live in the moment.  I'm just going to enjoy the experience.  I mean, he likes me.  What's not to like about that?