Leave a message.

For the record, Hennessy called me back 27 hours after I left him an initial message. And he referred to me as "cutie."

Yes, it shouldn't matter. And, yes, I worry too damn much. You're right. You're absolutely right.

But I've NEVER been able to wade through this well. I know no one does. But, I'm serious, I scare people. And, in trying not to scare people, I usually scare them anyway.

(My friend Lisa at work usually reacts to the news that I've had sex with a facial _expression that rivals someone in Tokyo's as Godzilla approaches. I'm bad news when I date because I panic. It's better that I don't date until I learn to date correctly, but how do I learn the correct way to date without dating?)

I don't know how this works. I also, sadly, don't know how to relax yet.

But I'm working on it. Really, really, really.

It's just hard.

I don't know if it's the abuse or the years and years of bad dates and broken hearts that followed it. It may have something to do with that.

It may have more to do with the fact that the little elements that have added together to make me who I am at this moment have left me with some tools to be happy - while leaving other tools out.

I'm working on it.