The Over-analyzer

On Tuesday afternoon I heard back from The Brit. I smiled before I even read the text. He said that he had a really good time on our date but that he would be going out of the town for the next two weeks. He told me he would like to see me again though when he gets back. Sweet, sweet validation. Finally a guy I like who likes me back.

That text session was pretty brief though. After all, I am trying to play it cool, right? I wished him happy packing and told him to have a wonderful trip. On Wednesday, it was supposed to snow in Maryland and I had the day off due to the "big storm" that was supposed to be coming. The weathermen were calling for anywhere from 4 to 10 inches of snow and the timing was so tricky that the schools called it early before we were seeing anything but rain. If they had sent us to school and it started, it would have been too difficult to get everyone home. So, it true Maryland fashion, we had a snow day for mostly just rain. To my malcontent, the snow never made it here.

I texted The Brit to inquire about snow where he was. He texted back a short (and via text) seemingly or maybe just possible curt text about how he was at work and there was a bit of snow. That's the thing with texting. It's so ambiguous — and to an over-analyzer like me, ambiguity is deadly. I immediately starting wondering if I had just completely self-sabotaged the whole thing. I shouldn't have texted. He said he was busy and leaving. Why did I try to be cute and funny? What the hell, self?

So, naturally, I turned to my friends. (Yes, friends with an s. One opinion was simply not enough...) My ENFJ personality likes feedback and to talk things through with others. My poor friends. It's a wonder they still even talk to me. I ask them about every little detail and they usually in true good-friend-from answer patiently and talk me down from my ledge. While I was nowhere near as hopped up as I have been known to be, damn, I wish I could learn to relax and stop expecting the worst.

An hour later, and after I had spoken with my friends and taken any remaining aggravation out on the intervals I ran on the treadmill, The Brit texted me again. This time he was chatty and talkative. We talked for nearly 3 hours on and off via text. It made me realize that maybe he really was just working and that maybe I really and truly do just need to get a grip. Perhaps I need to start acting the part if I want to be a girl in a normal relationship? Maybe I need to cast aside all my past-relationship insecurities and stop projecting all the ex-file drama onto every new person who comes into my life. They are not my past and they will not (cannot) be my future if I don't stop making them into people they are not.