The story of the most recent date, told in most circuitous fashion with multiple dessert references.

I really like chocolate chip mint ice cream. I’ve tried a lot of different flavors in my life, and you know what? It just does it for me. Coffee, vanilla, strawberry – even chocolate brownie chunk, the namesake of my thighs – they’re all good, but I prefer chocolate chip mint to most any variety. When I first tasted it, I knew it was something different, something special. Even in my naïve youth, it was a no-brainer to choose it more and more frequently when treated to dessert. I didn’t worry that it would ever lose its appeal or if it would taste good when mixed with the toppings with which I was already familiar. After all, who thinks of the future when licking an ice cream cone? When someone asked me which of the 32 flavors I preferred, I proudly pointed to the tub of shiny green goodness, so bright that it seemed to reflect proudly off of the protective glass casing. I didn’t think about why I enjoyed it. It just was what it was.

When I begin a new relationship with a hint of that favorite flavor, I embrace it. I hug it and kiss it and squeeze its sweet cheeks. It is so difficult to find people who can communicate, can capture your attention, can make you laugh out loud; why not celebrate finding someone with whom you enjoy spending nights and days and, on occasion, full, unshowered, order-in weekends? If I like you, I like you. If I want you to meet my closest, I will excitedly introduce you to each and every one of this motley bunch, even the really unattractive one. I spread the good word. I call and text when I so desire. I scoff at the warnings of both friends and family who caution me to play by the Rules. And if you return, you return. I do what I feel is true to me.

What I don’t do is panic.

So no. I've never been able to grasp enjoying company on a baker’s dozen dates and asking me to meet friends and family and hinting at future plans and then suddenly worrying about tomorrow. According to my Rulebook of Things That Are Factually So, falling in like and in love is what a departure from reality is all about. It’s abandoning the drudgery of the everyday and feeling like your body is filled with carbonation, even on a marathon phone call that extends well beyond your 10 p.m. bedtime. It isn’t starting a drive through the countryside with the windows down, accompanied by the clearest of 70-degree days and your top if-stranded-on-a-deserted-island CD, only to slam on the brakes and camp roadside out of fear that it might rain. The beginning of anything is not about panic and a fear of timing and the future. It’s about letting yourself go.

So no, the last date with the new man didn’t go either of the routes that Kim imagined. The last date didn’t really go the route I imagined, either.