Someone New.

My friends have been asking me about the fact that I'm seeing Someone New. "Someone New, huh?" a friend asks. "What's he like?"

"Oh," I say. "He's all sorts of wrong for me," I tell my friend.

"Why?"

"Well, you know... He's into intimacy and stuff."

"Oh no!" she exclaims. "How horrid." I note the sarcasm. "So what've you done to fuck it up this time?" she asks me.

"The usual," I say. I don't need to explain anything more. My friends -- the close ones -- know that "the usual" entails a virtual regurgitation of everything horrible I've ever done in my life. An effort to scare away potential suitors. "The usual" also entails picking fights about really stupid things in an effort to make my potential suitors run screaming in the opposite direction. "The usual" is a cornucopia of delight designed to sabotage relationships before they even begin.

My friend nods somberly. "So it's not going so well, is it?" Without even waiting for a response, she says, "So how long d'you think this one'll last? Think he'll get boyfriend status?" she asks dubiously. All my friends are also aware that suitors to not achieve boyfriend status until the ninety day point. It's an arbitrary number, really, with no meaning. As arbitrary and capricious, in fact, as my old rule of refusing to have sex with anyone who has had greater than thirty partners.

"Actually," I say. "It's going okay."

And I smile to myself while my friend is left to wonder what I mean by "okay." Because in Saucy Vixen Land, things are never "okay." This early on in a relationship I either want to kill my suitor, or I'm on my way to an illusory Happily Ever After.

With Someone New, it's neither. With this boy, I'm eagerly waiting to see what happens next. I did "the usual" with him. I told him all the horrible things I've done and what an awful person I am. He told me I'm wonderful. So then I attempted to pick silly fights. He refused to engage. Now, the ex-boyfriend, the psychologist, he refused to engage as well. But he trivialized me at the same time and marginalized my feelings. But Someone New doesn't do that. He only refuses to fight with me, and then explains why. And he does it without even being pedantic of condescending. It's mildly infuriating; infuriating only because it disallows me from getting inebriated on trivial anger (or rather, anger precipitated by trivial things).

When I first met him, I worried that I only liked him because he was so good to me. Afraid that I was falling into the trap I've fallen into before. Afraid that my self-esteem was still so lacking that I fawned over anyone who treated me with anything other than abject disgust.

I've fallen into other traps in the past. I've stayed with people not because I liked them, but because I liked who I was when I was with them. I've stayed with people because they stuck around even when I tried to push them away. I've stayed with people for all the wrong reasons.

Yet it seems that none of these things is true with Someone New. I don't like him because of the way he makes me feel (though he does make me feel wonderful). I don't like him because he's an idiot willing to stick around. It's him. He's smart and an intellectual elitist who nonetheless treats everyone with respect. He doesn't judge people based on sexual history or addictions or class. His humor is nerdy and stupid and complements my own. He is also flawed and crazy, but like his humor, his flaws and insanity seem to go well with my own.

He stayed over at my house on Saturday after I moved in. I woke up (I always wake up first), he got up shortly thereafter and left to get vittles. He came back and cooked lunch. (Did I mention he cooks? Superficial and all, but I totally love it. A man who cooks is sexy. A man who cooks for me is even sexier.) And then we went out to spend too much money on sundry items I needed for the house. Since he promises to keep on cookin', I told him I'd buy a nice twelve inch frying pan. His choice.

About a half hour and nearly four hundred dollars later, we left with frying pan he picked out. He seemed rather excited about it, though it was hard to tell. (When someone is as dry and snarky as Someone New, it's often hard to tell when he's genuinely excited about something.) On the way home, I explained to him that not much has changed since I was fourteen. Back then all relationships led to one of two conclusions: Sex or Breakup. Now that we're arguably adult and all, relationships still lead to one of two conclusions: Lifetime of Happiness or Breakup. I explained this to him, and told him that if the latter occurs, I get to keep the frying pan.

His response?

"I always aim for Lifetime of Happiness."

Which is alien to me, as I always assume (and in the process, end up aiming for) Breakup.

Which makes me wonder... Perhaps it's time I change my approach.