Sitting on my hands

I went on a date. 

That happens periodically.

But very rarely do I enjoy the date soooooo much that I deeply hope for a second date. 

Actually, often I think, 

"Well, that was nice. He didn't do anything wrooooong, so I guess I would go out with him again."

Sometimes I get that opportunity, and when I don't get excited about it...

I just think there must be a twitter-pated switch that got turned off inside me.

Then I think like a girl, so I hemmmm and hawwwww over everything, and I decided there must be something wrong because he was a good guy...

THERE IS NOTING WRONG WITH ME!

My Switch Works!

I got excited about my date! For the first time in a while my little excited sensors started flashing!

And it was a good date (at least I thought it was).

And now I am sitting on my hands. 

My sensors are going, my face is glowing, and I smile when I think of something connected to the kid...

but I sit on my hands.

Because I don't want to mess this up. I don't want to be clingy. I don't want to come off crazy....

but by golly, TEXT ME ALREADY! ASK ME OUT AGAIN! anything!

My sensors are making all kinds of emotional noise inside of me....and the excitement is trying to manifest itself through the use of my independent and confident texting skills. Every time the sensor rings, my brave little ringers reach out for my phone, so I can contact him....

But I hold back. I sit on my hands. 

It is in his court. Melinda is going to be wooed. She will let him take charge. Even if it means having to sit on her hands. (Yes, I'm talking in 3rd person. I have the tendency to do that when I'm excited.)

She literally sits on her hands. She does. But she wishes she didn't have to. 

But to save herself from being too pushy or looking like a love struck fool, she sits on her hands....

....She is still sitting....

Still sitting....