They always come in threes

Things are going well with Captain SmartyPants, as a friend of mine approvingly calls him. Email led to a phone conversation which led to a date request which has led to texting until the date arrives. Captain SmartyPants is, from what I can tell, one of the best guys I have met in awhile. He's extremely smart, extremely cute, and extremely respectful and caring. A very hard combination to come by. I breathe a sigh of relief and my lips curl up in a perpetual smile when I think of him, especially after 2011's initial letdown with the dental student with a tooth fetish who wouldn't meet me until I sent him pictures of the inside of my mouth (I didn't), the Latin Lover who wanted to chat via webcam to compliment me on parts of my body and who said he wanted to sleep with me (not a way to get me to like you), the dreadlocked landlord who called me a prude for not being comfortable with his texts about my kissable lips, and the guy on IM who didn't tell me he is in the country for two weeks and MARRIED until half an hour into the conversation.

While I have strong feelings for Captain SmartyPants, I'm following the dating rules by not putting all my eggs in one basket, especially before meeting the basket in person. Therefore I spend tomorrow with "is he a friend or something more D", and I'm corresponding with someone else who contacted me on Match who I haven't thought of an appropriate nickname for yet.

The only problem with dating three men at once is that while it goes along with 21st century conventions, it goes against my sick body's need for long periods of doing nothing and seeing no one. And if I push myself too hard, my body will crash and all three prospects will come crashing down as well. Right now I could really use those relaxation techniques that my counselor wants to show me, and I could really use not having had three doctors' appointments and one therapist appointment in the past week. Tomorrow will mark my 5th day in a row in Seattle, an hour away from where I live, and while I am excited about marching with D in protest of police brutality, I'm hoping my legs will keep up with my desires. He, caring guy that he is, hopes the same.

This week, while busy, has been a breakthrough week in many ways. I spent another night at the sleep clinic and got fitted for my sleep apnea mask, and my sleep doctor was almost astounded to see how well my levels were with the apparatus. The next day (today) I saw my neurologist who filled out the work incapacity forms for state disability without blinking an eye, and his diagnosis of ataxia, along with the sleep apnea, is the first time he has used that word in front me, having claimed before that I did not have ataxia but somatization.

Sick me took a five hour long nap on the couch today, and I woke up in a panic at one point, dreaming I had received an email from Captain SmartyPants entitled "Regarding sickness and health," that I just knew was a rejection of my medical condition just like K had rejected it and me a year ago. But so far "sleep apnea" has not scared him off, and what he sees instead of a sick person is someone who is studying something fascinating, is a passionate English instructor, and has a "lovely voice." I always knew someone would be able to see the real me under all those medical appointments and slow days (and under my kissable lips and big butt and boobs), and I can't wait to be embraced by Captain SmartyPants' big physicist cape and meet the man behind the magnanimity.

Thinking of dating multiple people or already doing so? Here's a great article to help you along:

Dating Around Online