The Dog House

I’m in the dog house with The Producer. Friday night after “the vault” opened, again I said too much and he correctly deduced that I’d double booked myself earlier that week.

Slutty – Sorta (see Stockpiling)
Wrong – No

Up to this point, we’d never had any conversations about what’s up with us. There were no rules or expectations. We’ve both been open about seeing other people. Both he (evidence) and I (evidence) enjoyed the perks.

Regardless, last week things with the Producer stepped up. We hung out three times, he invited me to a wedding and I invited him to an out-of-town party. We were hitting a groove. Then in classic Downtown-Chic style, I committed self-sabotage and opened the vault.

Monday, I returned from Boston jazzed to see him. Instead, I got a phone call and was told, “there’s something we need to discuss.” He laid out that in Friday night's endless babbling, I had contridicted myself and he deduced that I'd double booked. This made him uncomfortable and he wanted us to slow things down. According to him this wasn't grounds for dismissal, but he felt we needed to rethink things. Then he benched me until Friday. Damn it!

Anyway, I’ve been in the dog house all week and don’t like it one bit. The good news is that The Producer has called and emailed me since the conversation. I’m hoping tomorrow when we meet for cocktails, things will be okay. Since this is followed by his cousin’s birthday dinner, I have to think that's a good sign. (Family Intro = Positive Sign, Yes?)

Always the optimist, I can’t help but feel this was a necessary step for us to discuss what’s up with us. Since Monday night we definitely bridged this previously unspeakable topic. I’m cleaning up my act. I wonder if this single gal can turn a good thing into a real thing.