AGH.

Remember something about chemistry with a cop on Friday night?

One guess who just called me at the office to see if I wanted to hit up the shooting range when he gets back from holidays next week. We were, for the record, supposed to go shooting Friday but got waylaid by an assortment of (surprise!) criminal activity.

It wasn't exactly posed like dinner and a movie, however the consequences are obvious. But I want to go shooting. And have my cake. And eat it too.

My incredible skill in rationalizing goes like this: I have seen R. for about five days in over four months, with contact limited to brief letters. We haven't defined our relationship with any serious hallmarks, the vacation-sharing long-weekend-spending plus-one-having stuff. We don't have pictures up in each other's apartments. The development of our relationship has been delayed by being in different cities for over half the time we've known each other. We've basically dated for about six months of the last twenty, and spent twelve apart. `

I don't think I should be barred from flirting at this point. Or maybe ever. I flirt, therefore I am.

However, I haven't quite figured out how to deal with normal results of flirting, as it seems to lead to dating and/or making out in elevators. And while this was less of an issue when I was far far away, where everything had an expiry date, it is an issue now that R is about to be really proximate really immediately, that this is in the same area code (Bless Ludacris), and I'm kind of in love.

The simpler minded part of me just rolls her eyes: whatever, just don't sleep with two people at the same time, you'll figure it out, it's all good.