I am writing this blog post at my girlfriend’s home. I consider that in itself a success. I’m an expert at almost nothing, but — if there’s something I not only do not qualify to give advice on, but believe that my advice may actually cause bodily harm — it’s dating.

Dating sucks. That’s why typical dating spots usually offer an abundance of alcohol. Without alcohol I would be so much of a worse/better dater.

The first enjoyable date I have ever attended was the first one with my current girlfriend. Yes, I had a beer, and yes, fajitas were involved, but there was so much more. Sour cream… Guacamole….

It was the first time I was out with a person when I was simultaneously not nervous at all — and yet completely terrified. I could completely be myself, yet still had to calculate my every move because I wanted another opportunity to be myself again. On the drive home, though I had just experienced something great, I knew, because of a lifetime of being in this situation before, that this would have been our only experience together.

She texted me five minutes after I left.

Today, I’m still in disbelief. For example, after spending a weekend with her, there’s still a part of me that believes she won’t want to see me again. Every new text from her is just like the first one.

I suppose 15 children and 65 years may improve my confidence.