Flying Blind

Oh, dear.

Today's the designated day. I have a phone number, and I'm going to make a call.

The only word that comes to mind is an ear-splitting EEEEEEEKK!!

This Dating Game stuff is foreign to me. All through high school, I stuck mostly with my girlfriends, my only real date being Junior Prom, and even then, I went with a friend, not a potential boyfriend. In college, I thought things would explode for me, but here's the thing--you have to have confidence to get noticed. I was cute, I was smart, and I often blended into the wallpaper because I just didn't make myself stick out in anyway. I dated here and there, I had a couple of quasi-relationships and some definite heartache, but I left college without having a Major Relationship.

And something else happened. I let the silliest boy ever make me feel unlovable. When Mr. Funny sent me a "let's-just-stay-friends" email and three days later ended up in my best friend's bed, I guess I just decided that I wasn't lovable, or desirable. Things went to hell.

I had a brief reprive in London Semester. I met some cute British guys who were only too happy to flirt and kiss and dance, but it could never really go anywhere, with me flying back to the U.S. in a few short months. When I got back to Chico, I just fell back into the I'm-not-worthy habits. I fell straight into eating to comfort myself, and the weight piled on.

I spent the whole of my twenties fighting those demons, but also doing some awesome things. I got to go to Italy, England, France, Ireland and Canada in those years. I met some wonderful people. I took jobs and honed my teaching skills.

In Antioch, things hit rock-bottom. I did a brief stint on a personals site and got a date out of it, but I also got to my heaviest weight, went on blood pressure medications and anti-depressants. At 27, I had a bout of sciatica and spent a few days using my dad's cane to get around.

We all know what happened--I left Antioch, and got a job in Stockton. I turned a lot of things around, and I've become a new Megan. Sixty pounds lighter, several clothing sizes smaller, with a 10-minute mile and some mad weight lifting skills. I stand a little taller, walk a little prouder. I'm getting more glances, more interest. It's a good feeling.

Last weekend, I went shopping with Summer. As we drove around, we got talking about my unemployed status and my efforts to get out and date. If you look at my life as it stands, maybe spending so much time thinking about meeting people and dating might seem like a waste of time--after all, my life is kind of up in the air right now. But as I said to Summer, with tears streaming down my face, "Sometimes I feel like such a loser. I'm unemployed. I'm not getting job offers. And I don't even date." (Which technically, isn't even true--I briefly dated a guy back in December, which has to count for something.)

It was a hormone-induced moment of feeling sorry for myself, but I can also be honest and admit that it's true--I am looking to get out and date because I need something to make myself feel a little better, in addition to feeling so awesome about my weight loss and newfound athleticism.

So the other day, the most amazing thing happens--a cute guy sees me, red-faced, dripping sweat, barely coherent after a grueling run, and comes back to give me his phone number. I've done the giddy girl-talks with Summer and Heather, I've done the obligatory blog post and Facebook status update. I even told G. the Meanie, because he loves seeing the evidence that everything he's helped me achieve is having such a wonderful impact in the rest of my life.

Summer and G. the Meanie agreed that waiting 'til today (Saturday) was best. He gave me his number on Thursday, so don't call Friday. Mom and Dad laughed, and Dad said, "This is above my pay grade!"

So here we are. It's Saturday, and I'm about to do something I've never actually done before--take a phone number given to me by a guy who was definitely giving me an "I like what I see" look, and make that call. I'm terrified. I don't know how to act, what to say. Be myself, sure, but how much of myself do I want to put out there so early in the game?

**UPDATE**

I called him. We really only talked about working out, and how he's trying to get into personal training, which makes me question if he's interested in Meg the Person or Meg the Guinea Pig. I'm just going to roll with it, and we might meet tomorrow to work out. Eek.