In like with Dr Mike

It seems the search for Mr GE has reached an interesting juncture.  From out of nowhere (okay, from out of the internet), a breathing, walking, talking and, dare I say it, thinking, good enough man has appeared.  And believe it or not, we have actually conversed, been on dates and played lots of board games.

I have gone from a peaceful existence to being one of those insane females who rides the rollercoaster of newly developing 'like' who questions daily, sometimes hourly, 'does he really like me?', 'why hasn't he called?', 'when will he call/text/email/send smoke signals?', 'does my bum look big in this dress?'. 

Prior to Dr Mike, I didn't worry about any of these things.  I knew he wouldn't call/text/email etc because he didn't exist.  It was all so simple. I don't know what my hours were filled with, but it wasn't this constant analysis which can send you over the brink of relationship madness. 

Not only that, I also happen to waste stupid amounts of my time and that of my friends and work colleagues (with the latter charging to the project Mission Impossible: creating something out of nothing and analysing every bloody perceived development or otherwise in a newly developing relationship).  Be under no illusions - this can take hours.  As much as I'd like to think I'm a master of the buddhist practice of detachment, I haven't yet been able to bring much of it to this experience.

But it seems I will have to or risk sanity.  The bottom line is, life will go on with or without Dr Mike.  I may be fortunate enough to have clicked across a gem, but there's always that useful little reality check lurking at the back of my mind, reminding me my happiness or otherwise is not contingent upon the frequency of the good doctor's communication.  No, the truth is, it's based upon whether he really does think my bum looks big in my dress.