The other day, I was talking to my hiking partner about dating — she’s been married nine years and never really did the dating-as-an-adult thing. She lives vicariously through my experience and frequently comments how glad she is to NOT HAVE TO DO THIS. Can’t say I blame her.

Anyway, we were talking about the process by which a couple normally falls in love. There’s the early, fluttery passion — when each can’t get the other out of their mind. That, in theory, lasts long enough to develop the bonds of friendship and compassion — the parts that actually sustain a relationship over the long haul. This all makes perfect sense to me, and I said as much. Then, I added that I couldn’t remember the last time I was in that fluttery phase with someone. Hmmm…it was maybe 3 years ago, but entirely online. When we met in person after a month of very long-distance communication, everything fell flat immediately, because he simply wasn’t who he represented himself to be. At the time, I chalked it up to a learning experience: “see, I CAN open myself up, get stomped, and still survive!”

Then something occured to me. Had I ever really felt like that with a man? I mean, really…had I ever started dating someone and had my breath taken away? Found myself thinking of nothing but this man? Wanting to just see his face, touch him, taste him? I’m not sure I have. Let’s look at a little history. These are just “major” relationships — the short-term boyfriends aren’t really worth examination.

First real boyfriend, college: We were friends. I wasn’t interested in dating him, and had even said as much (”we’d kill each other” is how I put it, if I remember correctly). He pursued, and eventually, we got together. From the beginning, it was a mess — but it was my first big one, and I proceded to fall hard, even after he’d begun to (emotionally) hurt me. But, even then, it was safe. He wanted me first.

Next, immediately post-college: We were friends via a church group, and both found ourselves to be the more skeptical of the lot. There wasn’t any romance indicated between us, but we got to be very close friends…until a few months later, something “snapped” in me, and I suddenly got it. Guess he got it too, because within days, he showed up at a local pub where he thought he might find me, walked straight up, and kissed me. That one didn’t end well, either — although I do stay in touch with him. Again, once it was “safe” to fall, I fell hard, and even kept the relationship going long after it should have been declared DOA.

By now, a pattern becomes apparent. The idea of falling that crazily for someone without the guarantee of his returning the sentiment scared me to pieces. And, once I got into a relationship, I kept it going, even past it’s shelf-life expiration date.

The next one that’s worth a look was short, but it says a lot about my background. I met him on a night out, and we hit it off instantly. For the next two months, we talked to each other every day. We saw each other almost as often. His friends liked me. My friends liked him. There was lots and lots of that early “glow” of passion — the thing that sticks a couple together in the first place. One Sunday morning, we had a disagreement about something fairly mundane, like whether to listen to music or watch the news. We finished breakfast and he headed home. We didn’t talk for two weeks, and at that point, it was just for us to (mutually, of course) say “guess we’re done.” In this case, the passion never translated into anything deeper, and rather than work at it, we both walked away. Sad.

Since then, I had a very long relationship, then engagement to another guy who followed the first pattern somewhat. It wasn’t that we were friends first — he chased me from the beginning. But still, if there was an imbalance, it was in my favor. I tried to break it off many, many times, but he just wouldn’t give up until years later. We’re friends now, and he’s finally convinced that I wasn’t the one who got away; he’s met someone who’s more like the girl he wanted me to become, and realizes he was spinning his wheels with me. We also are still friends.

Bored yet?

Through all of this, I’m just thinking out loud and trying to discern a few things about myself where relationships are concerned. Here’s what I have so far:

• Most of my longer-term relationships have been with people I didn’t pick, but who picked me.
• In the few cases where I’ve allowed myself to feel crazily “into” someone, I’ve been burned.
• Because of that, I don’t let myself feel the very excitement needed to keep a new relationship going for long enough to turn it into something more lasting.
• This results in a string of one- and two-date wonders. I might enjoy a good (or bad) meal here and there, but it’s pretty fucking lonely. And frustrating.
• This also plays into my current dating strategy, which is to have my profile out there, and sit back and wait. After all, if someone contacts me first, he must be interested, right? That’s okay, but for the most part, the people who contact me just aren’t right.

Back to my conversation with my hiking partner…she says (and I agree) that I need to stop trying to dip my toe in the pool water, climb off the ladder, and get up onto the high diving board, already. In my match.com profile, I express clearly that I want a man to be crazy about me:

…You’re excited about my becoming that woman in your life, and I can’t think about you without breaking into a broad smile.

As time goes on, you come to adore my daughter and love her as you would your own. You’re emotionally healthy — with a good sense of boundaries and a strong idea of what you want, which (conveniently) happens to be ME!

That’s all fine and good. But am I willing to give that sort of crazy-about-you sentiment in return? If not, how can I be so selfish as to expect it?

I’ve been chewing on this for a few days now, and I still haven’t come up with the answer for how to get past my fears and to reach for the brass ring. My cousin has always acused me of “dating beneath myself,” and I realize that she’s right. When I’m dating someone who seems to not quite hit my level, I worry less that I’ll get dumped. Ha…funny how well that works out. All it means is that I’m choosing to go on dates with men who aren’t my sort.

What does all of this mean?

It means I’ve decided to let myself look. And initiate. And, god willing, fall madly, crazily in love with someone. I want to think about his face, quiver when he speaks, and admire who he is. I want to fantasize about tugging on his lower lip with my teeth, running my tongue along his spine, and raising the hair on his neck when I kiss his collarbone. I want to experience wonder when I wake up and see this man whom I can’t believe feels the same about me. There. How’s that for a start?

I just have to find the victim lucky man first.