Dating? I’m evolving

Charlotte Abramson, Opinions Editor

Guys, I met someone. Unreal, I know. Normally I’m not down to expose myself like this, but my go-to has been “casual exclusive” for years. Unattached and uncomplicated–had me feeling like the stereotypical frat boy without the STD’s. 

I’m not exactly sure how chemistry works, but we put together an Ikea dresser without yelling at each other, and that feels like stability right there. Do I need to say more? His texts make me smile, which is obnoxious and I love it. Someone please take my phone away. 

Brown eyes and dark curls? Ugh, absolutely. Tall, athletic, and goofy as hell? Yes, please. Someone tell me to get a grip. My dad likes him, guys, my dad. Is this how it works? I have zero experience. 

My friends are ecstatic, one is engaged and the other just received a ring this last month. I’m not interested in hopping on that train yet, but they seem to think I should be angling that way. 

Is there some handbook I can read or an instruction manual on relationships? Does he need servicing like a car? All joking aside, he’s kind of incredible. We all know I didn’t meet him on campus though. No offense to anyone here, but Linfield is not the dating scene. 

The inside jokes are already strong, and the routines have started. We both think children are best kept at least 20 feet away and preferably quiet. It’s comfortable and effortless—he’s definitely someone I’d raise a hairless cat with. 

He’s got me feeling all the feels and I’m nervous as hell. How do we do this? I installed his hand towel hanger on the wall a few weeks ago and man, that commitment had me nearly sweating. 

Then, a few days ago he gave me a key to his apartment and proceeded to watch me try not to panic. I kept it cool but I was definitely reminding myself to breathe. 

Historically, red flags have been my go-to. This guy though, he doesn’t even give off orange caution cone vibes. It’s completely healthy and sometimes even disgustingly happy. I’m proud of myself. 

We’re going on 37 straight nights together at this point. He goes to work and I go to school, we return to cook dinner ridiculously late and binge on Game of Thrones. My mom actually asked me to let her know when I was stopping by home from now on—did I just get kicked out?

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here. He drives way too fast in a yellow car named after a banana, he’s a doctor, and his butt looks fabulous in scrubs. We even bought each other surprise phallic looking cacti for Valentine’s Day. 

It’s adorable and I’m here for it.