Morning ephiphany time: I'm on my way, in some respect, to being someone I don't like, and I need to stop it now before I look up in 15 years and wonder where it all went wrong.

At least, in terms of relationships.

I pride myself on being self-aware; anyone who knows me knows my history as it relates ot men: I was a late bloomer, despite always having been boy crazy. I only dated one guy (for three weeks) in high school, and didn't date anyone in college. This was never an issue for me, though... that's the odd thing. I was never anything but happy, social and engaged in my life and the lives of my friends. My first major anything with a guy happened in Jamaica when I was 21, and I remember being equal parts overwhelmed, excited and anxiety-ridden. Then shortly after my 22nd birthday, it was like an alarm went off, and the hormones that had been largely dormat tore lose from their invisible tether and ripped through my body like a Cat 5 coming ashore. I'm glad it didn't kill me.

I cashed in my V-card soon after, and commenced to dating like a bandit. Or rather, doing what I thought was dating -- it seems, though I didn't realize it at the time, that I was sorely unprepared for what dating actually meant. I've been playing catch-up ever since, learning how men don't always say what they mean, but a lot of other women don't, either.... figuring out that men like it when a women is straightforward and direct.

But not *that* much.

And while untangling the jumble that is sex, feelings, relationships and love is something that can absolutely be done, it's not a task to be performed lightly or in the absence of finding what one really wants. Sex isn't a substitute, stand-in or might as well, but in certain contexts, it carries far more weight than we might like it to.

In the last nine years, I've had to force my head to catch up with my hormones, and I'm in a good place, which I'm excited about. By the same token, a string of failed relationships - made infinitely worse in retrospect by a handful of extremely hurtful endings - has left me, I realized today, hyper-vigilant. And that's not working for me.

I know what my insecurities are, and do my best to tamp them down when I meet a new man. I've developed the tools to keep them largely in check, and have forced myself to become so self-aware that I'm like some sort of supercomputer, costantly checking and rechecking and rechecking. Am I feeling alright? Why did I say that? How that make me feel? How should I best deal with this? I think I've purposely detached on some level, so I can step away from any given emotion, look at it logically, turn it over in my head, and respond appropriately - appropriately, of course, meaning that I don't look like a raging lunatic at the end, and scare him away.

That's what it's all about - not scaring the potential away. I've scared so many away, by being too much of something: too loud, too opinionated, too smart, too different. I thought I was doing the right thing because I didn't, in the end, change myself... I just changed my approach. I put on kid gloves, I think. And in the end, what did it matter? They all left anyway.

Without meaning to, Tattoo Johnny has shone a light on this - I am an overthinker, yes, but I never quite realized how prevalent it is, how invasive it can be. I don't even realize I'm doing it anymore, and it's only when I bring something up to him that I am able to see it in the full light of day. While it's oftentimes not irrational it is, just about always, completely irrelevant to us.

I think about problems, or how there might be a problem, or how to avoid running into a problem... then tell him, "Hey, this is what occurred to me." Nevermind that it has no bearing in anything he's said or done, and nevermind that thus far in what I dare say is the beginning of a relationship, my Magic Eight-Ball has been able to take a much deserved break. All signs point to yes, and I don't need Hasbro to tell me so. I talk to the man every single day. It feels I've known him far longer than a month, but at the same time, I am always learning something new. He makes me laugh and makes me think. We go from discussing religion to Tastee Freeze in the blink of an eye, and in the last week or two, his openness has been palpable. He has thus far never promised more than he cared to deliver, and has made it clear to me that, if he wants something, he'll say so. If there's a problem, he's confront it. If he wants to say something, he'll tell me.

Yet and still, because things have no progressed as 'normal,' I get paranoid. Things 'occur' to me out of the blue. I find myself turning over things in my head and wondering if I need to pay more attention to them. I think it would be more tiring if it wasn't so automatic. But I need to learn to let it go and quiet those doubts. My hyper-vigilance offers no real redeeming value. Like a lot of women, I think I fault myself for being unable to see problems in my past relationships, and I have this notion that, if I'm 'tricked' again, it'll be my own fault.

But that just isn't the case. People are going to do what people are going to do, and while being naive is certainly not the answer, my knee-jerk overanalysis serves only to exhaust me and perturb him. Undoubtedly.

And since when do I do normal? In most other aspects in my life, I loathe that word, but perhaps it's something I cling to in relationships because I've never really known what it was. Hmmm... food for thought.

I'm going to do my best to breathe a little longer and let those thoughts go. I'm smitten. I believe he is, too. Whatever happens or doesn't happen on the peripheral is of little value. If I want something, I'll tell him. If I need something, I'll ask him.

Do unto others.