There's a chill in the air...

I think dating is like negotiating the spring ice breakup in the Bering Straits. When you find someone to date, you've pulled yourself up out of the icy water, and you're able to float along and survive the open water. If the relationship goes well, maybe you're able to catch a ride on a passing ship, find a place in the cabins, visit the galley, and even head south to warmer, more comfortable climes.

The moment you break up, it's as if you're catapulted in a rocket back to the Arctic circle, and once again you become flotsam, bobbing in unfriendly and icy cold waters. When you've left the comfortable environs of the tropics, out of "principle," or "what's best," it can seem to have been a bizarre choice. But you maintain your convictions, even though there is no rescue in sight. You convince yourself that certainly a promising prospect will float by, so you remain hopeful. Suddenly, on the horizon, you see possibilities. You doggedly paddle your way alongside, scanning the edges to see if there's a way to pull yourself from the depths, even if only for a brief respite. Sometimes it's no problem heaving your way out of the chilly deep, and then at other times, you realize that it's simply too slippery to get a grip.

When you ask a girl if she'd like to go out for dinner, and she says, "I don't know," usually that's a bad sign.

Of course, I'm laughing as I reread this.

That's the best response I suppose.

All I'm saying though is that the water ain't fine.