This past week I’ve been grappling with what Love is exactly. Not the kind between friends and family, but the kind between two people in a relationship. Is it codependency? Is it having a partner in crime? A best friend you have hot sex with? Someone who can teach you something that you can in turn teach also? Is it an ethereal feeling that no one can pinpoint because it’s different for everyone? Is it forever or is it fleeting and something else carries you through the rest of the years?

I have no idea, to be honest. But I think I’m falling in love. And it’s got me nervous.

It would just be insane to say that I am actually in love at this point. We’ve been seeing each other for about a month. But to say I am in the process is true enough.

I’ve been hesitant to give a follow-up to my online dating post for several reasons, but it had a bit of a cliffhanger ending I suppose because my friends, family and readers have been asking for an update on the status of Date #4.

::Sap alert::

Even I groaned when I first heard myself say it. As a dyed-in-the-wool Sag, I am not prone to expressions of love or sentiment, nor do I always know how to handle them. Plus, let’s face it; I’m a bit of a commitment phobe. I really wasn’t looking for a relationship when this whole thing started with the online dating experiment. Just fun, just dates. Then Date #4 came along.

I knew I was in trouble after that second date. We ate great food and had some phenomenal conversation. Attraction was clearly mutual. It was definitely unexpected. I was nearly knocked off my feet when after mentioning my thesis he said, “Oh, Heidegger? I studied him a bit. What aspect of his philosophy was your thesis on?” Swoon. When he defended Nietzsche’s later thought, I was struck silent. Damn, I thought, he’s gonna keep me on my toes. Nerd love, I can’t help it.

Still, we kept it light, fun, casual. I was upfront and honest with him about not wanting anything serious, and he was cool with it. That lasted until this weekend. I could feel it happening. There was nothing wrong with him. I keep waiting for it to pop up, so we keep spending time together, though still only once or twice a week since we both maintain full, productive lives. But still nothing. Even the big red flag kind of stuff – like the fact that he has a kid – it doesn’t bother me. He’s open and honest and sincere, which apparently is like my Kryptonite. I trust him.

So, what does it mean when I’m done being all serious and heavy about it? I figure I handle most things in my life one day at a time, so I’ll do this the same way. I’m not going to freak out that I’m going off the market, will end up married with 3 brats in suburbia, then divorced and out-of-shape and broke at 47 (personal nightmare). I just have to handle today, and today it feels really nice to be falling in love.

It’s a tough to put this out there. I feel a little embarrassed considering I’ve been such a die-hard single as of late. I’ve reveled in it; I’ve loved it actually. Part of me still doesn’t want to give it up, but I can spot a good adventure when I see one. And I never pass up an adventure.