Dating Is For The Birds (do birds date?)

Apparently, something has broken down in my brain. Last night "28" (we've finally decided on his name, but I'm thinking he should be called "Relationship Guy" because that's what he seems to be) called to talk (the nerve!) and my mind processed this as though he'd announced he has two heads. What is wrong with me? When did the basic dating process pass me by?

When I was out of town this weekend, Biter called me three times (!!!). This is only significant because he left a message, which is rare, and him calling is kind of big deal, considering he doesn't have a phone (as he might *possibly* live in the park) and has to call from various pay phones around the city. Classy, I know. I'm so lucky.

Does anyone ever figure this dating stuff out? Because I pretty much hate it. I feel like Charlotte in Sex and the City when she has this exchange with the girls:

Charlotte: I've been dating since I was fifteen! I'm exhausted! Where is he?

Miranda: Who, the White Knight?

Samantha: That only happens in fairy tales.

Charlotte: My hair hurts.