brass tacks

In light of recent events (i.e. a date last Saturday -- my first since there was a Republican in office) I've had a head full of stuff that needs to get out.  


In fear that my life will turn into the sequel of He's Just Not That Into You, I don't want to, and can't read too much into the meeting.  The Short Story:  It went well.  I enjoyed his company, we had good conversation, he laughed (genuinely) at my jokes, I at his, and the night even ended with a hug (albeit an awkward one-armed hug, on account of the fact that we were both carrying to-go boxes, but it was cheek to cheek).


So here's the kicker, and something that should be quite obvious, but at my advanced age, I'm not looking for another friend.  I have plenty of those.  What I'm really looking for his a husband [and don't start thinking that I'm turning all psycho girl on you all, I would never admit this to anyone but my nearest and dearest blog readers].  So even though I'm looking for a husband, and testing the waters to see if this guy could be a possibility (and frankly, the only viable one from where I can see), I still have to play The Game.


I hate The Game.  I don't know the rules, and they're always and forever changing.  So how soon is too soon to initiate contact again?  48 hours?  72?  Even though I'm a modern, independent woman, I still have conservative sensibilities when it comes to dating, and I think he should be doing some of the asking out.  But again, from where I stand, he's a shy guy, and I'm an outspoken girl, and I don't want to be the bossy cow.  So how do I give gentle hints that I'm interested if he's interested, without being the one to do all of the leg work?


So here I am, playing a game whose rules I don't get.  Why can't we just have arranged marriages?  Or better yet, why can't we just be like dogs?  It seems so much more reasonable to sniff each other's butts to realize if we like them or not.