First dates leave one with more questions than answers

Nothing will save you from being ridiculously nervous on a first date.

What is this war we all have between our hearts and our heads? My heart beats like crazy in anticipation of the first date.

My head tells me to quickly call and cancel. Reschedule with the trusty TiVo.

I ask myself once again why I am putting myself in the hostage situation of a first date. It's worse then being stuck in traffic. The constant pressure of eye contact, wondering if I am talking too fast, or not talking enough? And why do I always flail my arms around as I try to explain something?

I think back to all the unintentional and ridiculously embarrassing things I have done and swear to do none of them tonight.

Maybe I should get the vodka out of the cupboard and do a few shots before he gets here. It is a fact that almost all people have a pre-first date ritual. Vodka with a Listerine chaser is mine.

First dates. Why do we even go on them if we spend the whole time trying to stop our hands from shaking under the table? And what is more important, to be interested or to be interesting?

This equation seems almost impossible to work out. If you are spending your time trying to be interesting, how do you have time to pay attention to what he is saying and be interested?

I think back to when I met bachelor No. 2 of the month, the one who should be showing up at my front door at any minute. It was at a bar near my apartment. (Yes, I know, you can't meet genuine guys at the bar.) I can't even remember if I thought he was interesting, or if I liked him because he was interested in me. What had we even talked about?

When my phone rang the next afternoon I panicked. I didn't answer. I listened to his voicemail five times until finally deciding to call back. I realized that trying to psycho-analyze his voice was getting me nowhere fast.

And now I am in this situation. The hole I am trying to dig myself out of before I even stop to think about how much preparation it has taken to get into it in the first place. Why am I freaking out? I need to calm down.

There is a knock on my door. I open it and hear the words "You look nice." What does that mean...oh, God, why am I here?! OK. Quit analyzing and breathe.

By the end of the night, I realize that the rumor is true: guys get nervous, too. We were in the same boat and we managed to paddle to the shore together. We even agreed that we should take this boat out for a spin again soon.

Infatuation and chemistry are a far way from love. But they are a good beginning.

When my phone rang the next day, I actually answered it.