Been thinking about my flingie guy and the nature of love and what it all means and I’m down to one question, how do you know if you’re in love. Love is such a strange thing. I think “the Oracle” from the Matrix movie series said to Neo, “it’s like being in love, you either know it or you don’t”. But what the heck does that mean?

If someone had to told me last month that I was going to be having a rollicking good time with a 6 ft red-haired, 200 pound, not so young anymore, marina frat boy, virgo, with bad time management skills, not the greatest communication skills either, drinks a bit too much and hasn’t given up any of his childish frat boy tendencies, I would have said “NO WAY!”

If someone had told me last month that I would be completely into “public displays of affection”, and be kissing in stores, kissing in restaurants, kissing on the street in broad daylight no less, and kissing while trying to argue, I honestly would have laughed and said, “if I wasn’t into PDA in college, and other annoying things that “couples in love supposedly do”, I’m so not going to be into it at this age.”

And if someone had told me that last month that I would enter into a relationship and not know where it was going or care where it was going, I would have freaked. “Me, Ms. Control Freak, who has to have everything carefully planned with an end game to every action. I think not.”

And yet, I’m doing all these things and having a blast and I’m not feeling like I’m in college either. I’m feeling surprisingly mature, but not old or stuck in a rut. I feel like an adult, which is a somewhat scary but at the same time very comforting thought.