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Dear Breakup Girl,

Oh, how I need your superhero powers now. I have been stalling on writing to you for advice for the right time (crisis? mental breakdown?), but I figure I might as well write to you now while I am still hanging on to my mental stability.

This little fiasco started last February. I broke one of the cardinal rules of living in a dorm: dating a neighbor. I lived on a co-ed floor, and he had just transferred in that semester.

When Neighbor Boy first asked me out, I laughed at him. Not in a bitchy way, I just thought that he was pretending to be all slick and joking around. The second time he asked me out I thought, "Aw cute, the new guy has a crush on me," so I said yes. He was a sweet guy, and we got along well, but I didn't think much would come of it.

So, on Valentine's Day (my least favorite holiday), we went out. And, surprise! We have a great time. It was a very Brady date. [See Just Wondering. -- BG.] (By the way, I think it is a wonderful suggestion for people to the more old fashioned dating route rather than the hang out then hook up variety. It just lends more dignity, in my opinion.) We talked; he made me waffles; no clothes were removed. Good clean fun.

Fast forward: Neighbor Boy and I start spending tons of time together. It's just one of the conditions of living on the same floor as someone you are dating; you are thrown into a relationship situation whether you are ready for it or not. Anyway, before I ever went out with Neighbor Boy, I was dating Too-Old-For-Me-Guy and Recent-College-Grad. And Neighbor Boy knew about it. "Hey," I said, "there is no committment. It's okay." I know, dangerous move, right? What can I say, I have wild oats to sow.

So, wouldn't you know it, I start liking Neighbor Boy waaaaay more than Too-Old-For-Me-Guy and Recent-College-Grad. So I stop seeing said gentlemen. But wait! In all the sowing of my wild oats, Neighbor Boy started dating this Other Chick. Great. Didn't he read the contract? Only I am allowed to date other people. He is just supposed to yearn for me and whatnot. So I'm stuck. I have to act like it doesn't bother me (because admitting true feelings might lead to a healthy, open relationship, and I seem to be all about the path of most resistance).

Anyhoo, Neighbor Boy and I continue the quasi-dating. (We kiss and hang out on a regular basis but are not going out. As poor college students, romantic 3 course meals don't really fit into the budget.) We are getting some weird dynamics that I won't get into; I'll just say were they pretty unhealthy and in part due to living together.

I receive a love letter (of sorts) via e-mail -- gotta love the 90s -- after an argument (which are becoming more frequent), and eventually I write him one proclaiming my fondness for him and stating that I can no longer be with him if he is going to continue dating Other Chick. There's no direct response, but soon we get into a fight over an unfortunate miscommunication (HIS FAULT) resulting in a lot of door slamming and my not speaking to him for a week or so (when in doubt, act like an eight year old). Eventually, I got over it, but, as far as I was concerned, we were no longer dating (quasi or otherwise), even though he stopped dating Other Chick.

I start dating Motorcycle-Guy-From-Ireland. (Ooh! He's dangerous! He's foreign! He is so many things that Neighbor Boy is not!) Neighbor Boy and I still hang out and occaissionaly kiss n' stuff. Whatever.

Summer comes, and I leave the West Coast to my Square State home. I am hoping to spend the summer getting him out of my system. Doesn't happen. We write sproadically. Nothing earth shattering. I don't date anyone at home. (Square State Boys and I don't get along.) Don't know if he dated anyone else. Don't ask, even though I think about him like crazy. As much as we had spats, I had to admit: the guy is great. We get along (with a few exceptions); we make each other laugh; we have similar upbringings and values, etc., etc.

So I'm back at school. Neighbor Boy (who is no longer a neighbor but lives a two minute walk away) and I have been talking every day. We've hung out once or twice.

So, finally, I get to the question: nothing has happened between us since I have returned. I feel like I am living in a perpetual Christmas Eve. Just waiting... Granted, Neighbor Boy has always liked to move slowly. But how do I know if this is something I should be waiting for? Just because I didn't get over him during the summer? Just because we have similar values? Or maybe just because I don't happen to be seeing anyone else right now? As one of your other advice seekers once said so perfectly, "My desire for committment is inversely proportional to my desirability."

I feel like this is a major decision that I need to make before anything happens. Because, once it does, I am immersed in it.

Cutting things off now wouldn't be a big deal, but if I wait until we start to get close again, then it's going to be nothing but heartache. I just want to be sure that this is what I want/need/should have before I dive in.

Advice? Insight? "Go for it?" "Run for your life?"

--Lysistrata

Dear Lysistrata,

Well, I'd caution you not to follow the suggestion of your pseudonym and "refrain from the male altogether" -- at least not on the basis you state. In other words, being 100% "sure" before one dives in is just not how it works. When, really, is anyone totally sure? In general (unless huge warnings abound) not dating as a means of not experiencing heartbreak is not recommended. In other words, who's the only one to agree with Lysistrata's plan at first? The Spartan. See? Or, to allude to contemporary drama, if everyone aimed solely not to risk heartache, no one would date anyone and we'd all be watching Freaks and Geeks at its actual air time.

That said, this is not an unmitigated Go for the Neighbor. I do -- faintly -- hear a Greek chorus chanting "Warn the maiden..." To wit: the statute of limitations of "take what you can get from this guy" has expired. Not healthy/good enough for you any more. So you are entitled -- encouraged -- at this point to up and demand exclusivity. And he is entitled -- yikes -- to decline. Which -- ouch, I know -- would at least end the (more modern drama) Groundhog Day over-and-over of (4th century) Christmas Eves with no God's-Gifts at all.

But hey, maybe you'll find a fresh start after the false -- or at least bumpy -- one. And maybe you'll find -- here, or next time -- that the risk of heartache is not a tragic flaw of love. Rather, it stands as a symbol and a guide for our protagonists: For whom am I willing to risk my heart?

Love,
Breakup Girl

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