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Dear Breakup Girl,

You've heard of yo-yo dieting? Well, I've been yo-yo dating. Or maybe it's a little more like the PushMi-PullYou in "Dr. Dolittle." Anyway ...

I've been seeing this guy for, geez, almost six months now. I met him at my volunteer job, where he's a part-time employee. Snobbishness says I should have nothing to do with this guy: he's only got a part-time job (he's supposed to be finishing up his degree, which is why he took a part-time job in the first place, but anyway ...); there are class differences between us (upper middle vs. working); cultural differences (I was raised in the Midwest, he was born and raised in LA, plus he's half-Japanese and I'm Irish-Italian); age differences (he's 25; I'm 30); etc. etc. etc. But I'd noticed him around before the night I worked with him, and he really won me over when he started disco dancing in the box office. (Maybe you had to be there, but it was very adorable.) Plus he gave me a neck rub, and we had one of those lingering conversations as I was leaving (where each of you keeps coming up with another comment as soon as the other starts to leave).

So I did some mild stalking ("just happened" to go there to buy tickets on a day I knew he was working) and gave him my phone number. He called the next day; we went out to a coffeehouse a few days later and went to a movie the next week. Everything was going great -- until the clothes came off. Then he started getting really weird and distant, which of course made me nervous. It went on like this for a couple of months. (If I can be blunt for a moment, we never got past oral sex -- I couldn't relax enough with him.)

Then he confessed to me that he was a drug addict (crystal meth, bad, bad stuff) and broke up with me. I was upset, of course, but (a) it was nice to have some kind of explanation for the sudden personality change and (b) it was almost like having a doctor's excuse for the breakup -- in other words, it really wasn't me. So I threw away his phone number, had a few bad days, and started to get on with my life.

He called three weeks later, and we talked for two hours, wherein I basically said that I would not date him while he was still doing drugs. After that, he'd call every week or so until the night we had phone sex -- after that, he didn't call for three weeks. (His excuse was that a week had already gone by and he figured I'd be mad at him for not calling, so, of course, he waited another two weeks to call).

Finally, after a good three months of this, I went over to his place. Nothing much happened, because I kept bursting into tears (in large part because, at the time, I was in danger of losing my job, which is the best job I've ever had), and I asked him not to call me for the next two weeks while I got the work thing straightened out.

At the end of the two weeks, I tracked him down at my volunteer job and told him I still had a paying job. He called me the next day, and I went over there and ... well, you know. A week later, he hadn't called at all, but I knew I was going over to my volunteer job anyway, and I gave him a ride home at 2AM (which was when the second feature ended -- you could call the place where I volunteer a nonprofit revival movie theatre). We stopped by the grocery store so he could pick up a couple of things. I dropped him off at his place and went home. Haven't heard from him since (and it's been -- gasp! -- two whole days).

Part of the dilemma here is that I'm pretty good at concealing my feelings (though when a girl gives you a ride home at 2AM, that pretty much means she likes you, dummy!), and I'm doing it pretty rigorously because, again, I really can't trust him. I don't not trust him because he's seeing other people or lying to me or anything (I haven't checked on the state of his drug habit in a while, but Mr. Hyde has not shown back up again), but because he seems to freak out every time we're naked together. It also doesn't help that he's the first guy I've dated in over five years while I've been busy recovering from a nasty lingering depression (still taking medication and getting therapy). Though he's been doing a number on me with all of this chopping and changing, I think I've been screwing with his head, too, by keeping my emotional distance. (He's never even been to my apartment.) He was very surprised when I offered to drive him home.

I'm at the point where I really just want to sit down with him, lay my cards on the table, and tell him that I really like him and could probably fall for him, but must first ask what the hell is going on. On the other hand, that would probably scare him off, because I think that when a 30-year-old woman says to a 25-year-old guy, "What's the deal with our relationship?" he hears,"I've purchased my wedding dress and do you think 200 people is too many at the reception?" Frankly, I wouldn't even be dating a 25-year-old if I were looking for a lasting commitment. But he's the one who broke up with me, and he's the one who keeps calling -- I deliberately don't have his phone number anymore -- so even if we did have a talk that scared him off, he'd probably be back in a month or so.

So that's the deal. There's a thousand reasons to stay away from each other, and we just can't seem to. I've probably made him sound like a total loser, but he's very sweet and affectionate and we have a lot in common. (We're both writers, and we like the same movies and music; I've been saying to him, half-jokingly, that if he breaks up with me again, he'll never get to see my special widescreen edition videotape of "Army of Darkness.") I'm not looking for a lifetime commitment, just one night a week. (Since I work 8AM. to 5PM, and he usually works 5PM to 9PM, it's hard to come up with a mutually workable night, especially since I've never slept over.)

--Getting Dizzy

P.S. Of course, all of this indecision is contingent on the state of his drug habit: if it's ongoing, it's the best thing for both of us if I don't see him again. If he didn't know it was a problem, I probably wouldn't be writing to you now.

Dear Getting Dizzy,

Right. If he's still high on meth, then this thing's trapped in time, surrounded by evil, low on gas. And you're out. Simple as that. Right?

But let's say he's clean. What then? Can you count on even one night a week from him? Should you? Not so sure. Basically, GD -- never mind the drug stuff and some sort of sex weirdness -- this guy's a big enough flake to feed an army. What of all those sweet words he spoke in private? Well sure. I know he's not all bad. But let's face it, no one's even coming through on the booty calls here. This may sound a tad circular, but keep in mind that if you date this guy, this is the guy you will date. Not that people can never change. But as it stands now, you get both good Ash and bad Ash, my friend.

Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't play your "what the hell" card. Will it "scare him off?" Well, GD, one worries about "scaring people off" on the first several dates, or during the first couple months; but when the time truly comes to lay the cards on the table, and then they're scared off well, there you go. That's not your error, it's your answer.

And again: all of this drama for "one night a week?" If you just wanted me to help you schedule a regular old uncomplicated flingamajig, your letter would have been the short -- not widescreen -- version. Imagine how the plot might thicken should you actually have some sort of Relationship. Worth it? Doubt it.

Your call. But rest assured that you can ask/hope for more, from someone else. (Not all men from the future are loud-mouthed braggarts.) And if things don't work out, well, Chris wants to know if you'd like to see the laser disc of the Japanese version (you know, "Captain Supermarket") with the alternate ending.

Love,
Breakup Girl

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