So, I went on a date Thursday night, my first “date” date since April 2001.

I know it was way too soon to be out dating—I mean, five days after the breakup is crazy—but it just happened, and I went with it.

Last Saturday after Patrick and I broke up, Darrell and Scott dragged me to the club in an attempt to cheer me up and get my mind off the whole situation. I’d been following a strict no-alcohol rule for about a month, just because I thought it was a good idea, and I’d eaten very little that day thanks to the stress.

If ever there was a time to break my rule and fall off the wagon, it was on breakup night. By midnight, I was totally trashed and dancing my ass off. Sometime during the night I started dancing with “Andy,” a guy I’d met at the club several weeks before.

Our first meeting he approached me and asked, “Didn’t you used to go to LGSU [the gay student group at the University of Utah]?” I was surprised because I didn’t recognize him, but told him that I hadn’t been for almost two years. We talked a little and that was it. Every week I kept seeing him at one club or another and we’d very innocently chat. He didn’t really flirt or anything and of course neither did I—at the time I thought I was just making a club friend. He was very nice, but kind of shy, quiet, and reserved. Not the type I’d ever expect out at a dance club, though he was a great dancer.

Well, last week after dancing with him I’m sure he could tell how drunk I was, and I guess that bolstered his confidence. He asked for my phone number, and I started to say, “Oh, sorry I have a boyfr…” when my drunken little mind went “CLICK” and remembered I was single, as of about 8 hours before.

So I gave him my number. Like I said, he was nice (and cute, by the way), and I was drunk and hurting. I know it was crazy to allow myself to be picked up on eight hours after breaking up with a long-term boyfriend. I absolutely know this. But I did it anyway.

“Andy” called Wednesday (”Nice,” I thought, “Not too eager, not too distant.”) and asked if I’d like to go out to dinner and coffee the next evening. I had been nervously waiting for him to call, not really sure what I was going to say. He didn’t know anything about my situation. I’d planned to apologize for being so drunk, explain briefly what had happened, and ask if we could go out in several weeks, when I was more ready.

But when he called, I could tell he was very nervous about it all, stuttering and shaky, saying “um” a lot—the whole bit. I thought it was adorable. It had been so long since I had made anyone nervous; it was flattering.

So I ended up saying yes. We went out, had a nice dinner, great conversation, a really good first date. He wasn’t nervous in person (”I kept telling myself you were just the guy I’d been talking to every weekend since March,” he said). I guess it wasn’t really a first date since we somewhat knew each other from talking at the bar.

After coffee we went CD shopping. He, too, is an insane music fan and we’d talked about music for almost 3 hours, all through dinner and coffee (though I don’t drink coffee… not really a Mormon thing anymore, just a health/caffeine thing).

When he dropped me off at my car, I didn’t know what to do, but I ended up giving him a quick kiss on the lips. That was a little strange. I hadn’t kissed anybody besides Patrick for so long; I was shocked when Andy didn’t kiss like Patrick does. But there was also that little spark, that electrical connection that sometimes happens when you touch certain people… especially lip-to-lip. Patrick’s and my electrical connection had pretty much faded to a pleasant, comfortable, very sweet familiarity, so that spark was unexpected.

While I was driving home I realized that I was surprised at how much fun I’d had. I haven’t connected to someone on so many levels so quickly since Lionel had to leave. I’m not sure what that means. I’ll see Andy on Saturday night at the club, like always, and I guess we’ll see what happens.

Of course, it being just one week later I still miss Patrick all the time and I thought about him throughout my date with Andy. I did stop crying at every sappy TV commercial by Wednesday though.

I’m a little afraid I’m going to cause myself trouble, but I’m certainly not going to do anything but “date” Andy occasionally, along with anybody else who interests me. I mean, I broke up with Patrick because I wanted freedom to be young and single while I actually was young. There are already way too many married Utahns under the age of 25, and I’ve always thought that was insane—it’s just too early for a life commitment. I also thought Patrick and I could both grow, as individuals, and I could focus on improving some other aspects of my life. But regardless of my reasons, there’s no way I’m going to start “seeing” any one person, unless it’s Patrick…

Again, I know doing anything this soon is stupid, and it kind of makes me feel icky, like I’m belittling my relationship with Patrick because I am already going out socially. However, I’ve rationalized that the sooner I am social and dating, the sooner I can be objective about our breakup. I still wake up (alone) every morning and think I’ve made a mistake and want to run back to him.

The problem is I’m not sure if I’m missing Patrick himself, or missing the pure intimacy of a relationship. In other words, am I craving something uniquely him, or something generically comfortable? I just don’t know, and the more I’m involved with other guys (though not sexually!), the better I think I’ll be able to judge exactly what I am missing.

But that’s likely just me rationalizing myself back to sanity.