On Saturday, B (aka The Intellectual) arrived to pick me up for a date in San Francisco.
He arrived at 11:33 a.m. He was supposed to arrive at 11 a.m.
Amazingly enough, I wasn't all that upset at his arriving late for two reasons:
1) I got a chance to start reading a book I need to read for work but, for whatever reason, have been avoiding
2) He doesn't have a cell phone, so it's not like he was late and just not calling to tell me.
Still, he WAS over 30 minutes late...he mentioned later that he expected my dad to be there, chewing him out, telling him what for...
Okay, so rocky start aside, we head to SF. We had a fairly decent conversation going, covering a lot of territory, learning that we have a lot in common as far as politics are concerned. I was grateful to learn this, and he didn't seem to care either way. Then, the bomb dropped, and so did my heart...into my stomach.
He wants to go back to school.
For a Ph.D. in Philosophy.
Anyone who knows anything about my dating history, knows that as soon as the word "Philosophy" crossed his lips, I cringed. At the least, I cringed on the inside, if not visibly.
The first problem, is the specific degree, itself. This would make for the THIRD potential boyfriend who feels the need to explore philosophy as a profession, and that, in my experience, means a life of doing not much and feeling good about it.
The second part is what going for a Ph.D. means in light of a new relationship. Giving up a good job to go study PHILOSOPHY for 4-6 years? Uhm, yeah, dude's not looking to get married anytime soon. I was, or at least pretended to be, gung ho at the thought of living through my ex-boyfriend's Ph.D. experience, but this time, I can't even pretend to think it's a good idea.
I could go on. I could tell you each detail about the rest of the date.
But right now, I don't want to.
I'm conflicted, you see.