“Hi. I’m Caleb. 29, male.”

That was the opening line of Caleb, a slightly chubby, adorably nerdy (and now) 30 year-old Jewish doctor that I met online last June. Since I was seeing Michael and I feel very uncomfortable even talking to younger men, I was brusque and tried to blow him off. But Caleb was persistent for some reason and I was soon won over by his easy charm and sweet sense of humor. Since that initial conversation, I could count on one hand the number of days we’ve gone without talking for at least an hour or two. We’ve seen each other on cam and talked on the phone, yet have never met.

We’ve talked for hours at a time about our likes, dislikes, beliefs, values, you name it. We share the same tastes in films, television, and food. We can discuss anything and we make each other laugh. And when I think about him, I get a goofy feeling in my chest. Of course at my age, that may be angina.

He’s asked me out to dinner a couple of times and I’ve agreed to meet him but something has come up at the last minute both times (once with his job, the other with mine). And with each foiled meeting, he seems more persistent in wanting to talk to me. Leaving messages and e-mails to say he is thinking about me and looking forward to the day we actually meet face to face. From there, he says, we will either find one of the best friends either of us has ever had or maybe the partner we’ve both been looking for. Sometimes I think he may be right about both.

And then I think what if Caleb and I really do hit it off. And then I think about Michael. And about the age difference between Michael and myself, between Caleb and myself. And about how you never really know if you are making the right decision. And I think about how much it hurts when someone tells you it is over…or that it is never going to happen at all.

And that’s when I realize how hard it is to be an adult.