Hayli St. John: great conversationalist, very intelligent, and after three dates I thought perhaps this might have some potential. Then on date four she started singing with the radio. Voice like fingernails on a chalkboard. I didn’t return her calls after that.

“You’re just looking for excuses,” Todd told me one night over Guinnesses. “You don’t want to get involved with anyone, so you pinpoint these relatively minor quirks and call them major character flaws that you couldn’t possibly put up with.”

I mulled that over for a while, then admitted he was right—odd for a guy whose most serious relationship had lasted six weeks. “So what do I do?” The fact that I was asking him was a sign of my desperation.

“Stop being afraid of whatever it is you’re afraid of: commitment, intimacy, relationships, whatever. I mean, you don’t have to marry the next woman you find; if it doesn’t work, you break up and find someone else. Happens every day; that’s the way it goes.”

I had to admit, I was impressed. It seemed like sound advice. I’d just stop being afraid of whatever it was I was afraid of. But what exactly was that?

Alannah Moore and I met at one of Todd’s parties. She was beautiful, with Latin roots that gave her a deep tan and sultry brown eyes and great curves. The only thing I found mildly annoying was this weird thing she did with her mouth when she swallowed. But I was determined not to let that deter me. I asked her out. We did dinner at a small bistro downtown. We had a great time. I asked her out again. We rented a movie and carried out Chinese. I ignored the gulping and we had fun. By the third date I barely noticed the gulping, and I realized that we got along. I’d done it! I’d pushed past the fear and was in a relationship!

Then after three months, a diamond bracelet, a weekend in the Bahamas, and a shopping spree in New York, she told me she didn’t think we were “clicking,” and would it be okay if we were just friends? Friends, sure thing, no problem. Oh, before you go—does this knife in my heart belong to you?

I was back to square one, except this time I knew what I was afraid of: getting hurt. I knew the crap people were capable of pulling on each other because I’d pulled it on Dianne, and I was terrified of someone pulling it on me. Alannah had done it, albeit not as badly as I had on Dianne, but that was just luck, a close call. She could have completely screwed me over. So where did that leave me? I wanted a relationship but was afraid of what might happen if I got into one. Catch-22.