I may be the only woman in the world who feels smothered when someone asks to see her again a week after a first date.
“Didn’t I just see you? No. Because I don’t want to. No, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re nice. Nope, no other plans. I just want to stay home alone and stare at the wall. Also, I’m menstruating so we’re not going to be having sex — do we know how to do anything else?”
Or, hey, apparently my moods swing and slam themselves into things more often than George of the Jungle, so feel free to ask again tomorrow. Every day in my psyche is partly sunny with a 50% chance of either needy or misanthropic. You just gotta roll the dice.