We're getting MARRIED!

Well--not really.
Story: I've been enjoying an online flirtation with The Mister for several months now. We belonged to one of the same groups at school, but since he was a few years older than me I actually never met him. Towards the end of senior year I tracked him down via MyFriendSpaceBook to ask him a question, and a conversation developed--first "do you know? do you know?" and gradually ranging into everything from politics, ethics, religion, past loves (his), careers (mine), even our visions on child rearing (which isn't as weird as it sounds, given that the context was already odd enough.) Turns out we share a lot of the same views, similar level of intellect, sense of humor, our hometowns are even fairly close. I have to admit, I was kind of thinking "ding ding ding" despite the fact that The Mister lives in NY. Whatever, I go there sometimes. We're both young and mobile. (And nubile, natch.) I was pleased to have this intriguing possibility on the back burner.

Recently, for some reason I as yet don't know, the flirt-quotient really started to heat up. "Manifestoes are hot," he wrote after I sent him one. "I like you, Elle Daley. I don't know what it is about your emails that I like so much." He sighed about his singlehood (which is odd for a young guy living in New York, and never such a sure-fire suggestion tactic regardless, but it showed he's relationship-minded, which I liked.) Then, after a particularly furious spate of email exchange (three from him, including a long and compliment-filled one) he wrote "Is my voicemail message annoying? Everyone says it is."

"Are you trying to get me to call you? I'm not sure we're ready for this!" I typed back. "Actually, I think you're trying to get me to call you and have you not answer!"

"I do want you to call me," he replied. "In fact, now I don't even know if I'm going to answer. What would I say?"

So it was back to MyFriendSpaceBook and I called him. The voicemail was annoying. He called back (midnight my time) and we proceeded to talk for three hours, which could be the first time I've logged that on a phone call since--I don't even know, it could be the first time I've talked on the phone that long when I wasn't trapped by a loquacious friend and my own too-gentle spirit. Reader, I really like him. He's funny, intelligent, thoughtful. Confident enough to be masculine but self-deprecating enough to be funny and kind (or interested) enough to ask about my side of things and to listen to what I'm saying. In some ways he reminds me of a male version of myself. And while phone may not be the perfect way to gauge attraction (remember, we've still never met) it's a way better gauge than email. I like his voice. Teasing me once about how young I am, he said "If I were standing next to you right now" (pause; Elle's entire body proceeds to blush) "I'd be patting you on the head." Whew! I was astonished at my own reaction.

So I came into work the next day with a pounding head (after hanging up, reluctantly, at 3 am) and, I confess, started doodling lists of baby names. NOT SERIOUSLY! It's just the kind of thing that runs through a person's head at a time like this. I mean, I wasn't totally sold on the whole thing. The Mister and I have enough in common that if we were to get together, this could be it. IT it. I really don't think I'm ready for that at 22. I have a few more good years of traveling, making out with strangers and Febreezeing the jeans I have on to get out of my system before any parent-meeting and life-sharing and baby-naming enters the equation. But still, I was blown away: this is the person, out of everyone I know, who it could make the most sense for me to one day be serious with, and we haven't even met yet.

This was two days ago. The next night, which was last night, he called me again (I was on the other line and let it go.) Suddenly I feel like this bride here, nailed to the floor by bouquets.

What do you think, readers? Is it creepy to spend so much energy pursuing a girl you've never met? Is The Mister some sort of anomalous committment-crazed freak? (He did say he hopes to get married by 30, but he's only 25.) Is that creepy that marriage even came up? The thing is, he seems like such a normal guy. Drinks, swears, makes inappropriate jokes (like me), had a few long-term girlfriends--basically as normal as you could hope for, at least, as far as I can judge via extended electronic communication.

But then I got another email from him today--admiring, intelligent, sharing enough about himself to keep the conversation going without being a creepy or needy overshare. And now I'm thinking that little girl up there kinda looks like a Ramona, or maybe a Rachel.

Help me, blogosphere! Should I run, withdraw or just throw myself into whatever The Mister has in mind? (Bear in mind that if I go with that, by the next time I post here it's just barely possible I'd be reporting to you as The Missus . . .)