I hope they make dating Head and Shoulders, because I’ve got a flake on my hands. That’s right, folks — I’m actually shedding my Cathy cartoon exterior and venturing out there. On dates! With men! Try to conceal your shock.

However, as I’m slowly figuring out, it’s like pulling teeth to maintain communication with some of today’s men. And I’m not sure I’m ready to become a dentist.

I’m not going to name names. I promised myself that I’d never do that. The Internet is damning enough without the rants of some girl you’re trying to sleep with surfacing during a quick Google search. Yet the activities of this recent conquest are so seemingly commonplace that I’m taking to the keyboard, and he’ll just have to deal.

Admittedly, things didn’t start off on the right foot. After months of running into him around town, we exchanged numbers. Every few weeks, he’d resurface, with the sort of late night text that can only mean one thing. But when we actually connected, things seemed to be more alluring. In the oh-so-demanding restaurant industry, he works late hours. So a text at 1 a.m. wasn’t just a booty call, but the first chance to get to a phone. I know what you’re thinking, but cut me some slack.

As I’ve said before, my work life involves a lot of nights out. With a schedule that’s pretty demanding, I’m realizing how important it is for me to keep things casual. I don’t have much time for anything more intense at this point, and it’s something I’ll probably detail in a later column. But while a casual encounter is by definition, casual, a few sweet nothings are said and before you know it, you’re throwing around the word “smitten” in conversation with your girlfriends.

And then he drops off the face of the earth, but only sporadically. He can’t even commit to being noncommittal.

As annoying as a man going off the grid can be, there’s something unnervingly appealing about “the chase.”

You may not hear from him, but when you do, what is most assuredly a meaningless text sets your heart aflutter as if it were a Shakespearean sonnet. “He DOES care!” And all is forgotten. But I may have reached my breaking point here, and I’m pretty defeated.

So I’m stepping back. If things continue, I won’t be the one initiating things with this not-so-reliable suitor. A girl can only put out so much effort before she feels like she’s either a) having to work too hard, or b) coming across as a stalker. And I’m far too self-involved to cope with either. (I’m just kidding, but it’s funnier that way, right?)