Tag Archives: first date

Pleasantly surprised

23 Feb

I owe you an update on my date the other night with #6.

We had made arrangements to meet at a cool restaurant downtown that I’d been dying to try.  He arrived before I did and when I walked in I was happy to see that he was a bit cuter than his pics.  He was also a bit shorter than I thought and with my amazing boots I was probably an inch taller than he was.  Whatever, no bigs, figured I’d never have to wear heels again – I love flats.  #6 was in a bit of a panic when I got there because he’d realized he’d left his wallet in the back of the uber.  In some respects it worked out well because the problem solving mode we had to go into helped us get past any nervousness.

Wallet in hand, we were able to sit down and enjoy our drinks.  The drink menu was the bomb and sitting at the bar we were able to watch all the madness in the restaurant. I’ve come to the conclusion that sitting at the bar is way better than sitting at a table because you’ve got a better chance of reading body language, and if they have hot arms and you want to touch them, it makes it easier.

For those of you who voted in the poll as to whether/not I should give him a birthday card (his birthday was the night before), “yes” was the right answer.  He loved the card and was touched that I’d even thought to do that.  I’m a kind person, god damn it (someone tell #4).  Let me thank NONE of you for telling me what I should write in his birthday card.  Really helpful.  No really, thank you to no one.  In the card I’d written that I’d handle first round of drinks and he told me absolutely not.  When he got up to go to the bathroom I closed out the tab on the first round because I knew he’d fight me.

I had really low expectations going into the date.  In our messaging he was making me do a whole lot of work and the conversation wasn’t flowing.  In person, I was getting all sorts of right signals and the conversation was smooth.  He shared some fun Tinder/OKC stories, asked questions about me, was a good flirt, and fun company.  As I did the previous night on my date with #5, I got up at one point to go to the bathroom just so he could see how amazing I looked in my outfit.  Yes, I wore the damn one as the previous date.  No, I don’t have a problem with doing that.  The outfit was banging.  I may start wearing it everyday.

Three hours (and three drinks) went by in the blink of an eye.  “I don’t know what I was expecting tonight, but I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised,” he told me.  He said he thought I was smart and very attractive and that he’d love to see me again.  Likewise.  So promising!  It was a great first date.  Not quite as spicy as the first one with #4, missing some of the chemistry, but definitely worth another date.

I messaged him when I got home and gave him my number.  Text message sent from him 5 minutes later.  Good morning texts on Wednesday and Thursday – some witty banter the rest of the days.  And yesterday he asked me out again.  I said yes, of course I said yes, because he’s cute and funny and we have some chemistry and why the hell not?

 

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Let me leave you with this…

21 Feb

Home from my date with #6. I’ll leave you with 2 things: 1, was pleasantly surprised with the date. 2, think he was too.

Bare witness to our riveting text exchange!!

Help a sister out

20 Feb

Date #6 tonight.  Don’t have high hopes, talking to him is a bit like pulling teeth.  Feels like I’m doing all the work.  I ask him questions, he responds.  Ask him more questions, he responds again. Not a whole lot of back and forth.  I can only imagine what tonight will be like.  If it’s like the exchange in email, guessing tonight I will pretend I’m a professional interviewer and will get him to just tell me some good stories.

Assuming actually has good stories…Bit of a wet noodle maybe?

Know what would be amazing?  If date #6 turned into date #sex.  Hey-o!  I made a lolz.  Because six and sex sound similar.  You chuckled.  Admit it.

Anyway, bought him the birthday card – a benign card that wouldn’t be over the top.  So what should I write in it?  Help a sister out and put your thoughts in the comments.  Don’t leave me hanging, yo.

 

Strike or strike out?

19 Feb

Welcome to Monday night.  Date night with eligible bachelor #5. I’m rolling in men.  ROLLING IN THEM!  Unfortunately, not rolling around with any of them.

Let’s first talk about my banging date outfit.  BANGING!  Rocked out the best dress ever.  The right amount of cleavage, hem a little above the knee, opaque black tights, super hot ankle booties.  Mascara.  On dates, we wear eye make up and mascara.  We dress like ultra sexy versions of ourselves – but not so sexy our dates assume we’ll end up on our backs at the end of the date. We do not dress like sluts and we do not show off everything we have, we merely hint at what might be on offer at some point.  The outfit was on the money.  So on the money, in fact, that I’d wear it AGAIN tomorrow if it wasn’t going to be so warm.

On my way to my date, after sending a quick text to #4, I popped into the shop to pick up a birthday card for date #6 which is tomorrow night.  Most of you who voted in the previous post approved of the idea.  If the date tomorrow goes south, it’s totally your fault.  If he doesn’t like the card, then he is a dick and can go fuck himself.

As per usual, I was the first one at the restaurant.  The creepy host/waiter sat me in a crowded part of the restaurant and proceeded to enjoy the view down my dress.  He was a creep.  #5 showed up a few minutes later.  He walked in the door and BAM absolutely nothing.  No spark, no disappointment, no nothing.  Okay, fine.  Let’s settle in and get ready for some wine.  He was nervous, I could tell, not like a hot mess nervous, just a bit awkward which kind of made me nervous a little and we tripped over words for a few minutes.  Exceptionally awesome since every fucking table around us probably knew exactly what was going on and was dropping eaves on this awkward exchanged.

We ordered our wine, and seemed to settle in, and then nothing.  Really not much to report after that.  It was fine.  It was kind of like a plain roast chicken breast.  Bland, and forgettable.  Like jackasses we ordered some super messy turkey wings (which were stupid messy).  Although I wasn’t feeling anything I decided that when it came time to walk to the bathroom that I was going to strut everything I had so he could watch me walk away from and to him.  Obviously I rocked his world.

He paid for dinner.  The host/waiter came back to thank us, extended his hand to shake mine, and stared right down my dress.  Because he’s a creep and because my rack looked amazing.  My date offered to drive/walk me home, I passed.

I’ve heard from him already.  I’m going to pass again.

Not disappointed at tonight’s outcome.  Maybe a bit confused.  I guess maybe a bit disappointed – more so because I’m left with these questions about myself and these strange signals I must be sending off and why it’s so hard to find someone with whom I’m compatible.

Here’s the big question floating around in mind: why do the ones I want not want me back, and the ones who want me I don’t want back?  What is the messed up thing that goes on in my brain where I send these jacked up signals that say, “come hither” to those I’d rather wander off, and “retreat!” to the ones who I want to come nearer?  Why am I attracted to the ones I can’t really have?  Is that some jacked up defense mechanism?

The date outfit was definitely a strike, and every single interaction I’ve ever had with a man is a strike out.  I don’t understand men.  Sometimes, I don’t understand myself either.

 

Line them up and knock them down

19 Feb

I’m the absolute worst at bowling.  Guaranteed to get a gutter ball at least 90% of the time, unless I can talk the people I’m playing with to let me use the bumper guards that fill up the gutters.  Then what happens is the bowling ball will hit the bumper guard and still manage to knock down jack shit.  I’m the asshole that has to swing the ball between her legs, granny style, and still manages to only get a few of the damned pins.  It’s embarrassing.

Dating has been a lot like bowling.  A whole lot of effort and I’ve barely scored (LOLZ, I cracked myself up).  The Tutor has been dismissed #4 is seducing me via text message, and I’ve got a whole lot of time on my hands.  What to do with so many free evenings?  Sure, I can hang out with Mr. Bojangles and clear out my Neflix queue, or I can go out with strangers and have awkward conversation over drinks.  Well, kids, guess who just lined up dates #5 and #6 for tonight AND tomorrow night?  Yours truly.

I enjoy the light banter with #5.  He has a son, knows a ton of languages, likes to travel, and loves the same kind of wine I do.  Win!  We’re going out for wine tonight.  If all else fails, at least I’ll be drinking wine on a Monday night.

Here’s what I know about #6: not a whole heck of a lot.  His profile is somewhat lean: he works in some kind of sales, isn’t married and doesn’t have kids, loves to cook, loves to be outdoors (like every single fucking guy who has an online profile), and he has a nice smile.  That’s about it.  We’ve got plans to go to a pretty nice restaurant, so if all else fails at least the food will be good.

Maybe I’ll be pleasantly surprised.  Maybe it will be horrifying.  You’ll have to stay tuned to find out!

Le Swoon

13 Feb

You guys!! YOU GUYS!!  That gif was totally me at the end of my date last night.  Holy Lord almighty.  Swoon.  SWOON, you guys!!  Are you swooning?  I’m still swooning.  I want to spend the entire day just melting and turning into a giant puddle on the floor.  Then I’ll pick myself back up and melt all over the place again.

God bless, #4.

We met up at a restaurant near my house.  I was early, as per usual, and was the only customer in the place.  He walked in and I thought to myself, “hot fucking damn, he is fit as fuck.”  He knows how to fill out a polo shirt.  Looked way hotter than in his pictures.  Like, I felt my ovaries beating hot.  I had to restrain myself from asking him to father my children.  He sat down and immediately faced the bar and I thought, “Fuck, he’s totes not into me.”  Whatever, we’ll have a few drinks and then I’ll go home and line up the next date.

We drank, we ate, we talked politics, family, dating, traveling, pizza, drinks.  I don’t know.  We talked, and he was interesting, and smart, and funny.  And I poked him in the arm and it was rock hard and then I thought, “stop touching him!  He doesn’t like you,” because he was facing the bar.  AND THEN he nudged my leg and I thought, “I’m going to touch his body.”  And then we talked some more, and then I poked his arm again and my ovaries started beating again.  And then he lodged his leg next to mine and my immediate impulse was to pull it away and I thought, “do not move your fucking leg.  You will leave it there touching his.”

But then he asked for the check.

[SAD FACE]

It was a little after 7:30, we’d been there for 2 hours – I could have sat there for 2 more days.  Okay, fine.  Read all the signs wrong, clearly if he wanted to leave then that meant that he was over it.  He was naturally charming, and was being polite in hanging out, and he was ready to go.  And I was bummed.  Then he said, “can I walk you home?” Obviously, I said yes.

So here’s this handsome, younger gentleman walking me home and I had that inner dialogue with my slutty self.

  • Slutty Self (SS): You should just sleep with him.
  • Rationale Self (RS): Do not do that.
  • SS: Don’t you want to see him naked? Imagine what he looks like under that shirt?
  • RS: You playing the long game here, or do you want him to touch you all over and then never hear from him again?
  • SS: Is that a bad thing?  Because look at him?  Invite him in the house.
  • RS: Do not invite him in the house.
  • SS: Don’t you want to touch his peen?
  • RS: If you wait, maybe you can touch it more than once…

There we were on my porch and he was looking at the house, and I know that he wanted to come in – but I was not going to invite him in.  Instead, he kissed me on the porch.  I wanted to maul him.  To climb him like a god damn mountain.  I restrained myself.  So he kissed me again, and my inner slut yelled to me, “you’re five feet from the couch, you could be on top of him in less than 2 minutes.”  I thanked him for a good time, bid him adieu, and went into my house where I melted onto the couch.

Of course I needed to immediately start thinking, “WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN NOW?? IS HE GOING TO CALL ME?? WHAT IF I NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN??”

Five minutes later he sent me a message in the dating app (because I hadn’t given him my number) thanking me for the date and saying even if I wasn’t sure about a 2nd date, that the kiss is something important to check out.  I immediately wrote back and told him I had a great time and gave him my number.  And in the first few official text messages he wrote, “You were as good a kisser as I imagined.” And that’s when I died. I am dead.

I mean, like what?  WHAT JUST HAPPENED??

Of course my head told me to take a deep breath and calm down, my throbbing ovaries were making plans for where we were going to do it, and my heart is making plans of its own.  Here’s the thing: this (if there is a this) will be a casual thing.  It will be nothing more than that.  It will burn hot, and it will burn fast.  We all know that the hotter the flame the faster it burns, and I need a slow burn. As much as I may want it to be more than casual, it will not be. So I’m going to keep going out there, and meeting other guys.  Date #3 and I are going out again tomorrow.  I will not get my hopes up (haha, who am I kidding?).  I will let this play out.

And I’ll keep checking my phone to see when he’s going to respond to the text that I sent him this morning.  It’s been 2 hours and he hasn’t responded.  I’m never going to hear from him again.

I ordered a few new bras.  You know, just in case.

Why hasn’t he responded to my text?? Oh wait.  He just did.

First Date Jitters

27 May

Big night tonight.  HUGE!  First date.  Yup.  That’s right.  My secret boyfriend has a date…with someone who isn’t me.

Yesterday when he stopped by to visit he confessed that he’s dipping his toe back into the black waters of online dating.  Sunday’s date didn’t go so well – that’s what happens when you post pictures of yourself from 3 years ago, and you happen to gain 40 pounds.  She was a no go.  Yet he seemed optimistic that his next date would go better.

Said date happens to be tonight.  It’s kind of awkward to tell him that I hope he has an absolute shitty date, but I hope he does.  Why?  Because I totes want him for myself.  I know myself well enough that all night I’ll be picturing him with some foxy young hotty having the time of his life.  He’ll be off with this blonde bombshell while I sit on the couch watching reruns of Dateline and eating my feelings in the form of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

Ugh, I hate it when my secret boyfriends are dating other people.