I've been champing at the bit to write this entry since before I even finished the last one...cuz believe you me - there's a shitload that I would LUV to get off of my chest! But at the same time...I've def. been dragging my feet - praying (or whatever) that I'll get a dollop of good news - and things will play out the way that I WISH that they would....which as far as this entry goes - would limit me to hiding all provocative info. behind that courteous (albeit lame-o) "gonna keep it zipped" disclaimer. See, the thing of it is...no matter what ultimately transpires in this - the most recent chapter in my desolate dating diary - the subject matter (and the length) of this entry depends entirely on me either choosing to take the high road, and hold my tongue in regards to a certain key player, which would be the courteous thing to do regardless...or - choosing to cast aside the feelings of said individual, for the sake of blogging with veracity and verve...whereby leading you by the hand - my devoted steely-nerved readers - down another sordid path...
Soooo...it's now waaaaay past the allotted 24 hour waiting period (like DAYS later) and it looks like I'M the one who's shit outta luck...I did manage to merit a response outta the culprit in question...but honestly, what he said to me was so freaking lame that I am 95% convinced that I have every right - to totally unload...
A couple of Saturdays ago, I awoke to a dreary, drizzly day. I was licking my wounds after having been blatantly snubbed by several acquaintances at a party that I had attended, the night before, and the tentative plans that I had made to get together that day with a new guy - the overgrown fraternity boy, Bluto - had now fizzled. I was feeling sorry for myself and questioning every single, little aspect of my niggling existence - and was completely unmotivated to do much at all...other than sulk. Poised to write the whole day off to malaise, I exulted when a message appeared in my Facebook inbox...from none other than...my most highly revered crush...the Mystery Man!!! You guys remember him, right? (See the "Holding Out For Something Maybe Better" entry) M.M. opened his message to me with, "You might not remember me..." and I was there like, "Are you effing kidding me? Remember you...I've NEVER stopped THINKING about you!!!" (I did manage to dilute some of my enthusiasm in my actual reply...a little) He then asserted that he was still interested in trying to meet up sometime...and that I should let him know if I was ever in his town. I quickly responded, saying that I could BE in his town in 2 hours, if that would work for him (pretty slick, eh?) I sent him my cell# and within minutes we were talking on the phone. He asked if I was really gonna be in D.C. that night, and I said that I hadn't planned on it before we'd talked, but that (never one to pussy foot around) I was totally up for making the trip out there to see him. He told me that it all sounded fine, but that he could only hang for a few hours, since he was (apparently - perennially) snowed under with work (...and on a Saturday night, too...curious...) but I was actually kind of relieved because if this was indeed the case, it meant that I would be leaving outta there before M.M. and I could do something really regrettable like...fuck...on the first date...
The entire 1 1/2 hour drive to his house was excruciatingly nerveracking...for one thing, my little car is a bitch to drive in the rain but on top of that, I was nervous to the nth degree to finally be meeting my intriguing Mystery Man, who I'd placed on such a prodigious pedestal.
I had no trouble finding the block where M.M. lived as well as a choice parking place, but my noodley driving legs, teetering atop ridiculously high heels, did have difficulty climbing the steps of the first yellow house that I found - which unfortunately...was not actually his - doh! I heard him say my name in that buttery voice of his - and I scurried away from that stupid, wrong house - heart racing - to meet him out on the sidewalk. I was not stoked that his first impression of me was of some space case who couldn't even find the right house on her own, but I quickly got over it cuz GODDAMN if that Mystery Man wasn't even more riveting than I'd imagined he'd be! I was hopelessly smitten from the git-go, no lie. He was just so much cuter in person than in his photos...(and I had already found him to be quite comely in his pics.) I loved his sun-kissed complexion and his tight, compact body, his smile and silver bracelet and his jeans, but most especially his eyes...there was this softness about them that positively slew me. I can't recall ever feeling quite that unstrung, in the presence of another human...silly isn't it? But promising, I thought - to finally feel jittery about a man...maybe I wasn't so jaded after all.
M.M. and I sat across from one another - sipping Prosecco and nibbling sweet, crunchy anchovy snacks in his posh living room. I wondered if he was picking up on my anxiety as I struggled to corral my nerves so as not to wrinkle our otherwise seamless conversation. We quickly skimmed over the polite small-talk and stuff and then effortlessly delved into various formative facets of our individual upbringings, both tragic in their own right, although markedly dissimilar. M.M. cited difficulty with commitment as his stumbling block in relationships with women and theorized that this was most likely the byproduct of a certain appalling aspect of his late childhood...This shoulda been a glaring red flag (as if he was warning, "buyer beware...") but since I tend to gravitate toward the wounded, I chose to regard it as something that I could possibly help fix someday, rather than something that could ever negatively affect me......after which, I resumed admiring his relaxed and confident body language, as he leaned comfortably into the corner of his sleek sofa, his legs crossed Indian style.
After chit-chatting and snacking for an undetermined amount of time, I started to worry about how much longer I had until he decided to kick me out, and right about then - he allayed my apprehension when he suggested that we go grab a bite downtown. As we weighed our dining options, I masked my rhapsody from having scored a substantial amount of additional time with my Mystery Man...(*squeal*)
So often - when I'm on a date with a new fella, out of boredom or disinterest or whatever, I find myself surveying the crowd, hoping to find a more interesting subject on which to fixate, just for shits and gigs - 'til I'm able to make my eventual escape (classic roving eye syndrome, I guess) But when M.M. got up and left the table to go visit the little boy's room, it dawned on me that the entire time that we'd been cocktailing and dining, I had never taken my eyes off of him to peruse the other patrons. I was incontestably captivated by him...in toto. I took this as a good sign, and I was growing ever more sanguine that I had maybe (hope, hope) found the perfect elixir for my dating ennui.
Once dinner was over, we walked across the street, away from the restaurant and sat down on some marble steps to talk and partake in an after-dinner cigarette. A funny thing I thought of days later, was - for how enamored of him I was becoming - it never occurred to me to lean in for a kiss...while we were there - shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip on those giant marble steps. My mindset at that point, must've been of something bigger and better than simply wanting to scrump (which is so not like me) Anyway, we got up to go and I was certain that by now, I must have overshot my time limit with him, and I figured that next, we'd be driving back to his house so that I could hit the road and he could get to work. I even asked him if he needed me to scram, so he could attend to whatever tasks it was that he was meant to be tackling (on a Saturday night, let's not forget) He kind of chuckled and said that it was fine, that his work would keep, and that we could stroll around the city, if I wanted...and of course, I did...but first, I couldn't resist calling him out on what I now knew was his poorly concealed emergency exit strategy for the night...goes kinda like this: Say he'd met me and he'd found me to be a complete bore or dog ugly or a combination of the two...well, then he could legitimately implement the "I have a shit ton of work to do" excuse, and I would've left as planned - without getting my nose outta joint. He loosely concurred that my theory was accurate (teeny red flag?) No matter...I was just happy that I'd had made the preliminary cut...Oh joy!
As we set out on our jaunt about the city, M.M. grasped my hand in his.........the tenderness of this simple gesture which declares to passersby that, "This chick is MINE" - sent me aflutter. I mean, I know it sounds corny and all, but I can't even tell you when the last time was, that a guy held my hand in public (maybe 6th grade at the roller rink?) To me, hand-holding equals pure and innocent affection....and it had to mean (just HAD to!) that he was diggin' on me as hard as I was diggin' on him...
We covered a lot of territory before heading back to his car and the crazy thing was, that I never even noticed ('til the next day!) that the witchy heels that I'd been sporting, had worn deep, oozy craters into various places on my poor tootsies (it's now more than 2 weeks after my date with M.M. and my feet are only just now almost right) But again, I think this illustrates how into him I was...I was so glommed onto him and his every word, that I deferred what should have been pretty rad. pain from my feet being shredded...bizarre...
We got back to his house and went straight into his dimly lit kitchen to pour a nightcap, but got kinda distracted when instead, he grabbed me up tight against his body and we started corybantically kissing...I was thinking, "Oh shit...this could be trouble" Things were getting pretty active, pretty fast and at some point I stopped and said, "I don't know if we should be doing this" and he goes, "What...You DIDN'T think this would happen?" (Wait...what did he mean by that? Why would he say such a thing? It's because of the blog, isn't it...cuz I portray myself as such an "easy lay"...) Oh god no, please not that! That would be an enormous red flag...Maybe it wasn't that...Maybe he was implying that since we'd established a friendship online, he'd been as optimistic as I - that once we met, we would share a mutual attraction...k, yeah...I like that much better. But - just to clarify - NO! I did NOT think that "this" would happen because when we'd firmed things up on the phone before I left my house to go meet him, M.M. had fibbed to me that he could only hang out for a short while, which I had believed! I had planned on showing up, spending a little time with him, possibly punctuating our evening together with a hug and a smooch goodnight, and then going back home at a reasonable hour...and that would've been perfectly FINE with me! Believe me, if I HAD've thought that "this" was gonna happen, I would've stuck an overnight bag in my car...or at the very least, put a freaking toothbrush in my purse. For goddsakes - I hadn't even "groomed" properly, never anticipating that he would be going "there". After all, he was...well...HIM...my Mystery Man...he was on a higher plane than all of those base mother fuckers who'd only been interested in getting me into the sack, right?...He was above such libidinous behavior (wasn't he?)...I'd imagined him to possibly be the panacea to my misery...not an aggravator of it...
I knew I was toast when M.M. suggested, "Why don't we go finish this, upstairs..." errrgghhh...glaring red flag!...Maybe it WAS my dumb, ole blog...maybe after reading my sometimes vivid descriptions of mixing it up with guys on the first (and often the ONLY) date - he was convinced that he had just as much right to dip his fingers into my pie, as all the rest of 'em had...What if his sole purpose for inviting me there, was to see how the "me" in real life measured up to the "me" about whom I write in The Big Ugly...Trouble was, that I wanted more than to simply satisfy his curiosity...I was seriously wanting to try and date the dude...
I thought about bailing in order to salvage what little respect he might have ever even had for me. But the messed up part is this, and I don't know why I let it be this way so consistently...I sort of feel like whenever I start messing around with a guy, it's like there's no putting on the brakes after that. With me, for some reason...even a little innocent snogging, will nearly always be misinterpreted by a paramour as the very definition of foreplay...which translates to, "I'm gon' be gettin' me some, boyee!"...I sometimes feel almost guilted into sealing the deal...cuz if I didn't - well then, wouldn't that just make me a filthy, little prick-tease? Hard to say which is worse...filthy, little prick-tease or dirty, rotten whore...hmmmm...Anyway, I tried to rationalize - in the heat of that moment there in M.M.'s kitchen - that maybe he was feeling me up because he sincerely liked me? I mean, it's understood by now, that I was undeniably attracted to HIM, but I'd also sensed (I thought) the potential for longevity between us...I was undeniably kind of bummed while thinking that "It sure would've been nice to court a little, before doing the dirty..." soooo...I peeled myself off of him, pushed him back a bit so that I could look into his eyes, and asked (preparing myself for the inevitable), "Well...do you think that we'll ever do "this" again?" I hoped that he'd get the just that I didn't want "this" to end up to be just another one of my sleazy one-night-stands...to which he replied, "I hope so..." Ok good. So stupid me took his vague assurance and ran with it. He DID want to see me again. He just said so himself! And so I chose, what at the time seemed to be the lesser of the two evils...dirty, rotten whore......
After the deed was done, we made our way back down to the kitchen for those forgotten night-caps which we swilled in his back garden. I was no longer angst-ridden, I was calm and I was not feeling slutty at all...I felt confident that I'd made the right choice to doink him...I wanted to believe that this was the beginning of something really good...
When we went to tuck ourselves in for the final time that night, we messed around, again...and I don't know if it was the booze or performance anxiety or what, but there was a minor malfunction with the condom and when I realized that he was no longer wearing it, I was like, "Oh god, uh oh..." Lord knows, mama just don't do the skin on skin thing - casually anymore...it's really just not an option. In a long term, committed relationship, yes...but this wasn't that...M.M. shrugged off the snafu, fixed the problem, everybody found their happy place and we finally hunkered down for the night...his back to my front...spooning apparently, not an option...teensy red flag...
My internal clock woke me at the same time that it always does (which was evidently, earlier than M.M. would have liked) and I stirred a bit, but not excessively so. Soon thereafter, he jumped up in what seemed like a huff, took the faintly ticking clock off of the bureau by my side of the bed, and hid it somewhere. I had no earthly idea why he would do such an odd thing (did he think that I might try to steal it before the sun was fully up? I didn't even have a bag in which to stow the damned thing) He later remarked that he'd removed the clock because he thought that it was disturbing me...and I was thinking, "That's weird...wonder why he thought that?" But I later took it to mean that my moving around in the bed (because of the clock, he supposed) was actually disturbing HIM...ah ha! (so sorry to have disturbed his highness...)
Once the sun was all the way up, and the blinds were raised - I lay, slightly propped against a pillow, comfortably naked in his cushy bed...hands tucked behind my head, tits - sunny-side up, and I marveled at how he nervously hopped around on one foot - frantically trying to step into his boxers...This was not the self-assured intellectual from the night before...he seemed so out of sorts. Maybe it had annoyed him when after I whispered "Don't you need to get up?" (to get to some bike race or something) and he then grunted that he was already too late to make it on time - that I tickled his back and arms for like 30 minutes or something...(can that even BE irritating?) For some reason though, as soon as he was upright, he seemed genuinely agitated. It was odd to me that I now felt so calm and he was the one who seemed unnerved...Was he worried that his girlfriend might stop by, or something? (I mean you never know...stranger things have happened) No matter what it was that had him seemingly so flustered - his current disposition indicated that I was dangerously close to having fully encroached on his personal space. He was, however, kind enough to fix me a yummy cup of coffee and tolerated chatting with me for a bit, before standing and announcing that NOW - he really did have to tackle his obligations, and I was cool with that...he had been far more generous with his precious time, than I'd ever anticipated him to be…
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