(We don't know where we'll end up ... but we're all starting at single.)

Friday, September 7, 2012

TWS Week 4: The First Four - Part I

Four weeks; four dates.

I know I wrote a while back stating that I was going to get to telling you about my first date…and then I didn’t. So now you get my first four. Or rather, my two first and two second dates. I’m fairly certain I can barely juggle one guy, but here are two: Both vying for my affections, and by affections, I mean sex. I’m pretty sure that’s how that works. Granted, I’ve been out of the sexy loop for a little while, but I believe that's still how it works.
I suppose I should take a moment to explain my absence from the Loop’o’Sex. First and foremost, I am picky – and I have to be comfortable with someone before I can sleep with them (one night stands need not apply…anymore). Secondly, STDs scare the crap out of me (not literally…that would be gross). Thirdly, babies should not have babies (…and I’m 28 going on 20 for a little while longer). After The Ex, I started seeing sleeping with this guy and we did that for a while; so after that crashed and burned last year, I put myself on one year of self-imposed sex-sabbatical, which lasted 362 days. Why not the full 365, you ask: A couple of months after I met the last guy I dated, my loins were burning holes in all of my underwear and it was just getting too panty-expensive to go without on those last three days. That was in January: That’s the last time I got laid. By choice, of course; I’ve had many-a-man sleep in my bed since then - one of which is called Pierre, because he peed in my garbage can. I later learned he was a lawyer, turned lobbyist on the Hill and I briefly entertained the idea of going out with him more than just the second time AFTER the pee incident, until he acted like an asshole, I told him so, and, as it turns out, men don’t like to be called assholes. This is the crop I have to choose from? I’d rather be Chaste Charlie. (Or Vestal Vicky.)
Alright. So that’s where we are on the sexy-time front. And then we added online dating to the mix. Since I never planned to actually go out with any of the guys from OkC, I set up my account and answered my 200+ questions with the honesty and mindset of my typical dating style: Dating for a life partner. At heart, I’m a serial monogamist; right now, I feel anything but. So now I’m getting matched up with guys that probably want more than "anything but a serious relationship" and my mom thinks I’m going to “break someone’s heart”, but I don’t want to re-answer the questions and get a bunch of skanky dudes with STDs and huge egos thinking they can come in my bed…and then in me. (See: Explanation for absence from Loop’o’Sex.) Plus, it's never a completely closed off idea, the universe will have you know.

So, here I am going out with two guys with fairly high “match” percentages. Read: Not just in it for the booty, I assume. Or are all guys just in it for the booty? 

Anyway, back to the dates. The first date was the Housewife, or RH, for short. I nickname everyone. Deal with it.
The first date was cute: We met outside my metro and then went to a book store that’s also a bar/restaurant and shared apps and had cocktails – hot toddies for me since I went full-on half dead with illness the rest of the week.  He asked me lots of questions about myself and, generally, I like to talk about myself, so I found this most pleasing. I also began to wonder if he was actually interested, strictly interviewing, or just really good at first dates. Afterwards, he said “I’m going to take you on a walk”. So we walked a few blocks then sat down on the stairs of some German Bank building to watch a YouTube clip he had told me about over drinks, and then chatted more. On the steps he touched me – a lot. In the most random of ways: An arm here, a shoulder there; hair…every dating book ever says: Interested. Not too long after sitting down, I realized I needed to leave to catch my train. He held my hand as we walked to the metro and got on topic of my cultural foods and stated which restaurant he would take me too next time. “Okay,” I said. Before I walked to my side of the platform we said goodbyes, ending with a kiss. A good one: Brief, honest, nice. We would continue to chat/text almost daily and eventually squeeze date two into my schedule – nearly two weeks after the first one.  
My second first date was with Mini-Horse, or MH, for short. We met up at a bar/restaurant. There was barely anyone else there and the music was weird. Very 80s. At one point Madonna came on and he expressed his love for her. I questioned his sexuality aloud. He took it in stride, but he came off very feminine to me that night and a little bored; he talked about his job a lot. In stark contrast to RH, didn’t ask many questions about me. I began assuming he wasn’t interested, but then after that place, he wanted to go to another place around the block (that we had talked about). Maybe I was wrong…and maybe he’s not gay, I thought. We went; we laughed. I hadn’t eaten dinner, since it wasn’t specified and I didn’t want to be the only one eating, so by night’s end, I was a little toasted; as was he. He offered to have a cab take me (out of his way) to my house before he took it to his. Pleasant surprise: Points for MH. He asked me if he should walk me to my door, to which I lushly exclaimed “OF COURSE!”, and there we shared a drunken, yet pleasant, kiss. He texted me when he got home and asked if the following day was too soon to see me again. (Don’t worry, after the vodka wore off, he rescinded it by saying he had to work late the next day.) I don’t think I need a dating book to hear the scream: Interested.

Okay. So good. I'm good at vetting people online. I'm good at interviews first dates. Solid. Point: Window Shopper.

 
EDIT: I made this into a two-parter after getting some guff about the length. Please click here to continue.

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