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A first date in the Second City
A first date in the Second City
All right, so I'm over the rude message from the last post, and I'm up early on a Saturday - I'm always up early when it's sunny, I have an east-facing apt. tantalizingly close to the lake - and in the mood to blog.
About Thursday night with Joe. He told me it'd be a date. He was right. A date. A fun, delicious date. As if I were a real girl, one worth going on a date with, as opposed to a goofy, flirty recreational slut-buddy. It was strange. I didn't know what to do.
What was strange about it? First, he picked me up and drove. I'm not used to that. I'm a city girl in a busy neighborhood, I hang out at the local places and walk a lot - I meet people at places, informally - I'm not picked up, I'm not driven anywhere, not without having to pay the driver.
Then he told me I looked fantastic. So did he - he'd grown out the short haircut he had last time, he'd shaved off the facial hair, he looked different and... great. I told him so, I always compliment people, because the people I enjoy being with always look great. (They do! I hang out with good-looking guys!) But I've noticed guys only compliment when they want something, such as to get in your pants. (And West Coast Boy doesn't compliment me at all, really. We've been together too long, and he doesn't really compliment anyone... it's a guy thing, he says. I've gotten used to it.) Joe already knew he could get in my pants and complimented me anyway. Such a little thing makes a big impact.
We went to a restaurant he'd chosen completely without my input (another rarity), an excellent Italian place I'd always been meaning to eat at but hadn't yet. How great! He opened the door for me and put his hand protectively on my back as I walked in... chose a delicious appetizer... and when the conversation wound around to sex (I mean, why wouldn't it? This is me here), he'd gently change the subject - "After all, this is our first date," he said. I giggled. First date? But those are for breaking the ice - and as he mentioned later, the ice has already been shattered in one blow when we fell into bed together.
I think the thing is, I don't know what a date IS. I never formally "dated" anyone before becoming involved with them. romantically or friend-with-benefits - I subscribe to the college-dorm method of becoming involved with people, which is you hang out together in non-romantic situations and talk and talk and fall for each other until you have no choice but to hook up, and also you're both broke so nice restaurants are out of the question anyway.... And after you're involved, you don't go on dates, you just do things together.
As I realized over the fascinating conversation with Joe (he's got great stories, he's got a very interesting life - and I'm starting to get to know him well enough that I can tell him MY best stories, which are just as outlandish and true as his) - It is very different now. I may not have money, I may not have manners, but I now know men that have both - and soon enough, when I get out of school, I'll have them too. The playing field has changed. I CAN go on dates now, and be treated like... a woman, not a goofy college girl. So weird.
And what else was weird was... he didn't come up, and I didn't go over. He works overnight. He had to be back at midnight. I was disappointed, honestly...
...until, after kissing me at stoplight after stoplight, he slipped his hand into my cleavage and under my blue lacy bra and stroked my nipple... I was in a car. No one to hear. I moaned as loudly as I always want to... I reached for his thigh, found what I was looking for, stroked him as he drove. (I don't give blow jobs to drivers... at least, not anymore... don't ask. ) A tangle of arms stroking each other as he drove, like a couple of teenagers.
He parked the car. We kissed, touched, he licked my ear and down my neck, bent down to kiss my nipple, I pulled my shirt aside for easy access, god damn it felt incredible. Someone could have come up and peeked in the window any time - not like they would, it was a quiet street on a Thursday night, but I just didn't care. I fumbled for his belt, pulled him out, immediately took him in my mouth, played with him till he was gasping - he undid MY belt, slipped his hand down my unzipped jeans and his finger into me, thrusting in that way he has that touches just the perfect spot, as I bucked and moaned...
"The windows are steamed up," he remarked as we reluctantly pulled ourselves back together - he had to go. "Yay!" I squealed, as if a mission were accomplished. We steamed up windows! A great end to a great date. Even if I had to take care of my frustration as soon as I got upstairs.
A date with no sex? What's the point? some of you are probably wondering. The point is, it was a DATE. Sex does not necessarily go with. I enjoyed it, and hopefully soon I will get back in bed for hours with Joe, but right now that was what I needed, and it was delightful.
It also led to a good revelation, which will be outlined in the next entry...
9/24/2005 6:30 pm
Evie, That was awesome and I have to ask you........... What did you expect? Your worth a mans time and effort and while I dont know you I have to say it means a little more when you take your time.|