Thursday night was my first date with the Linguist. No, he's not a Cunning Linguist...or maybe he is, and I just don't know it yet. He was a translator with the Army, though, and he “speaks” an astounding number of computer programming languages, so it's a fitting title.
Now, the Linguist is a happily married father of two. No, he's not cheating on his wife. They have a polyamorous relationship, even though they're married. Before agreeing to go out with him, I asked what kind of rules or arrangement they have regarding their relationship. He told me that they don't really put rules on other relationships, which I like, but the main thing is that he doesn't date women who want him to leave his wife, and she doesn't date men who do the same. They are committed to each other, even though they have other relationships.
When the Linguist first messaged me on the dating site, I initially turned him down. He had sent such a well thought-out letter, though, that I didn't want to leave him hanging. Instead, I sent him a quick note thanking him for messaging me but saying that at almost 40, he's outside of my comfort zone. A few days later, though, I reconsidered. It's not so much that I thought he would be too old, but that the last couple relationships I've had with older guys didn't end well. Still, he seemed nice and funny, so I emailed him again saying I'd like to meet.
The Linguist lives south of the city, while I live in the northern part. It was very sweet when he offered to come up to my neighborhood to go out instead of acting put out that he would have to travel so far. He professed a love for Indian food in his profile, so we decided on a place that I'd gone a couple times before. It was really cute when he walked in and I was already seated at a table. He waved and grinned. When he got to the table I had to ask him, “what if you were just waving at some random person?” That's totally something that would happen to me.
Dinner went great. We had a few pauses in conversation, as can be expected on a first date, but they were never awkward or uncomfortable. He let me try a bite of his food, but I teased him that I wasn't going to let him have any of mine. He kept inching closer to me throughout the night, and by the time we were ready for the check, we were holding hands across the table.
After he paid the bill, he asked if I'd be interested in walking around the neighborhood. It's a great place to do that- lots of little shops and restaurants. We stopped by his car first to put his leftovers up, and when he turned around from putting them on the seat, he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close, and took my breath away with a passionate kiss.
Based on that, he probably is a cunning linguist.
We walked over to the bookstore holding hands. We are both book fiends, so it was fun walking around, giving each other recommendations and making fun of others. Apparently his tween-aged daughter is obsessed with Twilight (of course), and he read the books for her. How sweet is that? We both ended up buying a couple books, which is surprisingly restrained for me, including him getting one for his wife. That spawned a conversation about being married while polyamorous.
“Most of our friends don't get it,” he said. “They ask, 'you go on dates with other people? And you sometimes talk about your wife with them?' Of course I talk about my wife- she's a major part of my life!”
He also told me that his daughter is aware of their polyamory. “It's not a big deal to her. We didn't make a big thing of it, so she doesn't either.” I think that's a really cool way to go about it.
After the bookstore, he walked me back to my car. A goodbye kiss turned into a goodbye makeout session next to my car, and after several tries we finally stopped long enough for me to get in my car and go. We already have plans for another date in a couple weeks, after he gets back from a business trip. I'm definitely glad I took the chance and went out with him.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday- Morning Sex is My Heroin
Once you've had a taste, you keep coming back for me.
Tuesday evening, the Dreamer wanted to come over after I got out of class. I was late getting out, though, and he called to say he was in my neighborhood before I'd even left the campus. Instead of making him wait outside, I called my roommate to see if she'd mind him hanging around until I got home. She said it was no problem at all, so when I got there, the Dreamer was sitting in the living room watching my roommate paint the room next to it.
After I got there, we made a quick dinner and then went to bed. We didn't even have sex! The next morning, the Dreamer's alarm went off at 5am, his usual time. When I woke up a second time and saw the clock said 7am, I panicked a little and hurriedly woke him up. “I'm going in late,” he said. “I'm too tired.” So we went back to sleep.
When his alarm went off again, it was almost 9. He started to get out of bed to get moving, but I pulled him back down. I wasn't going to let him go again without getting a piece for myself.
Let's have a word on morning sex. In short, it's the best thing ever. Waking up next to someone you like (not someone you avoid waking up while you quickly dress and sneak out), avoiding the morning breath while kissing, and sharing the warmth under the covers- it's fantastic. It's hard enough to get up in the mornings when the bed is warm and the room is cold, but it's even harder when there's another person in that bed with you.
We finally got out of bed at 9:30, and he went off to work.
Tuesday evening, the Dreamer wanted to come over after I got out of class. I was late getting out, though, and he called to say he was in my neighborhood before I'd even left the campus. Instead of making him wait outside, I called my roommate to see if she'd mind him hanging around until I got home. She said it was no problem at all, so when I got there, the Dreamer was sitting in the living room watching my roommate paint the room next to it.
After I got there, we made a quick dinner and then went to bed. We didn't even have sex! The next morning, the Dreamer's alarm went off at 5am, his usual time. When I woke up a second time and saw the clock said 7am, I panicked a little and hurriedly woke him up. “I'm going in late,” he said. “I'm too tired.” So we went back to sleep.
When his alarm went off again, it was almost 9. He started to get out of bed to get moving, but I pulled him back down. I wasn't going to let him go again without getting a piece for myself.
Let's have a word on morning sex. In short, it's the best thing ever. Waking up next to someone you like (not someone you avoid waking up while you quickly dress and sneak out), avoiding the morning breath while kissing, and sharing the warmth under the covers- it's fantastic. It's hard enough to get up in the mornings when the bed is warm and the room is cold, but it's even harder when there's another person in that bed with you.
We finally got out of bed at 9:30, and he went off to work.
Saturday Part 2- Steak and BJ Day
When we went out earlier in the week, I mentioned to the Dreamer the concept of Steak & BJ Day. For those of you who don't know, it's on March 14, exactly one month after Valentine's Day. Since Valentine's is all about what women supposedly want (flowers, hearts, chocolate), Steak & BJ Day is what the guys want- namely steak and a bj. It's their reward for remembering Valentine's, basically.
Even though the Dreamer and I weren't together over Valentine's Day, celebrating Steak & BJ Day was definitely a priority. I was out of town on the 14th, so we picked Saturday night as the makeup. Now, officially the woman is supposed to cook the steak for the guy, but I'm not a griller. Instead, we went out. He was a little worried about the price of the steaks, but I told him it just meant I'd be expecting more for my birthday in a couple months.
After dinner, we had tickets to a burlesque show at a local club. Just to show how small the world really is, the Dreamer had mentioned to me on Wednesday that he'd been wanting to see these performers. I mentioned it to the Anarchist the next day, who told me that he is friends with one of the side acts, and they were performing Saturday! I got on the phone to the Dreamer, bought tickets, and so on Saturday we found ourselves standing outside a club with a bunch of hipsters.
The show was great, but the best part was the Dreamer offering to buy my beers since I'd bought his dinner. Since it was a hipster bar, they had Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap. Yum! I'm a total lightweight, though, so the Dreamer had to be responsible enough to be able to drive home that night. At one point, though, I reached into my purse, pulled something out, and put it in his hand. He looked down at what it was, blushed furiously red, and shoved his hand in his pocket.
It was a red g-string.
I leaned over and whispered to him, “I was thinking, what could be better than a blow job? A blow job in stripper clothes!” He enthusiastically agreed.
By the time we left the club, I was drunk. Not falling down drunk, mind you, but definitely inebriated. He loaded me into the car, helped me up the stairs to his room, and started to help me sit down on the bed before I reminded him about the stripper clothes. I made him close his eyes while I quickly changed into a red and black polkadot number.
After I told him he could look, I asked, “do you like me skirt?”
“That's not a skirt!” he said, “it's a strip of material!”
In other words, he liked it.
I sat him down in his desk chair and gave him the best lapdance I could in my compromised state. Unlike a strip club, he was allowed to touch. Of course, Steak and BJ Day wouldn't be complete without the bj.
The next morning, we slept in late and decided to go to my favorite local diner for breakfast. We had the rest of the day to spend together, so we decided to go to a movie. First, the Dreamer wanted to show me the next apartment he's getting.
Like I've mentioned, he's currently living with 4 other guys in a big rowhouse. Lately, though, he's been feeling uncomfortable being a 30 year old professional without his own place. So he's moving soon into a two bedroom apartment with only one roommate. The place is gorgeous, and I couldn't help but notice that the two bedrooms aren't adjoining. Yay for not having to whisper while having sex!
We went to see the movie, then decided it was such a beautiful day, we needed to spend part of it outside. We grabbed some beer from a corner store and went to my place to hang out in the backyard. When he finally left late that night, I couldn't help but remark on how great it felt to spend almost an entire weekend with him.
Even though the Dreamer and I weren't together over Valentine's Day, celebrating Steak & BJ Day was definitely a priority. I was out of town on the 14th, so we picked Saturday night as the makeup. Now, officially the woman is supposed to cook the steak for the guy, but I'm not a griller. Instead, we went out. He was a little worried about the price of the steaks, but I told him it just meant I'd be expecting more for my birthday in a couple months.
After dinner, we had tickets to a burlesque show at a local club. Just to show how small the world really is, the Dreamer had mentioned to me on Wednesday that he'd been wanting to see these performers. I mentioned it to the Anarchist the next day, who told me that he is friends with one of the side acts, and they were performing Saturday! I got on the phone to the Dreamer, bought tickets, and so on Saturday we found ourselves standing outside a club with a bunch of hipsters.
The show was great, but the best part was the Dreamer offering to buy my beers since I'd bought his dinner. Since it was a hipster bar, they had Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap. Yum! I'm a total lightweight, though, so the Dreamer had to be responsible enough to be able to drive home that night. At one point, though, I reached into my purse, pulled something out, and put it in his hand. He looked down at what it was, blushed furiously red, and shoved his hand in his pocket.
It was a red g-string.
I leaned over and whispered to him, “I was thinking, what could be better than a blow job? A blow job in stripper clothes!” He enthusiastically agreed.
By the time we left the club, I was drunk. Not falling down drunk, mind you, but definitely inebriated. He loaded me into the car, helped me up the stairs to his room, and started to help me sit down on the bed before I reminded him about the stripper clothes. I made him close his eyes while I quickly changed into a red and black polkadot number.
After I told him he could look, I asked, “do you like me skirt?”
“That's not a skirt!” he said, “it's a strip of material!”
In other words, he liked it.
I sat him down in his desk chair and gave him the best lapdance I could in my compromised state. Unlike a strip club, he was allowed to touch. Of course, Steak and BJ Day wouldn't be complete without the bj.
The next morning, we slept in late and decided to go to my favorite local diner for breakfast. We had the rest of the day to spend together, so we decided to go to a movie. First, the Dreamer wanted to show me the next apartment he's getting.
Like I've mentioned, he's currently living with 4 other guys in a big rowhouse. Lately, though, he's been feeling uncomfortable being a 30 year old professional without his own place. So he's moving soon into a two bedroom apartment with only one roommate. The place is gorgeous, and I couldn't help but notice that the two bedrooms aren't adjoining. Yay for not having to whisper while having sex!
We went to see the movie, then decided it was such a beautiful day, we needed to spend part of it outside. We grabbed some beer from a corner store and went to my place to hang out in the backyard. When he finally left late that night, I couldn't help but remark on how great it felt to spend almost an entire weekend with him.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Saturday, Pt 1- When a Second Date Goes Right
The Dreamer had to leave early Saturday morning to go to work, which was good because I had to get ready to go on another date at 10 am. This was my second date with the Diplomat, and he was picking me up at my house.
Now, on a first date, I almost always insist on meeting the person somewhere. There are two reasons for this- if they turn out to be psycho, at least they don't know where you live; and if the date is going horribly wrong, you don't have to endure a car ride back to your house before you can get away from it. My first date with the Diplomat was for Thai food in a boutique neighborhood not far from my house, and it definitely fell into the “bad first impression” category.
The name “The Diplomat” is a bit of a misnomer, I'll admit. He's actually an electrical engineer that works for a government contract office. His father was a diplomat, though, and I definitely get that vibe from him. He's rather reserved, shy, and to be perfectly honest, awkward. During the first date, he actually started asking me to make lists! “Name your top five authors. Your three favorite colors. Your best recipes,” etc. (In regards to this, Henry Rollins explains it better than I ever could- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9S5-EB8dR8 )
At the close of the first date, I thought he was nice but not someone I really felt the need to go out with again. I didn't count on him being so persistent. A half dozen phone calls and two emails later, I found myself agreeing to a second date.
This time, we decided to hit a nearby city that I hadn't been to yet. I figured if nothing else, at least I'd get to see the sights. After he picked me up, we used a Park and Ride to take public transit in instead of having to fight the city traffic. It was definitely the right choice, especially as I got him to loosen up a little bit during the ride by joking with him about the other riders. There's nothing like making fun of fringe Republicans to help two liberals bond.
When we got to the city we walked around a bit, seeing sights that I've only ever experienced in photos. It was almost surreal. At one point while walking down the street, I took the Diplomat's arm. I love walking with my arm in someone else's, especially when you can get the stride going right so you're not bouncing up and down in different time. That broke the ice- we spent the rest of the date playfully touching each other, holding hands, and him putting his arm around my waist while we stood.
For lunch we went to a historic building that has been turned into a food court. It wasn't your usual food court fare of Chick-Fil-A and Hotdog on a Stick, though- they had Indian, Chinese, pizza, and ice cream. We both decided on falafel from the Greek stand. The guy behind the counter kept trying to foist samples of chicken and beef onto the passersby, often to no avail. “Can't even give away free food!” he lamented to us as we waited.
The Diplomat and I had planned to stay in the city for a while after lunch, but I was tired and my feet were starting to hurt from my cute heels. We took the train back to his car, and drove back to my place talking easily about a myriad of topics from religion to music to indoor soccer.
We decided to meet again, and this time he won't have to wear me down.
Now, on a first date, I almost always insist on meeting the person somewhere. There are two reasons for this- if they turn out to be psycho, at least they don't know where you live; and if the date is going horribly wrong, you don't have to endure a car ride back to your house before you can get away from it. My first date with the Diplomat was for Thai food in a boutique neighborhood not far from my house, and it definitely fell into the “bad first impression” category.
The name “The Diplomat” is a bit of a misnomer, I'll admit. He's actually an electrical engineer that works for a government contract office. His father was a diplomat, though, and I definitely get that vibe from him. He's rather reserved, shy, and to be perfectly honest, awkward. During the first date, he actually started asking me to make lists! “Name your top five authors. Your three favorite colors. Your best recipes,” etc. (In regards to this, Henry Rollins explains it better than I ever could- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9S5-EB8dR8 )
At the close of the first date, I thought he was nice but not someone I really felt the need to go out with again. I didn't count on him being so persistent. A half dozen phone calls and two emails later, I found myself agreeing to a second date.
This time, we decided to hit a nearby city that I hadn't been to yet. I figured if nothing else, at least I'd get to see the sights. After he picked me up, we used a Park and Ride to take public transit in instead of having to fight the city traffic. It was definitely the right choice, especially as I got him to loosen up a little bit during the ride by joking with him about the other riders. There's nothing like making fun of fringe Republicans to help two liberals bond.
When we got to the city we walked around a bit, seeing sights that I've only ever experienced in photos. It was almost surreal. At one point while walking down the street, I took the Diplomat's arm. I love walking with my arm in someone else's, especially when you can get the stride going right so you're not bouncing up and down in different time. That broke the ice- we spent the rest of the date playfully touching each other, holding hands, and him putting his arm around my waist while we stood.
For lunch we went to a historic building that has been turned into a food court. It wasn't your usual food court fare of Chick-Fil-A and Hotdog on a Stick, though- they had Indian, Chinese, pizza, and ice cream. We both decided on falafel from the Greek stand. The guy behind the counter kept trying to foist samples of chicken and beef onto the passersby, often to no avail. “Can't even give away free food!” he lamented to us as we waited.
The Diplomat and I had planned to stay in the city for a while after lunch, but I was tired and my feet were starting to hurt from my cute heels. We took the train back to his car, and drove back to my place talking easily about a myriad of topics from religion to music to indoor soccer.
We decided to meet again, and this time he won't have to wear me down.
Friday- Stripper Heels
Friday night the Dreamer came over for dinner. After our conversation on Wednesday when he told me that pizza was the healthiest thing he'd eaten all week, I'd offered up a standing invitation to come over whenever I make dinner. He'd originally had a date planned with another girl for Friday night, but when that fell through I got a text from him, “When's dinner?”
I love to cook. I love all different kinds of foods, especially those with “exotic” spices, so I am constantly experimenting with new recipes. This time it was a peanut sauce for stir fry over noodles. Both the Dreamer and I are peanut butter fiends, so it was the perfect choice. Unfortunately for the Dreamer, though, I cook mostly vegetarian, so my response to “when's dinner?” was “how do you feel about tofu?” Unsurprisingly, he wasn't enthused about that idea. To compromise, I made tofu for mine and gave him a chicken breast to cook for his. Relationships are all about give and take, you know!
After dinner we started watching a movie, but abandoned it about halfway through in favor of going up to my bedroom. While making out, he asked what kinds of toys I had to play with.
Music to my ears.
I'd recently invested in some stripper clothes and 6-inch heels. Now, I don't know any man who would object to his girlfriend, or any woman really, putting on stripper clothes and dancing for him. Amirite? They're not really a toy, per se, but still something fun to spice things up. So I got dressed up, wiggled around a bit, and practically purred when he looked me in the eye and said “I'm going to take you.”
Sex is hotter in stripper heels.
While we were cuddling afterwards, we started talking. I've been telling him recently how much I like him (spoiler: it's a LOT), but he hasn't really been saying that same. Being a woman, that makes me nervous. Being a rational woman, I asked him about it instead of jumping to conclusions.
“Of course I like you,” he said. “If I didn't, I wouldn't be with you.”
Good point. I'm learning that the Dreamer is just not comfortable verbalizing his feelings. Instead of hearing him say things like “I like you,” I feel it, like when he pulls me close while spooning. I'm still getting used to it, but I think it's important to remind myself that I don't have to hear him say the words for him to “really” mean it. I've encountered that problem with boyfriends in the past- it wasn't enough for them to show me, I had to hear them say it. Of course I'm not going to let him off the hook of ever saying it, but it doesn't have to be as constant as my emotions tell me it should be.
We also had another discussion about polyamory that night. I'm pretty open in talking to him about the guys I'm dating and the things we do, but I wanted to make sure that's okay with him. He said he doesn't mind hearing about it. Next I asked him if he was still okay with me dating other people.
“Yeah. I mean, as long as I'm your main one, you know.”
“You are. You're my 'primary,' my main squeeze. That's why I asked you to be my boyfriend. It doesn't mean I like you more or better than the other guys I'm dating, just that I like you different. I can imagine a future with you; it's more than just dating for 'fun'.”
“Mmm. I like that,” he told me.
It was a good way to end the night.
I love to cook. I love all different kinds of foods, especially those with “exotic” spices, so I am constantly experimenting with new recipes. This time it was a peanut sauce for stir fry over noodles. Both the Dreamer and I are peanut butter fiends, so it was the perfect choice. Unfortunately for the Dreamer, though, I cook mostly vegetarian, so my response to “when's dinner?” was “how do you feel about tofu?” Unsurprisingly, he wasn't enthused about that idea. To compromise, I made tofu for mine and gave him a chicken breast to cook for his. Relationships are all about give and take, you know!
After dinner we started watching a movie, but abandoned it about halfway through in favor of going up to my bedroom. While making out, he asked what kinds of toys I had to play with.
Music to my ears.
I'd recently invested in some stripper clothes and 6-inch heels. Now, I don't know any man who would object to his girlfriend, or any woman really, putting on stripper clothes and dancing for him. Amirite? They're not really a toy, per se, but still something fun to spice things up. So I got dressed up, wiggled around a bit, and practically purred when he looked me in the eye and said “I'm going to take you.”
Sex is hotter in stripper heels.
While we were cuddling afterwards, we started talking. I've been telling him recently how much I like him (spoiler: it's a LOT), but he hasn't really been saying that same. Being a woman, that makes me nervous. Being a rational woman, I asked him about it instead of jumping to conclusions.
“Of course I like you,” he said. “If I didn't, I wouldn't be with you.”
Good point. I'm learning that the Dreamer is just not comfortable verbalizing his feelings. Instead of hearing him say things like “I like you,” I feel it, like when he pulls me close while spooning. I'm still getting used to it, but I think it's important to remind myself that I don't have to hear him say the words for him to “really” mean it. I've encountered that problem with boyfriends in the past- it wasn't enough for them to show me, I had to hear them say it. Of course I'm not going to let him off the hook of ever saying it, but it doesn't have to be as constant as my emotions tell me it should be.
We also had another discussion about polyamory that night. I'm pretty open in talking to him about the guys I'm dating and the things we do, but I wanted to make sure that's okay with him. He said he doesn't mind hearing about it. Next I asked him if he was still okay with me dating other people.
“Yeah. I mean, as long as I'm your main one, you know.”
“You are. You're my 'primary,' my main squeeze. That's why I asked you to be my boyfriend. It doesn't mean I like you more or better than the other guys I'm dating, just that I like you different. I can imagine a future with you; it's more than just dating for 'fun'.”
“Mmm. I like that,” he told me.
It was a good way to end the night.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Thursday- Taking Back Dessert, Pt. 1
What, you thought I was just kidding when I said I was doing it?
Thursday night, the Anarchist and I had tentative plans to go to a drag show. When it came down to it, though, I just wasn't in the mood to be social. Instead, I suggested we go get dessert.
At some point in the last week, the weather has suddenly made the jump from winter to spring. Beautiful 70 degree days, warm-ish nights- it's all I can do to keep myself indoors to get work done. This beautiful weather has also started off the season of ice cream. Unfortunately, this meant when the Anarchist suggested gelato for dessert, we weren't the only ones with that idea.
The place was packed and the line was long, but we started talking to the couple in line behind us and debating about which gelato flavors we were going to try. I finally decided on cardamom and pistachio. I think cardamom gelato needs to be added to my death row meal. It's creamy and spicy and sweet, all at the same time. I'm salivating just thinking about it!
As we were driving back to his house, the Anarchist and I were talking. I don't remember what I was telling him about, but I kept getting halfway through my sentence only for him to interrupt me. I'd start again, and he'd interrupt again! Finally I snapped at him- “can I PLEASE finish my sentence?” Let me tell you, that's the quickest way to ruin an evening. He apologized, but it's been a constant problem with him. It's hard to tell sometimes if he's even listening; he'll get really quiet while I'm talking, and then go off in a completely different direction of conversation that has nothing to do with whatever I've just said.
Honestly, he'd make a really crappy boyfriend for me. We still have enough fun in other ways, though, that I like hanging out with him most of the time. They can't all be perfect, after all.
Thursday night, the Anarchist and I had tentative plans to go to a drag show. When it came down to it, though, I just wasn't in the mood to be social. Instead, I suggested we go get dessert.
At some point in the last week, the weather has suddenly made the jump from winter to spring. Beautiful 70 degree days, warm-ish nights- it's all I can do to keep myself indoors to get work done. This beautiful weather has also started off the season of ice cream. Unfortunately, this meant when the Anarchist suggested gelato for dessert, we weren't the only ones with that idea.
The place was packed and the line was long, but we started talking to the couple in line behind us and debating about which gelato flavors we were going to try. I finally decided on cardamom and pistachio. I think cardamom gelato needs to be added to my death row meal. It's creamy and spicy and sweet, all at the same time. I'm salivating just thinking about it!
As we were driving back to his house, the Anarchist and I were talking. I don't remember what I was telling him about, but I kept getting halfway through my sentence only for him to interrupt me. I'd start again, and he'd interrupt again! Finally I snapped at him- “can I PLEASE finish my sentence?” Let me tell you, that's the quickest way to ruin an evening. He apologized, but it's been a constant problem with him. It's hard to tell sometimes if he's even listening; he'll get really quiet while I'm talking, and then go off in a completely different direction of conversation that has nothing to do with whatever I've just said.
Honestly, he'd make a really crappy boyfriend for me. We still have enough fun in other ways, though, that I like hanging out with him most of the time. They can't all be perfect, after all.
Wednesday- Erin Go Braugh
St. Patrick's Day has somehow become one of my favorite holidays.
The change from mediocre drinking holiday to awesome drinking holiday took a few years, but of course began when I turned 21. That isn't to say that I'd never drank before then (unless, of course, you're my mom or law enforcement), but the proper celebration of St. Pats requires at least some measure of the day's alcohol consumption to happen in a public place, preferably a bar festooned with green shamrocks.
It's scientific.
No matter how it happened, the changeover has occurred. I think it's unseated Talk Like a Pirate Day, though not Halloween or Thanksgiving. Give it time though, I'm sure.
Earlier this week, the Dreamer and I were trying to figure out when our schedules mashed up so we could go out. I hadn't seen him in a week because of my trip, and to be honest, I really missed him. The earliest possible date we could get together was Wednesday, so we ran with it before even realizing what day it was. He's been super stressed at work lately and hasn't really been up for any major activities mid-week, so I wasn't surprised or let down when he requested we keep things rather low-key. We didn't even set any definite plans except a time for me to come over to his house.
When I got there, we were debating what we wanted for dinner. I haven't had pizza in a while (what red-blooded American could make such a statement??) so we decided that sounded good. A local joint down the street with beer and live music was chosen, and off we went.
The beer was cold, the pizza was hot, and the company was great. Need I say more? It was especially fun checking out the hot chicks in the place together.
“Look at the ass on that one.”
“Damn! I'd hit that!”
“Can I watch?”
This man spoils me, let me tell you.
Later, the Dreamer told me that the pizza was probably the healthiest thing he'd eaten all week. Now, I'm not a health nut, but I am serious when it comes to my food. The last fast food I ate was actually on a date with him, when I asked him to take me to a Five Guys for the first time, and really, that's like the Cadillac of fast food. I just can't get behind it- if you can't recognize the ingredients from the dish, you're probably best not to be putting it in your body.
I cook several times a week, and since there's just one of me, I usually end up eating leftovers for days. It makes sense, then, to invite someone over to dinner, especially someone who would otherwise be eating crap. So I extended to the Dreamer an open invitation to join me for dinner whenever I cook. We both benefit (and it doesn't hurt that it means I'd likely get lucky those nights, too!)
After dinner we went back to his place to hang out. Wink wink, nudge nudge, and all that jazz. When we arrived I actually met the first of his roommates. With five men living in the house, it's surprising I'm even willing to step foot inside without a hazmat suit. Okay, they're really not that bad in most of the house, but good lord, the bathroom is a wreck. I have to go in with my blinders on and try not to touch anything that isn't necessary to do my business. I kid...but not too much.
After he'd had his way with me, we dozed off in bed. A few hours later, though, I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. I tossed and turned for a bit, before giving up and saying outloud, “I can't sleep.” Imagine my surprise when he replied, “me neither”! He wrapped me up in his arms, spooning me, and we started to talk.
I love late-night conversations. In the middle of the night, I'm much more likely to say something that I normally would hold back during the day. That isn't to say that they're things I don't mean, just stuff that I wouldn't otherwise verbalize.
We talked for a while; talking turned to teasing, and teasing turned into tickling. I'll admit, I'm extremely ticklish. I try to deny it, but it's one of those things where it's easy to determine if someone is lying. I've noticed partners love to tickle me in bed; I think it's because of the way I squirm up against them. Not just men, either- my last ex-girlfriend loved to do it. Having always been the ticklee, not the tickler, I don't know what the appeal is for them, but when it's not done in a malicious way, being tickled can be fun.
Finally, the Dreamer said the magic words- “Get over here and ride me.”
Ooof, sorry. I had to take a break there to take care of some things, if you catch my drift. God, that man knows how to turn me on; it's like someone gave him a manual to me and he studied it like a vedic scholar.
As we were cuddling again afterwards, it hit me that we've been dating for a month and a half now. And it just keeps getting better.
The change from mediocre drinking holiday to awesome drinking holiday took a few years, but of course began when I turned 21. That isn't to say that I'd never drank before then (unless, of course, you're my mom or law enforcement), but the proper celebration of St. Pats requires at least some measure of the day's alcohol consumption to happen in a public place, preferably a bar festooned with green shamrocks.
It's scientific.
No matter how it happened, the changeover has occurred. I think it's unseated Talk Like a Pirate Day, though not Halloween or Thanksgiving. Give it time though, I'm sure.
Earlier this week, the Dreamer and I were trying to figure out when our schedules mashed up so we could go out. I hadn't seen him in a week because of my trip, and to be honest, I really missed him. The earliest possible date we could get together was Wednesday, so we ran with it before even realizing what day it was. He's been super stressed at work lately and hasn't really been up for any major activities mid-week, so I wasn't surprised or let down when he requested we keep things rather low-key. We didn't even set any definite plans except a time for me to come over to his house.
When I got there, we were debating what we wanted for dinner. I haven't had pizza in a while (what red-blooded American could make such a statement??) so we decided that sounded good. A local joint down the street with beer and live music was chosen, and off we went.
The beer was cold, the pizza was hot, and the company was great. Need I say more? It was especially fun checking out the hot chicks in the place together.
“Look at the ass on that one.”
“Damn! I'd hit that!”
“Can I watch?”
This man spoils me, let me tell you.
Later, the Dreamer told me that the pizza was probably the healthiest thing he'd eaten all week. Now, I'm not a health nut, but I am serious when it comes to my food. The last fast food I ate was actually on a date with him, when I asked him to take me to a Five Guys for the first time, and really, that's like the Cadillac of fast food. I just can't get behind it- if you can't recognize the ingredients from the dish, you're probably best not to be putting it in your body.
I cook several times a week, and since there's just one of me, I usually end up eating leftovers for days. It makes sense, then, to invite someone over to dinner, especially someone who would otherwise be eating crap. So I extended to the Dreamer an open invitation to join me for dinner whenever I cook. We both benefit (and it doesn't hurt that it means I'd likely get lucky those nights, too!)
After dinner we went back to his place to hang out. Wink wink, nudge nudge, and all that jazz. When we arrived I actually met the first of his roommates. With five men living in the house, it's surprising I'm even willing to step foot inside without a hazmat suit. Okay, they're really not that bad in most of the house, but good lord, the bathroom is a wreck. I have to go in with my blinders on and try not to touch anything that isn't necessary to do my business. I kid...but not too much.
After he'd had his way with me, we dozed off in bed. A few hours later, though, I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. I tossed and turned for a bit, before giving up and saying outloud, “I can't sleep.” Imagine my surprise when he replied, “me neither”! He wrapped me up in his arms, spooning me, and we started to talk.
I love late-night conversations. In the middle of the night, I'm much more likely to say something that I normally would hold back during the day. That isn't to say that they're things I don't mean, just stuff that I wouldn't otherwise verbalize.
We talked for a while; talking turned to teasing, and teasing turned into tickling. I'll admit, I'm extremely ticklish. I try to deny it, but it's one of those things where it's easy to determine if someone is lying. I've noticed partners love to tickle me in bed; I think it's because of the way I squirm up against them. Not just men, either- my last ex-girlfriend loved to do it. Having always been the ticklee, not the tickler, I don't know what the appeal is for them, but when it's not done in a malicious way, being tickled can be fun.
Finally, the Dreamer said the magic words- “Get over here and ride me.”
Ooof, sorry. I had to take a break there to take care of some things, if you catch my drift. God, that man knows how to turn me on; it's like someone gave him a manual to me and he studied it like a vedic scholar.
As we were cuddling again afterwards, it hit me that we've been dating for a month and a half now. And it just keeps getting better.
Sunday- Is it still a date when it can't end with a goodnight kiss?
Sunday night, my flight back from Portland left pretty late and I had plenty of time to kill after checking out of my hotel room. My friend the Flirt lives in town, so after I was done hanging out with the Buddhist, he came to pick me up.
The Flirt is a happily married father, but he is nothing if not a shameless flirt. Thankfully his wife is either okay with it or simply used to it by now. Either way, when he says he's going to hang out with a hot young chick from out of town, she doesn't have a problem. I'm not a man-stealer, though, so while this was a “date,” it wasn't a *date.* Got the distinction?
For lunch we went to a movie tavern. I'd heard of the concept before, but the execution was really neat! It's an old-fashioned theater with a bar and grill instead of a regular concession stand. You buy your food, sit in a seat, and eat while watching the movie. Not terribly fancy, but a great idea. The Hurt Locker was playing, and I figured I owed it to my girl Bigelow to see it. It was good, though I'm not going to get into the politics of whether or not it deserved a Best Director oscar.
For lunch I had a cookie- who can resist the allure of a giant chocolate chip cookie? I mean hell, being able to eat dessert as a meal is the entire point of being grown up, right? The Flirt made a comment that he hoped I wasn't trying to impress him by eating so little, until I pointed out that it was a freaking cookie, for christssake.
After the movie we hung out at Washington Park for a while, then went to go get sushi. You know it's a good sushi place when there is a line of 20 people outside within a half hour of opening for the day. And man was it worth the wait! The first bite I took of the nagiri, it was like heaven had exploded in my mouth (that's what she said). I just wanted to stuff it all in (that's what she said) and eat until I couldn't anymore (that's what she said). I'd never realized until now how sexual sushi sounds when it's being described. Yes, I sometimes have the mentality of a 12 year old boy.
Between sushi and dessert I mention to the Flirt how much I love bridges. Not in an architectural way- all I can tell you is “this one is pretty, that one's not.” It's more about seeing the world from a different view, with a city in front or behind you (sometimes both) and water underneath. He offered to take me on a “bridge tour,” driving every bridge in downtown Portland. And we did! I know it may not have been planned, and it may have only been a “date,” but it was one of the most unique date activities I've ever experienced. Just driving around the city in a zig-zag going over all the bridges and talking...this makes me sound like an even bigger dork than I am, I swear.
After driving all the bridges, we went out for dessert. Going out for dessert gets such a short shift! It's at least as pleasurable as going out for coffee (more so, if you ask me), but people tend to lump it in with the dinner part.
I'm taking back dessert dates!
Dessert was yet another religious experience for me. If it wasn't for school temporarily tying me to where I am, I'd move to Portland just for the food. I'm only half kidding.
Finally the Flirt had to take me to the airport, but not before we stopped at Voodoo Doughnuts for me to grab a few to take home to my roommates. If they ever started shipping, I'd never leave the house. They'd have to make a TLC documentary about me- The Woman Who Gained 500 Pounds on Donuts. But it sure would be a delicious way to die.
The Flirt is a happily married father, but he is nothing if not a shameless flirt. Thankfully his wife is either okay with it or simply used to it by now. Either way, when he says he's going to hang out with a hot young chick from out of town, she doesn't have a problem. I'm not a man-stealer, though, so while this was a “date,” it wasn't a *date.* Got the distinction?
For lunch we went to a movie tavern. I'd heard of the concept before, but the execution was really neat! It's an old-fashioned theater with a bar and grill instead of a regular concession stand. You buy your food, sit in a seat, and eat while watching the movie. Not terribly fancy, but a great idea. The Hurt Locker was playing, and I figured I owed it to my girl Bigelow to see it. It was good, though I'm not going to get into the politics of whether or not it deserved a Best Director oscar.
For lunch I had a cookie- who can resist the allure of a giant chocolate chip cookie? I mean hell, being able to eat dessert as a meal is the entire point of being grown up, right? The Flirt made a comment that he hoped I wasn't trying to impress him by eating so little, until I pointed out that it was a freaking cookie, for christssake.
After the movie we hung out at Washington Park for a while, then went to go get sushi. You know it's a good sushi place when there is a line of 20 people outside within a half hour of opening for the day. And man was it worth the wait! The first bite I took of the nagiri, it was like heaven had exploded in my mouth (that's what she said). I just wanted to stuff it all in (that's what she said) and eat until I couldn't anymore (that's what she said). I'd never realized until now how sexual sushi sounds when it's being described. Yes, I sometimes have the mentality of a 12 year old boy.
Between sushi and dessert I mention to the Flirt how much I love bridges. Not in an architectural way- all I can tell you is “this one is pretty, that one's not.” It's more about seeing the world from a different view, with a city in front or behind you (sometimes both) and water underneath. He offered to take me on a “bridge tour,” driving every bridge in downtown Portland. And we did! I know it may not have been planned, and it may have only been a “date,” but it was one of the most unique date activities I've ever experienced. Just driving around the city in a zig-zag going over all the bridges and talking...this makes me sound like an even bigger dork than I am, I swear.
After driving all the bridges, we went out for dessert. Going out for dessert gets such a short shift! It's at least as pleasurable as going out for coffee (more so, if you ask me), but people tend to lump it in with the dinner part.
I'm taking back dessert dates!
Dessert was yet another religious experience for me. If it wasn't for school temporarily tying me to where I am, I'd move to Portland just for the food. I'm only half kidding.
Finally the Flirt had to take me to the airport, but not before we stopped at Voodoo Doughnuts for me to grab a few to take home to my roommates. If they ever started shipping, I'd never leave the house. They'd have to make a TLC documentary about me- The Woman Who Gained 500 Pounds on Donuts. But it sure would be a delicious way to die.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Saturday- Taking Dating With Me, Wherever I Go
I was in Portland this past weekend for a conference. I'm lucky enough to be one of those people who has friends scattered across the United States, so when I go somewhere, I always try to sneak in a visit with a friend or two. This time, it was the Buddhist. The Buddhist actually lives in Seattle, but it's only a couple hours drive away, so he came down to see me on Saturday.
Saturday morning he went in to his company's Portland office for some work thing he wanted to be trained on- I'm not sure I would be willing to go in to work on a Saturday for voluntary training, but I guess that just means I don't love my (hypothetical future) job as much as he does. That afternoon, he came to see my presentation at the conference. It's a true friend who will brave a professional conference just to give you moral support, let me tell you. After I was done presenting and shaking hands (go networking!), we went out to dinner.
One of the problems I'm having in my current city is a distinctive lack of good Thai food options. There are a few restaurants, but none that live up to my standards. The Buddhist knew of a place on the east side of Portland that he'd been to once and was incredible, so we decided to go there.
The first thing we noticed when we got there was the crowd of people milling about outside. We went up to the hostess, who told us there was an hour long wait. But, she said, we could go wait across the street at their bar, have some appetizers, and they'd let us know when our table was ready. They have a walkie-talkie system set up just for that purpose.
That sounded like a plan, so we went over to the bar and sat down. And waited. And waited. And waited. After almost two hours, several drinks, and some delicious Thai fritters (I really wish I'd paid more attention to what they are called- they were delicious!) we finally gave up. We'd thought about going to a movie, but I was still on east coast time, so I was exhausted even though it was only 7pm.
Instead, we went back to my hotel room and watched HBO in bed. I have to say, that's my favorite part about hotels. I don't have a tv in my room and haven't for years, so it feels particularly indulgent to watch tv from bed. It was even better when I saw what was on- Tremors! That terrible Kevin Bacon movie about the giant worm creatures under the ground. I remember loving that movie so much when it came out, and my brother was even worse- he tied up my parents' Netflix queue with all four (that's right, they made four) Tremors movies for months. The Buddhist had never seen it from start to finish, and it had us rolling the entire time.
Naturally, lying in bed together watching a movie led to cuddling, and cuddling led to making out, and making out led to...well, you can figure it out. I hadn't planned for that- truly, I hadn't! I don't go into every date with friends or romantic interests thinking it's going to end it bed- so I was glad I keep a condom in my wallet. I know, it sounds like a guy thing right? But I consider it a feminist act- I am taking control of my own sexuality without relying on a man to be responsible for my health and safety. I outright refuse to have sex without a condom, and it would suck to get to the the point of needing one only to have to stop because he didn't have one. So, I bring my own.
The next morning, we were woken up by the sound of someone on a loudspeaker. Looking out the window we saw people running by dressed in wigs and costumes- apparently it was the 32nd Annual Leprechaun Run. Had I known about it in advance, I totally would have participated! We even saw someone running dressed up as a giant pint of Guinness. We went and got breakfast, barely beating the post-run crowd, and then decided to walk over to the Saturday Market.
Yes, the Saturday Market is also open on Sunday.
We walked around for a bit looking at the different artists and stalls. My favorite part, though, was watching the Buddhist light up when he saw all the Tibetan goods. You see, the Buddhist is so named because he actually is a Buddhist. He even lived in Tibet for several years, and used to work with Buddhist monks in the U.S. At one shop, he found a vendor who he was able to speak a few words of Tibetan with. It's cliché, but seeing him so happy made me happy, too.
After the market, we went and had coffee and chatted while I waited for another friend I was spending the evening with. We both remarked upon how comfortable we felt with each other, especially since this was the first time we'd spent a significant amount of time alone together. It was a great day, but it made me miss all my friends out on the west coast. I'm going back for another friend's wedding in August, though, so this trip will hopefully tide me over until then.
Saturday morning he went in to his company's Portland office for some work thing he wanted to be trained on- I'm not sure I would be willing to go in to work on a Saturday for voluntary training, but I guess that just means I don't love my (hypothetical future) job as much as he does. That afternoon, he came to see my presentation at the conference. It's a true friend who will brave a professional conference just to give you moral support, let me tell you. After I was done presenting and shaking hands (go networking!), we went out to dinner.
One of the problems I'm having in my current city is a distinctive lack of good Thai food options. There are a few restaurants, but none that live up to my standards. The Buddhist knew of a place on the east side of Portland that he'd been to once and was incredible, so we decided to go there.
The first thing we noticed when we got there was the crowd of people milling about outside. We went up to the hostess, who told us there was an hour long wait. But, she said, we could go wait across the street at their bar, have some appetizers, and they'd let us know when our table was ready. They have a walkie-talkie system set up just for that purpose.
That sounded like a plan, so we went over to the bar and sat down. And waited. And waited. And waited. After almost two hours, several drinks, and some delicious Thai fritters (I really wish I'd paid more attention to what they are called- they were delicious!) we finally gave up. We'd thought about going to a movie, but I was still on east coast time, so I was exhausted even though it was only 7pm.
Instead, we went back to my hotel room and watched HBO in bed. I have to say, that's my favorite part about hotels. I don't have a tv in my room and haven't for years, so it feels particularly indulgent to watch tv from bed. It was even better when I saw what was on- Tremors! That terrible Kevin Bacon movie about the giant worm creatures under the ground. I remember loving that movie so much when it came out, and my brother was even worse- he tied up my parents' Netflix queue with all four (that's right, they made four) Tremors movies for months. The Buddhist had never seen it from start to finish, and it had us rolling the entire time.
Naturally, lying in bed together watching a movie led to cuddling, and cuddling led to making out, and making out led to...well, you can figure it out. I hadn't planned for that- truly, I hadn't! I don't go into every date with friends or romantic interests thinking it's going to end it bed- so I was glad I keep a condom in my wallet. I know, it sounds like a guy thing right? But I consider it a feminist act- I am taking control of my own sexuality without relying on a man to be responsible for my health and safety. I outright refuse to have sex without a condom, and it would suck to get to the the point of needing one only to have to stop because he didn't have one. So, I bring my own.
The next morning, we were woken up by the sound of someone on a loudspeaker. Looking out the window we saw people running by dressed in wigs and costumes- apparently it was the 32nd Annual Leprechaun Run. Had I known about it in advance, I totally would have participated! We even saw someone running dressed up as a giant pint of Guinness. We went and got breakfast, barely beating the post-run crowd, and then decided to walk over to the Saturday Market.
Yes, the Saturday Market is also open on Sunday.
We walked around for a bit looking at the different artists and stalls. My favorite part, though, was watching the Buddhist light up when he saw all the Tibetan goods. You see, the Buddhist is so named because he actually is a Buddhist. He even lived in Tibet for several years, and used to work with Buddhist monks in the U.S. At one shop, he found a vendor who he was able to speak a few words of Tibetan with. It's cliché, but seeing him so happy made me happy, too.
After the market, we went and had coffee and chatted while I waited for another friend I was spending the evening with. We both remarked upon how comfortable we felt with each other, especially since this was the first time we'd spent a significant amount of time alone together. It was a great day, but it made me miss all my friends out on the west coast. I'm going back for another friend's wedding in August, though, so this trip will hopefully tide me over until then.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Hookers and Zombies and Great Dates, Oh My!
Back in January, just after moving to this city, I went on a date with McCool. It was one of the best first dates I've ever been on- we completely hit it off over dinner, great chemistry, so much fun to talk to- the works. He's a video game writer, and has worked on some big name games that I'm sure all of you, even non-gamers, have heard of. He's 30 (I'm beginning to think that's the ideal age for me to date, since all my good dates lately have been with 30ish year olds), a little taller than me, with a shaved head, goatee, and piercing green eyes. He wears glasses- ah, glasses. Let me explain.
I've always been a very liberal arts-minded person, thriving in language, literature, and history classes. I'm also a very competitive person. This has lead to me feeling uncomfortable dating people who also have liberal arts backgrounds, because I don't like competing with them to see who is “better” at literature or history. But I also find intelligence immensely attractive. It's not actually about getting a degree or having a repository of tons of knowledge, but having the mental aptitude and critical thinking skills. So in general, I'm attracted to math and science-type people. I find it incredibly hot when the person I'm with can excel at something I'm not good at. Of course, while glasses don't make one smarter, they give the impression of nerdyness. So glasses are a definitely plus.
McCool has an extremely busy schedule, especially when projects are started or nearing completion. Because of this, he didn't have a lot of freetime available for a date. Instead of doing dinner or another evening activity, we decided to meet for lunch. Even though we only had about an hour, it was really fun. We talked about hookers, and video games, and zombies. We were both laughing like fools, and I felt really comfortable just being myself around him. Afterwards, he walked me to his car and right as we kissed, it started to rain. It was a very sweet moment.
The date went so well that I broke the rule about waiting a day to contact him. (Side note: I want to know who wrote these “rules.” Some of them are just so stupid and arbitrary. Don't we at least get to vote on them first?) I told him over instant messenger what a great time I'd had, and he said the feeling was mutual. When I asked when we were going to get together again, he asked when I wanted to and I told him that night. He said he wished he could.
With such a great beginning, then, it was surprising to me what happened next. We scheduled a second date for late on a weeknight, after I got out of class. At the last minute, he had to cancel because of work. That was no problem, of course- I know what it's like to be busy beyond belief. But when I tried to reschedule a few days later, he kept dodging giving a date. Finally, I left it as “when you find a time that will work for you, you let me know.”
But he didn't let me know anything. A couple days went by without hearing anything from him, and when I did, it was just idle nerdy chit-chat over IM. I didn't want to come across as the weird girl that kept pushing another date, but I did mention it at least once that I was still hoping we could get together again. He just seemed to blow it off.
Eventually I gave up. I figured that he either had started dating someone else, or had lost interest in me as anything more than an internet friend. Either way, I wasn't going to push it. I stopped initiating IMs, and before I knew it a couple weeks had passed.
Then Thursday night, my chat box pinged with a new message, from McCool. We spent a few minutes catching up, and he asked me what I'd been up to. I told him just school and dates, the usual. Then I asked about him. Had he been on any fun dates recently?
“No,” he said. “I've been on one date since you.”
Well, that blew my first theory out of the water! It wasn't that he was seeing someone else, so it must have been that he wasn't interested in having another with me.
“Well, why not?” I asked.
“I guess women don't find me that attractive.”
“That's not true,” I said, “and besides, you know I would love to go out with you again.”
“I actually didn't know that,” he replied.
My heart started skipped a beat. This entire time, he figured I had been the one to lose interest! He apologized again for canceling our second date, and I explained that it wasn't upsetting that he'd canceled it, but rather that I had felt pushy in always being the one to bring up re-scheduling. I told him flat-out that I needed him to show more interest in getting together again, even if it wasn't able to be right away because of his work schedule.
“Wow,” he told me, “that's really direct. I like it.”
We left things at that for now, but we'll see. If he does as I hope and initiates another date, maybe McCool will be staying in the picture!
I've always been a very liberal arts-minded person, thriving in language, literature, and history classes. I'm also a very competitive person. This has lead to me feeling uncomfortable dating people who also have liberal arts backgrounds, because I don't like competing with them to see who is “better” at literature or history. But I also find intelligence immensely attractive. It's not actually about getting a degree or having a repository of tons of knowledge, but having the mental aptitude and critical thinking skills. So in general, I'm attracted to math and science-type people. I find it incredibly hot when the person I'm with can excel at something I'm not good at. Of course, while glasses don't make one smarter, they give the impression of nerdyness. So glasses are a definitely plus.
McCool has an extremely busy schedule, especially when projects are started or nearing completion. Because of this, he didn't have a lot of freetime available for a date. Instead of doing dinner or another evening activity, we decided to meet for lunch. Even though we only had about an hour, it was really fun. We talked about hookers, and video games, and zombies. We were both laughing like fools, and I felt really comfortable just being myself around him. Afterwards, he walked me to his car and right as we kissed, it started to rain. It was a very sweet moment.
The date went so well that I broke the rule about waiting a day to contact him. (Side note: I want to know who wrote these “rules.” Some of them are just so stupid and arbitrary. Don't we at least get to vote on them first?) I told him over instant messenger what a great time I'd had, and he said the feeling was mutual. When I asked when we were going to get together again, he asked when I wanted to and I told him that night. He said he wished he could.
With such a great beginning, then, it was surprising to me what happened next. We scheduled a second date for late on a weeknight, after I got out of class. At the last minute, he had to cancel because of work. That was no problem, of course- I know what it's like to be busy beyond belief. But when I tried to reschedule a few days later, he kept dodging giving a date. Finally, I left it as “when you find a time that will work for you, you let me know.”
But he didn't let me know anything. A couple days went by without hearing anything from him, and when I did, it was just idle nerdy chit-chat over IM. I didn't want to come across as the weird girl that kept pushing another date, but I did mention it at least once that I was still hoping we could get together again. He just seemed to blow it off.
Eventually I gave up. I figured that he either had started dating someone else, or had lost interest in me as anything more than an internet friend. Either way, I wasn't going to push it. I stopped initiating IMs, and before I knew it a couple weeks had passed.
Then Thursday night, my chat box pinged with a new message, from McCool. We spent a few minutes catching up, and he asked me what I'd been up to. I told him just school and dates, the usual. Then I asked about him. Had he been on any fun dates recently?
“No,” he said. “I've been on one date since you.”
Well, that blew my first theory out of the water! It wasn't that he was seeing someone else, so it must have been that he wasn't interested in having another with me.
“Well, why not?” I asked.
“I guess women don't find me that attractive.”
“That's not true,” I said, “and besides, you know I would love to go out with you again.”
“I actually didn't know that,” he replied.
My heart started skipped a beat. This entire time, he figured I had been the one to lose interest! He apologized again for canceling our second date, and I explained that it wasn't upsetting that he'd canceled it, but rather that I had felt pushy in always being the one to bring up re-scheduling. I told him flat-out that I needed him to show more interest in getting together again, even if it wasn't able to be right away because of his work schedule.
“Wow,” he told me, “that's really direct. I like it.”
We left things at that for now, but we'll see. If he does as I hope and initiates another date, maybe McCool will be staying in the picture!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday- My Turn to Buy Dinner
Last week, I finally got a paycheck that I had been waiting on for far too long. It was to the point of eating those random things left in the fridge and pantry rather than going to the grocery store. As you can probably guess, that meant I didn't have a lot of money to be spending on dates.
When I'm dating someone who has a steady job, it's always nice of them to offer to pay, and I almost always accept. Every once in a while, though, I feel the need to flex my feminist muscle and do the paying myself. So yesterday, when my check cleared and I had a comfortable cushion in my bank account again, the first thing I did was call up the Dreamer and ask him out to dinner.
We went out to dinner at a casual bar/restaurant just down the street from me. People keep recommending it to me when they find out where I live, so I had pretty high expectations. The food was good, the beer was great, but the service...well, it was rather lackluster. It was my first chance to see how the Dreamer reacted to a bad waiter- some people get really rude and catty about it, others are pushovers. He's right in between; he made a comment that he was glad I was in charge of tipping, reminded the waiter about my drink that I was waiting for, and that was all.
We were at a table in the corner, which made it easier for us to talk. As easy as it can be in a bar restaurant, at least. In other words, we were able to hear each other without shouting. That was good, since I'm sure if people heard our conversation, they'd be really confused. The Dreamer had something important to tell me, and he was really nervous about it.
His news? That he has a date with another girl this week. His nervousness was palpable; fidgeting, not looking me in the eye. It was clear he was unsure how I'd react.
I think my response really surprised him. I said, “great!”
“Really?”
“Of course! Why would that bother me?”
“Well, this is just not at all what I'm used to.”
Of course, that's perfectly understandable. Our society teaches us to be jealous and reproachful of others as they interact with our significant others. To me, though, my boyfriend dating another person doesn't mean he likes me any less. I date other people, but I don't like him any less. My only request was that he let me know if he's dating someone, but he's welcome to give me as much or as little detail beyond that as he is comfortable with.
We also discussed PDA. I'm a big fan of mild PDA- hugging, kissing, handholding; not so much making out and grinding on each other. As such, I'm a very touchy-feely person. If I'm talking to you, chances are I'll reach out and touch your arm. If I'm dating you, I'll almost certainly kiss your cheek or take your hand fairly often. The Dreamer, as he explained, is used to women doing that as a way to mark their territory. I'd never thought of it that way, but it makes sense- it's a nonverbal way of saying “back off ladies, he's mine.” That isn't at all my intent, though. I just do it because I like the person I'm with.
We also had a talk about sex toys. I LOVE toys. Not every time, of course, but I think they're a lot of fun. Too many guys are intimidated by the idea of women using a toy in bed; they internalize it as a critique on their sexual ability. That isn't the case, though! When used by partners, they're a great way to enhance the experience for both people. I think the key is to talk about them openly, and find something that both people are comfortable with and enjoy. By getting rid of the taboo and addressing any fears of inadequacy, I think a lot more guys would be open to them.
So, last night was fun. I slept hard, though- I didn't even wake up when the Dreamer got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. That tells me that I'm getting comfortable sleeping with him, which is a really good feeling. Of course it sucked when I had to get up at 5 this morning to get some work done before class while he slept in for another hour. He's so cute when he's sleeping, though, I can't complain too much.
I'm going to the west coast this weekend to present at a conference, so it's going to be a sparse weekend for dating.
When I'm dating someone who has a steady job, it's always nice of them to offer to pay, and I almost always accept. Every once in a while, though, I feel the need to flex my feminist muscle and do the paying myself. So yesterday, when my check cleared and I had a comfortable cushion in my bank account again, the first thing I did was call up the Dreamer and ask him out to dinner.
We went out to dinner at a casual bar/restaurant just down the street from me. People keep recommending it to me when they find out where I live, so I had pretty high expectations. The food was good, the beer was great, but the service...well, it was rather lackluster. It was my first chance to see how the Dreamer reacted to a bad waiter- some people get really rude and catty about it, others are pushovers. He's right in between; he made a comment that he was glad I was in charge of tipping, reminded the waiter about my drink that I was waiting for, and that was all.
We were at a table in the corner, which made it easier for us to talk. As easy as it can be in a bar restaurant, at least. In other words, we were able to hear each other without shouting. That was good, since I'm sure if people heard our conversation, they'd be really confused. The Dreamer had something important to tell me, and he was really nervous about it.
His news? That he has a date with another girl this week. His nervousness was palpable; fidgeting, not looking me in the eye. It was clear he was unsure how I'd react.
I think my response really surprised him. I said, “great!”
“Really?”
“Of course! Why would that bother me?”
“Well, this is just not at all what I'm used to.”
Of course, that's perfectly understandable. Our society teaches us to be jealous and reproachful of others as they interact with our significant others. To me, though, my boyfriend dating another person doesn't mean he likes me any less. I date other people, but I don't like him any less. My only request was that he let me know if he's dating someone, but he's welcome to give me as much or as little detail beyond that as he is comfortable with.
We also discussed PDA. I'm a big fan of mild PDA- hugging, kissing, handholding; not so much making out and grinding on each other. As such, I'm a very touchy-feely person. If I'm talking to you, chances are I'll reach out and touch your arm. If I'm dating you, I'll almost certainly kiss your cheek or take your hand fairly often. The Dreamer, as he explained, is used to women doing that as a way to mark their territory. I'd never thought of it that way, but it makes sense- it's a nonverbal way of saying “back off ladies, he's mine.” That isn't at all my intent, though. I just do it because I like the person I'm with.
We also had a talk about sex toys. I LOVE toys. Not every time, of course, but I think they're a lot of fun. Too many guys are intimidated by the idea of women using a toy in bed; they internalize it as a critique on their sexual ability. That isn't the case, though! When used by partners, they're a great way to enhance the experience for both people. I think the key is to talk about them openly, and find something that both people are comfortable with and enjoy. By getting rid of the taboo and addressing any fears of inadequacy, I think a lot more guys would be open to them.
So, last night was fun. I slept hard, though- I didn't even wake up when the Dreamer got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. That tells me that I'm getting comfortable sleeping with him, which is a really good feeling. Of course it sucked when I had to get up at 5 this morning to get some work done before class while he slept in for another hour. He's so cute when he's sleeping, though, I can't complain too much.
I'm going to the west coast this weekend to present at a conference, so it's going to be a sparse weekend for dating.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Saturday- Of Pirates and Backrubs
Last night was my second date with the Pirate. I must admit, it started off much better than our first.
After messaging him on the dating site (he actually just told me last night that the fact I messaged him first was a huge turn-on), we made plans to go bar-hopping so he could show me some of his favorite places around his neighborhood. We were supposed to meet at 8 at the first bar, but I realized a few minutes before that I was going to be late because of the hunt for parking. So, like any good date should, I texted him that I was nearby and would be there shortly.
No response.
I got to the bar and had a look around, to see if I could recognize him from his pictures. I usually am pretty good about it, but you never know. I didn't see him, so I tried giving him a call.
No answer.
At this point, it was 8:10. I fired off a text to a couple friends asking “How long do I wait before it's considered being stood up?” Their replies varied from 15 minutes to an hour. I figured I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and grab myself a drink while I waited.
At 8:20 I finally got a text from him- “10 minutes away.” Okay then. I still don't know what took him so long- I didn't feel like grilling him after he showed up- but it definitely wasn't a good first impression.
Thankfully for him, the night got better. We hit three different bars and had a great time, when he suggested karaoke. Apparently he's a huge karaoke fanatic, and I'm not half bad myself, so we went to this little dive bar that I didn't even catch the name of. It was so much fun! There was an old woman there named Lois who had a bright yellow beehive and about 4 teeth. It was her birthday, and so we all sang to her and she told us she was 39. That's what I love about true dive bars; there is never a shortage of interesting characters. I was no condition to drive after karaoke (come on, would you sing karaoke sober? Me neither) so we went back to his place and I crashed on the couch. Contrary to what some may believe, I rarely put out on the first date. Not that there aren't exceptions made for extraordinary circumstances, mind you.
So last night, the Pirate was driving back from a city a couple hours away where his tattoo artist is located. The tattoos are what inspired his name- they're all nautical and pirate themed. They're really neat and well done- he's got most of one sleeve, the beginnings of the other, a full chest piece, and his upper back. While I can't stand chest tattoos on women- why would someone do that to beautiful breasts??- they can look really good on the right guy. He's one of those guys. We ate dinner at a restaurant/bar near his house, and then decided to head back to his place. I was already a little tipsy before we met up, and I had another drink with dinner, so I was feeling good. I'm a total lightweight when it comes to alcohol; a true two-drink drunk.
While we were hanging out and listening to music, he offered me a backrub. I'm no fool, I won't turn down a massage! Of course you can't get a decent backrub with clothing in the way, so that had to go. And not surprisingly, a good backrub can lead to a good frontrub, if you know what I'm saying. And how.
There is nothing hotter than a man who growls during sex. We're not talking like creepy howl-at-the-moon growling, just that low, deep sound of rampant desire. It's the dominant equivalent of feeling a woman melt in your arms- pure, hungry, and satisfying. Wow, did it suddenly get hotter in here? I think I need a cool shower.
There was a repeat performance in the morning.
When we finally stumbled out of bed several hours after waking up, he got ready to go for a run and I had to come back home to do some homework. Such is the life of a grad student, I suppose! As my roommate likes to tease me, it's sometimes easy to forget that I'm a student with all the running around I do. It's all about balance, though. Work hard, play hard, right? Right.
After messaging him on the dating site (he actually just told me last night that the fact I messaged him first was a huge turn-on), we made plans to go bar-hopping so he could show me some of his favorite places around his neighborhood. We were supposed to meet at 8 at the first bar, but I realized a few minutes before that I was going to be late because of the hunt for parking. So, like any good date should, I texted him that I was nearby and would be there shortly.
No response.
I got to the bar and had a look around, to see if I could recognize him from his pictures. I usually am pretty good about it, but you never know. I didn't see him, so I tried giving him a call.
No answer.
At this point, it was 8:10. I fired off a text to a couple friends asking “How long do I wait before it's considered being stood up?” Their replies varied from 15 minutes to an hour. I figured I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and grab myself a drink while I waited.
At 8:20 I finally got a text from him- “10 minutes away.” Okay then. I still don't know what took him so long- I didn't feel like grilling him after he showed up- but it definitely wasn't a good first impression.
Thankfully for him, the night got better. We hit three different bars and had a great time, when he suggested karaoke. Apparently he's a huge karaoke fanatic, and I'm not half bad myself, so we went to this little dive bar that I didn't even catch the name of. It was so much fun! There was an old woman there named Lois who had a bright yellow beehive and about 4 teeth. It was her birthday, and so we all sang to her and she told us she was 39. That's what I love about true dive bars; there is never a shortage of interesting characters. I was no condition to drive after karaoke (come on, would you sing karaoke sober? Me neither) so we went back to his place and I crashed on the couch. Contrary to what some may believe, I rarely put out on the first date. Not that there aren't exceptions made for extraordinary circumstances, mind you.
So last night, the Pirate was driving back from a city a couple hours away where his tattoo artist is located. The tattoos are what inspired his name- they're all nautical and pirate themed. They're really neat and well done- he's got most of one sleeve, the beginnings of the other, a full chest piece, and his upper back. While I can't stand chest tattoos on women- why would someone do that to beautiful breasts??- they can look really good on the right guy. He's one of those guys. We ate dinner at a restaurant/bar near his house, and then decided to head back to his place. I was already a little tipsy before we met up, and I had another drink with dinner, so I was feeling good. I'm a total lightweight when it comes to alcohol; a true two-drink drunk.
While we were hanging out and listening to music, he offered me a backrub. I'm no fool, I won't turn down a massage! Of course you can't get a decent backrub with clothing in the way, so that had to go. And not surprisingly, a good backrub can lead to a good frontrub, if you know what I'm saying. And how.
There is nothing hotter than a man who growls during sex. We're not talking like creepy howl-at-the-moon growling, just that low, deep sound of rampant desire. It's the dominant equivalent of feeling a woman melt in your arms- pure, hungry, and satisfying. Wow, did it suddenly get hotter in here? I think I need a cool shower.
There was a repeat performance in the morning.
When we finally stumbled out of bed several hours after waking up, he got ready to go for a run and I had to come back home to do some homework. Such is the life of a grad student, I suppose! As my roommate likes to tease me, it's sometimes easy to forget that I'm a student with all the running around I do. It's all about balance, though. Work hard, play hard, right? Right.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
What is polyamory?
Let's have a quick note on polyamory.
For starters, being poly is not all about sex. I don't like to go out and have sex with random people, nor do I have sex with everyone I date. When I say I'm poly, what I'm saying is that I like to be in a relationship with more than one person at a time. No, it's not the same as cheating. Everyone knows about it, I'm completely open with everyone I date that they're not the only person I'm seeing, and I of course have no problem with them also dating other people.
Polyamory isn't one size fits all. Some people like to form triads, where three people are all dating each other (Person A is dating B and C, while B and C are also dating). Other people like to set up primary and secondary relationships- your “main” person, maybe a spouse, and other people on the side. Some like to do a combination of these. I've found that I like to have one or two primary relationships and several secondary relationships. I see my primary people as being those I'm interested in having a future with, something more than just casual dating. Then I date other people, too; these are more for just having fun, getting to try new things, and they have the benefit of not feeling bogged down by the strong emotional connections that come from a serious relationship.
For starters, being poly is not all about sex. I don't like to go out and have sex with random people, nor do I have sex with everyone I date. When I say I'm poly, what I'm saying is that I like to be in a relationship with more than one person at a time. No, it's not the same as cheating. Everyone knows about it, I'm completely open with everyone I date that they're not the only person I'm seeing, and I of course have no problem with them also dating other people.
Polyamory isn't one size fits all. Some people like to form triads, where three people are all dating each other (Person A is dating B and C, while B and C are also dating). Other people like to set up primary and secondary relationships- your “main” person, maybe a spouse, and other people on the side. Some like to do a combination of these. I've found that I like to have one or two primary relationships and several secondary relationships. I see my primary people as being those I'm interested in having a future with, something more than just casual dating. Then I date other people, too; these are more for just having fun, getting to try new things, and they have the benefit of not feeling bogged down by the strong emotional connections that come from a serious relationship.
Friday, Part 2- A night in with the boyfriend
Last night, the Dreamer came over. Last weekend we decided to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, which I was (of course) very excited about. He's 30, a property manager and small business owner. He's got big dreams- bigger than any guy I've ever dated. For starters, he wants to make his first million by the time he's 40 and let me tell you, if anyone could do it, it'd be him. For now, though, he shares a house with four other guys and is really unhappy about that. I think he feels like he should have his own place by now. It truly doesn't bother me, though- I date the entire economic spectrum.
Last night, I invited him over at the last minute for dinner. Just leftovers that I had frozen, nothing exciting, but he came over anyway. He's been sick for the past few days, so he was kind of loopy on cough medicine, which was pretty hilarious. One Wednesday he had texted me when I was in my night class to see if I wanted to come keep his sick self company, so I spent the night there. Let me tell you, 5 bachelors living in a house is not a pretty sight! I tried to have tunnel vision when I went to use the bathroom, but I still saw things I didn't want to see. Is it any surprise I declined his offer of a shower the next morning? Wednesday night was weird for me, though- it was our first date since deciding to use the “official” labels and, to be frank, we went to bed without having sex. How much more domestic can you get?? I liked it, though- we'd stayed up late talking, and got to just fall asleep next to each other.
But back to last night. My phone has been having issues with text messages, so while I got his response that he was coming for dinner, I didn't get the one where he said he was on his way. When he got here, I was still hanging out in my bathrobe, watching 16 and Pregnant on MTV. Such a great impression! I think he was high enough on the cough syrup to not care...or maybe he just didn't care because he likes me. Either way works. The problem was, though, I'd promised to go out and get mixers for the whiskey I have since he doesn't drink it neat like I do (wimp). As you can probably tell by the fact I was still in my bathrobe, I hadn't gone to the store yet. So I gave him the option of coming with me, or staying while I ran down the street to get some soda. He chose to stay. Again, how much more domestic can you get? Going over to your girlfriend's house and watching The Simpsons while she runs down to the store. It works, though; I don't feel uncomfortable with it. I haven't felt this way with someone new in a long time.
After I got back, we had drinks and ate dinner. I made him try the Indian snacks I'd bought, but since his nose was stuffed up, he said he couldn't really taste them. If he couldn't taste that, he obviously couldn't taste my food...but maybe that's a good thing. I have to keep him thinking I'm a good cook until after I've sucked him in. (I kid, of course. I made him dinner last week- he's already been fooled.) Then we decided to watch a movie. My roommates and I don't have a DVD player in the living room, and my laptop sucks for watching movies on (it's small and the speakers aren't very good- it works for one person with headphones, but not so much for two people) so I brought down my Xbox 360 from my room and hooked it up to the TV. That's right, I did it all by myself! I'm a feminist, after all; I know how to handle my own electronics. Then we watched Donnie Darko, a good movie, though not one of my favorites. The Dreamer made it all the way to the last 5 minutes of the movie before falling asleep, it was super adorable. So I dragged him up to bed...let's just say we didn't have a repeat of Wednesday night. Wink wink.
Okay, if you don't want details of my sex life, stop here. Seriously. This is your last warning. All the prudes leave? Good.
The Dreamer isn't the biggest guy I've been with, but he definitely knows how to use what he's got. The best part is that, while he doesn't last for hours (which quite frankly can get annoying at times), he's really good about making sure I'm taken care of before he finishes. I think there was a book written fairly recently, Woman Comes First, I believe it was called, that is all about this. Maybe he read it, I don't know, but the point is, this woman comes first. Last night was also our first foray together into my kink...I like to be submissive in bed. I can't do it with everybody, though- I have to feel comfortable and trusting of the person I'm with. But the Dreamer makes me feel safe, so I told him about it. And boy was it fun! A little bit of spanking and hair pulling, but more importantly, him being in charge. As he pointed out to me later, I'm so much in control in my everyday life, being able to give up that control is incredibly appealing.
My favorite part was when we were done, and he wrapped me up in his arms while he spooned me. There's something about the way his body feels next to mine that takes my breath away. Unfortunately he had a meeting at 7:30 this morning (on a Saturday!) so he set his alarm for 5:45 am. Ugh. I barely managed to wake up enough to put on a robe and see him out. I think I need to convince him to bring over a change of clothes and a toothbrush so next time he has to get up way too early for work, at least he doesn't have to go home and change first.
So that was my Friday. Another date tonight, though, so more to come!
Last night, I invited him over at the last minute for dinner. Just leftovers that I had frozen, nothing exciting, but he came over anyway. He's been sick for the past few days, so he was kind of loopy on cough medicine, which was pretty hilarious. One Wednesday he had texted me when I was in my night class to see if I wanted to come keep his sick self company, so I spent the night there. Let me tell you, 5 bachelors living in a house is not a pretty sight! I tried to have tunnel vision when I went to use the bathroom, but I still saw things I didn't want to see. Is it any surprise I declined his offer of a shower the next morning? Wednesday night was weird for me, though- it was our first date since deciding to use the “official” labels and, to be frank, we went to bed without having sex. How much more domestic can you get?? I liked it, though- we'd stayed up late talking, and got to just fall asleep next to each other.
But back to last night. My phone has been having issues with text messages, so while I got his response that he was coming for dinner, I didn't get the one where he said he was on his way. When he got here, I was still hanging out in my bathrobe, watching 16 and Pregnant on MTV. Such a great impression! I think he was high enough on the cough syrup to not care...or maybe he just didn't care because he likes me. Either way works. The problem was, though, I'd promised to go out and get mixers for the whiskey I have since he doesn't drink it neat like I do (wimp). As you can probably tell by the fact I was still in my bathrobe, I hadn't gone to the store yet. So I gave him the option of coming with me, or staying while I ran down the street to get some soda. He chose to stay. Again, how much more domestic can you get? Going over to your girlfriend's house and watching The Simpsons while she runs down to the store. It works, though; I don't feel uncomfortable with it. I haven't felt this way with someone new in a long time.
After I got back, we had drinks and ate dinner. I made him try the Indian snacks I'd bought, but since his nose was stuffed up, he said he couldn't really taste them. If he couldn't taste that, he obviously couldn't taste my food...but maybe that's a good thing. I have to keep him thinking I'm a good cook until after I've sucked him in. (I kid, of course. I made him dinner last week- he's already been fooled.) Then we decided to watch a movie. My roommates and I don't have a DVD player in the living room, and my laptop sucks for watching movies on (it's small and the speakers aren't very good- it works for one person with headphones, but not so much for two people) so I brought down my Xbox 360 from my room and hooked it up to the TV. That's right, I did it all by myself! I'm a feminist, after all; I know how to handle my own electronics. Then we watched Donnie Darko, a good movie, though not one of my favorites. The Dreamer made it all the way to the last 5 minutes of the movie before falling asleep, it was super adorable. So I dragged him up to bed...let's just say we didn't have a repeat of Wednesday night. Wink wink.
Okay, if you don't want details of my sex life, stop here. Seriously. This is your last warning. All the prudes leave? Good.
The Dreamer isn't the biggest guy I've been with, but he definitely knows how to use what he's got. The best part is that, while he doesn't last for hours (which quite frankly can get annoying at times), he's really good about making sure I'm taken care of before he finishes. I think there was a book written fairly recently, Woman Comes First, I believe it was called, that is all about this. Maybe he read it, I don't know, but the point is, this woman comes first. Last night was also our first foray together into my kink...I like to be submissive in bed. I can't do it with everybody, though- I have to feel comfortable and trusting of the person I'm with. But the Dreamer makes me feel safe, so I told him about it. And boy was it fun! A little bit of spanking and hair pulling, but more importantly, him being in charge. As he pointed out to me later, I'm so much in control in my everyday life, being able to give up that control is incredibly appealing.
My favorite part was when we were done, and he wrapped me up in his arms while he spooned me. There's something about the way his body feels next to mine that takes my breath away. Unfortunately he had a meeting at 7:30 this morning (on a Saturday!) so he set his alarm for 5:45 am. Ugh. I barely managed to wake up enough to put on a robe and see him out. I think I need to convince him to bring over a change of clothes and a toothbrush so next time he has to get up way too early for work, at least he doesn't have to go home and change first.
So that was my Friday. Another date tonight, though, so more to come!
Friday, Part 1- Cute girls and chocolate chip cookies
Friday afternoon was a first date with a girl I met through my favorite online dating site. We'd been talking back and forth, and a week ago I finally took the initiative to ask her out. We arbitrarily picked a time and date (well, she arbitrarily picked. I had to make sure it fit in my schedule) and she suggested a local cafe that has good coffee and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. Of course I was sold on the idea.
She's a graphic design student (henceforth, the Design Student) at the local artsy college. My first introduction to the students at this school came via the Anarchist, who took me to a house party at a collective house. It was a vegan house, with at least 10 students living there, and no one had a key. My favorite part was when someone showed up with Guinness and all the people were warning each other “don't drink the Guinness! It's not vegan!” Ah, vegans. Thankfully, the Design Student wasn't one of these types. She's super cute and bubbly-looking- wavy bobbed brown hair, purple glasses, curvy in the right places- just the way I like them. And she's tall, too- the last girl I dated was maybe 5'2”, and I'm 5'9” when I'm not wearing heels (which is rare) so a girl that comes up above my chin is a rare treat.
The date went really well. It's always so hard to tell with a first date how you're doing, but we made plans to get together again soon, so I think that's a good sign. She's very into swing dancing, which I've never done, so we decided that she'll take me swing dancing and I'll take her to yoga, which she's always wanted to try. She was nervous about going out with someone new since she's graduating in May and planning to move back to the west coast, but I don't think that's a problem. I don't think every date has to turn into a relationship, and I don't think that every relationship has to end in marriage to have made it worth while. One of the benefits of polyamory, I suppose!
The date ended with a hug. I'm a first date kisser, but I know a lot of people aren't, so I'm not going to read into it. Then she bounced off down the street to catch a bus...so cute.
I'll have to save my third date of the day as another post. Does that count as three dates? Maybe two and a half, since the Anarchist was a holdover from the night before. The point is, Friday was a very good, very busy day.
She's a graphic design student (henceforth, the Design Student) at the local artsy college. My first introduction to the students at this school came via the Anarchist, who took me to a house party at a collective house. It was a vegan house, with at least 10 students living there, and no one had a key. My favorite part was when someone showed up with Guinness and all the people were warning each other “don't drink the Guinness! It's not vegan!” Ah, vegans. Thankfully, the Design Student wasn't one of these types. She's super cute and bubbly-looking- wavy bobbed brown hair, purple glasses, curvy in the right places- just the way I like them. And she's tall, too- the last girl I dated was maybe 5'2”, and I'm 5'9” when I'm not wearing heels (which is rare) so a girl that comes up above my chin is a rare treat.
The date went really well. It's always so hard to tell with a first date how you're doing, but we made plans to get together again soon, so I think that's a good sign. She's very into swing dancing, which I've never done, so we decided that she'll take me swing dancing and I'll take her to yoga, which she's always wanted to try. She was nervous about going out with someone new since she's graduating in May and planning to move back to the west coast, but I don't think that's a problem. I don't think every date has to turn into a relationship, and I don't think that every relationship has to end in marriage to have made it worth while. One of the benefits of polyamory, I suppose!
The date ended with a hug. I'm a first date kisser, but I know a lot of people aren't, so I'm not going to read into it. Then she bounced off down the street to catch a bus...so cute.
I'll have to save my third date of the day as another post. Does that count as three dates? Maybe two and a half, since the Anarchist was a holdover from the night before. The point is, Friday was a very good, very busy day.
Thursday- Anarchists eat fancy food?
This has been a busy week. Six dates so far, with four different people...where to begin.
Thursday night the Anarchist was back in town from a conference, so it was the first time we'd gotten together in a week. I think this was our fourth date, but I could be off- they tend to be long and multi-faceted, which makes it hard to keep them straight. What to say about the Anarchist. I like to describe him as the proto-hipster- the person all the hipsters would love to be. Don't think that makes him an actual hipster, though, he'd kill me if I gave that impression. It's just that he's a chain-smoking, glasses-wearing librarian who has crazy hair, a bushy beard, and a penchant for Baltic music. He's big into labor movement issues, lives in a building with a collective, and decorates with protest posters. Did I mention he plays the accordion? In a marching band! It's awesome.
This time it was a toss-up between an Afghan restaurant I'd mentioned I'd wanted to try and a French restaurant he'd just heard about. Since our last date was for Ethiopian food, we went with the European option. It was a very nice place; I felt a little underdressed in my jeans, but I'm (sadly) not used to going out to nice restaurants without advance warning. Even so, the reason I stood out wasn't because of my jeans, it was because of my date. Unless we're walking around the "artsy" neighborhoods, people tend to look at him. Not in a mean way, mind you, he's just a “stands out in a crowd” type of guy.
The food was good. I wanted to get escargot- I mean really, where else can you eat snails if not a fancy French restaurant?- but when the Anarchist heard that I'd never had oysters, he insisted we get some. They're definitely not my thing- slimy, briny, and flavorless. Yuck. The main courses were SUPERB, though. I got perfectly cooked salmon with a beurre rouge sauce, but the best part came on the side- bacon wrapped fennel. The Anarchist got the duck leg confit, which I had also been eying. I have this problem with food, though- I can't eat anything that comes on the bone. He knows about this, so without me even asking he cut the bone out so I could try some. We both agreed that mine was better, though. One of my favorite things about him is that he loves ordering dessert as much as I do. I'm not one of those women who is shy about eating in front of a date, but I still think it's rude to insist on desert when you're not the one paying. That's not a problem with him, and the carrot cake was fantastic.
After dinner, we went back to his place to watch Shortbus. If you've never seen it, it's not for the conservative-types. It's all about sex (the main story line is a woman in the search of an orgasm) and is known for showing actual sex instead of that fake Hollywood stuff. I thought the ending was sad, but he interpreted it as happy. I think most of that was because of the marching band, which automatically makes him happy! By the end of the movie I was drunk on bourbon and Dr. Pepper (hey, a girl can't be picky when it's not her house!) so I *had* to spend the night. Darn.
Friday morning we got up and went to this local diner down the street for breakfast. It's exactly what a corner diner should be- counter seating only, one grill, women behind the counter who know their regulars by name and order. On the way back we stopped by an Indian grocery. I'd been dating a girl for a while (more about her later) who got me hooked on these Indian snack foods. Imagine chex mix with cumin. So good. After I got those, I had to get home to get ready for my second date of the day.
Thursday night the Anarchist was back in town from a conference, so it was the first time we'd gotten together in a week. I think this was our fourth date, but I could be off- they tend to be long and multi-faceted, which makes it hard to keep them straight. What to say about the Anarchist. I like to describe him as the proto-hipster- the person all the hipsters would love to be. Don't think that makes him an actual hipster, though, he'd kill me if I gave that impression. It's just that he's a chain-smoking, glasses-wearing librarian who has crazy hair, a bushy beard, and a penchant for Baltic music. He's big into labor movement issues, lives in a building with a collective, and decorates with protest posters. Did I mention he plays the accordion? In a marching band! It's awesome.
This time it was a toss-up between an Afghan restaurant I'd mentioned I'd wanted to try and a French restaurant he'd just heard about. Since our last date was for Ethiopian food, we went with the European option. It was a very nice place; I felt a little underdressed in my jeans, but I'm (sadly) not used to going out to nice restaurants without advance warning. Even so, the reason I stood out wasn't because of my jeans, it was because of my date. Unless we're walking around the "artsy" neighborhoods, people tend to look at him. Not in a mean way, mind you, he's just a “stands out in a crowd” type of guy.
The food was good. I wanted to get escargot- I mean really, where else can you eat snails if not a fancy French restaurant?- but when the Anarchist heard that I'd never had oysters, he insisted we get some. They're definitely not my thing- slimy, briny, and flavorless. Yuck. The main courses were SUPERB, though. I got perfectly cooked salmon with a beurre rouge sauce, but the best part came on the side- bacon wrapped fennel. The Anarchist got the duck leg confit, which I had also been eying. I have this problem with food, though- I can't eat anything that comes on the bone. He knows about this, so without me even asking he cut the bone out so I could try some. We both agreed that mine was better, though. One of my favorite things about him is that he loves ordering dessert as much as I do. I'm not one of those women who is shy about eating in front of a date, but I still think it's rude to insist on desert when you're not the one paying. That's not a problem with him, and the carrot cake was fantastic.
After dinner, we went back to his place to watch Shortbus. If you've never seen it, it's not for the conservative-types. It's all about sex (the main story line is a woman in the search of an orgasm) and is known for showing actual sex instead of that fake Hollywood stuff. I thought the ending was sad, but he interpreted it as happy. I think most of that was because of the marching band, which automatically makes him happy! By the end of the movie I was drunk on bourbon and Dr. Pepper (hey, a girl can't be picky when it's not her house!) so I *had* to spend the night. Darn.
Friday morning we got up and went to this local diner down the street for breakfast. It's exactly what a corner diner should be- counter seating only, one grill, women behind the counter who know their regulars by name and order. On the way back we stopped by an Indian grocery. I'd been dating a girl for a while (more about her later) who got me hooked on these Indian snack foods. Imagine chex mix with cumin. So good. After I got those, I had to get home to get ready for my second date of the day.
Friday, March 5, 2010
About me
First things first.
Bisexual polyamorous 20-something seeks fun people in a new city.
I just moved to a new city on the East coast two months ago. Since then, I've been a dating fiend. Ah, internet dating- you are the bread and butter of my social life. I love everything about internet dating- creating my profile, deciding which pictures to include, agonizing over whether my interests come off as witty or conceited. Then the fun part can really begin. I'm not one of those girls who waits around for a guy to message me; I actively search for and pursue men and women that I am interested in. Banter back and forth for a bit, maybe a quick phone call to weed out the Erkel-types, and away we go!
Since moving here, I've gone out with at least a dozen people. Some of them only lasted one date, others have hung in there for a while. Either way, each date becomes a story to tell. And this is where I'm going to tell it.
Bisexual polyamorous 20-something seeks fun people in a new city.
I just moved to a new city on the East coast two months ago. Since then, I've been a dating fiend. Ah, internet dating- you are the bread and butter of my social life. I love everything about internet dating- creating my profile, deciding which pictures to include, agonizing over whether my interests come off as witty or conceited. Then the fun part can really begin. I'm not one of those girls who waits around for a guy to message me; I actively search for and pursue men and women that I am interested in. Banter back and forth for a bit, maybe a quick phone call to weed out the Erkel-types, and away we go!
Since moving here, I've gone out with at least a dozen people. Some of them only lasted one date, others have hung in there for a while. Either way, each date becomes a story to tell. And this is where I'm going to tell it.
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