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.