Monday- The Diplomat Scores a Goal

Since I'd canceled the date with the Diplomat on Saturday night, we rescheduled for Monday. Now, it was the third date, and you all know what Michael Scott says. The third date is the sex date. Plus he had invited me over to cook for me- how much more obvious can it get? I was totally okay with that, though, don't get me wrong.

When I got to his house, he greeted me at the door but then had to run back to the kitchen, where he was tending to his risotto. That's right, he was making risotto! I know my foodie friends all claim it's not so hard, but I think they're just saying that to try and show off. I know it's not something I would even know where to begin with.

He had a little table set up in the corner of the living room with two chairs and a bottle of wine. It was sweet in that “romantic empty restaurant movie trope” way. It's rare enough to get a man to cook for me; to have him go all out on the set up was even more amazing.

Speaking of amazing, the food was delicious. But then he asked if I wanted dessert (for my obvious answer, see the tags at the end of this post.) He went to the kitchen, then brought back...homemade chocolate mousse.

If it hadn't been the sex date before that, it was now. By the time I finished my delicious, creamy, light-as-air chocolate mousse and my second (or was it third?) glass of wine, I was in that giggly, tipsy, bubbly mood where everything in the world seems great. It's also the tipping point for me between innocent flirt and “no really, let's go make out on the couch” flirt. So that's what we did.

Now, I know that I said the first time I met the Diplomat, he was overly reserved. So much so that I nearly didn't go out with him a second time. But given a few dates, some wine, and some positive reinforcement, that man can shed his inhibition. We made out for a little while on the couch, slowly shedding clothing until it got to the point of “maybe we should move this to the bedroom.” I'd been nervous because he seemed so much more submissive than I generally like in bed, but he was able to step it up just enough that it worked for me.

I've gotta tell you, women should be dating more soccer players, even not very good ones. Any man who can run like they have to for extended periods of time has the...ahem...requisite thigh muscles and stamina to do a good job in bed. After we cuddled for a while, he told me the best advice he'd ever been given about sex. I'll paraphrase it here: “you may be tired and want to go to sleep, but suck it up and do it a second time.”

How about a hearty amen to that!

By that point, it was nearly midnight, and I had to be up at 6am to get to class on time Tuesday morning. The Diplomat offered to wake up with me (he had to go to work anyway) if I wanted to stay there, and I was tired enough that I took him up on it. I don't think we took up even a third of his massive king-sized bed. I got a totally new perspective of him the next morning, though, when he “happened” to have a spare unopened toothbrush available for me to use. Only two kinds of guys have spare unopened toothbrushes available- the smooth players and the oral health nuts. I'm just going to hope that the Diplomat falls into the former category.