I met the Mad Scientist at the anarchist party last weekend; he was the cute bartender that kept checking me out. We texted a few times Saturday and Sunday, and made plans to go out after my class Tuesday. I got a phone call Monday night from my professor telling me my classes Tuesday morning were canceled, though, so I asked the Mad Scientist if he wanted to move our date up a day.
First he suggested a super hipster bar that I've been to before. When I called him out on the hipster-ness of it, he laughed and asked if I'd rather see his favorite dive bar instead.
The place was a total dive, but that was exactly what I was hoping for. There's nothing better than a corner dive bar to get to know someone over a few drinks. I found out that he's 27, and is starting a PhD program in chemistry at the well-known local university in the fall. In the meantime, he's working at the anarchist collective's coffee shop and bartending under the table. It's very anarchistic, I suppose. He worked on his master's degree in England, and has traveled a lot. He's totally the lefty, social activist type- he's even a vegetarian.
As we were sitting at the bar talking, he kept pausing and giving me a look. I couldn't place what it was, until he finally leaned in and kissed me. I don't think I stopped grinning afterwards. He also had me giggling and blushing the whole time. He's very much the strong, silent type, but it's covering a razor-sharp wit that I can't get enough of.
We planned to move on to another bar, but it was closed. Instead, he suggested going back to his place for some beers. I giggled and agreed. When we got there, he asked me if I was the kind of girl that was going to call him 40 times the next day.
“No,” I assured him. “Only 25 or so.”
“That's the sweet spot,” he told me, grinning.
For a Mad Scientist, he's unfailingly polite. He asked me if I wanted to go back to his bedroom, and I readily agreed. We made out on his bed for literally hours. He's such a good kisser. In between kissing and caressing he would give me massages- I was falling, hard. Finally I told him I wanted him. “But do you want me tonight?” he asked. When I told him I wasn't sure, he told me I should make sure I am first.
Seriously, what kind of guy does that? I know, I know- the good kind. I guess I'm just not used to being treated right.
I spent the night, and we cuddled together under the blankets. You know how when you're sleeping with someone, you'll sometimes wake up just a little bit in the middle of the night when you're rolling over? Well, whenever that happened he'd whisper to me, “hey, gorgeous.”
We ate Amish blueberry muffins in bed the next morning. Then he had to get to work, so we parted ways.
I can't wait to see him again.
Showing posts with label hipsters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hipsters. Show all posts
Friday, April 30, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Friday- In Which I Try to Eat Sushi While Drunk
One of the problems with dating so many people as I am is that with only so many hours in a day, and only so many free days in a week, people slip through the cracks. That's what had been happening with the Anarchist- either I was already busy with school or other plans, or he was doing stuff for the big May Day even happening next week. That's right- not only is he an anarchist, he's also a human rights advocate. Hot.
We finally got our schedules in line for Friday. We didn't set any specific plans, though- just picked the date. I've found that really helps to satisfy my desire for plans without upsetting my love of spontaneity. In other words, I have issues. He said his friends at an anarchist publisher were having a sort-of cocktail fundraiser party, so we decided to go to that.
Now, I had to no idea what to expect at an anarchist cocktail fundraiser. Are anarchists even allowed to have fundraisers? That seems very un-anarchist-like. Fight the power!
When we walked in, I immediately noticed the guy behind the bar was checking me out. Every time I glanced over, he was looking at me. Not in a creepy, lecherous way, though. I think it helped that he was really cute. Apparently the way anarchists do a fundraiser is to have a lot of booze and suggest that you make a donation to drink it. Or not. And you can have the bartender mix your drink. Or you can just dig the cherries out of the jar. Whatever, man! It's anarchy!
Actually, it was pretty fun. All the people were really nice, even the mega-hipster with his fu manchu and muttonchops. It was an...interesting combination. But I spent most of the time talking to that cute bartender. It turns out that he has a MS in Chemistry, and is considering getting his PhD. Let me tell you, there is nothing hotter than a science-y guy getting an advanced degree (eg: Mr. Dimple.) After flirting for a while, he finally asked me, “so are you and the Anarchist an item?”
Strangely, that isn't the first time I've been asked that about the Anarchist. Well, to be more accurate, last time it was him that was asked. That time the Anarchist ended up giving my number to the Nigerian (after asking my permission, of course). So I explained that no, we weren't an item, though we do date occasionally.
“Hmm,” he told me. “Well, I think you should very subtly give me your number.” I laughed at the apparently need for secrecy, but complied. Cute, anarchistic chemists don't come around every day!
Not long after, the Anarchist and I left the party. By this point, I was pretty blitzed. One and a half manhattans and a whiskey martini will do that to me. Now, if I'd been thinking straight, I probably would have suggested we scrap out plans to go out for sushi. I clearly wasn't, though.
Eating sushi while drunk- not easy. I managed to get most of it in my mouth, at least! I had been planning to go home after dinner, not spend the night at the Anarchist's house. But the farmer's market I go to every Saturday morning is less than three blocks from his house. That meant I was very easily persuaded to go back to his house.
Now, let me be honest. The Anarchist is good in bed, there's no doubt about that. The problem is, there is no way for him to climax from sex. He claims that he can occasionally, but I call shenanigans. The problem is, he has a certain way of masturbating that is nothing at all like having sex. I've known several other guys with the same problem- you get used to the way that doing something certain feels, and nothing else you do can reproduce it. My favorite sex columnist, Dan Savage, has also talked about this topic, more than once.
My point isn't to bring up the Anarchist's specific sexual intricacies, but more to point out that it's easy to forget that each of us is different. It's so often considered a female problem to not get off with sex, but that's not always the way it is. I keep reading in feminist blogs, especially lately, about how only 1/3 of women can even have a vaginal orgasm. Thankfully, I belong to this group; on the other hand, though, it makes it hard for me to imagine being on the other side of things. Just food for thought, I guess.
Or maybe I'm saying to all those guys that are so used to masturbating- go find yourself some women to screw before it's too late.
We finally got our schedules in line for Friday. We didn't set any specific plans, though- just picked the date. I've found that really helps to satisfy my desire for plans without upsetting my love of spontaneity. In other words, I have issues. He said his friends at an anarchist publisher were having a sort-of cocktail fundraiser party, so we decided to go to that.
Now, I had to no idea what to expect at an anarchist cocktail fundraiser. Are anarchists even allowed to have fundraisers? That seems very un-anarchist-like. Fight the power!
When we walked in, I immediately noticed the guy behind the bar was checking me out. Every time I glanced over, he was looking at me. Not in a creepy, lecherous way, though. I think it helped that he was really cute. Apparently the way anarchists do a fundraiser is to have a lot of booze and suggest that you make a donation to drink it. Or not. And you can have the bartender mix your drink. Or you can just dig the cherries out of the jar. Whatever, man! It's anarchy!
Actually, it was pretty fun. All the people were really nice, even the mega-hipster with his fu manchu and muttonchops. It was an...interesting combination. But I spent most of the time talking to that cute bartender. It turns out that he has a MS in Chemistry, and is considering getting his PhD. Let me tell you, there is nothing hotter than a science-y guy getting an advanced degree (eg: Mr. Dimple.) After flirting for a while, he finally asked me, “so are you and the Anarchist an item?”
Strangely, that isn't the first time I've been asked that about the Anarchist. Well, to be more accurate, last time it was him that was asked. That time the Anarchist ended up giving my number to the Nigerian (after asking my permission, of course). So I explained that no, we weren't an item, though we do date occasionally.
“Hmm,” he told me. “Well, I think you should very subtly give me your number.” I laughed at the apparently need for secrecy, but complied. Cute, anarchistic chemists don't come around every day!
Not long after, the Anarchist and I left the party. By this point, I was pretty blitzed. One and a half manhattans and a whiskey martini will do that to me. Now, if I'd been thinking straight, I probably would have suggested we scrap out plans to go out for sushi. I clearly wasn't, though.
Eating sushi while drunk- not easy. I managed to get most of it in my mouth, at least! I had been planning to go home after dinner, not spend the night at the Anarchist's house. But the farmer's market I go to every Saturday morning is less than three blocks from his house. That meant I was very easily persuaded to go back to his house.
Now, let me be honest. The Anarchist is good in bed, there's no doubt about that. The problem is, there is no way for him to climax from sex. He claims that he can occasionally, but I call shenanigans. The problem is, he has a certain way of masturbating that is nothing at all like having sex. I've known several other guys with the same problem- you get used to the way that doing something certain feels, and nothing else you do can reproduce it. My favorite sex columnist, Dan Savage, has also talked about this topic, more than once.
My point isn't to bring up the Anarchist's specific sexual intricacies, but more to point out that it's easy to forget that each of us is different. It's so often considered a female problem to not get off with sex, but that's not always the way it is. I keep reading in feminist blogs, especially lately, about how only 1/3 of women can even have a vaginal orgasm. Thankfully, I belong to this group; on the other hand, though, it makes it hard for me to imagine being on the other side of things. Just food for thought, I guess.
Or maybe I'm saying to all those guys that are so used to masturbating- go find yourself some women to screw before it's too late.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
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.
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