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Posts Tagged ‘beer’

The texts started coming in while Cooper Fiennes and I were having a late lunch. Type Geek and I had plans that evening. Originally we were going to join his friends 40th birthday celebration after the charity function, however we decided that INSTEAD of charity function sounded much better. The drama of those charity people had been too much.The next text message mentions that if I’m late, text him and he’ll come out to me. I told him, I would be there early & extra hot.

A few minutes later  C.F. informs me that we are now going back to his place to shower and fuck. DAMN IT. The look of shock on his face when I declined, priceless. As much as I WANTED to be able to, NOT being able to felt really good. Leaving him wanting me was an awesome feeling. Sigh. Cooper Fiennes walked me to the train, kissed me frustratingly on the platform and we parted so I could make my date on time. I did send C.F. a breast/bra flash photo via text though after I arrived on my side of the station. He looked so pathetic across the way. Like a little boy who found out there was no Santa Claus. He flashed me his trademark smile as he saw it come through his phone just as his train arrived.

Okay, now the cards were stacked against me. My trains were running on delays with signal switching issues, then a bus that was pulling off just as I walked out of the station…aarrgh. Somehow I was able to get home, rinse off quickly in the shower, run a razor haphazardly over my legs and slip on my hot dress, sequined heels, and grab some overnight essentials in less than an hour. I also took the dog for a walk around the block.  Amazingly, I make it to the restaurant with 5 minutes to spare … when I get his text. HE is running late. Turns out that the only other person as chronically late as me…is Type Geek. I should know this by now. He has been late for several of our dates. I should no longer rush, unless there is a time sensitive reason.

I’m pacing outside the restaurant, awaiting his arrival, fretting about what meeting his friends means, and texting him suggestively. He says that there is no guarantee that i will get laid that night. WTF is that?! He does have to leave early the next morning for a Father’s day event across the state, but really? Fine, I decide to tease the hell out of him then. I went into the bathroom and exposed my panties to the cell phone camera, then while outside again, I flashed my breast for the camera. I’m getting laid damn it! I had a sure thing lined in C.F. and now, Type Geek, after already owing me a few morning sexcapades and a make up for the time he fell asleep and forgot to unlock his door, I’m being told that I MIGHT NOT get lucky? Are you serious?! I’m kicking that man’s ass.

He finally shows up to extreme accolades over my appearance. I DID tell him that I would be there early and look extra hot. After a short hello and peck, we walk into the restaurant together. Meeting the friends for the first time of someone you are dating is always a weird experience. Its a vulnerable position if they know you are fucking because you don’t know what said date has told them about you. Also, you don’t know if it means the other person is getting serious with you. With C.F. , his friends don’t know the details of our friendship. They just know that I am around sometimes. I assume that they have their suspicions but we don’t over share since his friends are his colleagues and his colleagues don’t know the extent of his split with his wife. Type Geek’s friends are diverse and older, his two closest and longest friends of the group are also very gay men, which now explains his total non-issue with my past. There were 8 of us total at dinner. I liked 4 of them very much. The other two were odd in their tone with me. They were surprised by my age, assuming I was ten years younger, and they spoke to me in a dismissive interrogative way. It’s an odd thing that women can do with other women if they feel challenged or uncomfortable. My comfort with the group and ability to integrate quickly unnerved them. We had spicy Tikka Masala and a seared Tandoori Lamb, plus copious cocktails. Type Geek isn’t known for being a heavy drinker, a few glasses of wine make him feel buzzy, so I was surprised to see him have 3 vodka martinis, a glass of pinot noir, and the espresso vodka shot we all took. This is going to be interesting as the night stretches on.

The restaurant turns into a nightclub after dinner and we stay. We remained in the banquette seats of our original table and watched the crowd change.  The music was awful, the crowd was worse. Then, a nightclub hostess tried to kick us off the banquette because, as she said, she had just sold the tables for bottle service. This is the point when the woman who arranged the dinner & paid the tab for all 8 of us commented, “excuse me, but I think I just bought this table for $1,000 so, we aren’t moving.” I then calculated in my head the costs of everyone and gasped. Yes, indeed, she did spend roughly $1,000 for this birthday event. Nice friend. No, we aren’t moving. Except, the music started to become too much, the crowd, too trashy, and we decided we wanted something “classier”.

Within ten minutes we had arrived at one of the most hardcore gay nightclubs in the city. The video screens all played “gay for pay” porn in HD and the club stank of adult video store movie booths, but, the music was better. Then T.G. had a beer, then a whiskey. The night really spirals down from there. I had asked if he had ever been cock curious and he said no, not really. There had been a fleeting consideration marked by quick dismissal back in high school. The guy? One of his friends here tonight. That friend gets told the story and then suddenly I turn to see them kissing. Ten minutes later everyone is on the dance floor except for T.G. and I. We are leaning against the bar and suddenly he looks at me strange and says, we should go, now. Officially wasted.

I left T.G. at the bar while I found the boys in the melee on the dance floor, they came over to say goodbye and grab their shirts which were in my purse. When the boys and I head back to T.G. he is sliding down into a seated position on the foot rest of the bar. They attend to him while I turn to talk to his other friend, the woman who paid the dinner bill. Next thing I knew, his head was in his hands and the boys were shaking their head and telling me he was sick. I didn’t see the vomit happen, but I knew then, I was NOT getting laid that night.

We got him out of the bar and into a cab. At his house I was able to get him undressed, teeth brushed, and convince him to get two aspirin and a glass of water into his body. I placed a bucket by his bed, just in case. Cool damp cloth on the back of his neck, head and bare back… and then I told him, wake me if you need me.

I awoke in the morning to find him with his face buried under the once damp cloth. Did he remember much? Not really. He was mortified, it wasn’t that bad I told him. Truthfully, it wasn’t. He was the most composed of any drunken vomiter I have ever witnessed. Hell, I’m not that composed. He didn’t remember kissing his friend, which I had a feeling he wasn’t going to remember. Sigh. I fed him more water, more aspirin and then by 1 was able to get him vertical, showered and feeling human with a cup of coffee in him. He was going to be 5 hours late for Father’s Day brunch. Woops. I then took off for brunch with Assoc.Prod/Musician guy since we haven’t hung in a while and I wanted all the dirt on his new girlfriend.

For the remainder of the day, I couldn’t get this out of my head:

I felt a rush like a rolling bolt of thunder
Spinnin’ my head around and taking my body under.
Oh, what a night!
(Do, do, do, do, do. Do, do, do, do, do, do.)

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Okay, it was Wednesday and totally NOT on the game plan. The day started as normal as most of mine do. My pup was out to meet with her canine boyfriend for a playdate, I had a client meeting, and then after a long look in a mirror, that is when things got interesting. I noticed my grey was more noticeable than my highlights, at least to me. Jesus Christ, time for a hair appointment.

I always forget that my hair stylist  is constantly booked. She IS amazing, but considering I live my life in a constant state of spontaneity, it sucks to have to plan. I also forget that she doesn’t work on the days that are usually best for my schedule. I called the salon and was told that she had some appointments on Saturday. Ugh, the problem with that is this, once you have noticed how bad your hair looks, there is NO going back. You feel awful everyday until it’s rectified. I realized that I would be ending my day a bit earlier than expected so I called to see if there was a way to get squeezed in at some point in the late afternoon. Turns out she had an opening at the end. THANK YOU GOD!

Hmm, so then I started thinking, well damn, my hair looks SO good after a cut and foil, shame to let it go to waste. No, really, it looks HOT. I texted Cooper Fiennes to see what his availability was for drinks after work. Turned out he had a soccer match in the park so he wanted to make it a dinner and drinks scenario later, if that would work for me. Hells yeah!

Now, I don’t have much of an excuse these days to get really sexy. What I do for a living, what I do for fun, it’s all fairly casual. Wednesday night though, I wanted to feel like a sexy woman, so I ran by three resale shops and found a dress that I was semi on the fence about when I tried it on… consider that my legs were furry, my hair still grey and shaggy, and I wasn’t wearing the right undergarments or shoes or makeup. There was SOMETHING about it though. It had this rouching to it that gave the illusion of curves to my no T and no A body…and a neckline that kicked ass! Did I mention it was $24 ?! Score. Maybe it could produce a miracle and make me feel hot even though I was day 4 of my fucking period. So, unfortunately, no sex was on the table. I don’t fuck when I am bleeding.

I had two hours to get my dog home, shave (I know! This girl is having issues affording the professional waxing though), grab my makeup, the shoes, and jewelry and get to the salon for my hair appointment. I decided I would apply the makeup and get dressed after my appointment and then meet him at a local bar. I had considered that it would be hot to do a little role-playing. Pretend we are strangers, etc. Alas, by the time he told me he was headed home to shower after the game and I was still getting my hair trimmed and blown out,I found myself a bit tired, so I decided instead for Starbucks.

As per usual, my stylist did an AMAZING job. I love you, you know who you are and eventually you will read this post, when you have some free time and can catch up! Sadly she ran out the door as I was getting ready in the dressing room, so she missed the final look, but BRAVO! I paid, ran out to CVS to grab some polish and touch up my fingernails since there was no time for a manicure with his arrival in T minus…. x amount of minutes. The nails got painted in an alley way and the iced Americano imbibed while trying to look nonchalant yet sexy while reading the New York Times. I refused to look up at the door each time i heard it open. I hate public transportation because it’s so reliably unpredictable. I made it through all the interesting segments of the Times and was just headed into the mind numbing part when C.F. was standing over me with a grin from ear to ear. When I looked up,” wow”, was the only thing he could say. Yay! Now THAT is the response most girls want when they get sexied up, right?!

We wandered over to a local restaurant that I had previously had really great experiences with. Wednesday night however, I had the waiter from hell. Disinterested, unattractive, unfriendly and just hilariously awful. He didn’t ask what we wanted to drink, he didn’t mention specials, he didn’t say hello, instead, he lumbered over to the table, stood too closely and just stared at us. Umm, ok. I have a food allergy, so I asked him to ask the chef what would be appropriate, instead he told me that I should just tell him what I like, and the chef will make me something special. I don’t want that. I just want to know what 4 dishes on the menu are safe. He should know this automatically. That is HIS job. Anyway, the service just kept getting more and more laughable. I asked for my mussels and my heirloom tomato salad to come together, the salad gets dropped off first. I moved it aside. The other server notices and asks if I want my mussels to come out with C.F’s steak frites. Umm, yeah, that IS why I asked for them together in the first place. After we finished our meals he stood over us and asked,”yeah?” as we looked at the dessert menus. Seriously, Gordon Ramsey would make this fat man cry if he were ever to serve him! At the end, C.F. asked how much we liked him, “10% “, I replied. Then C.F. asked what we were doing next. “Going back to your place?”, I replied with the added stipulation that we could only do 85% because of my bitch ass period.

After an eventful train ride that provided a lot of amusement from the drug and alcohol fueled patrons, we arrived at our stop. I quickly switched from the heels to my flats for the walk to his sublet. The 15 minute walk took 30 because of all of the times he stopped to push me up against a building or tree and kiss me. Awesome awesome. Not complaining about that. Not complaining about the molestation in the elevator or the hallway or even that we weren’t in his place 5 minutes before he had picked me up and thrown me on his bed. Okay. Sure. So, long story short… aside from a 20 minute mood kill when I noticed the lighting in the room shift and glanced behind me to see the computer scrolling through a  photo slide show that was resting at an older fat photo of his best friend, we had 4 hours of total naked hotness. He asked me later how it’s possible that I give such good head, having been a lesbian for 12 years. I replied that it must be kinda like riding a bike… you don’t really forget. He accidently gave me a hickey on my neck (definitely NO dates for a few days. Thank GOD Type Geek is in Europe drinking beer right now and not here!) and I was feeling a little grrrr-umbly about that until I looked at his bed sheets and saw the hand prints. One thumb nail sized hickey versus bloody hand prints? Ha Ha Ha. I think I got the better end of the deal. Obviously I eventually decided to fuck him, regardless of my rule about my period. I looked too good. So did he and honestly, at a certain point… you aren’t feeling self conscious anymore, you just want to fuck. And fuck we did. Thank you my Spaniard friend. I will gladly give up 4 hours of sleep every night to be thrown around by him.

What does everyone think? Do you or don’t you when you or your partner is in period hell?

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 Of course. That’s become the motto of the moment. It covers so many things and is, quite simply, the most appropriate response to most occurrences in life. Last week was a slow dragged out week of almosts. Type Geek and I tried late night naughtiness 3 nights in a row, with each night becoming a huge FAIL. Due to his work schedule, family issues, and his travel to Europe, he wasn’t able to make it work except for one night. That one night, however, he fell asleep without unlocking the door for me first. SIGH. Now, he is in Europe, drinking good beer, eating better food, and hopefully relaxing more than he has been able to in months.

Meanwhile, I was looking forward to the spare time so I could get to know Cooper Fiennes a bit more. I wasn’t sure what that meant yet exactly, BUT, I did know that it would be easier to explore it without the concerns of scheduling around Type Geek. I adore Type Geek. He is comfortable to be around, sweet and does this thing with his nose when he is in thought that just makes me die. It’s cute and endearing BUT also kind of a turn on because it’s so humanizing. I look forward to spending time with him when I do, but it is easy to make him a priority amongst my dates, as he has been around longer. The night he flew out I had dinner with C.F. and we just walked around the city for hours afterwards. He has lived here for a little bit now, but, there are many areas that he is unfamiliar with. Nicely played were his spontaneous attacks of kisses in doorways and exterior alcoves on a chilly night. We parted ways at the last train and I definitely was wanting more.

The next night he asked if I wanted to come have wine. I declined. I didn’t want to come over so soon, I knew where I might try to lead it, so I said I would rain check. He made a snarky comment about how his religion doesn’t allow him to have wine with the same beautiful woman two nights in a row anyway and he is, of course, very religious. So, it’s good I declined. I let him get away with corny ridiculous comments because he is always saying them in jest and with a smirk that forgives many things. Instead of an intense make out session with him, I stopped at Whole Foods, then wandered home for dinner and some writing. The next morning is when everything went WRONG.

My website was acting strangely and so I put in a support ticket. This support ticket led to a discussion of upgrades and an agreement on a pay-per-upgrade fee with my hosting site. As I looked around for my credit card so that I could pay the invoice, it was no where to be found. The day before a 3 day federal holiday weekend and now I need to get a new license, new social security card, new bank card, new LIFE. Ugh.I spent 2 hours in the Motor Vehicle offices getting my new license, the upside being that they allowed me to retake the god awful photo from ten years before. I was unsuccessful in the Social Security Card but I was successful in getting the bank to provide me cash without an id! Yes! I texted Cooper Fiennes about my day and said quite simply, “I need a drink”. He responded that he would think up something fun, so I should come meet him after walking my dog.

 That evening there was wandering around, there were cocktails, Indian food, and when he asked if I wanted to go home or…. I interrupted by saying, “I’ll take a cab, let’s go make out”. We spent 2 hours chatting at his place, showing each other photos on Facebook, and staying a foot apart at all times. Were we pilgrims? Amish? WTF is with this distance thing? I think we were both trying to access the situation. Eventually I laid across his bed as I read something he was showing me, hoping that my horizontal position would inspire some decision making on his part. Did it EVER!! I was fully planning a night of MAKING OUT, but, I brought condoms JUST IN CASE. I also had no idea of size, so I brought regular and large versions of the Kimono MicroThins. 4 hours of awesome sex later, we fell asleep to the sun coming up and birds chirping outside the window. Iced Coffee, random street kisses and sideways smirks were how we ended the morning as we came into the city together and went off to do our separate things.

On Sunday I decided to do some housework and hang out in my general home area. AS I was trying to open the jammed window, I slipped and ended up falling into the window just enough to spider web it. Anyone ever try to get a replacement glass repair done on a window over a holiday weekend?I opted to wait until midweek on that but Cooper Fiennes was insistent on my meeting up after his picnic so that he could cheer me up. Coffee and a late dinner mixed with back rubs and kisses in the public park were not just what THAT doctor ordered but also what really cured my grr. We said ciao at the last train and headed our separate ways, only after seeing a naked man in the hotel window 4 floors above the train station. This set both of our minds wandering and resulted in several hours of gchat sexual confessions once we both arrived at our homes. I slept 4 hours, fully committed to spending Monday getting the work done around the house that I said I would, only CF texted me at noon asking if I was hungry. So, brunch at 2:30 turned into ice cream at 4 and his taking an hour rowing class while I walked around a bit. Then we met back up, had a not so late, for us, dinner, and more back rubs and make outs on our park bench before the last train. I wanted to go home with him. I also wanted to curse mother nature since my period showed up yesterday, eliminating the endless sex I was planning for the week. Sigh.

I’m having moments of feeling guilty for carrying on with two men at one time. Why should I though? I’m not exclusive with either. I haven’t lied, I am practicing safe sex and, other than the annoying douche bag former lawyer guy from a few weeks ago, these are not one night stands. These are men whom I am genuinely interested in and enjoy their company. One of the situations has a clearly defined expiration date due to the nature of his research and his return to Barcelona. The other? Well, we shall see what becomes of that. I’m not going to be the one to have that conversation about exclusivity, because I don’t want to answer the question when it shows up. Avoidance and a lot of weaving and ducking… those will be my weapon, should the conversation be brought up by Type Geek.

The holiday weekend is over. There are over 50 wildfires in Quebec and I wonder if the Mayan’s might be right about 2012. If so, I plan on living as much as possible between now and then. If that means some sexy Spaniard and some orally fixated musician turned designer at this juncture in time, then, of course, bring it on!

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I went out with Type Geek  last night. A rock show and foodie approved dinner. I have a cleanse planned to begin tomorrow so this was to be my last meal and alcoholic beverages for two weeks.

I was running late due to a well-known holder-upper called dog with the suddenly shy bladder (she always does this as I am trying to leave for a date) and a missed train connection. He was even later. He was late the first time we met as well. This is good though. Keeps the pressure off of me for the future, right? I ran over to the local natural food store while waiting for him to arrive and picked up some digestive enzymes to help get me through the cleanse that I am beginning the next day. I walked back over and waited…and waited…and waited. Okay, he was there in ten minutes. It wasn’t that catastrophic.

I had forgotten that he has minor height issues. He’s 5’8″, whatever, I’m shorter than that… except when I wear my 3 inch heeled boots. Oopsie. I am sure he forgave me since I was wearing a dress and femmed myself up for the night. Don’t get me wrong, I am naturally a feminine gal BUT I don’t live in dresses and other than lip gloss and some mascara, I don’t wear a lot of  makeup. So, he got me with tarted up smoky eyes, hair down (I usually stick it up in a twisted knot), in a dress and stockings! He should consider himself lucky.

The host inside gave us a 10 minute estimate and while it was 20 before we sat down, I didn’t feel we waited long for a busy night. The server was cute in a slighty foreign, probably smokes in bed kind of way. A she, by the way. Dark hair, tiny. Cute. The atmosphere was great, chill and quiet with just enough chatter to be interesting. The clientele was young urban hipster with cash. Food was excellent. Type Geek ordered scallops and I went for something uber nom, as I was embarking on a dietary cleanse the next day, I wanted the meal to be something worth having. Mmm nomnomnom mid-rare steak frites with garlic aioli to dip my fries in. I let him choose the wine with one stipulation…no red. I KNOW I was eating steak but I have this issue. If I drink red wine, kool-aid, blue curacao, etc… my mouth turns the color of the drink. Yes, my tongue, my gums, my teeth… it’s awful. It’s not a sexy look for a date. So, I avoid red wine on dates and in public. He did a good job. I can’t remember what he chose, but it was tasty. Big enough to hold up to the steak but delicate enough to not overpower the scallops. Bravo Type Geek!

After dinner we hit the rock show. He wasn’t interested in any of the opening acts so we lingered at dinner… only to get to the show and realize we still had an hour of lingering to be done. Hmm. Do we stay at this bar or walk next door? We went to the Middle Eastern place around the corner that was the site of my dinner with Frenchie. I was nervous I might bump into him, but hopeful as well. While I did NOT bump into Frenchie, I did bump into this cutie I met on the dating sites when I first signed up. We never actually hung out as it was apparent that we weren’t really each other’s type BUT it turned out we had a connection in common. It seemed that I knew his ex-wife vaguely. We had never met though, only chatted on-line/via email. As soon as Type Geek and I made it to the bar at the Middle Eastern restaurant I recognized him at the end of the bar. He looked just like his photos and apparently so did I because we made eye contact and I walked over to say hello. We exchanged pleasantries, hugs, and phone numbers. It was nice to meet him in person, even if nothing was going to come of it.

While Type Geek and I finished our drinks (cider for me, beer for him) we made up stories, theories, conspiracies even, about the people crowded around us in the bar. We lost track of time and suddenly looked at each other with faces that said,”oh shit!”… we then headed over to the show, only missing one song from the headlining act! The band was pretty good. It reminded me of Social Distortion, a teenage favorite that still tugs at my nostalgia strings. We stood in the back and just listened to the band and watched the crowd, feeling too old and responsable, we drank water for the rest of the evening. At one point I needed a pee and so I left T.G. to keep guard over my purse, jacket, and the remainder of the steak, which was to be a special treat for my pup when I got home. One knows to NEVER bring a purse into a public restroom. Unless you want to hold onto it the ENTIRE time you are peeing and washing your hands, it WILL become a magnet for things I cannot pronounce, let alone want to type in this blog. SOOOO, I get in the bathroom, I stand in line, I mind my own business and just as it’s my turn, I notice her. The girl who was sitting on the floor suddenly falls over and begins to pass out. Oh NO, NOT on my watch! So, I forfeit my place in line and get her seated upright, I yell out orders to people around to get her some water, ask a bartender for some chips, bread, SOMETHING to put in her stomach, and most important I keep her talking. I find out enough to direct a staff member to find her friends and then order them to get her home AND make sure she throws up. If they need to stick their fingers down her throat themselves, that girl needed to get rid of some of that alcohol. I can’t even imagine how she feels today. Oh, to be 21. Hmm, or 35… cause wasn’t that me just awhile back? Yeah, in a date’s bathtub. Nice one Student Driver.

Type Geek was curious about why I was gone so long, as it was longer than the usual “long bathroom line for the girls room”. I told him the story and he looked half amused and half concerned for the girl. Since he was used to my prolonged absence at this point, I snuck away for another minute and bought him a vinyl from the merch table. Red Vinyl, sexy, no? He loved it. I can’t do much these days, my business is doing beyond poorly and things are rather grim, even the waxing is off the table for the moment, BUT he did take me to a very nice dinner and a rock show, I figured a $15 collectors vinyl from the show was a fair thank you. After the show let out I looked at the time and let out a very audible,”hmmm, shit”. The trains had stopped running and cabs HATE/often REFUSE to go to my neighborhood. THANK GOD T.G. has a car now!

We walked the half mile to his place and I was curious, what was he thinking of me? I mean, a man doesn’t spend that much on someone they have zero interest in, correct? But, he wasn’t making a move. AT all. I lingered in his apartment, wondering if chatting awhile on the couch might get him to do something. Perhaps it would have IF he hadn’t sat in the chair on the other side of the room. HELLO?!! Am I hot or what?I look just as good up close, better in fact… ahem, cough, cough. I gave up after twenty minutes and we left so he could give me a ride home. I was feeling gratuitous SO I gave him another opening in the car outside my place… alas, nothing. I hugged him goodnight and kissed him on the cheek, which he reacted quite happily to. I had a sudden moment of , fuck this, and grabbed him and kissed him. The verdict? I’ll give him a redo since he was caught off guard. But so far, of the emotionally available men (i.e. anyone other than Brooklyn), Frenchie leads the pack in good kissage. I may run into T.G. at a street fair on Sunday. It’s in his neighborhood, he knows I will be there… we shall see.

Meanwhile, Frenchie…hurry up with that damn paper and make out with me!

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So, I didn’t drink the beer, but I kissed the Quebecer. He looks like a more intellectual, better traveled, far more sardonic and jaded Josh Lucas. I never thought much about Josh Lucas, or facial hair, until it was sitting before me speaking french. Parisian French don’t do a lot for me, but after years of working with some French Canadian Circus folks and having a thick ancestry in Quebec, I have a soft spot for cute Québécois!

I had a meeting with my personal advisor around 3 but due to some conflicts with her earlier clients, it was pushed til 3:30. Frenchie and I met in front of a local coffee shop because my throat was feeling a bit scratchy and I was dying for some hot tea and honey. The cafe was busy though, a line nearly out the door, so we decided to walk 20 minutes to another cafe in a nearby neighborhood. We sat and chatted for a bit. He was cute. Cuter in person than on-line. That academia meets no longer hipster but still hipper than most thing. A more New York version of Josh Lucas, except with the ability to speak hot french. Holy hot french by the way. Damn, I could listen to that all night long. After drinking tea for about a half hour we decided to go have some cocktails. A few in, some talk of hockey and futbol, a revelation that I had slept with his favorite wine seller, whom he didn’t think was gay, and I realized that I really wanted to kiss him. I couldn’t quite read him yet though. He admitted to trying boys once, to make sure, a brave thing to admit to me, but he assumed, rightly so, that I wouldn’t judge. In fact, I found it quite sexy that he could be secure enough to explore himself and his sexuality so fully. Not many men are capable of that. A couple of drinks in each and we were a little tipsy. We decided to head over for some Syrian/middle eastern food.

Less than a block from the bar, I pulled on his arm and drew him closer because I just needed to know. Good kisses. Definitely. We made it to the restaurant, ordered a couple of drinks at the bar while we waited for our table and chatted some more. I allowed him to order for me at the table and we talked more than flirted, although the flirt was there. Eventually he told me how attractive he considered me, a compliment always, nice to hear when it comes genuinely in a moment that isn’t expected. His hand touched my knee a few times, and the smiles came easily. While slightly jaded and cynical, he also carries a genuine openness that many don’t possess. He is far more attractive in person than he appears on-line. I don’t think photos are able to do him justice, as part of his appeal is his personality and physical energy, which is difficult to capture in a photo.

We finished our meal of assorted appetizers; baked eggplants, lamb, fava beans and stuffed grape leaves. We commented on the patrons, the staff, the server, and the music. Occasionally we caught glances at each other that lasted a little longer than necessary or accompanied a smirk that wasn’t necessary. The flirt was definitely on.

It was getting late and both of our dogs needed walking, plus, it’s always good to leave wanting more. As we left, we walked past the train station and I decided to get on, he was surprised, but I thought that it was better to leave while we were ahead. I also had a mildly scratchy throat and in the case that I was coming down with something, anything more than street kisses, might pass on a cold to this poor guy, if that is what I am coming down with. We kissed for a few minutes next to the station entrance and I was pleased that it was even better than the first time I kissed him. We looked at each other for a moment and sighed. One last quick kiss and I ran down the stairs. I was tempted to text him, to run back up and kiss him again, but I refrained. It’s nice to want sometimes.

I sat on the train and smirked on my ride home. When I reached my station, I received a text from him. He thanked me for a great date and voiced his wishes that I had been able to stay and make out with him for a little longer. I responded that sometimes it’s nice to leave wanting more. He wants me to come to his place and make him dinner. I suspect I shall, sooner than later. I also suspect that I will have some extended hot make out sessions with french spoken in my ear as I feed him one of the best home cooked meals he has had in a while, although, his mom is from Montreal and makes an amazing coq co vin. I may have a challenge on my hands, how can I out cook his mom?

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