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Posts Tagged ‘kissing’

I don’t talk to people on the phone prior to meeting them. I know this sounds odd. There are a number of reasons for this though. First, you can’t see someone’s face, so you may not be able to pick up subtleties in the conversation. Second, some people are poor telephone conversationalists but GREAT in person. It isn’t fair to make the telephone conversation your first impression of them. Third, and last, IF the conversation flows, a false sense of intimacy can occur. So, I like to meet for coffee as soon as possible and see if investing in awkward conversations on the telephone are worth the hassle. No spark, no need, right?

Well, Mr Bratty McLawyer turned IT Guy, or Bratty McLaw, as I will call him, insisted that I call him. UGH, FINE! He was cute and charming in his messages and his profiles, so I figured I would go ahead and break that one rule. I wanted to hang up on him after talking to him for an hour. I was finding him to be egotistical, self-centered, arrogant, insulting, condescending and rude. It didn’t seem like the man who had been corresponding with me, so I spoke up and gave him a bit of a verbal smack down and, after being stunned silent, he apologized for how he came off and changed course to try to resurrect the conversation, if possible. We spent 10 hours on the phone. The sun came up and I said good-bye to him and hung up as I locked the door behind me and headed to work. It wasn’t an amazingly passionate conversation. It wasn’t even that we connected in some deep sense. The conversations pale in comparison to the things said in my shared silences when I was with Brooklyn, however, he was interested and charming, so I kept talking. I am far too old for a night without sleep these days.

I came home from work and took a few hours nap, and began some laundry. It was chilly out however and I really wanted to get out and have a cocktail by a fireplace somewhere. My other possibilities were not available, so I texted Bratty McLaw and asked if he wanted to have a drink in a few hours. He eagerly confirmed and we agreed to meet in 2 hours.

Shower, run to laundromat, move clothes to dryer, run home, apply make up and finish getting dressed, run to laundromat and grab dry clothes, run home and drop off, walk dog, grab purse, catch bus to subway, subway to taxi and drive by as he is walking down the street thinking he will meet me at the train station. Umm, I said I would meet you at the bar silly boy. Geez. Luckily I saw him and was able to get the cab driver to pull over and let me out early. I rang him on the phone and proceeded to direct him in my direction. There was a humourous moment of voyeurism that I found myself stuck in as I was able to pull his strings and move him without his knowledge as to where I was or how I was able to see him so clearly when he didn’t see me anywhere.

He was cute in person. Not breathtaking, but attractive. Softer facial features than the photos in his profile implied. We decided, as we stood on the street, that my original location choice for a rendezvous wasn’t actually what either of us were feeling. So, we opted to walk to his car and drive over to a different bar. Chemistry, mmm, ish. 6′ 2″, blonde, fit but not gym rat like, comfortable smile, arty glasses, and just enough vanity to be self-confident in person. I was honestly worried that he would be the schmuck I was thinking he might be when we first started chatting the night earlier. This person though, it wasn’t there. Perhaps it was nervousness that led him to project the persona of douche bag shithead, but luckily, whatever it was, it was nowhere in sight when we were in person.

We arrived at the second bar around 10 pm. It was dead. Which, honestly, was quite fine. We sat at a high top and each ordered a glass of wine. He was snackie, so we also had some spinach artichoke dip. Conversation was friendly. By the second glass of wine, he was reaching for my hand and stroking my arm. By the 3rd, he was kissing me. Did the kisses overwhelm me and leave me speechless? No, but they were quite good. His kissing style is similar to mine and it felt nice. We decided to go back to his place and make out a bit more. My dog could easily do an 8 hour span of time between potty breaks, and since it was midnight at this point, she was probably sleeping anyway and wouldn’t miss me for a few more hours, at least.

We drove back to his place and I took off my heels as we walked up to his apartment. Heels on wood stairs in these old multi unit buildings, well, I would have woken everyone in the building. He made me sit on the stair outside his unit while he took 5 minutes to tidy up. I chuckled. Knowing the current condition of my own residence, there is virtually nothing, short of live creatures roaming about, that would offend me. I live in a cluttered construction zone, bring on your mess… I can trump it right now buddy.

A few minutes later he comes out and ushers me in quietly. His roommate is sleeping on the other end of the unit so we need to be self-aware of voices and laughter. So, why put on Colbert and Jon Stewart if you don’t want me to laugh out loud?! The laughing didn’t last long however, as he made his move within 5 minutes of us sitting on the couch together. My rule for the night…. sadly overdue for a wax… I look like a hippy body hair loving freak… hands stay out of the pants and they stay on.

An hour of making out on the couch can kill any back, so, logically we move to the sleep number bed. We play with the settings, laugh some more amidst some occasional shhhh’s from the each of us to the other. So, the shirts end up off. Of course they do. Then, even though I say…warning will robinson…danger danger… furry wildebeast…stay away from the Northern region… I end up with his hand down my pants. He said that he would take note of my objection and embarrassment and keep in mind that au naturale is not my current state… and then he peeled the jeans completely off. Oh oy vey. This is not leading anywhere good, is it?

Well, leading anywhere good? Hmm, well, after a lot of frustrating teenage grinding in our undies… I stopped him and stated what we both knew. Let’s just admit that we are going to have sex and rather than keep up with this silliness under the ruse that we aren’t going to…. go get the goddamn condoms now. So, student driver finally got laid. Was in earth shattering? No. Did it need to be? No. Was he a sweet and kind lover? Yes. It was comfortable, even though I was furry as all get out and embarrassed by that. We were both exhausted from the previous nights marathon conversation and our lack of sleep, so neither of us got off in the end, but it felt great regardless. The sun was coming up as we finally disengaged and gave up on a definable finish line. We set the alarm for 3 hours, so we could get a little sleep, and then readjusted our personal sleep numbers for our individualized snoozing comfort.

The dog? She was asleep on the bed when I walked in the door at 8:45 am. She hadn’t noticed that I hadn’t come home that night, in fact, she seemed quite pleased to have the bed entirely to herself.

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Interesting end to the week. Friday night I had a date with the Half Asian Hipster, only he isn’t actually a hipster and he’s more a martial arts trained entrepreneur with a really comfortable bed. Yes, I said bed. Now, before you start thinking naughty things… let me start at the beginning of the day.

Brooklyn and I had some heavy back and forth emails Friday morning. They needed to happen. Things had gotten strange since we *almost* had sex and they weren’t getting less strange. More on this next post.

So, I was glad that I had made a date for the evening with the no-longer known as Half-Asian Hipster, now known as Martial Arts Trained Entrepreneur. I needed distraction and fun. We met at the bar a half hour after the time we had planned, he with traffic issues, me with train issues. We had two drinks there, oh and I think he made us do a shot. Hmm, three drinks there. Oof, now I am understanding what happened. So, I feel fine, he is nice, way more muscular in person than he looked on-line. Kinda shocked by that. It made sense as the night went on and he explained how he grew up partly with his mom in Japan and was raised talking Kendo and various other martial arts. This body strength came in handy at the 4.5 hour mark of our date.

Anatomy of a What Was I Thinking night of bar hopping:

Venue 1: 9:00-10:30 Drank two Dark and Stormies and some shot called a tic-tac ? (Wait, I am 35, did I really just do a shot?!) Hmm, what to do next. We drove back to his neighborhood to check out some dj’s. We parked his car in his complex, dropped his jacket at his place and headed to the next bar.

Venue 2: 11:00-11:20 Drank one Dark and Stormy and a shot of Patron. (Wait, ok, shit, was that another shot he just handed me? ) DJ was lame. Left

Venue 3: 11:35-12:00 Walked down the street to check out one of my favorite venues but there was a line out the door. I don’t do lines for *possible* admittance. Not since I was 14 years old and sneaking into clubs with a fake ID. Somehow on our way back to check a different venue,  the conversation shifted to something about height. So, next thing I know, we are both barefoot on the street corner kissing. Hmm, ok. We put our shoes back on and end up in another bar. I order us a drink, asking the bartender to just make us something rummy and tasty. While I am waiting, a strange troll of a man standing next to me starts chatting me up. The man actually looked a bit like a taller Gollum, with better teeth. Why was the bartender taking so long to make this tasty drink? When it finally arrived, I wondered if I said tasty at all to him, unless, I guess, battery acid is tasty to him, because the drink was vile. So, my date , whose nickname here spells MATE in its acronym, HA HA HA, he and I opted to go back to the 2nd venue because it was better than this place with Gollum and the drinks from hell.

Back to Venue 2: 12:15- ? One more Dark and Stormy. Some dancing. A little flirting. Some occasional kisses.

This is what I remember. What I lost is us leaving the bar at closing, not grabbing my blazer that I had tossed under the table to make sure it didn’t get anything spilled on it where I was dancing, walking back to his place. Knowing we needed time for him to sober up before driving me home and my deciding that laying down for a second was a great idea.

Things come back right at the moment I feel myself about to vomit, he THANKFULLY happens to be standing near me and quickly picks me up (remember how I talk about him being strong?) and carries me into the bathroom. (The next time I leave the bathroom, it’s nearly light out.) Soon after my entering the bathroom, he leaves and comes back some shorts, a t-shirt and leaves the room so he can let me get undressed. I guess I hit the white pants a bit, so he offered to wash them for me. I spent a few hours curled up in a ball in my underwear in his shower with the hot water running on my back. When the hot water ran out, I shut it off and just laid there. He came in and draped towels over me to keep me warm because I wasn’t ready to get out yet. He went to bed and I alternated between 20 minute naps on the cold tub bottom and waking up to vomit. It was a glamorous moment in my life. Eventually the stomach settled enough that I could crawl out of the tub, strip out of my cold wet undies and into his shirt and shorts. I brushed my teeth with the toothbrush he left me, thank god for small miracles, and CRAWLED out of the bathroom, across the floor and into the bed. Amazingly comfortable bed.

We woke up to the most gorgeous day of the year so far and he ran off to get me a venti iced green tea and a Kind Bar from Starbucks as I struggled to sit up and face the world. I felt good, surprisingly. Then I went to have a pee and got the spins and threw up three more times while he was gone. He came back to find me back in the bed but facing a different direction. The tea was well appreciated, the Kind Bar was not loving my stomach after the two small bites, so that hung out elsewhere. We laid there and talked for a half hour and I really felt like a shower would help me so he left me alone and did some work stuff while I threw up two more times and then showered. I came out of the shower far more alive than I had been feeling in nearly 8 hours.

The sun streamed into his apartment and felt nice coming through the open windows. I sat on the couch and let him finish his phone conversation as I sipped on my green tea with my once again brushed teeth (This was third time brushed in 14 hours!). I remembered that I had made a cocktail date with someone off the dating sites for 1:00 pm. That wasn’t happening. The thought of cocktails anytime in the next month sounds awful and the reality that I would be the worst date in history for two men in one weekend if I showed up, made me cancel. I feigned food poisoning.  Food poisoning might get me a rain check, telling him that I am dead sick at some other date’s house, wearing said other date’s clothes and not moving anytime soon due to the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed the night prior, that would NOT get me a rain check. In case you were counting, 7 cocktails, including the two shots, on very little food. Foolishness.

MATE and I sat around for another hour while my clothes from the previous night finished washing, we played some Katamari, he smoked some pot (I’m not a fan but to each their own if it’s in moderation), I vomited one last time, brushed one more time and finally got around to eating my Kind Bar before getting into my own clothes and getting driven home.  It was a beautiful day and I missed the majority of it. My dog waited at the door angry at the lack of breakfast and the absence of bathroom breaks over such an extended period of time. I couldn’t get into a car and go home before I knew I wasn’t going to vomit once in the moving car. I’m sorry puppy, I really am.

So, the remainder of the weekend became a series of naps, reintroduction of food and conscious avoidance of texting or calling Brooklyn. Sigh. TGIM

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I had the birthday that almost wasn’t. The night before I had met up with a friend for Pho, knowing I was sick, he offered to drive up to the curb and pick me up, then drive me the few blocks to my condo.I had all of my belongings in my hand, including my phone and walked 8 feet to his car. I remembered looking at my phone in my hand in the car. I then hug him goodbye and get out of the car and walk the 8 feet to my door, unlock it, place everything on the chair next to the door and walk my dog. When I got back in I went for my phone so that I could call Brooklyn back in order to coordinate our plans for my bday but my phone wasn’t there. Hell, it was in his car. I had a friend online texting the friend whose car it was in, only to have that friend respond repeatedly that it wasn’t in there. I’m not crazy, days later and I still say that eventually it is going to show up in his car. Now, here is where it get’s funny. As I am talking to Brooklyn via internet IM, a storm is coming through and wipes out his power. So, he is available only by phone and I am available only by email. Well, surely his power will be on by the morning, right? No, it wasn’t. He sent a text message to my email letting me know his phone battery was dying and I responded by exclaiming that he needed to get out of his town and find someplace with power to recharge!!!

It’s 4 pm before I get a new phone, which before mail in rebate, kills my budget. As soon as it is charged I send-off a text to Brooklyn hoping that all is going to run smoothly. The little alert button makes its special little noise and success, we are reconnected! The day’s follies are yet to be over though! I rush home, meet my last client and jump in the shower. We plan on his picking me up around 6, but he gets lost. This seems to be something he does quite often. He recently called me from Brooklyn, completely lost and needing my mapquest help. It’s endearing, it doesn’t bother me. As someone who runs always 15 minutes late, it buys me time in getting ready! He calls me at 6:30 and again, I pull out the mapquest and talk him through the route. I hang up when he is 4 minutes from me, a straight line of 8 blocks. 15 minutes later he is still not at my house. Did he evaporate on the bridge? Finally he shows up, turns out he got a work call that required his urgent attention and needed to pull over to write some things down. I finally get into the family van at 7. I don’t care about any plans other than hanging out with him, so the evening is already a success in my mind.

He had said that he wanted to take me out to dinner at least, so I decided I was craving mussels and french fries and we headed to a place that has a non traditional approach, cooking the mussels in a Thai coconut milk and lime broth. Yummers! There was a half hour wait by the time we got there, after getting lost, of course. We walked down to a little bookstore and wandered around for 20 min to pass the time waiting for our table. He looked at a book on Gnomes, a favorite of mine from childhood, while I bought a book about the Bronx Zoo, printed in 1913. The restaurant called us and we headed over. We had plantains to start and then our meals came, Brooklyn had never had french fries dipped in mayo, which is the only way to have them with mussels, and he had never had mussels. Yay, two firsts eliminated with one meal!

What to do next? It was only 10. I had read that there was a midnight viewing of a 1974 sexploitation film at a local theatre that night, so we decided campy and hilarious was the way to go. With two hours to spare we walked to a local cafe and sat and drank tea for an hour, only to be kicked out at 11 when they were closing. PLEASE, closing at 11 pm on a Friday night? I miss NYC. We walked to the car and drove over to the neighborhood where the movie was showing. At that hour, in this town parking was easy and the theatre said we didn’t need to pre purchase tickets because there was no way it would sell out. Okay, 45 minutes to burn until movie time. There was a cute little bar a block down the street and tables available, craziness. Again, with this being a Friday and a ghost town. WTF?! We cozied up at a table and made mention to each other that we are that obnoxious pda couple at bars and restaurants. The sheer amount of times we kissed across the dinner table or I fed him a mussel or french fry by hand. Ha, oh well. We looked at the clock. Shit shit movie starts at 12:30, it’s 12:32.

We walked quickly to the theatre and made it just as they were locking the door, phew! He got the tickets, I bought the peanut m&m’s and we settled into one of the last rows. The theatre staff wasn’t joking. This particular theatre seats 350 people, at least. There were maybe 15 people there, total. The film was hysterical. The acting, the clothes, the soundtrack, all of it was pure 70’s brilliance. I fed Brooklyn m&m’s while we kissed and laughed our asses off. At one point I got up to use the rest room. Upon coming back I straddled him for a minute in his chair for a few minutes of inappropriate public theatre kissing. It was fantastic. Have I mentioned that he is awesome?

By the time the movie was over it was after 2. He needed to get home. I needed to get home. But I also really needed to kiss on him for a bit in a way that was far too intimate to do in public. When we were sitting in the van getting ready to go, I moved all the items from between the seats away so I could kneel there. The seats are so far apart that you can’t sit in your seats and kiss from there. It’s as if he is in Boise and I am in Charlotte. We made out, 98% chastely as we were on a main street, for an hour. He slid my hand down at one point and may I note, knowing what I am missing is not making missing it any easier. Why did we say we are being chaste and waiting? Oh yes, because we are masochists.I am not sure how much longer I can wait without climbing walls. We need to either reduce the amount of times we see each other each week and do so only in public places or we need to, in the great words of Marvin Gaye, get it on.

When he brought me home I was exhausted, yet intensely awake. I straddled him in the car and we kissed for 10 more minutes before we said goodnight. Really, I was a lesbian for 12 years? Who is this boy? He’s killing me slowly but super friggin’ fantastically.

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I woke up yesterday morning with some errands planned and a tentative date scheduled for the evening. He is someone whom I talked to a bit in December and then lost touch for a few weeks until the end of January. We agreed earlier in the week to have a loosely scheduled date in the 6:30 ish realm for Saturday night. No hard defined plans. Honestly, I was not feeling like it though and was hoping that I didn’t hear from him. He had suddenly become a Plan B.

After my meet-up turned date on Friday afternoon I found myself thinking a lot about Brooklyn Boy. I hadn’t met anyone whom I immediately felt an ease and comfort with like I did in his company. It seemed as if we had known each other for years as our rapport was so natural and unforced. He Google IM’d me around 9 pm and we spent several hours chatting online before I told him MY big “secret”. His response to my news, that I was just coming out of over a decade of lesbian exclusivity, was one of  surprise but not offense.  Most people aren’t offended per se, but there are preconceived beliefs that can interfere with someone’s attempts at getting to know me for who I am, which isn’t only as someone with a queer slant to my sexuality. Maybe it’s the New York in him, he isn’t fazed by much. He wants to see me on Saturday, if I am available. This is WHY my original date became my Plan B, as Brooklyn Boy suddenly took over top billing. I decided that if I didn’t hear from Plan B by 2 pm on Saturday, Brooklyn would win the spot.

So, I woke up as my 25-year-old texted me, hung over from a party the night before. I’m in need of distraction and ask him if he wants to tag along with me on my errands. We met an hour later, watched enough of the DVR’d Olympics to see the luger die and I dragged him out of his apartment. I couldn’t watch the news coverage, it was just too dreadfully sad. Meanwhile, I kept hoping I didn’t hear from Plan B.

We wandered around the city, grabbed some sesame balls from Chinatown, picked up my duvet cover, bought some dog food and then wrapped up our early afternoon adventure at a café with some latte’s, cinnamon tortilla chips and sea-salted caramels. 2 pm had come and gone and Brooklyn Boy had texted me and agreed to pick me up at my place at 4:30. A new hair conditioner I used in the morning had turned my hair into a bad science experiment show and tell exhibit so I had an hour to rush back to my place to rewash my hair and be ready.

The train was delayed. Tick Tock Tick Tock. Argh. I texted him begging that he please not be early. As I was hitting send, he texted me letting me know he would be roughly 20 minutes late. Score! I finally made it home, fed the dog, washed my hair and changed three times before taking the dog out for a quick last walk before he arrived.

A few minutes later he arrives in his family van, a sign of a parent with two young kids, and we decide to go into the city and figure out our plan from there. He’s still cute and I’m still intrigued. Sometimes the initial interest wanes after you go home after a date but it didn’t with him. I want his story. We are both obsessed with stories about people, we have similar projects we are planning on working on that are built around the stories of people you pass by every day and never think much about. Everyone has a story worth telling and being heard.We find a parking spot with a 2 hour limit but 2.5 hours until it switches over to free. We make note to stop back by later. Since his soon to be declared ex-wife doesn’t drink, he doesn’t get the opportunity to go out for cocktails much so we decide to start there. We each had a Dark and Stormy, chatted, laughed, people watched and then another round and some kisses and some more laughing and then a final 3rd round. Starting so early with the cocktails and having had so little to eat earlier in the day had us both a little pie eyed. We left and realized the time. Surely he had a ticket. We hesitantly walked by the family van and SCORE again, no ticket. That NEVER happens on this particular street. We look at each other quizzically and decide that to go to a little book store café down the street, maybe grab a bite and a cup of tea, sober up some.

Somehow we ended up sitting on the floor in the far aisle of the bookstore against a stack of unpopular books. I say they are unpopular because we sat there for 4 hours and only 3 people walked by the entire time. 3 people whom we chatted up and exchanged info with. Over the span of time we were sprawled on the floor we varied in position, at times I had my head in his lap as we looked through books, other times he leaned into me, or we faced each other, legs entwined and backs against opposing shelves.  The people who we met, one of them asked how long we had been together, how we had met. We laughed. When we confessed they looked shocked. They said that we appeared to have known eachother for years. We looked at eachother and smiled, it felt like that.We sat there on that floor for 4 hours like an old couple, punctuating moments with kisses, absent-minded caresses and laughter. He showed me illustrators he liked, I showed him a book of poems by Neruda, whom he had never read. He reads out loud. It’s nice, comforting, inclusive. I can not remember the last time I had felt such an ease with another person.

Eventually the bookstore threw us out because they were closing. he had a long drive back home so we decided to get back to the car and get me home. Only, we sat and talked, and talked, and stared at each other and laughed and kissed for 2 more hours. When we finally looked at the clock and saw that it was past 2, we untangled ourselves from our embrace and got serious about getting me home. Parked in front of my condo, I suggested I grab the dog for her last pee, and so he could meet her. In addition to kids, he also has a big cumbersome male dog. My pooch barely let me out the door before she had dragged me across the sidewalk and practically tackled him. She spent 15 minutes engrossed in him and the delicious scents of his family van. It’s a treasure trove of dropped kid snacks and dog cookie crumbles. We laughed at her and said our good nights. I made him promise to text me when he has arrived home safely.

I spent the next 2 hours chatting via IM with varying friends who happened to be online. We talk about him, I send over pics to them. Everyone approves, some worry about the complications of his current status. I counter that we all have baggage, some hide it better. His however, is completely in view. No apologies, it is, what it is. He has kids, he is in the process of getting divorced and for some reason something in my profile resonated with him and made him sign up to meet me. I consider that a gift. A fabulously unexpected gift.

Today is Valentine’s Day. Brooklyn Boy just texted me that he misses me. Is it okay that I find this sweet and not unnerving? I guess I like him too, so it’s okay. I have an Anti-Valentine’s Day date scheduled with my 25-year-old tonight but I am tired and really want to clean my house. I am also feeling a little run down. I am going to see if he minds a rain check. I would rather get some laundry done, take some Motrin (thank you period for arriving this morning), and watch I Love You, New York with my pup and some take out pho. I hope he understands.

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I know, I KNOW. WHY am I going out with the Doppelganger again and WHY haven’t I told him about my connection to his brother? Well, he still hasn’t said his last name. There still isn’t enough linking me to his brother AND I guess I assume this will fizzle out before it gets there and SO, there is no point in saying anything. He’s nice and interested, albeit his attention skills are lacking and he is awkward, at best. I almost feel sorry for him. Being the older brother of someone soooo smooth and easy and HOT.

We met up at a small bistro/café and I had a (shocker) dark and stormy (As did he. The one thing he has on his brother…an expanded palate.) and grazed on the two appetizers he ordered. After numerous conversations, he still forgets about my food sensitivities and offers me things I cannot eat. Umm, remember, we have talked about this, several times. That is one of the attention issues I talk about. I seriously question whether he has ADHD. He’s easily distracted except when he kisses me. Seems like that is the only time he stops and focuses rather than looking around like a sugar binged toddler in a toy store.

Yes, that means I kissed him again. What am I thinking? I don’t KNOW. So we leave the bistro/cafe and it’s  semi early so we walk a bit to grab some hot beverages (cappuccino for him, chai for me) from the only coffee-shop I know to be open on a weeknight past 9 pm. I purchase the beverages while he is in the restroom. My way of being nice and thanking him for picking up the pricey part of our date.

We walked to the train, smacked in the face by the freezing February wind. I walked him to his station, mine was across the street. We said goodnight and as we were kissing outside the station, a turning car honked at us. It was a very funny moment actually. One he mentioned later in text, when letting me know he had arrived home safe and wanted to make sure I had as well. He’s nice. He’s blah but he’s nice. I KNOW. I KNOW.

So, I get home, and am dealing with the dog, making a snack, and checking my email when a drunken 25-year-old texts me that he’s missing our nightly banter. He’s flirty McFlirty and laying it on heavily. He wants to have an Anti-Valentines day date with me, mainly because I have plans Saturday night already. I told him, no romance. Action-Adventure film with violence and explosions, nachos/buffalo wings/or something equally unsexy, and Hard Cider or booze… no wine. Those were my rules. He then fell asleep while texting something about making out with me. What is up with that? I will give him the benefit of the doubt for being a full-time law student with a full-time job and the want to maintain a social life, which explains the 1:30 a.m. drunken text flirts but geez, I thought that one of the benefits of younger men was their supposed stamina?!

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We met at Starbucks before the concert. SHORT and OMG… SO GAY. How does he NOT know that he is gay? The entire world knows that this 32-year-old man, studying to be a nurse, is a raging queer. He laments that most of his friends are gay or mailmen OR gay mailmen. Ya think? Really? Wasn’t there a mailman in The Village People?

We stopped for Pho before the show and were seated next to a former colleague of mine and her husband whom I have never gotten on with. I actually avoided even saying hello to him. I spoke with the woman for a few moments, realized we were both going to the same show and sighed in relief when they finished up 10 minutes before us. I desperately needed to tell my gay date what a douche bag her husband was.

The show was phenomenal. The opening act quirky and while at first a little too hip and annoying, I must admit that her thumb piano and high-pitched voice eventually won me over because her lyrics were just THAT fun. Robot Ponies. Really?!

The main act came on… and they played two sets and a few songs for encore. I love his voice and if i could have anyone be the soundtrack for my life, it would be this man and his band of loons.

The bartender at the venue made the strongest well drinks EVER and I found myself very buzzed off two drinks. Since I knew I was not going to be kissing the emasculated gay nurse in training, I tested Mr. Decade and told him to meet me for a night-cap. He actually responded that he was planning on going to bed early. Umm, when the 35-year-old woman who you have tried to convince to give you a legitimate chance, text messages you from a concert, admitting to being tipsy, and inviting you out for a night-cap, you do NOT say no. I responded back that he should reconsider because I wasn’t sure how many times I might offer. Needless to say, he agreed to meet me.

We met at a place around the corner from his apartment and next to my train station. We curled up on a couch in the corner, had a couple drinks and he put his arm around me. He did so at first in a semi-awkwardly, not sure what was acceptable way, but then loosened up. We spent an hour sprawled out on the couch chatting and staring at the patrons and the fish tank before I realized I had ten minutes before my train was coming.

On the walk over to the station I felt a bit bratty, grabbed some snowballs and jettisoned them at him. I knew he was feeling too gentlemanly to really throw back AND he wasn’t wearing gloves. Ha Ha. Outside the station he reached down to give a peck goodnight, again, unsure of where I was leading him or authorizing him to go. I had to assert myself a bit, pulling him back in for a more authentic round of kissing that happily left us both a little smirky on our separate walks home. Not bad for a 25-year-old.

So, what does everyone think. Should I give the 25-year-old a real chance or is it doomed to be messy and obnoxious because of his age and our age difference? Comment with your opinions!

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Future Lawyer and I were chatting online tonight and it became clear that he really wants something different from what I can offer. I am nearly 6 years older, and was a lesbian longer than he has even been sexually active. His life has been, and is, very safe and planned out. Mine has always been unconventional and without safety net. I can not be that girl that he needs, no matter how gorgeous he thinks I am or how great I think his kissing is. Besides, I always knew that it would be very short term for me. So, with memories of a sexy make out session to Mahler, and getting thrown out of a mall for almost committing acts of public indecency, we decide that we should pass and just be friends. 

What comes next… a coffee date with a man whose cheekbones frighten me and cocktails with the owner of my favorite coffee house.

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