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Can I just start this post by saying, NO, I most certainly did NOT get fucked last night. SIGH. Future Lawyer is a sweet, romantic Rilke loving, red rose buying, back massage giving ivy league preppy. It’s so cute and if his lips weren’t so good, it would be too cloying for me. Generally, I would be frowning upon such behavior, as it has always felt so trite and contrived, however Future Lawyer is genuinely that guy. The Rilke on his bookcase is well-worn, not placed there just to impress the ladies. He has cried during more episodes of NPR’s This American Life for god’s sake than I have watched romantic comedies.

He met my dog and I at the train station and we quickly walked over to Starbucks for something hot to keep the bitter cold at bay for the walk back to the dorms. Coffee in hands, we  wandered through the maze of university buildings until we reached his Hall. As we walked in, he gave me flowers. My first internal reaction was that of mild discomfort. I have never liked to be given roses by anyone because they always seemed so formulaic and pedestrian. (Pedestrian is a word my ex fiancé used. I actually find it to be one of the most insulting words. She once said how much she hated that our problems were so pedestrian. What did she want? Some epic dilemma and great struggle?) I took a breath, shut down my inner dialogue and looked at him and how sweet, kind, AND sincere he was and then kicked my inner dialogue in the shin and put it in time out for the night. He hung my coat, poured me some wine and showed me around his suite, which was roughly the size of a small NYC one bedroom, minus a kitchen. We then picked out Slumdog Millionaire, since neither of us had seen it, and curled up on the couch in the dark. Occasional kisses were had. Wine was drunk, Michel Cluizel Grand Noir 85% chocolate was consumed and the dog was walked far enough to find my Future Lawyer a slice of pizza at midnight.

When we walked back into the suite, he disappeared for a moment to use mouth wash after the pizza. I really didn’t mind. I like spicy pepperoni. I laughed at him and wiped the wet bit off his lip. His embarrassment quickly departed as I started to kiss him. Remember, we were kicked out of a mall last week for making out. He may be schmaltzy, preppy and shorter than what I have gone for BUT he has a set of lips on him that just don’t quit. We kissed for a few minutes but then were distracted by the undergrads screaming outside his door. Music was a necessity, and somehow Mahler ended up being chosen.  As the music intensified, so did our kissing and eventually he backed me into his bedroom and locked my dog out with the door. She was horrified as she isn’t used to being separated from me by a closed-door. The lights went down and the next 45 minutes ranked up there as one of the hottest make out sessions in my history. Thank you Mahler. Eventually the composition changed however and it started to ruin the groove. I gave him the link to my online Trip Hop Playlist and ran into the living room to grab a hair-clip.

I patted my sad puppy on the head, dug in my purse and grabbed a hair clip. Prior to coming over I had tried to wax my legs a bit, so they wouldn’t be so bad on the likely chance that we ended up in contorted naked positions. I couldn’t do anything about the Brazilian. Those are NOT DIY jobs. I also bought a box of condoms, just in case. I know that most men purchase grocery store or drug store condoms, so I stopped by the sex shop and bought some Kimono Micro Thin japanese ones. When they make thin condoms, why do men go for regular? It’s better to be prepared and it isn’t the mans responsibility to worry about my sexual health and wish to stay childless, so I tossed one in my jeans pocket as I head back into the bedroom, hair pulled up for better long-haired girl on top make out action.

Back in the bedroom we find our groove again with the help of Morcheeba. Now, my pants come off, as do his and then he says it, after I am so turned on that I can’t see straight. He tells me that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to have sex tonight. He wants to wait a little longer. AAACK! I am wearing one article of clothing, sprawled out with mussed up hair, looking at him in shock and disbelief through sexually charged eyes and thinking he might be kidding. He might start laughing at any moment and just take me. But he doesn’t, and I whimper, and we continue to make out for a while but some of the sheen is gone.

I stayed the night and I slept like I do at home, nude. If you want to wake up to a naked woman whom you have called gorgeous several times over the last 12 hours and feel tempted, that’s your fault buddy. Within an hour of waking up, we were out the door and parting ways at the train. I made a quick detour and grabbed an americano for the ride.

On the train ride home I was incredibly, ridiculously, crazy horny. I texted my Internet Sex man from NYC and made a fleeting playful remark about how horny I was and  why wasn’t he local? Surprisingly, I received a message back within moments. Apparently he found the timing of my message fitting as he had just been thinking of me. He checked Skype and I wasn’t there and assumed that he would be having a solo session. I laughed when the next text message was a photo of his erection. He has the perfect match of voyeur and exhibitionist traits to my own and along with my Pac NW man, they are my sexually deviant saviors on this journey. When I am not getting laid locally, I can sign into Skype and get some virtual action with a non stranger. It’s a wonderful set up that ends in my napping happily and a bit less frustrated than I had a few hours earlier. Sweet live kisses and hot internet sex. The world was a beautiful place today.

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Okay, okay. I walked into my favorite coffee shop, nodded at my favorite barista and wave to Mr Pro Photo. He stands up to greet me and…damn, is he short. Super short. Like, my height short. Initial reaction is hmm, not very dynamic in person. In a way, he reminds me of one of the 7 dwarfs,perhaps more of a mix of both Bashful and Sleepy. Something about his face and the way he carries himself. He isn’t a sexy creature. He seems nice, he seems kind, he seems vaguely boring.

Apparently, he is also vaguely non chivalrous. I bought my coffee, my sushi, and my hot chocolate. When I reached for my wallet and he didn’t even suggest that he pay for my dinner on the date he asked me out on, I was a little annoyed. I wasn’t expecting it, but I would have liked him to at least have made the offer. It makes a girl feel wanted on a first date, pursued, as if she is worthy of the investment of a dinner.

We had good conversation at dinner though, and at coffee, but I wasn’t feeling physical chemistry. I wasn’t feeling desired by him at all.He would make comments, about my fingers, about how sexy I looked with his hat on, but his words felt like they could have come out of the mouth of one of my gay boy friends. Great, he thinks I look sexy and I should “WORK IT, GIRL”. 

After dinner, we walked around a bit and decided on hitting the big box book store around the corner because, quite frankly, it was freezing out. After an hour and a half of wasting time making fun of some books, checking out Tashen’s collection of inappropriate photo books, the Suicide Girls collection, and finally, a Would You Rather of Sex/Dating. It was amusing and I could feel him staring at me a few times in that yearnful way, BUT he SHOWED no interest.

I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt though, to see if he could turn it around and make it feel like a DATE, rather than two pals hanging out. We walked a bit more after leaving the bookstore and I laughed when I received a photo text message from Jewish Internet Webcam Sex Master. He thought it proper to send me a photo of his hard cock in his jeans. How can I NOT be appreciative when he tells me he is thinking of me and sends such delightful gifts? I laughed hysterically and brushed it off when Mr Pro Photo asked what I was laughing at. I explained that it would be too difficult to give the long back story. He nodded and didn’t ask further. Again, it was freezing and so we decided to get hot chocolate at the café near our respective modes of public transportation. Again, he didn’t even offer to pick up the hot chocolate. Now, I do not NEED someone to take care of me BUT c’mon, it’s a first date! Also, you have heard tonight that my business is suffering in the recession and my condo lost over a third of its value. You can’t buy me a hot chocolate?

I might hang out again as friends, but on a date? Not unless he starts acting like he wants to date me. Show that you are invested in getting to know me… in some way. I came home and snuggled on the couch with my pooch while texting back and forth with my Future Lawyer about our next make out session and IM chatting with the Dental Student about our days. Overall, a pleasant end to a mediocre day.

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Yeah, schmuck, I meant TODAY. When you agree to meet a woman for coffee at a certain time, you show up. In light of the lack of LOCAL natural disasters, bomb threats, massive city shut downs, emergency weather conditions, or paralysis, I can come to only one reason you wouldn’t appear. It seems, Schmucky Insomniac Artist with a late night cake baking obsession, is an ass. Seriously though, WHO does that? We are all in our 30’s-40’s here. (I mean, myself and the majority of the men I am going out with, not you the reader. But, please be over 16, some of the stuff I say is NOT suitable for minors.)

I arrived a few minutes late to my favorite coffee shop, but he knew that was a possibility due to my schedule. I even called the coffee shop and told my 3rd favorite (the 2nd was on the bar and the 1st wasn’t working) barista to let him know I would be a few minutes late, when he arrived. Only, he never arrives. No voicemail, no text message, no email… he never arrives. What makes this even more annoying is that we JUST made the plans yesterday! These weren’t plans mentioned long ago that were possibly forgotten, this was, “How does coffee in 16 hours sound?”!!! Men in this city are intimidated by sexually confident women and feel emasculated at the drop of a hat, rather than stepping up and grabbing the hat before it hits the ground and then OWNING that hat… running off with it proudly and boldly on their heads! So, Mr. Baker Man…. your runway skills sucked and you are outta the running to be America’s Next Lesbian Dating Experiment.

On a high note, I have a 2nd date with the Atheist Jewish Hipster Musician/Writer/Producer guy tomorrow. Just coffee in the late afternoon, but I am looking forward to it. He seems like a genuinely awesome guy who was dealt a shitty hand by his recent girlfriend. He’s no Jewish Internet Webcam Sex Master BUT he is only 3 miles away, not 200. Can’t beat convenience.

And speaking of beating, I was woken up at 3 am this morning by a horny text from said Jewish Internet Webcam Sex Master who had just arrived home, found my email containing some photos of myself and promptly contacted me complaining of the current state of his cock. He requested my presence for an abbreviated performance via Skype and then we said our good nights. What I really enjoy about our video play is how quickly and seamlessly he transitions from incredibly turned on grunting beast to his dorky post orgasmic coy smirky smiles and soft eyes. It’s excellent.

So, that brings us current. Oh, except I just started my period a few hours ago and between the life affirming cramps and a massive toothache, I want to step in front of a city bus. Reminder to self: Don’t speak much on date tomorrow unless willing to say some crazy hormonally charged nonsense that sounds like speaking in tongues but equates to buzz kill for all men.

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