2012 was supposed to be my year of yes, and because I had said I would (and a person is nothing without their word) when CryBabyRomeo asked me out, I said yes and we made plans. But not before we had at least one more decidedly boring text-conversation, that is, until I finally couldn't take anymore one word responses and simply said to him:
Just so you know...a conversation only works if you say something I can respond to.
His response was a noticeable improvement in the word-count and presence of question marks, which lead me to believe that perhaps he was just awful at texting and not an entirely tedious individual (or some other optimistic bullshit that allows me to keep dating). I picked a place, and we made a date for Sunday night.
The night of our date, I was admittedly excited (or filled with dread, sometimes it's honestly hard to tell).
Because I hadn't gone on a date since August (mostly due to school).
Because he could turn out to totally surprise me.
Because I never want to be the bitter chick who has given up on guys.
Becauseaccording to his dating profile picshe was a babe.
Because I hadn't had aNEW kiss since TheNickName last Christmas.
Because I'm a dating blogger and what if I run out of material.
Because how bad could it be.
Because I might actually have fun.
I showed up fifteen minutes early (look at me being a good person) to find CryBabyRomeo already there. And do you know how I new it was CryBabyRomeo before even going inside?!?! Because the place was dead (like seriously deserted). In the entire restaurant there was maybe 15 people total, including staff. Awkward!
At first, I swear he was not pleased to see me. Did he even smile? But not one to be pouty, I flashed him my friendliest grin and did my best to be extra warm and bubbly. I smiled, and I asked questions. He rubbed his forehead. I'm not even joking, the dude looked like he was in pain. He was basically auditioning for an Advil commercial. But I mean what do you do? what do you do? (anyone who just read that in Dennis Hopper's voice a laSpeed should definitely contact me immediately because I want to date you). So what did I do?
I just carried on. I ordered my standard diet coke, and he thankfully ordered a drink while I sat there and hoped a little alcohol might loosen this dude up, and miracle of miracles it did. Somewhere around the one hour mark this Dudley Doolittle of Disappointment became a real live date. There was laughter. There were jokes. And it became increasingly clear that he was pleased with my appearance (not because I'm hideous but isn't that the biggest complaint boys seem to make of online dating? Thus, I'm always seeking reassurance that, in fact, my photos represent me perfectly...and they did).
Somewhere around the two hour mark, we were laughing so hysterically that I mentioned how the subject was so hilarious that nothing I could offer now would even hope to compare. He suggested I try anyway and with my mind in a state of utter blankness, I said the first thing I could think of So...uh...do you like pool? To which he responded an enthusiasticYES! followed byWe should go play. Right now? I asked. Right now he said. Possibly the first indication that the man had balls after all. And in the blink of an eye we were at Guys and Dolls Billards on Main, which, to be honest, as far as pool halls go, was pretty awesome. We played a few games, I won more than my fair share and he took it like a champ.
Now aside from all the obvious innuendo of playing a game based on sticks, balls and holes, the game of pool can be incredibly sexy. What with all the leaning and bending and showing and the what not. And though I didn't actually need any pointers, CryBabyRomeo still found plenty of welcomed opportunities for closeness.The flirting was adorable and the tension palpable. I'm not entirely sure how we went from rubbing foreheads and awkward conversation to laughter and sexual heat but arrive there we did.
But like all fun and games, this one had to end. The night was getting on, so we packed up the balls, he paid and we headed outside. It was freezing, and I was wearing about 4 layers, and yet, le sigh, this boy had moves. Regardless of all previous timid behaviour, in the beat of a heart, he had slipped his hands into my jacket, around my waist, and pulled me towards him. His lips met mine, briefly, gently, and with all the subtlety and sweetness of icing sugar.
Kommentare