A Tale of Two Dates…

Gather ‘round children…for a tale of this kind is only told once a year. Seriously. I get asked out on a date about once a year. By the time I landed the second date, I should’ve bought a lottery ticket.

First, there was FlyBoy. We will be calling him FlyBoy because I want to.

Went to a favourite watering hole of mine on random Friday night. FlyBoy walked in with his best friend and greeted the owners…and then disappeared. Which was the only reason he caught my attention. FlyBoy had a full beard going on and I’m one of the FIVE women in this world that dislikes beards. Throughout the night, he kept coming and going, and each time he came back, he’d lean in for a kiss on the cheek. Which I declined.

(But the attempts were cute)

That left his friend. His friend completely summarized my all my past experiences with men in bars: drunk, says stupid shit in trying to flirt, annoying. The Weird One

BUT this time? This WeirdOne did something so strange…

As it was approaching last call, WeirdOne offered me a drink, which I declined. There we were, positioned at the end of the bar having an awkward convo. A dude walks in and picks up his drink from the bar. WeirdOne tells him that it’s MY drink and says it in such a way that the poor bastard starts begging for an apology. Turns out, the poor bastard was outside smoking…his buddy told him that there was a drink waiting for him…he thought it was that one. He begs for my forgiveness and then says to the WeirdOne, “dude I didn’t mean to offend your girl like that…” while practically genuflecting.

“She’s not my girl.”

(Damn right I’m not your girl)

“You better work on that then. She’s gorgeous.”

When the poor bastard walks away, WeirdOne turns to me and says “you like what I did there?” While giving me such a big smile, one would think that I was handing out gold stars.

He didn’t get that drink for me.

It really belonged to the poor genuflecting bastard.

He STOLE someone’s drink to give to me.

Who. Does. THAT?!

Thankfully, FlyBoy returned to flirt some more. He actually solicited references from the owners to get that cheek kiss! After a tense post club snack with him and the WeirdOne, he decided to walk me home instead of heading to his buddy’s place.
Outside my door, he laid a movie-style kiss on me, and told me that he’d been wanting to do that since he first saw me.

He got more kisses after that…on a date we had two days later. I haven’t really heard from him since then. If I reach out, he responds. But otherwise? Meh.

Now. Remember Bumble?

Well. I did keep it on my phone for a few more weeks (okay, it’s still on there). As the deletion deadline approached, up popped BumbleBoy. I’m calling him that because…obvious.

He liked my opening line. We chatted. Chats turned to phone numbers being exchanged. Phone number exchanges turned to an invitation for a date. Like I said…two dates in one week? HAS NEVER happened. EVAH.

We met up for drinks. Just as witty IRL as he was online. Lover of scotch (hello!) and dogs (hello!!) and weed (ermmm). While our conversation was great, he had the attention span of a fruit fly…oddly enough I could roll with it (I’ll credit twitter for this new skill).

Speaking of credit, I’ll give credit to the boost in confidence, or the liquor, but I swear the cute bartender was trying to flirt with me when BumbleBoy went out for a smoke. I did not mind.

BumbleBoy decided to walk me home and went in for the cheek (but so very close to the lips kiss). I thought “what the hell?” and let him kiss me. He also said that he’d been wanting to kiss me ever since he saw my photo.

(Okay. So my lips are a thing. Who knew?)

BumbleBoy has locked in a second date, which I’m looking forward to.

Except.

I don’t want to jump his bones.

He’s very cute. But physically? Not my type. I like men who look like they’re hungry…and he looks well fed? It’s my thing. I don’t like super muscular men either. Wiry. Skinny. Lean. I have a thing for scrawny-ish men! You know what? Life is too short to be generous. Even if I don’t end up jumping your bones, I should want to jump your bones.

In writing this, I was reminded of something that my date of 2014 said to me:

Never give a woman a reason to NOT want to fuck you…

p.s. I’m officially in the “cougar” years of my dating life. I can remember what I was doing the year each of these boys were born. Le sigh.

p.p.s. Who should I try to date next?

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