Monday, April 2, 2012

How I Found Out I’m Kinky Part Four: Best First Date

This was the dreamiest song that Bill sent me:



But here’s what I was listening to when I came around the corner the night last December and saw him:


Nobody brought out my inner Ke$ha like this Bill did, and videos of parties where something bad might happen always remind me of him. For the record, my first date spot isn’t a “dirty free-for-all,” it’s a pretty gelato place.

When I first saw him he looked…awkward. In his profile picture, he looked mustache-y in a Seventies Dom kind of way, but in real life he looks kind of like a grown-up version of Kowalsky, the bully from Glee. He sure did have some very flashy-scary blue eyes, though!

There was money awkwardness, too. His wallet looked very empty and young, and since we just ordered hot chocolates he had to get an emergency cookie to get up to the minimum amount on his credit card. Some dumbass gender fear stopped me from just buying us both gelatos as if it were the 21st century. I was new to guys and scared to death of emasculating him.

It was just the most awkward conversation ever. He’d told me that he hated Sheldon from Big Bang Theory: “That whole quasi-Aspergian thing is just not cute,” but he is by far the most quasi-Aspergian of all the quasi-Aspergians I’ve dated.

He told me things that made me feel like he was on a job interview and failing badly at it, but also endeared himself to me by talking about how he used to take care of the horses at the zoo. He told me he’d recently moved back in with his parents, and that gave me pause but not too much.

I told him that right before I’d gotten ready for our date I’d pulled a Tarot card and got The Devil, reversed. He said, “Oh, wait, I know what that is…like a catalyst.”

I decided I liked him enough to go for a walk. It was right after Thanksgiving and the downtown streets were all bedazzled and romantic. He mentioned that his picture is out of date, so I took one with my phone. I asked for his number so I could send him the picture, and he looked inordinately satisfied about that.

I linked my arm through his and he took my mittened hand and squeezed it tight. Then he held it up to his mouth and bit it, not hard, just enough to make me impressed.

He said “Allright.” and pulled me to the side of the sidewalk and gave me one of the best kisses of my life. His mouth was just so perfect for mine, forceful but deft. And! He! Was! Pulling! My! Hair! Oh man I would just kill to be able to kiss him again. It was every push-shove-swoon fantasy I’d ever had in one kiss.

When he pulled away I said “Good JOB!” and he shushed me and said “You have a kissable smile.” and kissed me some more. Then he held me out by the shoulders in an appraising-approving way and I said “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We went to the park at the center of downtown and sat down on a bench. It was chilly, but not too cold for December. I was wearing my favorite bright red trench coat. The trees were hung with white spheres of Christmas lights. He just had the happiest, most satisfied expression, like he’d really accomplished something. And he had!

We made out on the bench like teenagers. He scratched at my neck and played with my ribbon necklace. He pushed on my trachea a little, but not so much as to block the breath. He bit my nose like a big goofball. He pulled my hair so it hurt and I felt like I couldn’t get away. I just wanted him to devour me and he seemed inclined to do so.

It didn’t take long for him to start making grabs for second base, not sneaking along the side boob like a normal adult but just grabbing, the way boys did at the community pool when I was first hitting puberty. I liked the feeling of trying to fight him off, but not trying too hard.

We walked down to the river (“That’s where I’ll show you the moves,” he said.) and made out some more. More perfect kissing, more creepy-thrilling grabs. He said “Yep, I’m gonna masturbate tonight.” and I felt free to say some dirty thing back.

As he was walking me back to my bus stop, he expressed regret at being “all lame and unemployed,” and I stopped him. I said “I don’t need anything. I’m a grown-ass woman. I have a job and a wife who has a job. But you may have to give me a lot of attention.” He agreed to that.

When we walked past the building where the Mayor of Kittentown works, I pointed it out and he said “Yeaaaaaah, he makes more money than me.” I told him for the first of many times that it’s not a competition.

All the way across downtown, we kept kissing. He pushed me into some walls, as my OK Cupid profile asks guys to do. I got on the bus all stubble-burned and dazed and immediately texted my friend Adorkable: “Sweet Jesus, I may have found my top.”

Coming up: Second Date Bruises, I’m a Greedy Little Brat

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