Well, friends, after a quiet and mostly happy-to-be-single
year, I recently dipped my toe back into the treacherous waters of sexy times, and
though I didn’t find a lasting connection, what I did find couldn’t be more
illuminating.
Back in June, I got a crush on one of my coworkers at the
college bookstore where I was part-timing. He talked to me about music. He
recommended Radiohead’s “In Rainbows” and I found it excellent to type to.
After all that time of not getting ridiculous over anybody, I could not stop
flirting with him as we alphabetized the textbooks that got bought back at the
end of the semester. Then I realized he was 23 and I could reasonably be his
mom, so I went back to OKC to hit on guys my own age.
The one I found was tall and dorky-cute and of course beardy,
and was especially attractive to me because he’s Unitarian and I have this
dream of going to church with a boyfriend someday. On TOP of that, he’s a
single dad (nothing hotter) with a SWIMMING POOL in his back yard. I’m too
heartachey to make up a nickname, so I’ll just call him J.
He sent me his blog address before our first date and I
found some red-flaggy things on there (Like a MILLION paragraphs about how the
Cold Stone Creamery once accidentally put nuts in his sundae.) but thought it
was best to give him a chance and get to know him in person. I’m so glad I did.
Rather than doing the supersensible thing and just meeting
for gelato on our first date, he asked me out for the art museum AND dinner AND
a movie—Trainwreck, which I’d been
superexcited to see. He! Brought Me! A Mix CD! On! A! First! Date! A little
heavy on the ethereal-voiced women, but still. After about an hour in the
museum, I felt so powerfully drawn to him that I wanted to push him against the
wall right there in the Dadaists.
He was the first guy to take me to see a rom-com on a date,
and that was a snugglesome experience. We ended up making out by the river
while a wedding down the way provided the cheesiest of accompaniment: “Aaaal of
me, aaaaal of you.” It was beautiful and dreamy, but he was one of those guys
who steals second base, and I kind of let him. I found myself in the back of
his car in the art museum parking lot with my panties down before I remembered
I mostly prefer privacy these days. We talked about our fantasies and his were
a couple of more red flags: erotic hypnosis and being taken advantage of in his
sleep. Not really boding well on the enthusiastic consent front, but that isn’t
where this story is going.
Our second date was even more of a romance-bomb: A night
time light show in a fancy flower garden. We kissed under a tree and I felt
like I was one of the Impressionist paintings from our first date. As we walked
down a magically-lit garden path, he sang “All I ever wanted, all I ever needed
is here, in my arms…” As we approached a woodsy treehouse structure, we sang
together: “Blue canary in the alley by the light switch, who watches over you…” So what hope did I have of making rational
decisions?
Next time: BDSM in the Flowers, Bitterness and Cake
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