From Good Second Date to Ghost, Part One
Nearby Guy and I chatted for most of the summer, on Hinge
and off. I originally asked him if we could be just friends because I was scared
about poly stuff after that adorably mortifying late-afternoon with Poly Friends’
Partner. I fully owe PFP an apology for griping about his friends-ish winky-facery!
When Nearby Guy and I finally met for a just-friends dinner a few weeks ago, I
was a fountain of mixed signals, using the friends word a jillion times
but at no point turning off the flirt.
Not JUST because his Hinge profile included “pretty good
with knots” or because he’s wildly geographically desirable, but also because
he seemed to be the perfect combination of hot and warm. I felt comfy with him.
He’s just a little bit shorter than me and just a bit fatter, a dark-skinned
black man with just the absolute sweetest smile. Plus big dommy hands I could
not stop thinking about when I got home from that friendly dinner. Horniness
and bravery overtook me and I asked by if we could retroactively upgrade our
friend dinner to a date-date. He said he was down so yay!
So it was that I found Nearby Guy on my couch a few
nights ago. We’d met up at a bar but it was too loud so he graciously agreed to
come over even though I had nothing to offer but the supersweet pink Moscato I like
to mix with Pasteque La Croix. (My official drink of lesson planning, and also
of typing this.)
I swear to jeepers, it was a paradigmatically good
second date. We chatted for hours, touched a little, then touched more and
more. I had so much fun talking to him that I almost forgot to be distracted by
the playlist. (It’s really time to make a new makeout playlist. The last one I
made was for Mr. Sweetface in 2017 and it lives in what used to be iTunes—on the
desktop! Why does that feel so old-fashioned? And why isn’t it in my Apple
Music? Mystery!)
Oh my goodness he was so lovely to be next to, strong
and soft and so warm. His smell, a dizzying/lush perfect musky man smell,
reminded me of Pagan Boy so I felt right at home.
Once we finally kissed, I insisted that he high-five
me, forgetting for a sec that he hadn’t been in the same drought as me, hadn’t
just finished an epic trek through the touch-desert.
You know I love some hot hand-holding, and this was…oh
boy. Our hands and forearms felt made for each other. I loved feeling his soft
pulse under my gentle grip on his wrist. I loved that thing where we put our
hands together to compare sizes. Oh, those fingers. So strong-but-yielding, so
alive.
So of course when he asked if I wanted to go upstairs,
(Inviting me to my own bed, but that’s fine!) I said yes. I changed out of my
pretty date dress and into my pajamas.