So, this is a very late update that follows this post on my weekend of boys. After that night with InkaDinkaDude I was feeling confused. Why? Well, all signs were pointing to something happening (even if I wasn't sure I wanted to take that step having a date the next night) but his reaction to his friends showing up, his relief at my suggesting I leave, his recognition in his texts that just felt a little too contrived. I don't know. It was a bit of an ego killer. And while I'm perfectly fine with booty calls and hooking up on the DL, it bothers me that he was so into me and then *bam* -- I mean, I'd like to think it's harder to stop an engine I started.
More self indulgence: I thought Wall St. would text to say that he couldn't wait to see me, or that he was looking forward to seeing me. Or at least confirming our plans. But he didn't.
Saturday Night Dinner
Around 4 I got a text from Wall St. saying that he was leaving Jersey and could I send my address. I did. And also explained how to get to my apartment once buzzed in. I don't have a swank doorman building or anything even close to it.
Around 7 I buzzed him in and not too long after heard a gentle thudding from my door -- he had three bags of groceries precariously perched and was lightly bumping the door with his knee. Adorable. I opened the door and took one bag off his hands, was quickly chided not to peak and showed him to the kitchen (which is easily found in my tiny Manhattan apartment). He pulled out a bottle of wine and asked me to pour us some. It was the bottle we enjoyed over that Monday night dinner -- color me impressed. I opened and poured as he put things in the fridge and out on the counter. He then stopped, turned to look at me, hands on hips adorably and told me that I looked lovely. What a strange word but it wasn't dorky or pretentious coming out of his mouth. Or I'm just a smitten kitten maybe. We hadn't kissed at this point so I'm sure that was a huge influence on every assessment I made of him. He was in navy pants, low top converse (his signature), a collared plaid shirt and cardigan. His hair was its usual awesome shaggy but neat style except that his aviators were pushed up. Very cute.
I did look lovely... I mean, who wouldn't be sure they did before a date? I had on my new favorite dress from the Gap (although why I wore a white dress to cook dinner I will never know) with a denim jacket, messy ponytail and strappy flat sandals. Also a very cool necklace that I just adore. It's handmade - a pocket watch that was scooped out and just has beads and ephemera in it -- mines a photography themed one.
"I feel like I should take you out." he smiled as I handed him a glass.
"I could say the same about you, fashionista," was the best retort I could come up with at the moment. We clinked to our dinner and took a sip before walking out to the living area. Living in a studio is a little weird because it's all out there -- no place to hide anything. I have a great couch my parents let me have after a remodel of their living room -- it's modern and minimalist, L-shaped and inviting. We sat and chatted for a bit -- and it wasn't lost on me that both of us were taking care not to intrude too much. Was it that obvious I didn't want to say I was on a date the night before? Or maybe it was just date jitters. I mean, he was just hanging out with his boys last night, nothing to hide there. I, on the other hand, had been about seven seconds away from nakedness.
Dinner was great -- cooking it was the most fun I've had on a date in ages... very casual and I found myself talking and joking, and flirting way more than I usually would this early on. Something about not having to sit across from each other and have nowhere else to look, I guess. We found a comfortable rhythm of chopping and slicing, and soon the food wasn't the only thing simmering. There was a definite chemistry. And while much of it was physical (my kitchen is tiny so there was plenty of bumping into each other) there was also a connection on other levels. We have similar senses of humor; there was a lot of laughing.
We ate sitting on the floor on either side of my coffee table -- studio life what it is. And then I cleaned up while he looked through my music collection (I have recently gotten into spotify and love curating stations. And yes, I changed the names of a bunch of them well before our date). He started the tunes and then I joined him on the couch for more wine and conversation.
Lots of conversation, in fact. And then, around midnight, he asked to use my bathroom. He came out and reminded me that we had dessert, some pastries he'd picked up at an Italian bakery before leaving Jersey. We poked around in the box and split one. I joked that I'd save the rest for next time (I almost said breakfast but it felt sleazy) and he shrugged and said, "We'll see."
*needle scratches across record*
We'll see?! Again: WTF, Wall Street? I mean, I get that not every date leads to another but all indications were pointing to this being a great date. The kind of date that leads to another. And we'll see is just flippant and weird and leaves me with nothing to say. He didn't seem to notice how awkward it was but I did. I brushed off my hands and took another sip of wine, slowly, to try and figure out what to say and came out with, "It's getting pretty late." Good Lord, Hannah... really?
He looked a little surprised but then the lightbulb clicked and shed a harsh spotlight on my lack of confidence. "I just don't know if they'll make it until next time between late night snacking and breakfast." he leaned down and finally -- FINALLY! The kissing was as hot as I imagined it would be. And went from 0-60 pretty quickly with his tongue exploring every part of my mouth in a way that was gentle and passionate and sexy. We quickly made our way out of the kitchen, still attached by the face and he sat on the couch. I straddled him and kept things going -- how could I not?
We stopped, flushed and with messy hair, about an hour later. I can't remember the last time I made out for that long. He played with my hair a bit, and started talking about random stuff. What was that Sunday routine I mentioned? (bodega coffee and the Sunday Times in the park -- yes, I'm aware that I'm a cliche). Then more kissing. A hand on the back of my thigh as I raised myself to kiss him from above -- hot. "I could kiss you all night," murmured into the side of my mouth as his fingers entwined in my hair, pulling out my elastic and tossing it on the coffee table. And then, he stopped again. "I'm a gentleman with girls I like." I was anything BUT a gentleman -- straddling him and well aware that I was more than a little wet.
"I wouldn't expect anything less." I answered, hoping that maybe he didn't like me -- I was hot to see where this would go. But no. Apparently he likes me. Because as I leaned back to get my elastic (an excuse to put a leg on the floor and get off of him) and put it on my wrist and stood, he did, also. I thanked him for dinner, asked if he wanted to take some pastries (no) and if he wanted me to walk him to the subway, "I wouldn't get on" was his response. And no, I didn't make any jokes about getting off. He kissed me at the door and before we ended up back on the couch I made a joke that the sun was going to come up before we finished and he left.
It took me a while to fall asleep thanks to the general excitement of it all but eventually drifted off.
I didn't see this coming. Maybe I should have?
After grabbing my terrible coffee and paper from down the street I headed to the park for my usual Sunday morning. Late morning. I tucked into the paper, lazily reading through from the cover through and then pulling out the parts that caught my interest until I decided to try the puzzle (why do I do this?). And wouldn't you know it, a few minutes into the puzzle, as I'm talking out loud to myself and chewing my #2 to death, up walks Wall St. Coffee in hand. Yes. In my neck of the woods.
"Fancy meeting you here," I shaded my eyes to look up at him.
"I heard pretty girls hang out in this park."
"You heard right."
He pulled a book out of his back pocket, sat down, and started to read. And that was that. About an hour and a half after he arrived he stood and stretched, holding his hands out. I took them, not sure what else to do, and stood. "I'm meeting up with some friends for lunch." he is adorable when he squints.
"And you need directions to Alphabet City?" We'd joked the night before that a number of first dates of mine hadn't turned out to be second dates because so many guys are afraid of downtown Manhattan. I was, too, until I learned how to navigate it.
He kissed the end of my nose -- is this his thing? -- and said, "No, we're meeting on the Upper West Side." Color me impressed: I wasn't just convenient. "Walk me to the subway?" I folded up my paper, tucked it into my bag and started to walk along side him, looping my arm through his and deciding that yes, I definitely like this boy.
Of course that left me with InkaDinkaDude to consider but not really. I mean, I'm early on with both of them and while there's been some hot and heavy kissing has there really been anything commitment wise? Nope. Why not put off the big decisions a little longer?
What's something a date has done, either on the date or outside of it, that gets your heart skipping a beat? Were they moves they used on everyone or did you bring out the romantic in them? Let's keep the conversation going in the comments and on social media.