Weekend Recap -- Part I

If there's one thing about NYC dating it's that there is no lack of people.  If anyone says they can't find people to date they are clearly not looking because I could, if I wanted to, probably date a new guy each week.  And that's not if I take every offer.  I swipe left plenty.  And I unmatch plenty of potential dates.  That said, I had two dates this weekend which has brought me to sitting here on a rainy Tuesday with a post work americano tapping out my (mis)adventures to all of you.

Friday Night Dinner With InkaDinkaDude

It was back to Brooklyn Friday night for dinner with InkaDinkaDude.  He'd invited me over to cook me dinner when I'd seen him last.  His place is pretty nice; I cannot imagine how much the rent is for a one bedroom that nice in Williamsburg but whatever.  We'd texted a little bit prior to our date, like for a few days... did I have allergies or things I don't like/won't eat (no, no/no) and around lunchtime Friday he texted me the menu, which I thought was super cute.  I brought it with me to a wine shop by my office and got two bottles the guy at the shop said would pair perfectly.  I had assumed that all InkaDinkaDude would have in his fridge was Pabst Blue Ribbon.

He greeted me at the door looking good as usual: man bun in full effect, the most perfectly worn in pair of jeans ever, we'll not discuss his choice of footwear, and a light sweater.  Have I mentioned that he has a good body?  He has a good body.  He was also ready with one of the warmest, nicest hugs ever -- I love a guy who can hug well.  He gave me the tour which wasn't too long considering it's a one bedroom but also took me to his rooftop space where he had, no joke, two cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon waiting for us.  Cute.

The night was very friendly at first.  Sure, we did some flirting -- referenced the snaps we've sent which, while hot have been somewhat reserved -- and more touching, but for the most part it was feeling friendly.  When we got down to his place I opened one of the bottles of wine and we enjoyed a salad that he admitted to picking up at a local spot.  It was incredible... melon and prosciutto with some super sharp provolone over arugula and a super light dressing.  For dinner we had salmon -- also really good.  After dinner we put everything in the dishwasher and cracked the second bottle of wine.  As I opened it he stepped behind me, put his hands on my hips and kissed my neck.  I turned around ready for whatever was coming next, handed him his glass which he took with one hand, leaving the other under my top, on my hip, warm.  We had one of those intense moments of staring that looks sexy everywhere but when it's happening it makes you, well ME, want to run away laughing.  I just don't do intensity.  I lasted a few sips (read: gulps) before telling him, with the most ridiculous hair flip possible, that my sexiness was about to wear off because I was going to laugh.  He, in return, put his glass down, took mine, and proceeded to tickle my ribs.  Relentlessly.  Who *does* that?  I was screeching in between giggles, begging him to stop but he just wouldn't.  So I wiggled and tried to extricate myself at which point he pinned me against the wall so I grabbed his face and went in for the kill.  I waited a few seconds and then went for his armpits.  Yeah, I win.

And then things got hot...

He called foul and we went back to kissing.  We moved away from the window and he had me against a counter, one of his arms on each side, until he slid his hands back up my shirt, apparently thrilled to discover my lack of a bra as he traced up my sides.  "Naughty girl." he murmured into my neck.  I protested.  I simply don't need one (I know that I will regret that statement in a few years but God do I love it now).

The lack of bra apparently works for him because he could not keep his hands off of me after that.  And it was gooooooood.  He's a tease... I mean I was freaking screaming (on the inside) for him to do more but he is just slow and lazy and measured when it comes to touching... it's like waking up too early on a Sunday morning and just mindlessly fooling around.  Not what I'm used to for a Friday night but hot.  And while I wanted to do plenty of things with and to him, I realized that the fact that I had a date the next night was probably reason enough to avoid pushing things too far.  Even though I could have easily lost myself in him.  I gave in eventually by finding a few spots that got him going -- ears, that's a new one -- and just as he started to pull my top off his buzzer rang.  I hoped he would ignore it but holy shit, it's like making out with one of Pavlov's dog -- the second it started he was like, "Oh, I wonder who that is!" and immediately answered his cell.  

Coitus Interruptus Saves The Day?

While I want to deduct some points for that, it prevented me from having to say, "Oh, I know it's our third date and I am doing whatever I can to get you hard but well, maybe we shouldn't."  Turns out some of his friends were walking by and saw the lights on and figured they'd pop in to see what was going on.  He buzzed them up, I got myself together although I was flushed as fuck and then stood there awkwardly for a moment before he pulled me down onto his lap, sideways (apparently his signature move), and kissed me before saying, "Is it weird that you're meeting my friends at 11 pm on a Friday night?" to which I kissed him back and said, "A bit."  We kissed a little more and I said, "I'm gonna leave -- if I am leaving when they get here it's just weird, right?" to which he agreed and then started to walk me out.  We made out a little more in the stairwell before I walked myself back to the subway not quite sure what just happened.

In the moment I was flustered and felt like it was the best option but I wonder if I should have been a bit more daring and just said, "Hey, I'm Hannah -- I'm going to run and get something besides Pabst you fucking hipsters!" and come back with another bottle of wine.  But it was just weird.  Although if they pop in pre- or mid-coitus next time I'll have a game plan.

He texted me a few minutes later, "I should have walked you to the subway."  I responded with "no worries."  A few seconds later, "I shouldn't have looked at who it was."  I responded, "no prob."  He then snapped me a dick pic and he was raging which, yeah, made me feel both better and worse.  The last exchange of the evening was "See you Thursday for a beer?" and "Of course."  

Is it me, or did he want me to leave?