Monday night marked my return to the dating world, and let me just say, the dating gods have an epic sense of humor. Allow me to elaborate…
I met this newest beau via match.com. He’s a former pro-soccer player, but after a torn ACL, he was brought back down to earth and has to do real work. We emailed briefly and then he asked for my number. He called and the first thing that threw me was his accent. We hadn’t emailed in great depth so I had no idea he was foreign. After about a two-minute conversation, he said he wanted to take me out. A two-minute conversation made me dinner worthy? Wow, I must be a hell of a conversationalist. We scheduled a day and time and hung up.
Over the weekend he wished me a Happy Easter and confirmed plans for Monday night. So far, I was liking this on-the-ball maturity thing. On the down side, in some texts he was referring to me meeting him at his place. This day and age, I am not comfortable with that. Told him I’d meet him at the restaurant. Fast forward to date night.
I arrived early, parked on a side street, and headed to the restaurant. He arrived, and I initially did a double-take. He didn’t look exactly like his picture, but I knew it was him. Added bonus, he looked better than his picture. When does that ever happen!? Felt a bit rude for having my head in my phone when he arrived but fortunately I had just text him, so I didn’t feel too bad. He said he left his phone in his car. I won’t be sitting with a guy who keeps checking his phone? Whoa, another added bonus.
We grab seats at the bar. He rambles off a few drinks that they don’t have (he made no effort to look at the bold faced drink menu they placed in front of him.) We get our drinks and somewhere in there I directed a teasing comment toward him. His hand then rubbed my back made its way to my leg and he responded, “I can’t kiss you now. I have to wait.” (Note to self: He can handle sarcasm and seems to be turned on by it.)
The kiss comment seemed premature, just like the date invite, but it was the hand rubbing my back and leg that threw me. It wasn’t a pervy grope, more of an, “I’m interested and attracted to you” petting. I am not a huge PDA fan, so this caught me by surprise.
He kept making comments about his place, and I kept thinking, “I’m not going to your place. Why the hell do you think I met you at the restaurant?” Although most of his English was spot-on, there were a few lost in translation moments.
There was more back/leg rubbing and a few more sarcastic comments. At one point he leaned in to kiss me while we were still sitting at the bar. (Should have known better, all that sarcasm proved to be too much for him.) I wasn’t expecting it and had turned my head, so I got a half-lip part cheek peck.
After one drink, he pays the tab. Thought that seemed kind of quick. When we get outside he points to where his car is and then asks where mine is. It was just around the corner. He said that was okay, I could just follow him. I asked follow him where, knowing full well he thought I was going back to his place. After a very stern, no I’m not going to your apartment, he seemed a little hurt and confused. Told him we could go for a walk, but I wasn’t going to go back to his place.
We start walking and I notice he got quiet. I made a comment about the silence, figuring he was upset that he realized he wasn’t getting laid. He said he just gets quiet sometimes and scooped in to pull me close and returned to feeling up my back and sides again. (Yo, Prince Handsy, you’re interested. Don’t worry, I got the memo.)
We walked into another bar where he thought he knew someone that worked there. After an air-headed conversation with the blond bartended to find out the guy didn’t work there anymore, we left. When we got outside he commented how he didn’t like the way she talked/talked to him. (Another note to self: Doesn’t like air-heads. Appreciates intelligence.)
We walked passed a FedEx store and he said he needed a pen because he lost his. He banged a U-turn in the middle of the sidewalk, grabbed my hand and went in. He stared at the pens for a bit, so I chimed in and asked if he liked the “clicky pens” or the ones with a cap. He said the “clicky.” I pointed to a pack and said those are my favorites. My eyes kind of glanced around while he made a decision. He picked up the pack of pens, turned to me, and said (while walking at me), “Well, I know who to blame if I don’t like them.” And before I knew what was happening – tongue down my throat, hand on my ass, and slobber making its way to my chin.
I’d like to take this moment to apologize to all witnesses of my molestation in FedEx on Monday night.
This, however, is not the end of the Prince Handsy’s escapade…
To read Part 2 click here.