When it rains...
It pours. Indeed, although I may actually have the worst luck. Ever.
So I won the mini post-date-power-struggle when a text message beeped up on my phone while I was at the library. Practicing my new ninja skills, I ignored it and went home. Showered, replied, ran some errands and found my way down there a few hours later.
"What are we doing here" after I stole a kiss, shamelessly, and that was okay. The answer was that I didn't know, but that I had decided on the way down that he wasn't worth giving up being single for. The latter thought I kept to myself, turned it on its head to flatter him, and ended up with more than I had expected. An agreement was negotiated, the best of all worlds, and I told him in no uncertain terms that as long as he respected the rules things would be fine. The big one is his womanizing, which is to be held when we're out together. As Noel said, its perfect, and he pessimistically said that perfect things generally don't stay that way. I agreed, but hoped that this would last long enough to be worthwhile.
Vowing to save the 'man-izing' for another night, three ladies and their gentleman friend moved out into the night. He saw me at the bar and came over, remembering my friends and casually moving in beside me. And so I wandered back over and chatted with them all, he was the perfect gentleman. One arm around me, followed the rules perfectly, and kissed me on the mouth when we wandered out. Perfect.
Finally we stumbled down underground, scene of many good evenings and generally self-controlled ones. She laughed and said the abbreviated name sounded like STD, and damned if she would go somewhere with a name like that, so we called in full and headed in. One drink and the night picked up, dropped me next to last Saturday's amazing, knee-weakening kiss, and suddenly I was lost. I couldn't resist him, and to my extreme surprise, something... sparked. We talked, and I begged off and danced, then found him again and talked more. My luck swung like a pendulum.
Girlfriend, overseas, hasn't called in weeks? Thinks he is being dumped? What did I hear over thumping bass and one more beer? That he couldn't stop kissing me. That he wanted to know about my tattoo in a realistic sense, rather than just asking because he felt like he should. That I have his email address writ large from my wrist to my shoulder. That he wouldn't let me go, even after the lights came up and the morning pulled us all home. So now, now I am lucky to have found this spark, and unlucky to have such bad timing. I will be lucky to have a drink with him on Wednesday, and unlucky if she rings. So I will wash the ink from my body and type him a message, and cross my fingers, hoping that for this little moment fate will smile my way.
So I won the mini post-date-power-struggle when a text message beeped up on my phone while I was at the library. Practicing my new ninja skills, I ignored it and went home. Showered, replied, ran some errands and found my way down there a few hours later.
"What are we doing here" after I stole a kiss, shamelessly, and that was okay. The answer was that I didn't know, but that I had decided on the way down that he wasn't worth giving up being single for. The latter thought I kept to myself, turned it on its head to flatter him, and ended up with more than I had expected. An agreement was negotiated, the best of all worlds, and I told him in no uncertain terms that as long as he respected the rules things would be fine. The big one is his womanizing, which is to be held when we're out together. As Noel said, its perfect, and he pessimistically said that perfect things generally don't stay that way. I agreed, but hoped that this would last long enough to be worthwhile.
Vowing to save the 'man-izing' for another night, three ladies and their gentleman friend moved out into the night. He saw me at the bar and came over, remembering my friends and casually moving in beside me. And so I wandered back over and chatted with them all, he was the perfect gentleman. One arm around me, followed the rules perfectly, and kissed me on the mouth when we wandered out. Perfect.
Finally we stumbled down underground, scene of many good evenings and generally self-controlled ones. She laughed and said the abbreviated name sounded like STD, and damned if she would go somewhere with a name like that, so we called in full and headed in. One drink and the night picked up, dropped me next to last Saturday's amazing, knee-weakening kiss, and suddenly I was lost. I couldn't resist him, and to my extreme surprise, something... sparked. We talked, and I begged off and danced, then found him again and talked more. My luck swung like a pendulum.
Girlfriend, overseas, hasn't called in weeks? Thinks he is being dumped? What did I hear over thumping bass and one more beer? That he couldn't stop kissing me. That he wanted to know about my tattoo in a realistic sense, rather than just asking because he felt like he should. That I have his email address writ large from my wrist to my shoulder. That he wouldn't let me go, even after the lights came up and the morning pulled us all home. So now, now I am lucky to have found this spark, and unlucky to have such bad timing. I will be lucky to have a drink with him on Wednesday, and unlucky if she rings. So I will wash the ink from my body and type him a message, and cross my fingers, hoping that for this little moment fate will smile my way.
posted by Care | 11:48 AM
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