It’s spring, so I’m trying to renew my thoughts on dating. Or start fresh so to speak. This bunny is hopping to a new optimistic beat.
I met a new gentleman on POF. Description: 5’10, slender build, ivory skin, dark hair, and green eyes. He’s a graphic designer. So very creative and art inspired. For this post, I’ll be referring to him as Artsy. This is our second date. He usually dresses very sharp.
This evening was a little different…
We were supposed to meet at my favorite wine bar at 5:30. I got there a little early. I wanted to chat with my bartender. Tell him about my newbie date, and check out his cute ass. It’s a win win at his bar. I tell him to break my date’s wine cherry. He’s not a wine drinker. So I knew my bartender would be able to help him along to find what he liked.
Artsy is late. It’s 6:30. I’ve drank more than half a bottle of wine. It’s a happy hour for me! And my bartender is keeping me company. I see Artsy. He’s finally arrived. He’s wearing ripped baggy jeans, paint stained wrinkled button down (I hope that’s paint), hat, and flip flops…
Inner Monologue Moment: What is it with men and flip flops? They are meant for water activities, your backyard, and for washing your dog. THAT’S IT! Not to be worn on a date at a fancy wine bar. Ugh…..
He sits down next to me with his hat still on. I give him the look, and then look at his hat. He doesn’t get it. He also doesn’t apologize for being late. I looked at him and said, “Hat.” He begrudgingly takes off his hat.
I’m a little loose due to my half bottle of wine. My bartender comes over, introduces himself and tells Artsy that he’s in charge of popping his wine cherry tonight. He told Artsy not to worry he’ll make the experience pleasurable for him.
Artsy asked me about how my day went. I tell him my bottle of wine made it better and that I wasn’t going to be able to stay out late because I’ve got to get up early to go out of town for a wedding. We continued casual chit chat. I picked out another bottle of wine. It was BOGO. It would be shameful of me not to take advantage. After I’ve drank a bit of my new bottle I looked down and realized the time. Oh shit, its late as in 2am late! I need to get going. He pays, and we leave.
I’m a little unsteady on my feet. So he offers to drive me to my car. I think, well what do you know he is a gentleman. I politely say yes. We hop into his car and he drives me to mine. We are sitting in his car. Before I get out, he leans over to give me a kiss goodnight. That turns into a full on make out session in his vehicle, under a street lamp. I hope there aren’t any police officers walking around.
Next thing I know I feel a breeze. My buttons on my blouse are open. I’m completely exposed. While Artsy is kissing me with way too much tongue. It felt like he was trying to strangle me to death with his tongue. He’s been watching the wrong type of porn if that’s what they are teaching men now a days.
He pulls out his member. Which is too much for me. I don’t know what he thinks is happening in his vehicle. But that is NOT happening in his vehicle. He invites me back to his place. I tell him I can’t because I’m going out of town tomorrow. I put myself back together. Try to semi fix my hair, button the buttons, one has popped off… FUCK!
Thank goodness my car is right in front of his. Artsy owes me a button or a new dress. Michael Kors isn’t cheap.
I’m in my car. I giving myself a pep talk. I don’t need an Uber. I can drive home. I’ve got this. Before I’m home, I decide fuckit. I’ll stay with a friend downtown (please refer to Talk Irish to Me). Just to be safe. I call and head over to their place. I say I have a 911 situation. I need his bed for the night. He tells me the door will be open.
The door was unlocked. But due to my current state I couldn’t quite figure out how to open it. It seemed like a very complicated doorknob at that point. He had to come downstairs and open the door for me. He looked down at me and gave me the look of the hand being caught in the cookie jar. I looked up at him.
All I saw was muscle, ink, and briefs. My mind couldn’t handle much more.
He asked if I had a good night? I inform him that I started off the evening with Mr. Guilty and ended it with Mr. Oz (aka red wine). He smirks and says he has water by the bed for me. I ask if his roomie is home. Because pictures of sugarplum threesomes are dancing in my tipsy head. I stripped down and crawled into bed. I look up and he’s staring. I asked if there’s a problem? He says with a big swallow nope, no problem. I replied well get into bed or I’m going to sleep. I’ve got a lot of shit to do tomorrow.
My alarm goes off early. Too fucking early! My wine hangover has kicked in. OH FUCK! My head is killing me. I make my way to the shower.
It feels like deja vu. I’m leaning my head against the shower. Trying figure out why I keep doing this to myself. I feel cold air. Then I feel warm hands.
Guess who it is? Roomie’s back….
Shower sex is the perfect way to help get over a wine hangover. I highly suggest.
I started to think, pros and cons of shower sex.
Cons: slippery, dangerous, height can be an issue, minty body wash is NOT meant to go in certain places.
Pros: easy clean up, shower head can be used in a variety of ways, good way to start the day, great for blow jobs.
Shower sex continued on and then the other roomie joined in. It was a blissful morning. A truly great way to start the day. Then they dried me off. I wonder if they saw the Fifty Shades movie. This feels very Christian like to me. But times two. So Christian # 1 and Christian # 2 go downstairs to make the elixir of life for me and breakfast too.
A girl could get used to this.
Quote: Fastest way to mess up someone’s knock knock joke? “It’s open”