- To lie and say it wasn't alcohol induced wouldn't be fair.
- To lie and say we knew each other pretty well as we came barreling inside of his apartment at 5 am would be stretching the truth.
- To lie and say I knew his name the next day (and by day, I mean Sunday afternoon) wouldn't be fair either.
- To lie and say I had the best of intentions wouldn't really be lying. Honestly, I did.
It's Saturday night, and I've accepted an invitation to a dinner party with an entire cast of gay men and myself. 6 guys + 1 girl? Who in their right mind would ever turn that down? Exactly.
A few bottles of red and 3 Cher CD's later, I get the call from Heidi that my attendance is needed at some downtown bar. It's 1 am and it's mandatory. My sober self would've toyed with the idea of heading home, my not-so-sober self didn't think twice. It seemed like seconds from the time I got the text to the moment when I slammed the cab door shut. It was pouring rain, the streets were overflowing with drunk twentysomethings. It was the perfect night for a bad decision.
Shortly after I make my way inside, Heidi arrives with boys in tow. We do the usual meet and greet, I decided none of them were cute and question why I trekked downtown at 1:30 in the morning for quasi-cute and semi-charming. Then I retorted because it's not the boys I was after, it was quality time with H, which is always a damn good time. Shots come, beers are poured, photo booths are found. That's right, ladies and gents, WE HAVE PHOTO EVIDENCE. Photo evidence that proves we were at the bar, but no photo evidence of the man you're about to meet.
I'd now like to introduce, Older Not Wiser, to my saga. Wish I could tell you more about how we met at the bar, but it's all kinda grey. Wish I could tell you how he swept me off my feet while crossing the street to catch a cab, but I'm pretty sure I stumbled in on my own. Wish I could tell you how I ended up at his apartment, but I don't really remember being invited.
What I do know is that we spent all of Sunday morning getting to know each other - completely naked. Believe it or not, he is charming. And hilarious. And amazing in bed. I should know. I didn't leave until 8pm the following evening. Either he wasn't sure how to kick me out, or he hadn't had a woman in his bed in a long time. Regardless, I overstayed my welcome and he didn't mind.
I should add that if this had been a male New Yorker in his twenties, I might of been a little more nervous that he "had done this sorta thing many times before." But, with Older Not Wiser, I felt at ease and safe. Like, he's older, more mature. A man that has his shit together wouldn't just do something like this all the time. (Just what any parent wants their daughter to assume, right?)
The day was great, it flew by actually. I will spare you the sexual details, as I'm sure we've all been in this situation with a first timer. And if you're wondering how I caught his name before we jumped in the shower for the next hour - I will share my secret. It was lunchtime-ish(?), we decided on take out, I opted to grab the menus, and there it was. I was hoping for a bill of some sort, an old pay stub, a bank statement...anything but a birthday card from his parents. Two birds with one stone. Name and Age. As I waltzed back to the bedroom, you would've thought I had just broken the DaVinci code. I'm just that good.
So, it's been two weeks. He's been calling. A few casual dates here and there. One more romp around his place. I'm not in love, or remotely even in like, but a girl has to have her backup plan.
Plus, I kinda like it when he smacks my ass and tells me "I'm being such a good girl."
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