Love + Sex

He's adorable - smart, very handsome with a voice that makes me tremble.  He's tall, with a natural build that resembles that of Michelangelo's David, and yet it's not a gym-constructed physique; it's just the way he's built.  Working out is just not something he would do.  His blue eyes twinkle, his smile is devilish and his hands are strong and sure.  The rest of his anatomy (I found out later) is... what can I say: perfect.
I stumbled across him online.  He came up on "match" after I responded to someone else.  I couldn't believe how cute he was.  We had a playful back and forth email correspondence, very brief, the way I like it.  I really, really wanted to meet him, not write to him, and his notes: flirty, brief, forward but polite, indicated the same.  

Our first date was one of those let's-have-a-drink-and-see.  I wore what I'd worn on another date during which the guy told me how attracted he was to me, and how much he wanted to kiss me (I didn't want to kiss him or even shake his hand frankly), but because the outfit seemed to be a success, I would reconstruct it for all my first dates.  A certain pair of jeans, a certain pair of boots, a certain sweater.

I got to the bar first, walked halfway in, looked around and didn't see him, but when I turned to look back at the door, there he was, not a foot behind me. I was startled and stepped back.  I may have inwardly gasped; I hope I wasn't uncool enough to actually gasp aloud.  I was startled partly because of the suddeness of his appearance, but more, at how attractive he was.  (I have to say, I don't know that he would be attractive to all, but to me, there was that chemistry that hits you hard and makes you immediately nervous and unsure of yourself...  that primitive excitement that comes from being naturally thrilled by a man.)  A head taller than me, with a perfect swirl of mostly salty colored hair.  A look on his face of utter confidence; of knowing what you want. 


I took a step back and looked down to recover a bit, and then back up.  He was smiling and did not step back.  "Hi." he said.  It was the sexiest single syllable I've ever heard uttered.  "You're Bette?" he asked.  And for once in a long while I was so glad that, yes, I was.  "You wanna sit up here, or in the back?"  Frankly I wanted to stand and just stare, but I said, "Let's sit up here..." up at the front of the rustic, cozy bar (the "All State", a great place to meet someone for the first time by the way, now torn down and an empty lot, soon to be condos I assume).

We pulled two chairs up to the bar that ran against the wall, two of only 4 chairs up there, which is why it was so perfect... no one could sit too near us to listen to the inevitably awkward conversation of two complete strangers trying to make a romantic connection.  I was nervous, but the good nervous: the excited nervous you get when something good is happening, or about to.  I relished the feeling. 

Unlike many people, I kind of love these meetings: I'm good at them, I like people, I am amused by the whole process, and I am always so hopeful that whatever guy I'm meeting might be a guy I could like, or at the very least, with whom I could spend an hour practicing flirting.  6 out of 10 of these guys you meet are "OK".  2 are "eh".  At least one is so awful it makes for a hilarious story for your girlfriends the next day.  To get one that's sexy?  You're doing great.  Sometimes right off the bat you realize the guy is a numbskull, or 30 pounds heavier than his photo, or 10 years older, or has grown a moustache in which you see an embedded crumb.  Some of them try too hard, or are too nervous, or perhaps already an ----- , looking over your shoulder or figuring out if they should buy you a drink or not.  Buy the drink, jerk!  you think.  It's the very first, easiest and most obvious way to show that you're not a loser!  If it's after 5pm and they order ice tea or a Diet Coke, I know it's not going to work out.  To get through this, we need some alcohol!

He immediately asked what I was drinking - as always, white wine for me.  It gets into my blood system faster than beer and for some reason, I always associate it with socializing, relaxing, opening up.  He walked over to the bar and in those moments I looked down at myself.  Am I attractive?  Should I fluff my hair?  Why didn't I look in the mirror one more time before I got here?  Is my eye make-up smudged?  Could he possibly be half as attracted to me as I am to him?  Oh please, I hope so.  Half as much would be enough.  I had just enough time to slip off my coat before he was back with two glasses.  Did he look at my body as I was taking off my coat?  Does it look ok?  My body isn't one of those that knocks guys over... it's average.  I wished it was great.  I wished, for him, that he was as excited as I was.  He smiled at me.  God - that smile.