Here's his fantasy

... ah, i thought this will be quite easy. Afterall, i have so many fantasies, vivid, playful, intense, imaginative fantasies ..

But that was the problem actually - as soon as i start writing, all those 252 fantasies of mine did pop up in my head, fighting eachother for epistolary supremacy. Which one should i write about first ? The one about strapons ? the one about servicing an entire party crowd ? The one about providing full service in the morning ? … or the one about a powerful, intense, mindblowing, “just words” dinner date ?

So many to choose from … And there i had to do the most ..torturous act a sub can be forced to do. I had to make a decision.

Given that it’s rather … gentlemanly to start slow, my fantasy de jour would be about the first date. A “no words, no names, no questions asked” first date, that is. There is also another preagreement about this first date … I will kiss .. or lick … or suck … whatever parts of your body you will put over my lips …

So imagine myself laying on my back, in the grass .. in a public park -- it’s a wonderful fall weather here in Eastern Ontario, so the fantasy is in part meteorologically inspired .. laying in the grass, wearing a light blue shirt, jeans, and .. as per our understanding .. no undies.

It’s a warm, light, relaxing day …

You walk slowly towards me, no hurry, enjoying the day yourself, the fall colours .. the sun … the arousal thoughts of what will come next .. you walk in the grass … stilettos … a light skirt .. a mischievous smile .. you wave a quick ‘hello’ – no words, remember .. and walk around me a bit to .. perform a quick visual inspection … and then suddenly press your sole over my crotch, press it quite hard .. yes, it works. You smile satisfied of the results of the experiment and then unzip half thru my pants .. remember, no undies .. remember, it’s a public park ..

… you came then close to my face … straddle my face while standing … imagine that for a second, my head, laying between your feet .. and you start playing slowly and casually with your stilettos .. over my mouth … first your soles .. which will be softly kisses … and then your heels … which will slowly push inside my mouth for a quick sucking session … first your left shoe. Always your left feet first.

You’ll decide quickly to abandon your shoes … afterall, your feet are the ones that deserve more attention. Your soles. Your toes. Especially your toes. Your toes that can playfully run over my mouth .. playing with them between my lips, and teasingly so … and them letting them slide. Inside my mouth, one by one. First your big toe .. you carefully watch what happens over my half open zipper while your toes are dully sucked in my mouth … and you enjoy the feeling of my tongue … cleaning … cleaning between your toes … while my mouth is all yours .. and you move your toes … all of them … up and down my mouth .. rubbing your sole over my face .. and then having your toes back in my mouth .. fucking my mouth .. with your toes .. smiling, and looking for people around ...

And then you stop

And relax

Sit on my chest, and relax.

Just sit and ignore me. Maybe talk on the phone. Maybe read. Just relax. And sit, exactly over my chest. You’re your legs around my body.

And your crotch .. 10 cm away from my eyes ... 8 cm away from my nose ..

So all I see … is your (black ? blue ?) underwhear .. and all I smell … is your scents. Your post toesucking scents .. overflowing my nostrils … while you relax ... and talk on the phone ... or read .. read something that .. arouses you a bit. Or maybe not, maybe what arouses you is the thought .. of me craving .. craving for more scents ... craving for more taste ... craving for more drops ... the thought of my thirsty mouth .. being so close .. but unable to touch ...

So you reach your undies with your index finger ... slide them inside .. I see what happens there, with your finger gently rubbing in small cycles .. so close to my eyes ... so close to my tongue .. and yet so far … and you watch .. on my face .. begging you, begging you to let me touch .. to let me lick ... to let me taste ...

You take out your finger ... your rather moist finger ... and playfully put it under my nose .. press it against my nostrils ... and then ... slide it between my lips, into my mouth … I hungry start to suck your finger .. taste and lick every drop of moist out of it ... while you watch .. and enjoy simply fucking my mouth with your finger ... fucking it hard ... moving your finger in and out my mouth .. knowing that you’re in complete control .. and my mouth .. is just a hole ... yours to finger fuck, at your whims ... until you have a solid finger fuck orgasm ...

Then .. you just decide that what you need is another long, thorough type of relaxation

... and you quickly take off those panties .. and lower yourself fully into my face .... such that my mouth is completely buried between your ass cheeks.. and my tongue, whenever comes out .. will enter directly into your ass .... my nose ... buried into your crotch ... imagine for a second this position …

An then you relax .. enjoy the fall colours .. the warm day .. my complete oral servicing of your ass .. for hours and hours and hours ...

And in the end … you’re the one braking your own no-words rule .. “I’ve noticed you have a rather lovely, firm ass there .. maybe I’ll just fuck it next time ...”

And then smile, and wave good bye ..

What are dads paying for? One Duke University senior claimed she never had a date in college and knew no one that had.

Given all the sex on campus, this makes coed mean guys and booty? Does dad know what’s happening to his princess?

She can escape booty call, but she needs to abandon the guys’ game. It’s up to her and not him. The following posts offer fresh perspectives.

217.   She appears desperate and disposable when everything's easy for him.

218.   Female values shape campus social life except when they let men do it.

219.   Nagging herself produces unintended consequences.

220.   Feminine mystique slows the male mind for conquest.

221.   First date plants the seeds of no call, booty, or marriage.

222.   Commitment ain’t devotion.

223.   What guides our lives?

224.   Bonding for newlyweds.

225.   Mates differ, whether recognized or not.

226.   Just who are ‘friends with benefits’?

227.   What daughters should hear.

228.   More sex education

229.   Women copy men but fail, and ennui and depression set in.

230.   Virtue helps bonding.

Escape or dodge the booty label. See the CONTENT page in the blog header.

The job is one of small perks, small pleasures and small paychecks. It's been suggested that I could move along deeper into the real world, be more engaged in my days and better compensated for my time, but I like my freedom to sneak in and out like a thief and how it's okay to get distracted by a random album or movie that I stumble across. I dig through bins of product, looking for something which might make us a quick buck if the condition is alright, but they won't let me have anything too exciting because they want these choice items for the store. Fair enough, so I'm up to my wrists in dust mites and red tags hoping for a decent cache of DVDs to sell on the internet. My favorites are the all region discs from Asia because I'll find things which aren't released in the States and I can take them home and watch them before having to sell them.

Today I had no such luck, just a small collection of yesterday's hot titles that were so mass produced and marketed that everyone already has a copy except for those deprived souls in Canada and Australia. I've never seen "Havoc" starring Anne Hathaway-- I'm not even sure I've seen her in a movie-- but I know that I can make a buck off it. Somehow, staring down at the slickly designed cover promising sex and violence and intrigue, a million random collisions erupt through my brain and I'm sent hurtling back ten years to when I was fresh out of highschool and had started working full time at the pizza joint I'd been at since I was fifteen.

I was the youngest on staff but my coworkers, on average five to ten years my senior, didn't treat me as though I was a kid all the time. We hung out in our off hours and engaged in the grizzled debauchery restaurants encourage. Drinking, drugs... and drinking and drugs. My cohorts tended to be more interesting than me: one of the cooks had released several albums over the years as President's Breakfast and built a studio in his house; a couple had emigrated from overseas; the general manager and co-owner worked for Nancy Pelosi and had done a stint in DC. One of the waitresses, Alexi Lacey, was getting her MFA in film at State and was ready to begin shooting her graduate movie. She needed a crew of volunteers and somehow I found myself included in a disparate collection of artists and weirdos sitting in the living room of her Guerrero Street apartment holding a script and probably a cocktail. They had a bar installed in their living room so there must have been some cocktails.

Alexi had written the script based on a formative weekend in the life of her younger self; we would be spending a weekend in Monterey shooting on location. I can't actually remember much of the pre-production meetings as I must have been pretty pre-occupied alternating between feeling awkward and being obnoxious, but everyone definitely took their involvement seriously enough to commit. It would be a lot of work, even for the grip that I was destined to be, but I was excited about this opportunity to step inside a mysterious world. Early one morning I was picked up and we collected the gaffer, the cinematographer, the sound guy; we packed the gear in the trunk and wherever space was available. This was thrilling, this was an adventure. Everyone was perfectly nice and no one treated me like I was the little kid brother they had to watch. We hit the highway.

Intense weekend. We were all crammed together in a couple rooms at the motel where we would be shooting a pool scene but fortunately sleep would only be available for a couple hours at a time. Nothing went according to plan and arguments between Alexi and the director of photography broke out frequently. After being given a crash course on equipment I was running around dragging lights and sandbags and cables, then left with nothing to do but chainsmoke for an hour while something was figured out. There were several locations throughout town: the motel pool where we were staying; a room in a motel down the road and the parking lot out front; the arcade and carousel at the Cannery; several streets in the surrounding area; the rocky ocean coast. Big budget blockbusters have their share of headaches and our cobbled together student production would not be any different. I remember trying to keep drunken hicks from wandering out of a seedy dive and into the shoot but bikers would look at my green hair and ask me if I thought I could stop them. We had a cable visible in one shot which required me and Greg, the gaffer, inching along with screwdrivers and tape trying to hide the cord in a seam in the concrete. The DAT recorder which had originally been borrowed was broken and Jonathan had to drive back to San Francisco, pick up a new one, then drive all the way back in the middle of the night without sleep. There was an ugly incident involving a crock-pot brimming with everyone's dinner, the rental van and two days of rotting stink that I've sworn to never talk about. To prevent the "talent" from getting into trouble while we were setting up a shot I had to take them to a nearby Denny's and watch while they ate pancakes and didn't get stoned; the two actresses were older than me and the actor constructed a tower of silverware that defied gravity. During a windswept rainstorm I stood with the generator on a soaking wet deck hanging a thousand watt light over a beach while using an umbrella to prevent everything from exploding. Eventually Greg got freaked out and yelled at Alexi which stopped filming and prevented my untimely demise. We fought, talked shit, ate little and slept less, drank a lot of vodka and had nervous breakdowns. It was a fucking blast and I would do it all again in a heartbeat, even tho I know I was really the kid brother who got underfoot more often than I was helpful.

There were two other shoots that I worked. One was in front of a liquor store in South City where, in lieu of any gear, we set the camera up in the back of a convertible and kept it in neutral. Actually, I didn't do any of that, I was in front of the car keeping it from rolling down the hill too fast. The last bit of shooting was at another coworker's house which was a less fun all day affair. I had only been able to make it to because I stayed up all night before and was picked up by Alexi and Wynn (her boyfriend, my manager) in the predawn hour. Little for me to do in such a contained environment so I was relegated to running for milk and staying quiet. What's memorable about this particular day was that the cinematographer invited everyone to some sort of Carnaval party. I was on the front steps smoking with the lead actress (Lucky Strike straights were mine and she had a Capri) and she asked if I was going to the party. No, no fucking way. The next time we were on the steps smoking she told me she had been trying to act me out earlier. Act me out? I didn't understand, what do you mean act me out? When she was done laughing she said she had been trying to ask me out, to go to the party. Oh... Mostly we had spent the length of shooting making fun of one another, her in a bathrobe lounging by the pool, me and Greg smoking cigarettes and setting up lights.

After the day was done I went home and laid in bed trying to rest until I was supposed to meet her; by this time I hadn't slept for a day and a half and had eaten a slice of pizza and a pot of coffee. She was late in calling me so I broke down and checked in, found out where her house was and, to kill time, walked across town. Although they had recently broken up she was still living with her ex; I think they moved here together from Louisiana. He owned the building. I wandered around the spacious apartment and watched her smoke pot on the back steps, I looked in her very pink room, I tried to keep my thoughts straight as my vision bled in and out of focus. Her ex came home and, upon learning I was going to take my date to the party on MUNI, insisted on driving us. In his SUV. I sat alone in the back seat while they talked and bit my tongue as he took wrong turns and ended up in the wrong part of town.

>

When we arrived at the party my instinct was to placate my nerves as quickly as possible which I did by taking a paper cup and filling it with vodka. We wandered from room to room weaving through costumed revelers and hid her umbrella in a closet. We chatted, tho I can't remember what about, and walked down to 24th street to buy cigarettes. She asked me why I hated her and I, not hating her, scrambled for some kind of response. "It's hard to trust an actress," I pulled out of my ass, "since you never know if you're seeing the real them." On the way back to the party I really had to piss and had her stop so I could duck in a doorway. She stared at my back until I was done and then said, "No one has ever done that in front of me before. Ever." By the time we got back to the house and I finished my vodka I was reeling drunk and she had sat on a deck chair which soaked her pants see-through. I excused myself and left on my own, walking the block trying to clear my head. My stomach was churning and I couldn't see straight so I found a driveway out of the rain which lowered gradually to the street. I laid at the top facing downhill in case I passed out and puked. I passed out for a little while but didn't puke. When I came to I made my way back to the party and found my date sitting in her wet pants where I had left her. She was less than happy, thinking I had simply ditched her. We collected the umbrella and I tried to argue that I could get home on my own but she insisted on our sharing a cab, despite the fact that we lived across town from one another. I had no money. When the cab pulled up in front of my parents' house I leaned over to hug her and she kissed me on the cheek. My lips her so dry they were cracking and saying goodnight, I fell out of the car.

There was a party the next weekend that I invited her to and she agreed but bailed at the last minute. I went alone, brought cocaine, and holed up in a room the entire night selling pinners for five a pop. The cops spent some time parked outside with their lights going and a room full of paranoid delinquents sat sushing one another while my friend poured candlewax on his record because we refused to turn on the lights. The next date we arranged was after she got off rehearsal at some downtown theater. We walked to a nearby Japanese restaurant, ordered, and then she told me she thought it would be best if we stuck to being friends. I found myself with a lot of food I suddenly had no desire to eat but the remainder of our hanging out was the most fun we'd managed to have together. I dropped her off in front of her ex-boyfriend's building and told her to call me if she ever felt like it and she never did. Eventually I got over the disappointment which I felt regardless of our having nothing in common whatsoever.

I'm staring at the DVD cover for "Havoc" starring Anne Hathaway-- I'm still not sure I've seen her in a movie-- and because of a million random collisions erupting through my brain I'm thinking of Jessica Kiper. She moved to Los Angeles not long after the movie was done to try her luck in Hollywood so I look her up on IMDB. Four episodes of Gilmore Girls? Two on Survivor?!? The pictures could be her but it's been ten years and a lot of fried braincells since I'd seen her so I look her up on Google. I find Free Spirits Film, a production company founded by Alexi. It is indeed the same Jessica Kiper who sat in a wet deck chair waiting for me to wake up in a driveway around the corner so that she could pay for my cabfare home. More exciting is that "Weekend at the Casa Munras" is available in its entirety.

As this was a graduate school project there was an official screening at State. I know I went, I remember pacing nervously around feeling nauseated and drinking wine because it's all that was available. I know my friend Erica kept me company and we sat in the aisle because it was so crowded, and that problems dragged the event through the night; I think Erica might have left early. I watched a student's final melt in the projector and groaned along with the audience. I have absolutely no recollection of ever seeing this movie, except for one scene I wasn't on hand for that I watched sitting with Alexi in an editing suite. I can't watch it as a movie, of course, because I'm looking behind the camera and remembering. I'm cracking up. I'm laying on my back on the floor of the carousel holding a reflector that's blinding Jessica; everyone's getting dizzy. I'm standing above the arcade dragging cables and there's a room full of unpopular looking teens clustered around a cheap folding table playing Magic: The Gathering. I'm holding an umbrella above the Bolex which is bolted to a wheelchair, and everything's one take because in a matter of minutes the streetlights will turn off-- we had to wait long enough for the sun to come up so the camera could see. I'm standing next to a statue of Steinbeck with Alexi and Greg framing a shot. Greg: "If we shoot it like this we get the sun rising between her legs." The motel room: Jessica in her swimsuit running to the bathroom to wretch in the middle of the night and I'm at the motel we stayed at listening to her arguing with herself whether she should bleach her pubes to match her hair. Alexi's directing with a White Russian in hand, I'm clapping the time-marker with a cigarette dangling from my mouth and we still don't have a functioning DAT recorder.

The next movie Alexi made, "All This Way", was shot at The Makeout Room. I was excited but by the time I showed up for shooting there was already a crew assembled. People ran around with clipboards and yelled "Quiet on the set!" one after the other. There wasn't much need for me, tho I made myself useful by being the person who would risk climbing a janky ladder and crawling around the ceiling moving lights. Mostly I stood outside the door chainsmoking to make sure no one walked in while they were shooting. When extras were needed a girl walked up to me and hit me in the face with a powder puff but I refused to dance. There were a couple shots with me in the audience but they ended up being cut. I wasn't at all hurt by that. Alexi gave up on film for a while and decided to travel overseas with Wynn, her boyfriend (and my old manager), and I haven't seen them since. But I'm going to see if this e-mail address on the Free Spirits Film site works.

All images are taken from the film, "Weekend at the Casa Munras", written and directed by Alexandra Lacey, 1998.

I'd finally recovered from an emotionally abusive relationship that ended in the autumn of 2006. I'd been dating The Narcissist. It would require a whole separate blog entry to chronicle "Life with The Narcissist" but the fact that he's my past and not my present speaks for itself. I was single and happy, shopping for a new home, five months into a new job that I love and seriously considering becoming a foster mum.

Then...all change.

On February 14th the loneliness that inevitably accompanies being single on Valentine's Day tempted me into dating again. So I did what every digitally savvy 21st century woman would do. I joined DatingDirect! No this isn't an endorsement of them or any other dating site as I really believe that state-of-mind and a fair bit of luck play a much bigger role in the affairs of the heart than these match making businesses would have you believe. Again, another blog, another day. So, I signed up, filled in my profile, uploaded a photo and waited. I waited because this time I wanted to be chased. Under no circumstances was I going to "wink" or email anyone. Damn it!

An hour later someone winked at me. I wasn't expecting much when I clicked through to see who was interested in me. In my previous online dating experiences anyone who winked within minutes of my profile going live was usually a "Troller". A Troller is a man (rarely a woman but always possible) who is a member of at least four dating sites and generally harasses any new female member with winks and emails filled with plagiarised compliments. Shakespeare is a favorite of the Troller.

Anyway. Slim (as I'll refer to him because he is) is no Troller. He is handsome and appeared sweet and honest in his profile. His age made me pause, 34.... but after Sabrina's lecture about being more open (i.e. not just go for older men) I let that little detail go. We had a few instant messenger chats which turned into two hour long phone calls. I loved his kind voice, he made me laugh, came across as mature if a tiny bit lacking in confidence which, after The Narcissist, did not put me off. The most important thing I felt surprised me as I'd never had expected it feel it so soon. And if I think about it for a minute I played no small part in finding that thing that had eluded me in Every. Single. Relationship. before this one. I felt safe.

In our conversations leading up to meeting, I was completely transparent. I revealed me—hopes, dreams, fears, strengths and weaknesses—without fear because it didn't matter what he thought about me, it mattered how I felt about myself and that gave me such a rush. Sure I may have been a little disappointed if things hadn't worked out, but life would have gone on. As it turned out, there was nothing I could tell Slim then or now that put him off.

We had our first date on February 22nd. I glided into the lobby of the Hoxton clad in my Friday best of Karan and Louboutin, hair in the perfect twist, neatly trimmed and buffed nails, professional but sexy. I arranged myself in a leather arm chair next to the fireplace and waited. And waited. He was late. 30 minutes late. I sat cringing, dying inside thinking he'd blown me out. Lost his nerve. Couldn't be asked. The first tear of humiliation was just about to spill unto my cheek when Slim appeared in the doorway of the restaurant. I knew it was him but found confirmation in the panicked "I'm late!" look on his face. Forgiveness came in the sweetest first kiss I've ever experienced and it marked the beginning of our future.

You'll have to come back for the rest :-)

It was sort of three dates in one.  We first went to a cultural thing and wandered around for 2 hours.  It all felt so natural that he slipped his keys into my purse, like he was the boyfriend.  Then we went downtown for an early dinner or tapas, but I could not find Malaga.  Instead we ended up at an Italian place where we sat outside.  We had a cocktail and split a few appetizers.  We then wandered around more and headed to my favorite bar for another glass of wine for me and dinner for me.

He was handsome, charming, gracious. He was a little shorter than I had expected and significantly better looking with a great physique.  When he picked me up, he called when he arrived (I hate to make people come up) and then got out of the car.  He offered me his hand as I stepped up to the walkway and of course opened my door.  As we walked along, I told him that I had been so nervous all day.  He had been too.

There was immediate, unmistakable chemistry between us.

Date one -- cultural thing

We had a fabulous time wandering around, seeing interesting things and things we thought were stupid.  We kept bumping into each other and touching each other's arms, waists, etc.  By the halfway point, we were holding hands, awkwardly at first.  He grabbed my hand to escort me down the staircase, which I thought was adorable. At times, he held on to my hip or my dress as we wandered.

Because of where we were and what we were doing, we were able to ascertain so many things about each other so quickly that we got immediately to substance discussions.  I teased him about living in New York for so long and skipping my favorite exhibition because it was not in Manhattan.  We found that we both studied the same language.  We had some very similar taste of what we liked and what we did not. I am slightly more open-minded in my taste, but he was very willing to ask why I liked it and reconsider his own evaluation.  I did the same with him.

By the end of the two hours, he had bought a lovely gift for his nieces and we were both completely comfortable with each other.

Date two -- dinner 1

We sat outside at a restaurant on 2nd Street.  He had a cocktail, I drank champagne.  We sat for a couple of hours, sharing multiple light appetizers and then he ordered something I did not eat.  We spoke about a lot of things, having a basic date-type conversation.  He asked about my family.  We spoke about past relationships in broad generalities.  I told him I had been with my ex for a long time.  He told me about some of the women he had dated in the last town in which he lived.  Almost all of the stories were disastrous -- and funny.  We spoke about how difficult it was for him to date since women wanted him because of what he could do for them.  I told him I understood that completely and we laughed about being targeted by wildly inappropriate people.

It was all so comfortable it felt as though we knew each other well.  I think the two hour conversation we had on Friday helped, but we just had a great general understanding of each other.  The physical chemistry between us was strong.

After we finished, we wandered around downtown for a bit and then I took him to my favorite bar.  That was a sign that things were going very well.

Date three -- dinner 2

We sat at the bar and I introduced him to a few people.  We were turned towards each other the whole time.  He told me where he'd like to see his life in the next 18 months.  I was concerned that I did not fit into it, but we'll have to see.  He was great with the staff there and everyone seemed to like him very much.

The first kiss

This was electric.  In the parking garage elevator, he moved behind me, pulled me close, and wrapped his arms around me.  When we got off the elevator, we started to walk toward the car.  I cannot remember what happened exactly, but he stopped and walked me backwards into the elevator lobby to kiss me passionately.  It was extremely hot.

He's a little aggressive, which really worked for him.  He's not an enormous man.  In fact, I think he's not much taller than me, if at all.  That made the fact he was very direct and assertive a real turn on.  If he were BP's size, it would have been offputting.

The good night kiss(es)

He kept his hand on my thigh or holding my hand during the ten minutes it took us to get back to my place.  He walked me up and I invited him in.  He said "are you sure???"  I was sure I did not want to kiss him on my terrace in front of my neighbors.

He kissed me again in the living room.  For a while.  I love how he kisses.  We both let things go a little further than we should have, but it felt great to be in his arms, with his lips against my neck.  We actually laughed about the whole thing, and we did stop, but that was challenging.  It is probably for the best that he had to leave today.  He said, otherwise, he'd never want to leave.  That's how great everything felt.

As he left, he said he would call me when he got home, which he did.  He also said he'd call me today, after he arrived.

Overall

He is the most amazing guy.  I felt immediately comfortable with him.  The whole date felt as though we had known each other for a long, long time.

I like him enough it has freaked me out.  I know he's traveling, etc., but I cannot wait to speak to him.  I am excited to see him again, while being freaked out at the possibility that he's already thinking, eh, she's okay.

Who could ever run out of things to say about love, though? So alas, my first public entry in a while.

THE FIRST DATE.

Exciting. Nervous. Self conscious. Thrilling. But most importantly, fun to watch play out. I don't quite understand why, but throughout my life, I have been fortunate enough to have sat in close proximity to a myriad of potential couples out on that oh-so-thrilling event, the very first date. From my experience, here are the universal signs of two people out on their first romantic rendezvous:

1. Both parties exhibit a very exaggerated forward lean when looking at (or should I say SCRUTINIZING) their menus. Typically, the hands are placed in the lap and arms are stiff, while the torso is tilted at exactly 45 degrees OVER the edge of the table, as if the table is on fire. Both parties are pursing their lips and staring at the menu as if they are about to take an insane entrance exam.

2. When one party inevitably leaves to use the restroom in the middle of the intense menu study session (read: go to the bathroom to make sure her makeup isn't running and her hair isn't messy), the other party gives the restroom user an overly cheery "Oh, yeah, sure!" and then proceeds to resume with the painful menu study session.

3. When the restroom using party returns, usually the first party will struggle hard to appear to still be studying the menu (and quite diligently at that). The restroom using party will ask the obligatory "So did you find anything good?" question, and then the first party will mention something about the delicious looking mushroom risotto.

4. When conversating, both parties will stare into each others' eyes with a rapt interested expression, while one party will gesticulate wildly while trying to be interesting, charming and funny. I can hear a fake laugh a mile away. Usually, the jokes made on the first date are mildly interesting at best. So here's how you know if the date is going well:

a. If the listening party fake laughs once, and then proceeds to look bored (and not laugh all too much) for the rest of the date, the storytelling party has failed, and will never see the girl (or guy) again.

b. If the listening party fake laughs not once, but twice, and then proceeds to supply the storyteller with additional manufactured laughter, then the storytelling party has succeeded, and will probably see the fake-laugher again.

I once had the misfortune of being seated next to two people on their first date, where the man was telling way too many charmless and un-interesting stories. To my dismay, the girl was laughing like there were ferrets in her underwear. And much to my horror, the un-funny guy reacted to the fake laughter by smiling, leaning back in his seat, and stretching his legs out like a pimp. The worst part? He laughed and then proceeded to tell ANOTHER equally charmless and life-sucking story.

Women of the world, if the person you are on a date with is not funny (and you don't intend on seeing them again), I urge you, please do not fake laugh. Please do not perpetuate the existence and habits of men (or women) who are boring but still think they're hot shit and funny as hell. Please.

Now if your date is a very sensitive (but still kind of boring) woman...go ahead and give her a little fake laugh. Women are sensitive. Be nice. So I'm biased. Shoot me.

The build up to our first date started early our senior year at uni. It began with his casual, non-chalant visits to my door because he "happened to be walking by." Then he woo'd me with his sweet and personal emails, letters, and CD compilations of music he thought I'd like, complete with his own artistic CD labels and cases. For not really knowing me that well, he did a good job in the music selection department. His kind gestures were cute and got my attention. Soon something clicked for the both of us and we each decided we could be good for each other... why not give it a go.

Paul asked me out and I said yes. Off to the Cheesecake Factory in Beverly Hills we went. Over a Chinese chicken salad for myself and the Thai peanut noodles for Paul, we talked, laughed and tried to hide our nerves. He was the perfect gentleman picking me up with flowers in hand, opening all the doors and of course, he paid the bill. He was sweet, we had a great time and as the saying goes, the rest is history. Whenever I think about that day in 1999, I still get all warm and fuzzy inside. I guess we've still got it after all those years.

By the way, doesn't 1999 seem so long ago? Like a whole other century! God, we're getting old.

Unless you met at a Young Republicans meeting or something like that stay away from politics! Even people that generally say they don't care about or follow politics still have very strong opinions on the topic. You may make what you think is an innocent observation about the president or perhaps some piece of legislation in the news which absolutely turns your dates stomach. The wrong statement on politics could send your date to the bathroom and they may never return opting to quietly slide out. That's better than starting an argument at least or even worse the silent date. Unless you love living way over the edge just avoid politics all together.

Even touchier than politics is.... Read the rest here: http://www.helium.com/items/1154072-topics-to-avoid-in-conversation-during-a-first-date

"Okay, okay mama", replied Coco. She ran down the stairs to the front door.

Coco was going out on her first date and her Mama was nervous, understandably, as Coco was quite the lovely young girl. All kinds of things could happen to her.

Coco herself was excited, it was her very first date! As she reached out to answer the front door, the music in her head started. Music beating out to the rhythm of the her heart. The music and heart songs that only she could hear and feel, waiting, waiting, waiting for something...........................................

Coco got her name as her mother was infatuated with all things French, and thought that Coco sounded very very French. Well thought Coco, my first name sounds French, but my last name? Jones? Whoever heard of a Frenchwoman named Coco Jones, for crying out loud?

Many things did happen to Coco over the years. She had many suitors, many different boyfriends, leaving a trail of broken loves and hearts behind, in search of...............

Some were more special than others, one she married and it ended in total heartbreak for her. It was the guy that reached deep into her soul, or so she thought. He seemed to climb inside of her heart and head thinking her thoughts, and she thought his. It was magic and it was also uncanny to say to least. Coco just thought they were soul mates. No one else had this kind of a soul mate. In reality, he was a sociopath, who repeated this with different women over the years, though he always claimed that Coco was the "one".

Others would beg for her attention asking her to stir their drink with her finger so they could taste of her sweetness. Little did they know, Coco was not looking for that kind of attention. She needed a horse of a different color so to speak. Definately, not some bum in a bar. No sir, Coco had her sights on bigger things than that! It was not a monetary search either, but that something special. That someone who could unlock the princess witch inside of her.

She moved in with a mountain boy and had a very special relationship with him for some years. He was provider and friend and enemy too. He called her Princess. She loved him with all of her heart, however there was still something missing that she needed, that she yearned for. Try as he might, he could not be this everything that she needed. Eventually he helped to drive her away. Into another's arms.

Coco tried to stifle the music she could hear, could feel beating inside of her. She tried to stifle, the feelings of missing out on something so special it could bring tears to your eyes and put songs in your heart, but to no avail. She could not change who she was, she would be fooling herself, lying to herself and to the mountain boy. Should she settle for less. Should she sell herself short?

No, Coco could not, would not. She knew there was something else out there, something more, something so magical that it would unleash everything in her being that she had locked away.

She found it for a while anyway. She was waiting tables at a little cafe in town. A certain man came in with a bouquet of flowers and a twinkle in his eye just for her. There was something almost beautiful about him, maybe it was his eyes. He was extremely good looking anyway. He smelled of the earthy rich smells of the woods. She fell head over heels in love with him. There was magic there.

The trouble with this was, she was still living with the mountain boy and did not want to hurt him. It would not only break his heart, but hers also, to hurt him I mean. She was torn inside out, upside down with love and grief. It was almost unspeakable to put it into words. Such a special lovely time, mingled with guilty feelings that created night terrors for her as she saw no easy way out. There was no easy way out. Change does not come without a cost.

One evening as she was closing the cafe, the woodsy man came in for coffee. Coco poured him coffee and found that the sugar jar was almost empty. She said, "Just a minute, I have to get some sugar", and left the dining room to go into the pantry where the sugar was kept. Mr. Woodsy followed her inside and kissed her for the very first time almost bringing her to her knees. After that the word "sugar" took on a special meaning between them.

Once on the breakfast shift at the cafe, she was serving strawberry french toast and eggs to him. Coco grabbed up the plates piled high with breakfast foods and turned to walk across to his table to deliver. Her toe caught on the edge of the dining room rug and she tripped and then kind of flew across the room. The plates sailed out of her hands and ended up underneath her woodsy guy's table. She skidded to a stop almost under neath the table on her elbows. Oh man, how embarassing! It hurt too! What a mess.

Her woodsy love just looked at her and announced, "you're safe!", just like an umpire and leaned down and picked her up and kissed her, strawberries in her hair and all. She knew then that he was the one for her.

She did not come home to the mountain boy that night and he was worried sick. Coco did not come home by 11:00 p.m. All of their friends and families were worried thinking that foul play had come to her. It was not foul play at all, thank God, but the woodsy guy that drew her away. She spent a wonderful night with him and believed it was all worth it the next day.

When Coco finally came home the next afternoon, they called off the cops. Her best friend told her she would blacken both of her eyes for her if it would give her an alibi. They just could not bring themselves to go that far. Sounds very deceitful, but desperate times and sisterly love, you know.................

Coco did go back home for a while to the mountain boy and tried to make it work, tried to forget the woodsy guy who made her feel as no other had. She tried to forget the music and the rhythm. Trouble is as her mama always said, "you can't unscramble an egg". You also cannot unsee what you have seen. Sweet memories will not let you forget.

Coco and the woodsy guy finally moved in together living on the top of his mountain in his cabin with his two little boys. Things were not perfect as they should have been. There was another side to him that she did not bargain for, that he had not shown her before. Unfortunate that he did not. People always put their best foot forward don't they?

When they broke up, it made Coco question her womanhood which she had never before. It left her feeling completely and utterly broken. It was so very sad, it took Coco some time to pick up the pieces and move on.

Eventually, Coco did get on with her life, meeting a few others that loved her. She did love them back. The music was still not there, though close.

Later in life, Coco did learn what some of it was that was missing. She learned to never let anyone make her feel ashamed of who she is, and how different, how beautifully different she is from what we call "the norm". She now believes and knows there is absolutely nothing wrong with being different. Different is not necessarily crazy, just because others don't understand it. Different, because she has a piercing gaze, that some say can see into their souls. Different, because she asks too many questions, digging and probing deeper and deeper, past that which some are uncomfortable. Different can be disturbing to some people, but disturbing is not necessarily always dangerous. Unless you were to fall dangerously in love with her!

Coco learned as a very dear friend of hers told her regarding her differences, "To Wear them like a frickin" Crown of Glory". Today Coco does wear her crown. Coco learned that the music and rhythm inside of her were there for all to see and she finally accepts that it is okay, that she is okay. It is who she is.............

I would like to share with you, a great first date I had, last Friday. I have never had a 1st date like this ever. I also hope for your opinion on whether this is healthy.  It lasted 13 hours.  I met a 36 year old woman (33 myself) at In-n-out in line, Friday, late morning. I insisted she was in front of me, to be playful and talk to her. It worked, and she asked me for my number. She called about an hour later and said she knew nothing about me but my eyes fascinate her. After a very forced 10 minute monologue, which I tried to cut short many times, She said I would like to come over and see you again. She took a couple of hours to get 15 miles and arrived about 3 pm.

We exchanged life stories and interests for a couple of hours when I suggested food. She insisted on driving. We ate, went to a bar early evening, then went to her place, but I knew since we were at my place we would be together by the end of the night, the chemistry was obvious. We had hours of foreplay, great sex and cuddling, and then she said I was the best she ever had. I found it hard to believe but soon accepted it as I realized, She ranked in the top five with me. I thought the date was over at that point, she was in heavy contemplation mode, so I started getting dressed. She asked if I was up for it again...I of course said yes. She started getting dressed too. I was so confused and she never gave me a hint as to what was going on. She quietly lead me to her car, smiling real big, and started driving in the direction of my house. We pulled up to an apartment building after about 5 minutes and said she hadn't seen her friend in a while and wanted to check on her. I figured she wanted to show me around, get some feedback, Cool. Her friend is like 24/5 and she is wearing a white tank top and Short-shorts. I'm a little uncomfortable at first but my shyness quickly escalates a 3 way with the both of them, and it's their idea! 

Okay now is the date over? Not yet, OMG! We are, of course hungry, so we eat again, and she asks me if I can drive her car to my house, as we are still in her neighborhood. I'm asking her as I am driving if she has done this before and all that...She said yeah once, years before, but he couldn't perform well enough for her. As I am driving us to my house, she asks if she can taste her friend! Okay, so I pull over in a dark place...this was a ploy for a BJ I'm sure you've figured out. We get back to my house, eventually, and she wants to come in. It's about 1AM now...I am tired, I blew off my whole day and I can't say no!?! I am raw though. I felt like pleasing her orally one more time and she accepted it graciously. Now the date is over. We spent 10-20 minutes making out heavily and she kept trying to talk about how my smell, and eyes made her sexually charged and she knew by my jaw and chin that I was well-endowed, and every-time I sweat she lost self control. I make her crazy she says.

I had to think about seeing this one again. I was way overstimulated and was wiped out at work the next day. She called once a day after that, so I caved today and we have a date again tonight. I am in way over my head.

Now, to his credit, he's not a proud peacock, but he wants me to know that he's done well as part of his pitch. In fact, he has invited me to a big charity event next month as his date and wants to take me to some events that are in my particular area of interest. I did not commit.

I am not easily impressed. More importantly, I am more impressed by deeds than by words, and that's where he fell far, far short. Also, I am slightly spoiled by being wooed by interesting, successful men so impressing me takes significantly more than just being a random guy. N often failed at what even a random guy would do.
 His behavior was less than gracious.

There is a huge crazy thing happening in my neighborhood, so parking is difficult. I asked him to just call me when he arrived rather than meeting me upstairs. When I met him downstairs, he did not get out of the car. He leaned across and opened the door for me. In whose world does that make sense? If I were his girlfriend, the lean across the car move would be fine, but it sets the wrong tone on a first date. (Need I even say that almost every other man I would date would have parked, since he did find a space, and still come up. Barring that, he would have gotten out of the car!)

Second, he picked a (very good) Mexican restaurant and made reservations with zero consultation. The food was good, but picking a regional cuisine instead of a more general restaurant is exactly like taking a first date to a steakhouse or for sushi without consultation. I would have thought that he would have considered what I would eat rather than just where he wanted to go. The restaurant is fairly new and it was kind of empty and dead. In short, not the best date restaurant.

Third, he wanted to extend the date, but had put zero thought into it. That lead to a brief debate about where we should go. I suggested one place, he picked the other, which was fine, but I was surprised he hadn't thought about it ahead of time.

Fourth, it never occurred to him to open a car door or any other door at any point in the evening. Now, I am not (completely) a princess, but shouldn't you be on your best behavior? If that's his best, what happens later on?

Fifth, he asked me out again while still on the date. That's uncomfortable.

Sixth, and most deadly, he was too persistent and kissed me when I made it clear I did not want him to. He asked to walk me up and I agreed. I hugged him in front of my door, which is the universal sign for I AM NOT KISSING YOU. I broke the hug and he pulled me in and kissed me. Very, very uncool.

I spoke with W about it at length yesterday and W was completely disappointed by N's lack of couth.

Also, if N were some 30 year old, I would have looked past some of the lack of grace and roughness around the edges.  But, when dating someone older, part of the charm is the higher level of sophistication.  All of that was missing.  

N would be the 4th man I have dated who is his age (or, thanks to BP, older) over the years.  The other older men I have dated viewed me as an interesting companion, I am sure, but I was also an object to further reflect their own glory. N was similar. Taking me to the after-dinner bar  -- the most high-profile, high-dollar place in town -- was all about showing me off and making him look like a bigger big shot. It's not that I am some great beauty -- I'm not -- but I look attractive, sophisticated, and young enough to be noticeable, but not so young that it's creepy.

It's not as though I do not know the game. Obviously, I do and I am complicit in my own objectification. It's part of the whole deal.  

I am a bit spoiled -- thanks in large part to BP and my other friends.  It's not like he doesn't know I am spoiled.   No matter what I do, I come across that way. It's not something of which I am proud, and I certainly tamped it down when I was with A, but I am accustomed to being treated a certain way.  (It's something that makes my relative poverty so amusing.)

I behaved like a good sport on the date, but I did mention a few of the things throughout the evening so he could make adjustments.  He just did not pick up on any of it.  His cluelessness was truly astounding.

The best thing about the date is that it showed in stark relief for what I am looking and for what I would be willing to settle.  If I am dating a younger plaything, I can tolerate a level of cluelessness.  If I am dating an older playboy, then I expect him to have a level of sophistication and grace.  He may still take me to a hotdog stand, but we'll be very aware of the fact that we're both cool enough to be cool with going to a hotdog stand, instead of enjoying a meal at a great restaurant.  It's a charming change, not a lifestyle choice.

A lot of this has to do with BP, though I hate to admit it.  BP has spoiled me over the last few months -- long before I realized we were dating.  He is charming and sophisticated and gracious.  Whether we're having lunch at the beautiful restaurant or after dinner drinks at an elegant bar, everything is always so effortless because he has actually thought about how he wants me to feel.  He mentioned a few weeks ago how convenient it is that things he enjoys are things that spoil me and make me feel special.

I told W that after the date ended, I was so excited to get home to watch the debate on the dvr.  I also spoke at length to BP.  It was after 1 am, and we were both tired, but that was the best part of my day.  W laughed that my favorite part of my date was talking to my secret boyfriend.  (W said, well, I was going to call him your boyfriend, but secret boyfriend works better.)

Tonight, W is taking me to a gala (non-black-tie), where I will have new opportunities to meet interesting new people.  I may go out with N one more time, just to see if it was a fluke, but I am completely unmotivated to do so.  He has already called me and emailed me, and I am just not interested in speaking to him.

Radhika did not know whether to acknowledge what was being suggested or not. She chose the latter.

"Yeah, we can go for a pizza.!"

Pizza? They had just had three chicken sandwiches between them with the beer.

Sahil took the hint and decided to move on. He moved the car out of the India Gate and drove towards Radhika's house. Then said, "I am full. Where would you like to eat?"

"Maybe not. Would be dropping me off, all the way?"

"Yes."

They drove in silence, the tension in the air lilting along with the 80s movie songs emanating from the stereo. After a while, they were close to her house. As Sahil turned into the lane, which Radhika knew was the last turn before her house lane, she asked him to stop the car. He did. The road was quite desolated though lit by the dim orange sodium street lamps.

She put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her and then bent towards her side to kiss her. She hugged him. It was an awkward hug, with she still being harnessed by the seat belt. He released the belt and then bent towards her, more, to hug her and kiss her at the same time. It was a wet kiss. Sahil could smell the slighty bad odour of her mouth but his hormones were pumping so hard that he decided to ignore it. She started making slurping sounds, kissing him intermittently. He moved his hands to her breasts. She twitched for a moment and then resumed her slurping kissing. Sahil lifted her ass from the seat of the car and held her over him, bending backwards at the same time. With his right hand, he arched and pushed his seat behind and made Radhika almost lie on top of him as he leaned back to recline on the oblique chair. Radhika got more aggressive with this move. She pushed her hand under his shirt and started to twirl his chest hair, roughly. Her kissing went on. Sahil put his hands under her skirt and felt her rather plump ass. He then slid his hands from under her panties, both of his hands holding one cheek of her ass and started to move the cheeks in an oscillating motion, open and closing her crevice. This set her on fire. With her left hand, she got hold of his cock. He went wild. With a smart motion he got her under him and almost yanked her blouse off her, sending her buttons flying in the car. She squeezed his dick. He fiercely clenched his teeth on her lips and bit her. She almost screamed. He got up and opened his fly. Taking out his member from under his underwear, he looked at Radhika. She had the look in her eyes. She got up. She was now half standing in the car, facing him. He took his hands under her skirt and brought her panties down with a jerk which made her startle. Then he lifted her skirt and pushed his head under it, snuggling his nose against her pubic hair. He spun her around in one motion, she sat awkwardly on his lap, almost - as he thought - breaking his dick.

"Ouch!"

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

He gingerly lifted her buxom ass and then tried to readjust so that she would come down on his shaft at the right position. She put her hand behind her to guide his cock to her cunt. As she sat down on him, he felt the tight yet slippery vagina around his erection.

"Aah!"

Taking a cue, she started jumping up and down on his cock. He held both her breasts and pulled at them almost like he would if he was riding a two horse chariot and would pull their harness.

About 200 metres behind them a man walked on the road towards the stationary car. He was an urchin. He wondered why the car was parked almost in the middle of the road and no one seemed to  be around it. He walked further and closer to the car.

Inside the car Radhika had now slowed her jumping and Sahil was squeezing her breasts and holding her torso close to his face.

Then he put his feet against the dashboard and gave it one passionate push. Radhika almost fell on him as he came.

The urchin was now up next to the car and his hormones started to pump on seeing the reason he was looking for. He stood there and watched the climax part of their love making, still and riveted with fascination and shock. As Radhika got off Sahil, she saw the urchin, first. She half screamed and, covering her breasts, went to the passenger side of the front seat. The urchin was on the driver's side, where Sahil was sitting. Sahil looked out and saw a grinning dark face under a shock of unruly an dirty hair. His first reaction was to lock the car. He did that successfully and then proceeded to put it in gear and try to move away. The urchin ran with the car, banging on the driver's side windows and yelling.

"Mujhe bhi lene do, Saab... ruk jao saab..." (Let me also have a go, Sir...Stop, Sir)

Sahil sped away, mindful, even in the excitement, not to run the poor chap down.

Dinner was okay. It was a nice restaurant, not a great one. We had a nice bottle of wine with dinner and my food was excellent. We went to the right place for a post-dinner drink (I had club soda).

He has already asked me out again. He really likes me. I hugged him on the doorstep and he then hugged me again and kissed me. It was okay.

I am not convinced there is a lot chemistry there, but we can play it out and see what happens.

BP sent word that he is on a jet "heading north" for his normal football weekend activities.  Since I knew he was flying up for the game (as he does each weekend), it was a longshot that he'd delay to come to town, especially with an early game tomorrow.

That means N is on deck.  I called him and he's excited.  He mentioned what he'd be wearing and that we'd be going "somewhere nice."  I reminded him that I met him while he was in his (own) tuxedo so I assumed he'd not be showing up in shorts and a t-shirt.

I had already decided what I would wear -- a dress, duh.  If I remember correctly, he is a little taller than I am in high heels, but he's not tall.  I think that makes him like 5'9, which is much shorter than I prefer.  (I could be wrong though and he might be taller.) That means I have to carefully think through the shoes. I was going to wear my highest heeled wedges because they are comfortable for walking, but I may wear slightly lower stilettos.

I asked my best friends, all men, for advice:

1. Don't put out...on the first date.
2. ... just be yourself and I'm sure it will be fine. 
3. ... don't forget to at least make a half-hearted effort to help with the bill.  Though he would be a complete dirt bag if he actually let you pay anything, he would still probably appreciate it if you at least ask.  Just don't push it or you might convince him to say yes.
4. make sure your place is clean when he comes knocking on your door.
5. Remember, if you order from the "fucking" side of the menu, expectations do start to build...... 
6. I totally agree with the "fake check" move.  We greatly appreciate the gesture. 

Best friend JF, which stands for Jerk Face, the biggest ass among my friends, asked pointedly: "is [BP] ok with your dating activity tonight?"  I said that he is out of town and that they know the answer to that.  (That would be an enormous "No.")

JF's response was "[BP] isnt much of an issue to me since you repeatedly tried to deny the level of activity between you."  Isn't that lovely?  "Repeatedly tried to deny"?  Not denied, but tried to deny.

I do feel a little weird about it because of BP.  N knows I am dating someone else, though I have no intention of telling him who.  I would not want him worrying every time I leave for a trip.  It's also none of N's business.  As for BP, yes, he would be okay that I am going out on a date, but he would be very displeased if I kissed N.  Still, he's not my boyfriend and we are not exclusive, so his feelings are his problem.

My friends are all super-excited about this.  Apparently, N is a very big deal and everyone is charmed that I had no idea who he is or what he does.  I still don't care.  I think he's interesting.  W, who introduced us, thinks he's smitten, especially since he's postponing other plans because I am available.

Related Post: Romance: Dueling Dates

‘’Should I date a married man?’’

Or

‘’I am dating a married man’’

Or

‘’I have a crush on a married man should I tell him how I feel and ask him out?’’

Or

“he is married but he loves me should I stay with him?’’

People People people.... there is only one answer for all this:

HHEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I will say it again in the three languages I speak:

English: HHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Spanish: CLARO QUE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

French: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

I will spell it out

N – O

What on earth are you thinking? You think he will leave his wife and marry you and live happily ever after? Ummmmmmmmmm NAHHHHHHH

You think he will never cheat on you as he does his wife?
AHHHHHHHHH NAHHHHHHHHHH

Why on earth would you put yourself as the pig in the middle of two people who have a relationship knowingly and voluntarily? It will never end right. And guess what? At the end of the day the wife will not get as angry with the husband as she will with you... The truth always comes out. It might work out for a year or two but in the end, it wont end well for him or you.

If a man decides to go outside of his marriage its normally because he is unhappy because of some reason and is looking for a rebound of sorts...

Even if he is marriage does end and fall apart and he does stay with you for a while, when all of that is over he will leave you it wont last. He will end up moving on to someone else... always. And you will feel shit for been a homewrecker... and been left with nothing.. just remember what goes around comes around......

But on your head be it if you choose this path...

Why date a married man when there are perfectly good guys out there who are single (yes hard to find i grant you but they are out there) and if all else fails... there is always adultshop.com people... have some dignity! Don’t be the pig in the middle who end with all the blame of a marriage breakup or problems.

Here's your first/second and third date translation key based completely on my own opinion, with no research verification aside from friend's comments and overheard bar conversation (please weigh in with your own opinions):

Sunday Day: I'm chilled, relaxed and ready to meet someone out for an easy coffee date. Not a weekend night per-se but more than a weekday. If this is a second or third date... you haven't really rocked their socks off but they are giving it a second/third chance.

Sunday Night: I had too many fun things/other dates over the weekend but I can't really afford to push meeting you out too much longer so I'll go for an early curfew, mellow dinner/coffee out. If it's lame -- its an easy bail.

Monday: I really don't think this is going to go anywhere, but it's the beginning of the week and my weekend really sucked. I might cancel just on general principle.

Tuesday: Neutral night for dinner or coffee. Since the work week is just starting to get rolling, energy levels are still likely to be perky and you are ready for someone to surprise you. If this is a second or third date -- you are either dealing with someone so anxious to see you again, they fit in the first available... really busy schedules with lots of scheduling conflicts or someone who is marginally interested but not yet ready to take you out in "public."

Wednesday: Not to be confused with hump day. This is also a neutral night. Take it or leave it, it could go either way. See the comments on Tuesday Night.

Thursday: Not quite the weekend but more "loaded" than any of the other week nights. Your date is likely to be up for a bit more than chillaxin' on this date. Drinks are flowing and dinner is likely to last a little longer than it might on another night. This is a good night for date 1, 2 or 3. There's a good chance that the asker likes you and hopes you like them too.

Friday: Surprisingly, this isn't the best night of the week to be asked out. Depending on how your date rolls, this one could end up with complete drunkenness, a dinner cut short or a late cancel due to work stress and  exhaustion. Schedule with caution here and if you are making the plans, try for something a little out of the ordinary to entice what could be a tired date to come out despite just wanting to curl up with a good movie at home.

Saturday Day: A good any date placement. It gives you time to get to know each other on a non-week day and still have the relaxing and fun vibe that a weekend brings. This also signals on a second and third date that the person wants to get to know you apart from "night-time" activities. A good sign that they plan to build a friendship along with the relationship.

Saturday Night: The pinnacle of date status. If you get offered a Saturday night FIRST date, you are at the top of the "must meet" list and that person thinks you might really hit it off. Either that or they really think they might get laid. (Do you have a reputation for first date nooky? Anyway...) Not many single folks are willing to "sacrifice" a Saturday night to a mediocre or bad date. If you've got game, bring it.

The Exceptions to the general translation key:

1. If you are dealing with anyone who works from home, runs a business, works retail or has an otherwise non 9 to 5 schedule... they may not even register what night of the week or weekend it is since there is no set "weekend" in their world. The Saturday evening definition may still apply, but my advice would be to take it all with a grain of salt and read my body language post for better (and documented) translation of the situation.
2. If you both have ridiculous travel schedules, just be glad to find a night when you are both in town. Try not to read too much into what night of the week it lands on, just be ready to shuck off travel-weariness and have fun!
3. Are you non-conformists? Ignore the above translations. He/she might just ask you out on a Monday to buck the system. But you are probably not even reading by this point because you figured out pretty quickly that this post was aimed for mainstream American daters.
4. If either of you have kids. The babysitter availability or non-custody nights will determine when you can make a break for it and get together.
5. If you are being asked out for a particular event, scrap the significance of the actual night on which the event takes place. At this point, I am assuming you've talked about something you both happen to like and decided to take advantage of that commonality. SMART dating move.

2. Putting on so much perfume/cologne that your date smells you coming before seeing you. If your Axe spray goes ballistic on you and it's not your fault, I suppose you can claim psychotic perfume ladies in the department store you happened to visit just prior to your date. Make up a good story though or you are going to be that "stinky date."

3. Facial hair gone wild. Guys and girls. Tame that forrest!

4. Give and receive phone. Texting, calling, conferencing, showing off your iPhone apps... all of it... LEAVE your phone in the car if you can't help yourself. If you are "on call" you have an out for this one, but may want to do something special to let your date know that you are bummed that your phone insisted on joining you for your date. Even better... schedule the date on a nite you have off-duty!

5. Clothes. Girls -- try to limit the cleavage and legs just a little bit. Unless you are going for hooker-chic... in which case, add tight and shiny to the cleavage and booty! Boys -- take something off the hanger for the occasion. Your "sniff test" might miss the fact that your shirt/pants LOOK like you dug them out of the laundry pile.

6. Bringing your mom. Unless you are younger than 16, no excuses on this one.

7. Bringing your children/dog. Yes, I know you love them and they are a HUGE part of your life, but this is a good time to leave them with a sitter or friend so you can meet this new person one on one. Drool of any sort is just not sexy.

8. Convincing your friends to "accidentally" show up where you are having your date. Not good form. Be a grown up and decide yes or no on your own. Obviously, you can ignore this one if you are on a "group date." You can also ignore most dating advice for the occasion since you aren't really on a date. 

9. Insult the other person. Yes, some people, especially those of the British persuasion, love a good come back or snarky quip but no one wants to be insulted. "Yo momma" comments are definitely gonna get you the gong.

10. Don't have fun. Treat the whole evening as one, long, painful exercise in grilling each other to determine if you are "the one." This is definitely a great way to make it to date #2. RELAX! Its just another person and they are wanting to have a good time as much as you are. No one likes being bored, ignored, insulted or grilled for an entire evening. Even if you aren't a match -- have fun and get to know the person sitting across from you! 

A final note... all is not lost if you have done one or all of the above. Sometimes you may have other charms that outshine even the largest of blunders. If you forget yourself and do one of the above, just try to be aware of what positives you do have that can change it from a disaster to a great story, friendship or experience.

*Note - As you may have noticed, this blog isn't in any chronological order.  The progression of time illustrates growth and I wish for the reader to know me in my most awkward life, not my life as I learn.
This tale is more recent than the previous ones.  It isn't the most recent, but we'll get to those at a later time.

So, back in February, I thought the best way to end awkward tensions between you and someone you like was Katt Williams. The guy is absolutely hilarious, and anyone who doesn't think so is not worth being with in the first place.  Humor is essential in any type of relationship.  My plan worked too - for the first half of Pimp Chronicles 2, Kyle (the date's name) and I were laughing incessantly.

During the night, we were inching towards each other in the most subtle of ways.  Kyle finally puts his arm around me and not two minutes pass before Katt Williams screams out that the only way to keep a man is to suck his dick, suck it well, and suck it often....

Yep....Awkward.

I tried to laugh it off.....awkwardly.

The moment she looked down at her hands you could feel the earth shake a little.  Her world had completely collapsed around her.  The hope she had built up in her soul and heart and just busted through the damn she had built to protect herself.  He was just a bunch of words and letters on a computer screen, but she was in love with him and he couldn't even show up for their first oficial date.  

Her lips parted as she took a small breathe of air in.  Her eyes clinched tight to keep the tear from rolling down her cheek.   Because if just one solitary tear made it past her eyelashes, the rest would run rampat.  They would spring free like  prisoners from a hole in the prison's wall.  She couldn't take that.  Not now.  Not in public.  She fetched her bag, took a large deep breathe and simply left.

She would walk home.  It's not that the coffee shop was close to where she lived, but she had hoped she wouldn't be going home.  That Monsiuer Right would be kind enough to offer a ride to her house.  So he could walk with her to the doorstep.  So he could kiss her.  Everything she had planned about this night was going so wrong.

As she approached the door she just kind of stood there.  Was something wrong with her that she couldn't even meet the perfect guy, after finding him online?  How could she screw up meeting for coffee?  Did she just come off too eager?  Maybe they should have talked longer?  But she didn't want to think about it anymore.  She just wanted to go inside and set a bath for herself.  Maybe even pour herself a cup of honey mead and fall asleep crying.

Just as her fingers positioned themselves around her house keys everything she wanted didn't matter.  She pressed the key into the tumbler and felt a cloth wrap around her mouth.  Her own scream muffled by a  hand and large terry cloth being shoved down into her mouth.  The harder she tried to scream the easier it was the shove the cloth into her mouth.  The fumes of the cloth rising into her mouth and nostrils with every bit of struggle she could muster.  Caught to unaware and offguard to do anthing meaningful.  

She could see a hand slowly wrap itself around her hand on the keys.  Turning the key and the knob.  Pushing the door open and she could see her house.  For a brief moment she screamed harder than she could possibly believe, but nothing but grunt noises could be heard from her, but deep down she screamed as if she realized there was not another human being alive.  Her heartbeat beating so hard that it was trying to escape her heart.

I took a deep long sniff of her strawberry scented hair as i held her.
-Mr. Morgan.

Song of the day:

MGMT - Time to Pretend

We met in sixth grade. We became friends in ninth, beginning with my singing solfege into the back of his head in Algebra II (I had choral class immediately prior) and continuing with my classroom habit of shooting off snide comments under my breath that happened to bounce off the back of his head. Both of these things prompted him to turn around and look at me funny. Eventually, though, he stopped looking at me funny and started laughing. Then he started talking back. And then we became friends. *sniff*

Two introverted people can take a while to get their romantic acts together. We were no exception. We needed a mutual friend to set up our first date, despite the facts that we were both immensely interested in each other, that we spent practically every minute of school together, and that we both talked more to one another at our junior prom than we spent talking to our dates. Even our homeroom teacher asked us if we were dating. But alas, these silly kids were both too shy to make a move. So our friend set us up for a group thing after a Friday night football game. (Wow, is this a cheesey story!)

And so it began. On September 14th, 1990, during our senior year of high school, Ry and I had our first date, at a Friendly's, eating ice cream sundaes together. And I knew. I knew the moment he ordered a hot fudge sundae. This. This was the man boy for me. 35 million gallons of ice cream later (I kid you not), I know. This. This is the boy man for me.