vinylgirl's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Taking it slow It was late. At least past midnight and we were at our second venue. We both ordered a cocktail even though we were already buzzing from three glasses of wine at the first venue. He gave me one of those looks - the "I'm about to say something romantic and/or devastating" look. The look that betrays the heart before the mind can even send the thought down to the lips. He said he was thinking about kissing me, but that he wasn't going to do that tonight. He said that he really liked me and that he didn't want to mess it up by racing ahead to the physical as he'd done in the past. He wanted to take thing slowly. I wanted to be flattered. Here is this very cute, very smart man who has his shit together, saying that he wants this to be more than a physical thing. What do I think of? I think of my neighbour, leaning on my counter, drinking a margherita and dunking a tortilla chip in some salsa, looking at his photo and saying, "I think I saw him on Grinder, honey." I think, oh my god, am I a beard? I wore THE dress. The short little wisp of a silk dress with the plunging neckline that gives me legs for days. How could he not want me? I've gotten used to men wanting me, desiring me physically, and I think I've tangled that up with real emotions and intimacy. I mean, it was only a couple of weeks ago that I sat at the bar in this very bar with the musician and felt electric current racing up my body as our thighs brushed against each other. We had a movie-worthy makeout under my umbrella at the corner. Tonight, we held and caressed each other's hands at the bar and he walked me home at almost 3 a.m. and we hugged. We lightly pressed our bodies against each other quickly and then parted. As I get myself ready for bed, my phone lights up, "I'm going to be thinking about you for the rest of my night." I smile and type, "Me, too." We both gush to each other about how great our date was and how happy we are to have met. How funny it is that he lives a block away and how we kind of randomly matched. Maybe the man next door is the one I've been waiting to meet? Yet, I still have this nagging feeling that something is amiss. The kiss, or lack thereof, still bugs me. Maybe it was the wine, but I really wanted to kiss him. Part of it is, I'm not 100 per cent sure we have physical chemistry. I'd categorize our conversations as sweet, mainly. A bit flirty, but mostly sweet. It's night and day from Mr. UK, who I am suddenly sexting with some nights. The man who calls me gorgeous and beautiful and talks about how he can't wait to kiss me and to... well, kiss other parts of me. These two men couldn't be more yin and yang. Where Mr. UK is pure, raw, chemistry and attraction, but not much real connection, the man next door is real connection and intimacy, but no physical chemistry, yet. I hope it's just a not yet and not a not ever. I wonder if he is a test for me. Can I allow someone to fall in love with me without laying the trap in my nether regions? Will I allow someone to love me for my brain and my heart before my boobs and my bum? 1:46 p.m. - 07/09/2018 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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