I’m awake at 10AM following my late-night text fest with “Mike”. That’s LATE for me. We start texting again and I ask him how he is doing since he had to wake up early that morning. He’s so flirtatious and fun in his text messages. He tells me that people at work have been asking him all morning why he was so happy. Someone allegedly even said “okay…who is the girl?”
Just the idea of that makes me smile. He’s already telling people about me. I knew we hit it off and I really don’t want this feeling to end…ever. The butterflies, the tingles, the excitement. I had it all.
Anyway, I get out of bed, eat a quick breakfast, toss my hair in a ponytail, throw on some clothes and venture out shopping. I have a few other errands to run in addition to buying the perfect outfit for tonight. He tells me a few details about the plan for later. He asks me to come over around 7PM. He and his friends are grilling out by the pool. The pool isn’t open yet but the hot tub is open year-round. Hot tub. That means new bathing suit. Target.
GOD BLESS TARGET! My obsession with that store is by no means healthy. If I could live in it, I would. I know that store will have absolutely everything I need.
First item on the agenda: new bikini. If you’ve ever wandered into the swimwear section at Target, you know its seriously a giant clusterfuck. It takes the right mental state as a woman to shop for bathing suits in general, but to do so at Target, it takes a whole new level of preparation. Nothing is in order. Nothing is matched. Tops are here, bottoms are there. Mix-and-match they say. That’s the new trend they say. Well SCREW YOU, trend decider. I want the same color top and bottom and I don’t feel like searching through endless racks of crap to find the two pieces that correctly correlate. Men have it so easy. Swim trunks. Must be nice.
I rummage through the racks and find a hot pink push-up top and matching bottoms. I try them on and miraculously, they fit. The one benefit to being forced to buy separates is that I wear an XL top and M bottoms so I suppose the whole mix-and-match deal actually comes in handy in my case. My apologies, Target overlords.
The next question is what to pair it with. I find a pair of khaki shorts that are just short enough and a pair of white and khaki colored flip-flops but I struggle finding a shirt. I could probably just wear a shirt I already have at home if need be, but where is the fun in that?
Anyway, I check out at Target. I spend way too much money on second date attire, but whatever. I swing by Old Navy on my way home, hoping to find a diamond in the ruff in the middle of their stock of shittily made attire. By some miracle, I do. A white, linen tunic shirt that is JUST sheer enough that my hot pink bikini top will be partially visible through it. SOLD.
I go home, shower and go through the whole process of making myself up again. I text a picture to a guy friend to get his honest assessment. He approves. Nice! I pull up “Mike”‘s address on my phone and drive over to his place.
When I arrive, there are 6 people sitting in chairs beside the grill. I wasn’t expecting there to be that many people, but I roll with it. “Mike” notices me walking toward the pool and meets me by the gate. He introduces me to his friends and hands me a beer and I sit and chat.
I feel like you can tell a lot about a man by who his friends are and how they act. He has been friends with one of these guys since high school, another since college and two others for a few years. There are some significant others there, too, so I’m not the only female around which makes me slightly more comfortable.
“Mike” has to get something inside and asks me if I want to join. I oblige. We go into the clubhouse and chat. He tells me I look amazing. I told you, women know exactly what they are doing when they dress for a date. I thank him for the compliment. He gets what he needs and we go back outside. He’s making Philly cheesesteaks and they are delicious. We’re listening to music and I’m getting to know his friends. He doesn’t need to constantly babysit or entertain me. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I can tell that he likes that.
There is lightning off in the distance. His friends ask me if its going to storm and I tell them “no.” I quickly pull up the radar on my phone. There’s an outflow boundary roughly 20 minutes to the north moving south. Basically, cold air being pushed out of a thunderstorm. I tell them that in 20 or so minutes, we’re going to get a few big gusts of wind and then its going to be cooler.
20 minutes later, the outflow arrives. It gets windy and cooler. And suddenly, they’re completely amazed by me. I’m in with the friends…haha. Science, bitches!
After we eat, the gathering begins to dwindle and everyone goes their separate ways. The only ones left now are “Mike” and me. Naturally, we end up in the hot tub. He may as well have been a cartoon character, watching me as I slid out of my shirt and shorts. He turns on the jets and we climb in.
He sits only a few inches from me and we talk. Just the two of us now. He bends down in front of me and catches me completely off-guard as he grabs my ankles and pulls me toward him. I’m pressed against him now with my hands wrapped around his neck. He jokes about how cheesy it would be if our first kiss was in a hot tub. I respond and tell him that it would be super corny, but I make “eyes” and him and give him all the signals. Before I know it, our lips are locked and there is some serious spark. The amount of electricity could put Ben Franklin to shame. THANK GOD he isn’t a bad kisser or that would have ruined my idealistic expectation of this absolute Adonis in front of me.
We talk and kiss and talk and kiss and flirt some more. He invites me back to his place for a glass of wine. Did I mention he drinks wine? Swoooooooooon. He helps me out of the hot tub and wraps me in a towel like a perfect gentleman. I grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from my car so I can get out of my wet suit and we head back to his apartment.
I walk in and am immediately impressed. Its nice. Its clean. Its well-decorated. Its a definite bachelor pad but nothing about it screams “serial killer.” I use his bathroom to change and he pours us each a glass of wine. I join him on the couch and our conversation continues. He’s so easy to talk to. I feel comfortable around him. He’s sitting with his feet on the floor and I’m sitting with my legs draped across his thighs. This feels easy and it feels right. Should I be feeling this comfortable on date #2? Are there any rules for how this is supposed to go?
After a little while, we engage in a ridiculously hot make out session. Ladies, I’m talking heat. There is chemistry…there is fire. He’s the perfect amount of aggressive. He makes the first move, isn’t afraid to toss me around a little but then gets unbelievably excited when I decide to make a move right back. I’ll spare some of the details because I am a lady and an upstanding public figure after all, but let’s just say it was everything I had ever wanted in a hot make out session before but never had. I’m not a 2nd date slut so we didn’t go for “home” but I definitely needed a cold shower after he walked me to my car.
There’s already another date in the works and he asked me if I would be his date to his friend’s engagement party on Saturday night. I cancel all plans I had with any other Tinder/eHarmony matches. I want to see where this thing goes. My head is spinning and I can’t wait to see him again.