Rules, Schmules
Last night was date number two with a new guy. We met last week, and remember when I talked about the “face fall” theory way back when? Well this guy — his face LIT UP when he saw me. Now that’s more like it! Oh also, in the middle of dinner he got up, grabbed my face, kissed me and said, “Okay, I feel better now.” Strangely enough, that move made me nauseous (that usually means I like them) so I decided he could have another date. And, he’s tall and not too hard on the eyes. Oh, and he thinks I’m hot. That’s a definite plus.
He cooked me dinner. When I told one of my friends that I was going to his place and he was making me dinner, she said, “You’re not supposed to go to his house on date two…. Oh, and don’t sleep with him until date four.” Here we go with “the rules.” I thought to myself, what exactly are my rules? I didn’t see a problem going to his house. I thought it was very nice of him to offer to cook for me, and wanting to show me where he lived was actually a pretty cool thing in my opinion. Plus, it was the end of a long week and to me there is nothing more appealing than staying home on a Friday night with a nice bottle of wine and a 6’2″ cook who thinks I’m hot. I guess I broke her first rule then, because off I went.
I was however, determined not to have sex with him. After all, we know I’m not incredibly shy in that department, and this is a guy who got up in the middle of dinner and kissed me on our first date. So I did the only thing I could do to protect myself. I didn’t shave my legs.
His house was great. He had fantastic taste, was incredibly polite, made a perfect dinner, and we cuddled on the couch watching a movie.
Then he ate my face off. The make-out session got pretty hot and heavy as evidenced by my slight beard burn today. The whole time my brain was saying, “Keep your pants on, keep your pants on,” and the rest of me was ready to rip all of his clothes off.
In the end, no sex. Guess I do have rules after all. Until next weekend.
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New Rule – No Rules
Okay, here’s all any woman needs to know about when, where and how to give it up:
Steve Harvey, the comedian has a best-selling book on the subject. It’s called, “Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man.” Could it be any simpler?
Of course you didn’t fuck the kissing specialist on the second date. I don’t care how perfectly he grilled the salmon. Let’s do the math. There was one date out. Date #2 is at his crib, with food and wine? Wouldn’t it be nice if men and women actually talked about fucking each other before actually doing it? Instead of so much formality, just say, “Hey, I don’t want to buy you another meal, I just want to get laid, so how about coming over. I’ll make you a piece of chicken.”
On second thought, that doesn’t sound like such a good idea…
I don’t know what the rules are, or what they should be. I do wish that men and women would stop having rules when it comes to getting to know each other. Most people screw things up before they even open the rulebook. She decides he needs to be at least four out of the top seven of her “must-be” list, he decides she needs to lose 10 pounds, she decides he’s not smart enough for her, he decides her friend is hotter. It’s a wonder there is ever a second date.
Maybe everyone should put away the rulebook and see what happens… It can’t be any more of a longshot than it already is, can it?
Wait, that sounded way too positive.
Thank You. You affirmed my greatest belief that I shouldn’t dismantle being a respected lady to have sex. There are times, dressed professionally and buttoned up that I look around and have to ask myself “Can anyone hear my skirt screaming!”. Is it written on my face how badly I want to be desired, can a man smell my impatience at wanting to break down the need to be admired to being desired. Such a strange position. I want to remain a individual that is kind, intellegent and approachable. Then with all that I know I’m eminating, why aren’t men approaching me. Do I appear too…what?