Last night - part one:
I finally went on the rescheduled date, we were originally meant to have met up about three weeks ago, so what with the time passing expectation was heightened. It was an enjoyable night, we laughed and drank more than we should have, but it felt slightly staid, like we were in a job interview with all the conversation and answers poised.
We shared a hard but wet kiss at the station and it certainly was arousing but there was something not quite right. He was very forthright about sex, and that sex could be used as a 'getting to know each other tool', that confused me. Normally it is a) purely sexual b) romantic. This seemed somewhere between the two.
We might meet up again at the end of this week, diaries allowing.
After the date I was more than tipsy after my share of two and a half bottles of wine, I called the booty call from the night before. As cutesy as possible (being that drunk), I asked if that offer of a massage was still on the cards. It wasn't. Oh! No explanation, just no!
Maybe I am remembering this differently due to my inebriated state but I feel like I have been slapped round the face with a wet fish.
This is exactly why I prefer the traditional female role of to be chased than to chase.