Thursday, 15 October 2009

If NASA did moisturisers...

Last night I had an last minute date, was it successful? Let's just say I was home, tucked up in my settee by 22:00 in time to watch True Blood.
Impromptu date
An impromptu date for me can be compared to a daytime booty call, the bloke in question has been away and yesterday afternoon I got a call from him apologising for not being in touch whilst on the other side of the world, but would really like to have those drinks with me and was I free that very evening?
I said yes. I preferred that it was a call and not a text or email, he sounded genuine and although it was short notice I love spontaneity and I didn't have any plans. Why am I justifying it? I don't know.
Those drinks
This is an example of how one shouldn't give one's number to someone at silly o'clock in the morning at a party and assume that the conversation would carry on... he was courteous, complimentary and sweet but there was no real spark and I was a little alarmed at him laughing at my anecdotes, they were funny, they weren't that funny.
In for the kill
I'm not sure if perhaps he is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol or it was the jet lag, but when I returned from a trip to the ladies, he greeted me with a kiss, a peck on the lips. I was a little taken aback but returned the kiss, and cue ten minutes of pure hard snogging. What can I say? No spark but I love kissing.
When the face sucking stopped so did all sense of conversation. There was an awkward silence which I tried to ease with a smile, he said it was getting late (at 21:30!!) and we should do this again.
I am now left with the indentation of his coarse stubble on my face, I'm trying to keep the area moisturised but know there is some flakiness to come.
Bookmark and Share

No comments:

Post a Comment