I can't help but think of my friend Kerry who, after smooching her latest boy-toy (Spanky)in college, told him, "I'm sorry, Spanky, there's just nothing there."
We went to a pricey, out-of-the-way restaurant for some delicious filet mignon, my favorite. There was lots of chatter about jobs and stories about the things we've done, but no soul-baring, which is good in some respects. Then, it was on to the bar down the road from me where we had a few beers and the owner bought us some Jager bombs. Not bad, not great. He has a nice look, with startling blue eyes and dimples on an otherwise rugged face. And he's 6'5", which means that with my heels he was still 4 inches taller than me. He has a body I wouldn't mind getting rough with, but I'm afraid that we might be two of the same kind of people-- neither wearing their heart on their sleeve. That can make things difficult.
I'm used to the guy falling madly in love with me, or at least in lust. It leaves me in a position of power if it doesn't make me run away. I have a feeling that he might be used to the same thing.
He told me he has had 2 DUI's. Don't tell me that, take that back, or pretend you didn't say it, I thought to myself. He's buddies with my good friend's husband, who has a drinking problem. He's the guy's level, telling him what he needs to do, kind of like I do with my friend. But DUI's? I don't care if he was a bouncer and was probably drinking every night at work where he used to live. Not cool.
The night ended in my driveway, where he asked if I'd like to do something this weekend. We agreed on Friday, and since he took a piece of gum when we left the bar and offered me one, I figured he was counting on a kiss. I leaned over and we shared a quick, dry, and pointless peck on the lips. It was pathetic.