I’ve already written this post once and then deleted it…
1. Friday night’s speed-dating event was enlivened by a short, oily indonesian man who stared like a cat watching birds through the window and asked every woman in turn “Do you like sex?”. I kid thee not.
2. I cancelled my planned second date on Saturday with Geologist Guy because the second date with Swimmer Guy on Thursday had gone so well and I didn’t feel comfortable ‘dating’ more than one chap at a time.
3. Swimmer Guy clawed his way back out of the hole he had dug by over-reacting to my desire to take things more slowly after our first date a couple of months ago – our second date on Thursday night was good. He took me to the local yacht club and was amusing without relying on sex-based humour, we won $50 on the triva quiz and he kissed me goodnight confidently and comprehensively but left with a good grace when I made it clear I wasn’t going to invite him in.
So far, so good.
And did I mention that he has appealingly big, strong arms? 😉
We arranged to meet again on Sunday afternoon for a walk and then for him to come over and cook dinner. I made it clear, again, that he wouldn’t be staying over and that we would not be having sex. Not yet. He really was adamant about the cooking dinner thing though, so I figured either a) he likes to cook or b) he likes to impress girls with the one dish he can cook or c) its his ‘move’ for getting into a girl’s home/pants: once in, easier to manoeuvre into staying the night, right?
As it turns out, folks, the correct answer is c.
Sunday afternoon’s walk became an invitation to join him for his 5 year old niece and 8 year old godson’s birthday party which, since I like kids, I accepted. Then he asked if I could get the presents, as he was playing rugby all afternoon. Er, okay, sure. Then it turns out that the party is at his parents place, where he also lives (in the pool house) and that I’ll be meeting them and his aunt and uncle and several cousins. WTF? Too late, though; by the time I find that out we’re already in the car on the way there…
“It will be fine,” I tell myself, robustly. “Parents always like you, you’re polite and friendly. And kids always like you, you know about dinosaurs and don’t talk to them as though they’re retarded. Anyway, its only for a couple of hours. It’ll be fine. There’ll probably be cake. Just text a friend with the address, so someone knows where you are, k?”
The party and the kids and the relatives were all lovely, as was he, mostly: he is more physically demonstrative and affectionate than I’m used to. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, I just don’t feel comfortable being constantly cuddled, nuzzled and kissed by someone I’ve only met three times.
Anyway, post-party we bought groceries and headed back to my place to cook dinner. Which he did beautifully.
Then came more nuzzling and tampering and (you may want to stop reading here, depending on how squeamish you are about other people’s intimate relations) the whole rigmarole of why he should stay over because my place is close to his gym and ‘nothing needs to happen, we can just cuddle’ blah blah blah.
Yeah yeah, what am I, sixteen? I’ve heard that one before, mate.
So, here’s a question for you: is it just me, or is it rather disturbing for someone with whom one has not yet had sex to talk – in quite some detail – about venturing to a swingers party together?
Yep. That’s what I thought.
Sheesh, can I pick ’em, right?
4. On the plus side, I’m meeting Engineering Designer for a first-date drink tomorrow night. He and I had a lovely, easy phone conversation on Monday night. He may not make my face ache from laughing like Swimmer Guy, but at least he didn’t ask me whether I’d be up for a threesome…