A few weeks ago, I had the weekend to end all weekends (until this one, when it is my birthday, and I plan to be drunk for a week). I met my Pilot in the bar, and promptly (read: after 5 minutes) stuck my tongue down his throat, texted my friends, and whisked him off to a dvdbang.
I like to keep things classy.
We were…watching a movie….when he pulled away from me. “I want to date you,” he said. I laughed and kept kissing him. He pulled away again. “No really. You’re too good for a one night stand.”
“Stop with the bullshit,” I said. “Just have some fun.”
Later, afterwards, we were….I cringe to say it….cuddling, and talking. I KNOW. He brought it up again. “Really,” he said. “I would like to take you out on a date.” I sighed. “You don’t believe me?” he said.
“No. You picked me up in a bar, and we had some fun in a dvdbang.”
“Well, I really want to take you out for dinner.”
Listen, I said: I like sex. I don’t need sex to be tied to a relationship. “But women – ” Bullshit. I like sex – I’m not stupid. You don’t need to say any of this to get me into bed: I’m here already. At least I’m honest about my one night stands.
He shook his head angrily. “You don’t understand,” he said.
And maybe I didn’t. I gave him my number. “Prove me wrong,” I said as I got into a cab. And before I got back out again, he’d texted me.
Maybe he will call me again. Maybe he does want to take me out, for real. And maybe, if he does, I’ll even say yes.
But I like my cynicism – it keeps me warm and safe.
