On October 29th, I wrote a post about the possibility that I might be getting tangled in a new widower’s web with the sexy widower, Marco. (Is Lola About To Get Caught In A New Widower’s Web?) The resolution to that post was that I know better than to date another widower after what I went through with Tristan, but when it comes to romance I’ve never exactly been wise.
On November 10th, I wrote a post called “Hey Trouble,” which illustrated how powerfully attracted to Marco I am, and how a drink invitation from him warranted me taking my wing-woman Jezebel along so I wouldn’t do something stupid (like become romantically entangled with another emotionally unavailable guy). The conclusion I came to from that post was “As long as I don’t go anywhere near him, I should be just fine.”
Those are starting to look like the famous last words of a fool.
I was out having drinks with friends last night and got the sudden urge to text Marco to see if he was also out and about. Oh, as Jezebel pointed out, I did invite Liam to have drinks with me, but he had his kids for the evening so he couldn’t come. And one thing you might already know about me (and Elle for that matter) is that we do thrive on the attention of men, and find ourselves somewhat bored when there are no men we can flirt with.
So I texted Marco and asked if he was at our favorite bar. He texted back immediately, “Yes, mi amor.” When I read his reply, I swooned.
The angel and devil in my head fought brutally for a solid 20 minutes until the devil finally claimed victory and I decided I would walk straight into the fire instead of going home like a good little girl. However, I do not believe I’m ever too far from my angel ways, and I made a promise to myself to stay sober so I would not make any drunken decisions which I would undoubtedly regret.
When I arrived at the bar, I joined Marco at his table of friends and the fun was immediately underway. The waitress kept bringing him scotch and me water as the party raged on for the next 2 hours. Every now and then Marco would lean close to me and touch my leg, and he even kissed me on the cheek and lips a few times. It made me feel good that he would show that kind of affection to me in front of his friends.
When the party started to break up around 2am, it occurred to me that Marco should not drive in his condition, so I offered him a ride home. I really didn’t expect him to take it, since he’s such a strong, bull-headed type, but he did, without hesitation in fact. I had half-way braced myself for a fight to get his keys, but like a docile little lamb he sweetly accepted my offer.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, he brightly asked where we were going next. Rather bemused, I replied, “I was going to take you home, where would you like to go?” He looked at me with a little grin on his adorable face and said, “maybe we should have another drink before going home, where do you live?” I chuckled in extreme amusement at his obvious attempts to accelerate the evening. “Ha ha. Oh no you don’t buddy. I’ve seen this movie, and I know how it ends.” So I rejected that plan, in spite of his wounded, Oh, so you don’t trust me and you think I’m just another guy? routine. He said if his kids were not at his house he would happily have me in his home. I told him it was no problem, that I was happy to give him a lift and call it a night, and truth be told, it was not him I was worried about, but me.
One thing Marco told me awhile back was that he is a believer of the 90/10 rule. The 90/10 rule is something every man should follow, in my opinion. The premise of this rule is that a man will come 90% of the way towards a woman, but the remaining 10% is up to her, and that if she does not come the rest of the way, nothing romantic will happen between them. He said he will happily do 90% of the work to show how much he likes a woman, but not make the first move. The problem was that I knew I would go the remaining 10% with Marco in a heartbeat.
When he realized the night was really going to end with me dropping him off at his house, he proposed plan B., which was that we stop at his office and have a drink.
Since I wanted to kiss him pretty badly, and it seemed like a rather neutral environment, I agreed. In fact, I had been wondering all night what it would be like to feel his tongue in my mouth, his lips against mine. I was excited at the prospect of seeing if he was a good kisser. We slipped into the pitch-black room and as he disabled the alarm system, I slipped up behind him and put my arms around his waist, thus erasing the remaining 10% barrier between us. We kissed for awhile, then made our way to the bar area where he managed to pour us each a drink. He then took my hand and led me to the bar stools. He sat down on one of them and since he seemed to be at the perfect height for me to nestle in between his legs, that’s just what I did. We kissed some more, and it was not what I would call passionate, but sweet. I like kissing him.
He pushed the boundaries a few times, but I deftly moved his hands back into the safety zones without ever breaking our kisses. But somewhere in the middle of all the kissing, we began talking about a relationship. I know I certainly didn’t bring it up, but I’m not sure how it came up either. I think it was when he asked how far I had let Liam get that started the conversation. He seemed very interested in my status with Liam most of the night, in fact. I told him the truth, which is that I have kissed Liam, I like Liam, and Liam has asked to see me again and I have agreed.
This seemed to put a slight damper on his notable erection, and I backed away from him enough to get a good look into his eyes, although his arms stayed firmly planted around my waist. “I’m really sorry if I disappointed you.” I said. “I just don’t want to do more than kiss you yet.” He looked at me almost incredulously, his coal-black eyes looking like big puddles of sincerity and said with unguarded truthfulness, “You did not disappoint me, you made my night!” He exclaimed. “I didn’t even think I was going to see you tonight, and then you texted me and I was so happy.” His answer was more than satisfactory, so I kissed him again. Then, without a word spoken between us, it somehow seemed understood that our little frolic was over for the night.
He locked the office up and we got back into my car for the ride home. I felt totally comfortable with him the whole night, I never once felt that I was not being 100% myself. As he directed me to his house, the relationship conversation resumed, (again, not my idea).
He soulfully expressed that he is not just any other man looking for a good time and he doesn’t want me to get that impression. I told him I know he’s not just any man, or I wouldn’t even be with him at that moment, but that he IS a man who just lost his wife, and I’m certainly not just any woman, I’m a woman who spent 3 years chasing a man who wasn’t able to love me. I told him if he wanted a shot with me that he better be sure he is ready to date me before we go out again. I suggested he might want to date a little, and not try to get into another relationship so quickly. His thoughtful response was to say, “I don’t need to date, I just want one good woman.” I must confess it melted my heart a little, until I snapped myself back to reality. It may sound sweet, but I know that while he may want that, he also may not be ready for it, and I’m certainly not going to go jumping into a relationship with him until I have a better sense of where his head is.
He held my hand easily as we talked, sporadically directing me where to go as I navigated the car towards his home. As I pulled up to his house, (a very nice house, I might add), I thanked him for the night and told him I really enjoy spending time with him and find him very attractive. He looked at me almost as though he was trying to figure me out but couldn’t. I met his quizzical gaze with my own peaceful and happy smile. We sat like that for a moment until he finally just seemed to realize he couldn’t wrap his brain around the whirlwind that is Lola, and he shook his head and half-laughed as he pulled me towards him for a good night kiss and hug.
As he got out of my car to leave, he leaned his head back in and rather cavalierly said, “Just stay away from the Brit and we’ll be fine. I don’t share.”
I drove away highly amused at his obvious possessiveness of me, and thought to myself, well Marco, I guess time will tell about how much you really do want me. And I for one, am looking forward to finding out.