What I like to call a regular parking spot some might refer to as a rut.
Hell, maybe it is a rut, but what is a girl to do?
Let me explain.
My last post was about Hamilton, a guy I met online (guy #41 or something like that). I had a great date with him and he was even rewarded with a helluva blow job at the end of the night by yours truly. Another blogger commented that our date sounded quite hot and they couldn’t wait to hear how date number 2 went.
Well folks, date #2 (and I do believe final date) with Hamilton took place 2 days after our red-hot rendezvous in none other than….
Yeah. He invited me to church, so I went.
About halfway through the service I was thinking ‘this is all wrong.’ The church felt wrong, his leg touching mine felt wrong, the whole damn thing was just wrong. So naturally I started thinking about a man I really feel suits me well….JC. And when Hamilton slipped out to the restroom a bit later, I picked up my phone to text JC, right then and there.
I would think that one of the first signs you’re not into a guy would be texting one man in the middle of a date with another. But I decided to go ahead and take Hamilton up on his offer to buy me lunch after church just to make sure. We had a 3 or 4 hour lunch, and it was fine. Pretty good conversation, but just no spark at all on my end. I sat across the booth from him, rather dismayed at my lack of interest, as I thought…he really is so attractive and well-built, as I took note of his nicely cut biceps and chest filling out the trendy blue shirt that perfectly matched his oceanic eyes. It’s such a crying shame I’ve already checked out of this relationship.
He kissed me goodbye with tongue, and I reciprocated for a minute, but felt nothing. I thanked him for lunch and was happy to escape.
He’s asked me out twice since and I’ve evaded saying I have a lot going on (which I do) but yet I found myself accepting Gray’s invitation for drinks last night and stayed out until all hours cutting up with him.
I am sure that is due in part to the fact that there is no pressure with Gray. We’ve already established where each of us is in life, and that we don’t know if it will ever change, but we are both open to a special connection should it evolve naturally.
Gray was a sight for sore eyes. It’s always so good to see him. He’s what you call a ‘no-questions-asked-good-time.’ I could summon him over at 3 am just because I wanted a hug and he’d come running, or I could text him at noon during the week and ask him to eat my pussy and he would again, happily oblige. He’s just a good guy. And God, he’s fucking sexy, that one. Mmmm. Damn, he’s fine. A total silver fox. Virile, business-like, well-dressed and so masculine.
We had a grand time talking and laughing, and surprisingly there was some more serious discussion worked in when he told me he had a dream about me a couple of weeks ago. I kind of chuckled, thinking it would surely be sexual. He looked at me with those beautiful sparkling gray eyes and said, “It wasn’t a sex dream or anything. We just took the day off and went fishing.” I was caught completely off-guard and quite touched, as it seemed pretty damn perfect. He suddenly looked at me rather seriously, almost intensely as he said, “I really enjoy your company, Lola.”
After several hours of chilling with him by the fire-pit I got up to leave.
I leaned over his chair and hugged him tightly for a moment, and when my lips grazed his in an ever-so-light feathery kiss I heard him softly murmur, “Love ya. Good night.”
“I love you too, babe.” I whispered right back, with no qualms or hesitation. It felt nice to be appreciated simply for being who I am, and equally nice to be able to appreciate a man simply for who he is. There’s just not enough of that going around these days.
So here I am again. Hanging out with the ‘safe’ guy, wondering when JC is going to come in and pull me out of this rut and save me. Only problem with that is…
Some say that fairy tales are just for dreamers…