It occurred to me last night that in my blog mission of sharing my online dating experiences, I’ve neglected to share much of any of my real-life, more traditional, experiences of meeting people since I’ve moved to the city of U-turns and Vanity Plates. I’m focused if nothing, but I realize my amazing focus leaves out a great deal of interesting experience. I did share of the near violation of my no-no square, and hot-as-HELL bartender, and drunken groping surfer dude, but other than that, nothing of this variety. And ironically, I’ve had almost as many real-life occasions meeting men as online; not anything overly intriguing or exciting as to dating potential, noooo….but certainly interesting experiences in their own right.
I was blessed (or cursed?) location-wise, to live within walking distance of a fun little restaurant/bar. It’s not a tacky little dive (although I confess I ADORE tacky little dive bars!!). It has a nice restaurant I’ve not yet eaten in and above the restaurant is a lovely massive deck with a bar/lounge/club-like atmosphere. It has twinkle lights scattered all over (ahhh the ambiance), huge fans and misters everywhere for the hottest nights (so cozy n comfortable ), and a divine view of the Sin City skyline
(geesh so romantic!). The crowd is a little on the young side, but overall there is a decent mix of crazy college kids through some middle age patrons… all the way to a coupe of old geezer “regulars” (one of whom believes every lady over the age of 30 who comes in the place, is a “cougar-for-Jared”). Yeah, Jared is an undoubtedly (OMG!) hot bartender, but I’m still undecided on the cougar thing unless of course it’s for my precious Hottie McHotstuff over in Denver. I do, however, like to be around people, socialize, and have a few drinks close to home occasionally…so I have been to this little “neighborhood place” three or four times since moving here.
My last visit to the place got very interesting. Old geezer (cougars-for-Jared guy) was there and Jared was bartending (bonus!). I sat one of the little high-top tables alone(obviously). I don’t like this much and can’t wait to make friends in the area, but there I was on this night. Enter Steve (I’m sure no relation to my big-single-mother-blog-fan “Steve“).
Steve is a fairly handsome guy around my age who on this evening asks to sit next to me. I’m sitting alone in the midst of yet another frustrating text-servation with The Lingerer, so I’m more than happy for company, both to get my head away from the desperately annoying texts from Lingerer and to just have some company while sitting there. He sits. We commence to have a great discussion about various topics like careers, moving to Vegas, relationships, kids, education, politics, etc, etc… It’s nice. I’m almost digging this guy. Seriously. I. Am. Right. There. Hovering on the maybe this guy’s pretty cool ledge. He’s attractive and can hold an interesting and intelligent conversation… I’m definitely in for further investigation here. I even moved tables with Steve at his suggestion that we move somewhere on the deck with
an unobstructed and more “romantic” view of the city. He bought me three (which is one too many for me!) drinks while we chatted. Nice guy Steve. As I’m slowly drinking my third glass of wine, Steve asks me if I’d like to go to the Rush concert with him Saturday night. I’m a huge fan of 70’s music and this is a fabulous offer! In fact, I’d heard of the concert on the radio just that very day and had wished I could go see them… Wondering, how did this gift fall right in my lap? I agreed and we exchanged numbers. Then Steve offers to walk me to my car. I had a bad experience with that just the last time I was at this place, so I’m hesitant. It’s a catch-22 though because I do like having someone walk me to my car and especially here, as the deck (and thus, the majority of the people) is up so high, the parking lot is rather isolated from anyone’s view.
Okay, this isn’t like the last time though. I’ve actually been talking with this guy for several hours and we’ve even exchanged numbers. Totally different scenario from Mr. Attempted Violation. So, I gratefully accept his respectful, chivalrous offer.
Once we get to my car, Steve goes in for a kiss.
I’m an admitted kissing tramp, so this doesn’t really upset of offend me whatsoever under these circumstances. I’m in for a smooch or two…OH! Yeah! And BONUS…he’s not at all a bad kisser! He’s actually pretty good…
I go to get in my car and he goes for another kiss… Umm…okay…two is still acceptable. I’m still in for that… Yeah! I turn to get in my car a second time and he pulls me by my waist back toward him, turning me to snatch another kiss. Yeah so, at this point I’m losing some of my kissing-a-stranger-gusto and am a tad more reluctant, but alright, I suppose one more is okay… but then I’m done with this for tonight pal, okay? No, I didn’t SAY that out loud or anything, but I felt confident that my kiss itself demonstrated much less enthusiasm, as well as a definite …sigh… okay, but hurry up and get this over with feel to it.
GOSH! I’m definitely a very touch-feely kinda person. Very! But if I even think or sense for a split second that I even remotely detect any reluctance for me to touch, fondle, kiss, or otherwise demonstrate physical affection another person, I am OUT immediately. I cease instantly. I shudder at the mere notion of anyone ever “suffering through” my touch or kiss.
Umm… Do men NOT have ANY sensory perception AT ALL? Does their entire sense of awareness come merely from within themselves, with ZERO comprehension of the body language of others? Because while I was thinking, Okay, I don’t want to be rude and out and out reject you…so get this one over with and I’ll just see you later… Steve, on the other hand, must have thought kiss number three was a big, blaring, flashing, GREEN light; screaming “GO STEVE! GOOOO STEVE! IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!”
On kiss number three, in spite of my reluctance to even
participate, Steve goes in for the grope/feel! He slides his hands around my waist, under my top (!), and says, “Wow (Kay)! You’re hiding a hot little body under that big maternity shirt… You’re smoking under there!”
Uhhh yeah..I’m smokin’…smokin’ PISSED OFF is what I am pal….so get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Skin. Now! A few kisses does NOT mean it’s okay or you’re otherwise invited to GROPE a woman… Seriously…Why Steve...? WHY??
I drove home rather irritated at Steve because I had really wanted to go to that concert. Subsequently, I did not take Steve’s call on Saturday morning and haven’t even yet bothered to listen to the message he left either.