04-24-04

Mr. A

And last night Mr. A and i went out, we went to Oliver Twist’s on 6th Street. The place was packed 20 minutes after we sat down with the game and the three shows in town letting out around the same time. I had a Strawberry Martini which was good but no where near as devinely orgasmic as the creme brulee cheescake i had. Oh my gosh a new addiction. So after we left Oliver Twists we were trying to decide where to go next, after bossa novas was found to be packed we went to Mt. Lebanon.

There we went to a little tavern called The Saloon which was a nice down to earth change from the pretensious environments i have become accustomed to. It would have been perfect without all the people. We talked for a while, naming all the places we needed to go: Dave and Busters, the waterfront, sandcastle, the zoo…as if our schedules coinsided at all in order to alot for it. He got up to grab a corona, the man standing in the group next to us leaned into the booth and asked if we were getting married.

I laughed, “No, i couldn’t marry him i’m a lesbian.”

“We’re getting married.”

“Who?”

“We are,” he said gesturing to a large crowd of about eight people.

“All of you?” I raised my eyebrow.

“yeah.” he sipped from his bottle as he looked me up. eww

“What does the insurance company say about that? Benefit wise…do they cover couples of eight?”

“ah, what? I don’t get it.” here his equally witted companion chimed in his agreement.

“me either.”

“yeah i know, sorry i started talking to you.” he pivoted away…then he pivoted back.”We just got back from marriage class.” he tells me as if it were his first day of kindergarten.

“Well, then, i suppose i would need a beer after that as well.” i smiled, he laughed in agreement, i walked over to Mr. A at the bar and suggested we go to his place for some coronas instead, anything to get out of there. Five seconds after the words escaped my mouth i realized i had sealed my own fate. There is always second layers to all things in dating that i have a tendency to be oblivious to.

So the rest of the night was me plotting manuveurs to avoid a long makeout session until i was sober enough to avoid convincing myself that sex would be a fabulous idea because i haven’t had sex in a while. Not really, actually i wasn’t going to have sex at all, i wasn’t comfortable with him, i didn’t want to be that kind of person, morally i just couldn’t sleep with a guy on the first date. But i slept with him anyway, quite literally, passed out in bed next to him in borrowed boxers and a shirt snoring. It was the most comfy bed i have been in in a long long time. And this morning i had done something i haven’t experienced in an equally long time, i laid in bed…for more than fifteen minutes. I laid in bed with him and we watched TV and made fun of everything we turned on, cynical brats as we are. I laid in bed for almost three whole hours with him and it was fabulous, minus the tinge of guilt i feel now for wasting three hours of a day when there is so much to be done.