Just because I sleep with you, doesn’t necessarily mean I want you to be my boyfriend, so relax already.
A few weeks ago I had a first date with an uber cool, classy man whom I like to refer to as “The Italian Clark Kent,” (for obvious reasons) and who became a featured guest star in my own blog until recently. We met on an internet dating site early one Saturday evening and and agreed to meet up later that same night. He arrived in the piazza of my village looking better in-person, impeccably and sharply dressed in a linen suit, with not even a microscopic scuff on his shoes. He had patches of salt and pepper hair at the hair-line near his temples like an airline pilot circa 1965… and shoulders… epic, epic shoulders.
I admit he was a major turn on. First and foremost it was NOT his appearance (although that greatly helped, and caused me to sometimes phase out during our date and wonder what he looked like naked). Good good looks and style aside, he was intelligent with sharp, dry wit, and was quick on the draw. He was well-mannered and every time he moved it was like watching a silk scarf in a breeze. While we smoked a Cohiba at the bar, he took the small pieces of dark chocolate that were left for us, then broke them inside the wrappers and never failed to offer me half. He was a class act, and I’d be hard pressed to believe he would ever ride our local public transit.
Overall I was hell bent on behaving myself, and for once not letting my impulsive nature get the best of me – in other words sleeping with him before 5 dates if the opportunity arose. I didn’t even have condoms or had entertained the idea of stocking up, for this very reason. But on our second date after a couple of cocktails and around 4:30am after we had smoked a tiny bit of grass in his car – he actually got the nerve up to kiss me, and from then on there was no turning back.
Unlike the other Italian men I have dated in this wonderful country where beautiful people, sex, and food rule… THIS man did not need a magnifying glass, or a GPS to find my clitoris, and needed no instruction in the art of ‘Amore Femminile 101.’
I love men and rarely relinquish the opportunity for sex with one I find attractive – as long as their personality measures up and they don’t give me the creeps. I’ll be the first to admit I can stick my heart in a freezer and fuck like a rockstar solely for the purpose of sexual gratification, having no emotional connection… just narcissistic cold-fucking. (Rare as this scenario may present itself .) But this time I wanted to get to know this man a little better and keep up ‘The 5-dates no sex rule.’
Therefore despite the fact I keep my equipment smooth and immaculately groomed below the belt 24-7, I purposely kept my apartment condom-free in order divert myself from any possible debauchery (incidentally, HE had the condom.) In retrospect, maybe I should have let myself go ‘bush’ that way I would have been to embarassed to fuck him.
But Clark Kent and I – despite our compromised states, there was an undeniable ‘something.’ It felt so good I wanted to bottle it, and keep an infinite supply. When I feel it, I really feel it. I also know when I am in the company of a faker – ‘cause it takes one to know one.
We could barely pry our lips apart as he walked out my front door at 6:19am, but 12 hours later I was shocked to to be officially (via text) in the ‘Friend Zone’: “I don’t want to start something, I can’t end…” – He says. Then later: “We can still meet as friends.”
I surely screwed up my face in utter dumfoundedness while reading his text. But upon further pondering of this grand declaration, I found it to be unwarranted and rather presumptuous.
Did I say – “From hence forth I shall desire a serious relationship with you?”
In my own defense, I never even remotely mentioned (post-sex), I wanted to ride the fast-track to becoming a couple. I honestly wanted to date and get to know Italian Clark Kent and his stupendous shoulders more first, and move forward IF the opportunity presented itself. Providing over time he continued to be fabulous, I was still jonseing to see him naked, and obviously if we were on the same page. But I still didn’t know this man well enough to WANT to be in a relationship with him.
Everything was going so nicely.
So why was it necessary to jump the gun, and carve a label on it?
No matter how fabulous you think you are, unplanned sex among ‘friends’ or strangers does not always mean one is psyched to get serious à la – ‘just add sex’ instant relationship. Sometimes it’s merely a blip in a new friendship, or maybe it’s just simply a mutually satisfying meeting of the minds (and genitals) – no strings attached…
So, let’s just chill out shall we?