Cookie Meet n' Greet

December 23, 2017 2:20 p.m.  Monrovia, CA bar: 38º drink: whiskey sour

 

{the date was on December 21, 2017}

 

If I’m completely honest, I was looking forward to seeing this guy and getting laid. The day of…

 

I messaged him, oh wait, somewhere in our back and forth previous to this he said he had booked the room. I sent a “Hello hello! Would you like me to bring any liquids for the room?” He didn’t read/respond for an hour and a half. During which, you know I was semi flipping out. He had been responding nearly right away up until this point. I had posted something that morning about meeting a potential new regular that night and how I was feeling about it: nerves, et cetera. I wondered if I had fucked up by doing that. Again. But why would these followers want to see me/pay me knowing I’m going to post/write about it, say they hope they are story-worth and then freak out/back out when I do? As soon as the hour had passed I archived the post. When he did read/respond he said not to bring anything that that he couldn’t stay late because he had an early morning meeting at work. He added that he normally worked from home on Friday’s but because it was the last work day of the year, yadda yadda. I said no problem and even offered to meet a little earlier. He said thank but he didn’t want to be late—being punctual was important to him—and that he wanted to have ample time to take care of his dogs and after work and get ready. 

 

Then, approximately two and a half hours before our meeting time he asked, I should interject my gratitude that he has never asked for my phone number, all our communication has been through Instagram. Sure, perhaps a little dangerous, but infinitely better than giving my number out: I’m weird about my phone. Anyway, he said, “Would it totally fuck up everything to just hang and do the meet tonight and pick up the extracurricular after my holiday trip? I soo don’t wanna have to rush.” I was thankful that he wasn’t bailing on the whole thing, so I said no prob. I made a cute crack that he had to tell me afterI had showered and shaved. Truthfully, it felt like a good idea. Feel it out. Less pressure. Now we could meet anywhere. I was trying to come up with something that wouldn’t be too crowded, dark, the usual. He said Frolic Room. I used to like that place but not anymore and I hate that part of town. I was hoping for something more east. I suggested Footsies. He said yes. Phew. Although the sex pressure was off, I was still nervous. It’s still a job interview. And I’m still a woman who’s knockin’ on fifty’s door. 

            

I decided against my usual get there early to pre-game. We were meeting at 9:30 p.m. and due to my post and having some folks recognize me when I’m writing, I didn’t want to chance anyone seeing me and him together, essentially killing his anonymity. I hate walking into a public place to meet a stranger; it’s much better if they know I’ll be writing and can come claim the seat next to me, but I would just have to deal with being uncomfortable for forty seconds. 

            

The bar was astonishingly dead. He had gotten there minutes before I had arrived and we recognized each right away. He waved. He was much more handsome in person than his photos. Why are most straight men so clueless when it comes to self-portraits? All the up-the-nose angels and just plain not-doing-them-justice shots. But, hey, I guess that’s better than the alternative. Which men deal with daily on dating apps. For all I know he could have been thinking the same only in the opposite direction. 

            

The music was loud, a little too loud, those speakers get hella tin-y. However, the DJ was spinning good punk and such. Far better than crickets. Especially for a meet n’ greet. As I suspected from our conversations, he really just wanted to talk about himself. Which is A-Ok. But it left me feeling sort of mute, inconsequential, like a breathing soundboard. Aka, it wasn’t very sensual and I wasn’t making much of an impression. At least not in my mind. Fuckit, he was paying so whatever made him happy. It’s not like I’m not used to men talking about themselves but something about this felt odd. Also, he didn’t hand me the money until the end, and after I had to ask for it, which bummed me out. So much for his ho pro status. Also, he recently picked smoking back up and went out back three times for a quick fix. He seemed nervous, too. Understandable. I hate cigarettes but I don’t hate smokers. The crazy thing is, my hair reeked of smoke when I got home. How nuts is that? That shit sticks to me like glue. I wasn’t even going outside with him. Which I had offered. Instead, I kept our seats at the bar. He was super quick each time. 

            

The other factor in my feeling off was that he wasn’t flirting with me. It was more: listen to all my stories and be impressed. The bar was fully of kids who didn’t look old enough to drink. I felt ancient. Not the way I wanted to feel. It’s my fault for still being a whore. And their fault for still wanting to pay me. Also, being a giggly sounding board when fully-clothed isn’t the sexiest thing. It felt more on the friendship side. 

 

Even an hour in I couldn’t get a read on him. I honestly didn’t feel like he was attracted to me. We were having a nice time but it felt more Tinder date and less ‘we were supposed to be fucking and doing blow in a motel right now’. Maybe Footsies was a poor choice. In terms of it feeling more like a sex hook-up and not a date or friendly hang. Maybe it’s because he’s younger than me. Who knows. Maybe I was just off. I didn’t even feel like I was being fun, for fucks sake. Just sitting there smiling and nodding. After our fourth drink we decided to call it a night. After he handed me the money I decided I wanted to kiss him before he said good night. It was awkward. I think I surprised him or he doesn’t like PDA. Yes, we were standing at the bar and I guess I should have waited until we were outside, I was tipsy and wanted to kiss him so I did. I wasn’t planning on sucking face for a long time, just a little something to make it sexual and something to look forward to. 

            

I sent a DM when I got home: “Thanks for the booze and dough. I had a good time, I hope you did too. Xo” He responded forty minutes later: “Say, I sure did. Be real cool to keep this goin”. 

 

Me: “I’m down” I wasn’t a hundred percent sure if he meant just drinks or the whole shebang. We'll see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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