Not all first dates are awful
There’s another type of first date, entirely. One that lets nervous butterflies die and wither in favor of a million excited firefly dancing in your abdomen.
Dates where the other person feels like someone who already know. Where you can joke with them, tease them… where they listen to you.
Where you crave them, to see them again, to learn more.
The type of date where you wake up the next day with their kisses still on your lips, and your attention to everyday life fades and wanes as you live the events of the nights before, singular moments, over and over again, those fireflies lighting up every time.
When you see them the very next day, because you can barely breath without filling yourself with their presence again.
It’s warmth of skin, and smell… the smoothness of it. The confidence that almost borders on arrogance, why do I always find that so attractive?
Dammit. I thought, from the way he came across, that this guy was a bit of a tosser who was full of himself…. I came here tonight for a flirt, a tease, a laugh… then to walk away without sleeping with him, the way I figured a lot of women couldn’t help but do so.
I wasn’t expecting to like him.
This is stupid, and dangerous.
This is the easiest way to get myself hurt.
This man has been in my head for days now, swimming around, distracting me…
That’s the problem.
This man is far too good for me.
And I get the impression he’s more than used to this.
I kick myself, because I should be too old for this. Far to old to be so stupid.
“Promise me you won’t be ‘that‘ girl.”
I know immediatley the girl Bunny is talking about. The one who gets desperate. Who phones repeatedly. Who stalks the other persons dating profile, who adds them as a friend on FaceBook.
And who continues this behavior, pathetically, sadly, with the best of intentions but the most humiliating of results.
It’s difficult. My fingers flit over text messages that I delete before sending.
I won’t be ‘that’ girl. I spent far too many years being her when I was younger.