Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Lovely Evening

As I walked down the sidewalk, I wondered to myself, "I sure hope she's real."  We had been chatting online for a few days, and a large part of me assumed she was a scammer.  I've had my share of them.  I really didn't want her to be one of them.

She was a little confusing.  She didn't come up on a Google image search, as most scammers did, but she claimed to have two cars (what normal single woman has two cars?)  She wasn't online all day as most scammers are, but she said all the right things, as all scammers do.  Was she real?  Wasn't she?  I kept the online dating website up on my laptop right up until the last moment just in case she had an emergency meeting she had to go to (a typical way for a scammer to cancel a date).

Walking toward the coffee shop where we were scheduled to meet, I doubted she's actually be there.  I turned a corner and saw a figure.  From the distance and in the dark, I wasn't sure it was her, but I kind of thought it was.  As I neared, I saw her big, lovely smile and knew it was her.  We both admitted that neither of us knew if the other one was going to show up and laughed at ourselves.

In her pictures, she looked pretty and happy, but you never know, you know?  She also said that she was BBW (which means different things to everybody).  Her pictures were basically only from the chest up, so I had no idea how big she really was.  I was pleasantly surprised that she was not BBW - at least in my opinion.  She has a lot of masculine qualities, but she doesn't look like a hard core butch, which I also appreciated.

Ever the gentleman, she opened the door for me and paid (gotta love it- my last boyfriend never did that).  We sat at the little table talking about everything and nothing.  I was (hopefully not too noticeably) nervous, but she seemed completely at ease, which was nice.  Before I knew it, we had been talking for an hour and a half.  You know something good is happening when time passes without you realizing it.  I've been on dates where time almost seemed to stop as I desperately tried to come up with an excuse to leave.

She seemed genuinely interested in me, asking all sorts of questions.  We seemed compatible on most things.  She said a lot of things which made me admire her, and she made it sound like she thought I am out of her league (let's not tell her that I'm not, 'kay?)

Afraid the coffee shop wanted to close, we decided to leave.  We crossed the street of the outdoor mall so I could pick up a gift for my son.  She appreciated that I shop like a man - go in with a plan, get it, get out.  Granted, I don't always shop like that, but for the most part I do.

And then... what happens?  Do we call it a night?  Do we try to extend it?  We both start work early in the morning, so the responsible side of each of us wanted to call it a night.  The parts of us that were connecting didn't want to say goodnight so soon.

So, we stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes chitchatting a bit longer.  The cold, dark evening was lit up by the trees lining each side of the road which were decorated with strands of white lights.  The night was clear, so the stars were visible overhead.  It felt kinda magical.

But it was stinking cold!  She didn't want to wear her camo coat because she knows I'm femme and didn't want to overwhelm me, so she was cold.  Finally, we decided it was time to end our date.  Was she going to hug me?  I started slowly walking away when she said, "See I respected your bubble."  Online, we had talked about the large personal bubble I have.  I laughed, returned to her, and gave her a hug.  I think she wanted to, but was afraid to scare me off. 

Aww!  How sweet!

When I got home, I sent her an e-mail, telling her that I had a nice time and hoped she did too.  I also said that I'd love to see her again.  And then the nail biting began.  Did she enjoy herself as much as I did?  Would I get to see her again?

I got a text a short while later.  She had a WONDERFUL time and she wanted to schedule another rendezvous with me. 


No comments:

Post a Comment