Sappy Pants


I had a date.

It rocked.

I will have another date.

I am excited.

He is cute.

He thinks I am cute.

There was so much chemistry I am surprised that we didn’t just get it on in the middle of Four Barrel this afternoon.  But we were able to practise some restraint.  It reminded me of the last scene in White Palace when James Spader bends Susan Sarandon over a table in the middle of the restaurant and makes out with her under neath his top coat.

Uh yeah, I could have done that in a heart beat.  Especially after I got the hug good-bye and he just barely brushed the side of my neck with a little kiss and then smelled me (Dude.  He smelled my hair.)

Um, oh my god.  Do it again!

It was a really good thing that my friend Shannon was meeting me at 3:30 pm to make sure that no nakedness ensued.  I have a feeling that I will need to keep upcoming dates bracketed with other like commitments, just to ensure that I keep my hands to myself for the appropriate amount of time.  I want to go on a bunch of dates before we get hot and heavy.

I am not worried about chemistry.

There was chemistry galore.

But I also want compatibility.

We speak a common language, which is really helpful, and we have a very similar kind of family history, which is also helpful.  He loves animals and has a dog (and he likes cats too).  I love animals and have cats (and adore dogs).  We are both employed, this is good. We have both been in long term relationships of five years, also a good sign.  We both are interested in only dating one person at a time, also very good.  He has a vehicle (a pick up truck, which is extremely sexy, I love a man with a pick up truck), but prefers to not drive and rides his bike most everywhere or uses public transportation.  Had I not already reserved the U-haul he would be at my place Sunday to help me move–his offer, I did not even ask!

I may take him up on the offer though for a latter moving date, if there are successive successful dates in the future, I will be needing help to move come January.

Side Bar-I am in need of a room for January my fellows, preferably in the Mission/Bernal/Potrero areas, great consideration will also be given to Castro/Noe/Hayes Valley/SOMA/Downtown areas as well.  Fuck, who the hell am I kidding?  You got a room and will let me have my cats, I want it.

$600 that is what I can afford.  At least at today’s current pay rates.  I am optimistic that the money will be coming in, so that may be a temporary number, but for the time being that’s what I am looking at.  Yeah, I know, that’s a crazy number for this city, but I have faith.  Oh yes I do.  So if you hear of anything, drop me a line, send up a wire, e-mail my ass, send up a smoke signal, but let me know!

Tomorrow is also my side-walk moving sale.  I will be out front of my building from 10 a.m. until dusk.  Come and get it.  1302 Taylor Street @ Washington.  Come hang out and have a cup of coffee with me and wave at the tourists going by on the cable cars if you’re not into buying anything–the cars are really adorable right now, they just all got their Christmas clothes on, very cute.

Back to sappy land–he’s employed full time and in school getting his pre-requisites out-of-the-way for nursing school.  Hotness, a man with a plan and a goal.  I like.

Oh yeah, and he’s hot–kind of reminds me of a rough and tumble Alexander Skaarsgard, albeit a little shorter, he’s taller than I, but just barely, which is enough for me.  And quite charming.  And vulnerable.  And fucking yummy.

Good lord I am smitten.  One coffee date and presto–smitten kitten.

Take it slow is what I am telling myself.  There is no need to rush in and I want to be courted.  Nothing will make me happier than to be courted.  I want flowers and manners and open the fucking door.  Treat me nicely and I will do the same for you.  Hell, I am really good at taking care of people and putting out the welcome mat, I am a great girlfriend.  I cook, I bake, I am an excellent masseuse, I am observant and pay attention and I buy the right gifts.

I also have a mouth that screams blow job according to my best friend, not that any men out there are interested in that, I mean, are they?


So, I expect to be taken care of and treated right.  The store is no longer giving out samples.  You want it you have to buy it.  That means show up, respectfully, politely, chivalrously, and yea shall you be richly rewarded.

Funny thing, though, I got the impression he’s one of those that does not even need to be dropped the hint.  I love that he approached me.  He remembered me from six years ago (we briefly interacted and I recalled when I finally placed where I knew him from, that at the time I had a crush on him) and was very flattering about the recollections.  I love that he asked me for my number, followed that with I would like to take you to coffee.  And he followed through.

Follow through is good.  A confirmation text later  was received and a time set for a contact today.  He set the place, bought the coffee and escorted me to the table.  And he was a charming, sexy, flirtatious, hang on my words date.

My kind of man.

I know enough of my history to move slowly and take my time.  Part of the reason I am writing all this out.  A gentle reminder to self that I can get sex when ever I want, I think any one can really, if you put that out there.  But this go around, well, I want more. I want courtship, romance, and love.


I said the “l” word.  I did not do every fucking exercise in Calling in the One to get laid.  No, I did not.  I did it because I want to get married and have children.

Eek.  Run, run for the hills young man.

I want a relationship that is built on more than just sexual chemistry.  And I am willing to feel like I’m crawling out of my skin with desire for some one as long as I manage to sit on my hands for a while to find out if there is something behind the chemistry–vulnerability, intimacy, conversation, mutual goals, beliefs, and values.  I don’t need a clone of myself and I don’t need some one to complete me.

I want some one who will compliment me.  Salt to my pepper, so to speak.

Only draw back so far is that he lives in West Oakland.

For the moment, however, I don’t really see that as a draw back, it’s actually a damn good thing that he does not live in San Francisco, it might make it too easy to act out. Or make out.

I chose, for today, anyhow, to proceed with caution and let the chemistry simmer.  It just gets more delectable anyhow, slow cooking does that you know.

And in the mean time I will just walk around with a sappy ass smile on my face for a little while longer.

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