Two times the fun?

I agreed to two dates this weekend.  That’s about two times more than usual.  The first one was Friday night, after work and right around the corner from my office.  Why are we attracted to whom we are attracted to?

Date #1 – older man – 58, distinguished grey, good job, likes wine, likes to travel, kids are older, has all of his hair, polite, smart.  DUD.  No chemistry.  I was trapped – I didn’t want to be with this man.  I don’t even want to have a second glass of wine with this man.  Nice enough, but I feel every minute spent with him is a waste of our time.  White bread.  I kept thinking he’d be perfect for my older sister. I can hear my best friend in my ear as I write this, “Aw, come on, give the guy a chance!”  A chance to do what, exactly?  Grow on me?  Become interesting?  Morph into someone else? No, no, no.  Next, please…

After Date #1, I wasn’t looking forward to Date #2 on Sunday.  Why bother?  On my drive to the wine bar,  I was blasting Beck on the stereo attempting to raise my energy level enough to slog through another disappointment.  I’m not sure if my expectations were set so low after Friday’s fiasco that anyone even remotely facinating was going to spark my interest, but I actually didn’t throw up in my mouth upon meeting him.  In fact,  I liked him.

I wouldn’t expect to connect with this man.  Not very tall – I’m not sure exactly how short, I was wearing my killer heels, but I’d guess about 5’8”, four (four!) boys under 16, scout-master, learning how to figure skate, separated, but not quiet divorced yet, and I’m pretty sure I’m NOT the only girl he dated this weekend.  I can hear my best friend commenting on this one,  “WTF? He doesn’t sound like your type at ALL! How tall is he?!”

With all that said, I had a great time with him, good conversation,  I’m attracted to him (he has these smooth, sleek arm muscles – yum) and we’re going out again on Friday. Yay! I’m looking forward to it.

Yellow flag:  we haven’t had a Saturday date – yet.  I think that’s because he has a Saturday date already.  I’m giving him slack – when he arranged his Saturday dates, he hadn’t met ME yet.  I’m hoping after our second date that his priorities will adjust.

Concupiscent*

Let’s face it, I need to get laid.  I need it soon…in fact, actually, I need it right now.  It’s been almost a year and I’m so randy, I’m making stupid romantic choices.  Practically exploding with desire, I’m considering sleeping with people I would never, never, never typically allow past my thighs.  As I type this, I’m simultaneously email flirting with “Dave Smith.”  Dave Smith and I didn’t end well the last time – he doesn’t deserve the time of day.  Granted, the sex was HOT, so, so HOT…wait a minute, this is what I mean!  Dave Smith = Bad Choice.  No Dave Smith, no frosted-hair Asian, no Lawyerly, no Echo (even though he IS exceedingly cute).  My pent-up hormones aren’t allowing me to think straight!

The dating profile I’d like to write:  I need a clean, normal, attractive guy between the ages of 37 and 52 for a long, sweaty night of passion so I can think with my brain again.  Multiple orgasms are required; a follow up date is not.

* I was looking up a synonym for “horny” and found “concupiscent.”  What a great word for desperate, hard-up and sexually manic. Just call me concupiscent.