Continued from My Giant…shows his soft underbelly (#7)
As little as I think of Valentine’s Day as a tradition, I am chuffed I have a date.
I booked the same hotel. Not quite ready to see his place. I drive in the afternoon again to avoid commuting traffic, taking conference calls on the road. Once I’m in his town I go to the car dealership to pick up the part he has researched for me, thinking it could fix my problem.
Picking him up at his place, we drive to the hotel where he fixes my car. Gets on his busted knee, opens a panel, pops in the piece and boom. Fixed. He just saved me about four hundred dollars – the piece cost me 15. The frugality and simplicity are appealing to me.
We get to the room and I’m hoping he’ll be aggressive and put me up against a wall but he does no such thing. We kiss and it gets a bit heated and we fuck but honestly? The sex is irrelevant to the story. It’s just as before.
After expending some considerable energy, we get hungry and decide to go for dinner. He hasn’t made a reservation – although he did have a place in mind. He then realizes it’s Valentines Day and a Friday so not surprisingly, the first two places we try are full. This irritates me. I’m a planner…and while I don’t expect everyone else to be as crazy as I am when it comes to planning, I do quite appreciate when someone has put some effort. It shows a) ability to plan, b) they give a shit, and c) they are willing to take a risk and have an opinion.
I’m starting to get hungry and when I’m hungry my blood sugar level goes down a lot and I can start to get pretty bitchy. I manage to rein it in.
We end up at a pub. Nothing fancy but I don’t need fancy. It’s just fine. But the conversation is just like last time. I had been hoping that perhaps it was nervousness, but nope. He just talks. Monologues. Doesn’t ask me questions. I call him out on it and he says “I ask you questions”…so there is no point in trying to prove my point. I volunteer information and when I talk, he does listen. Until he’s on to his next topic or piece of trivia.
The pub gives all the women a single rose. He brings it along when we leave. He uses it later to touch me everywhere…which I think is awesome. He takes his time. He tells me I’m pretty, that he really likes me, that I’m amazing. Yet I’m still waiting for the alpha guy, the lion who won’t play since it’s akin to playing with a gazelle. He hasn’t come out to play yet and I wonder why.
I find myself mildly irritated that he described himself one way physically and it’s not quite accurate. He’s one of those men who likely never had to work at being fit when he was younger. But now at 44 he has no muscle tone whatsoever in his arms. Time and mediocre diet and lack of exercise has caught up with him.
But he’s so tall he hides it well. I don’t mind someone who has to lose ~20 pounds or even more…believe me, I’m no fitness model. What I do mind is when someone isn’t aware of how fit and healthy they really are, and/or aren’t doing anything about it. That’s my issue.
The next morning we have breakfast at the hotel and the proceed to have a lovely date – probably the closest thing I’ve had yet to the dates I desire. We go to a local farmers market, wandering through the stalls and talking about the various things we see. We buy produce. I buy cheese for a party I’m having with some family the next day. Next door is an antique market and we do the same thing.
He’s affectionate. Stands close to me, holds my hand. Touches the small of my back as we are walking around. Puts his arm around me. I like his size. It’s comforting. But hard to get used to – at 6’7″ and barrel chested he’s huge, and I’m tall and blonde. People were noticing us together. I’m not used to that.
It almost feels better than any sex. My ex didn’t believe in any real public displays of affection. My Giant is so…warm. I just wrap my arms around him inside his coat and let myself soak in how he feels about me.
We don’t want the date to end, and I have nothing on the go that evening. We decide to have a late lunch. There’s a fancy burger place and we go there – they are having a bacon festival and I eat deep. fried. bacon. Yes, you read that right. It did almost kill me but that’s a blog entry to itself.
He asks if I want to go to his place for a bit before we say goodbye. Why not, I think.
This is a mistake for me.
I’m generally pretty easygoing, but there are some things that I’m a bit particular about, and some things that are real turnoffs for me. They usually relate to cleanliness, like dirty fingernails, gross kitchens, and the like. Now before you go and make an assumption, I will clarify that I’m not the kind of girl who needs to go clean up after sex. I will wallow in sticky semen for a long time, and kind of like it. I’m not precious.
We drive to his place. I knew that it was temporary and he may have mentioned it was student housing. What I wasn’t prepared for was an apartment worse than most I saw when I was a student. It wasn’t dirty, I’ll give him that, but it was tiny. He had a roommate. His bedroom – his only real space other than a kitchen – was in the basement. Only room for a bed and a dresser. Nothing on the walls. A bedspread that needed to be washed (this is a big one for me, guys. Clean your fucking bedspreads).
It was all I could do not to make up some excuse and escape. I reminded myself that this was a practical and frugal choice for a guy on a temporary contract who wasn’t sure where he was going to end up. I’d seen pictures of his prior houses and his Harley and all that…so this wasn’t a case of being tricked into thinking he was something he wasn’t. And bottom line was, I knew the kind of person he was. So I sucked it up and stayed.
We had sex. We talked. He told me how much he liked me. That he had taken down his online dating profile the week before and he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I told him I liked him too, but I didn’t know what I wanted or what I was ready for. He didn’t ask if I was seeing anyone else.
I left to drive home and ponder the conflicting thoughts bouncing around in my brain.