I had a great couple of hours with my old boyfriend (aka #14) the week prior. He kissed me goodbye, called me gorgeous, and said he wanted to see me again.
He followed up the next day to make that desire a reality. We settled on the following Wednesday. I was taking Liam to an event in the afternoon but he was with his Dad that night.
I got a text the day before that made me ridiculously giggly:
Vespa? His ‘hood? Drinks? YES.
I always liked that guy.
My day was filled with work and rushing back and forth, shuttling Liam. When Fourteen (get it?) and I met at the agreed upon street corner, I was going quickly from flustered to composed. I popped into a local pub to pee and put in my contacts. We walked to his Vespa.
It was beautiful. 250 cc’s with leather seats. We fussed to get my Mom purse in the back compartment. It was he first time he had a passenger on this, his second and bigger Vespa. I wondered how short people get on these things as he moved forward on the seat to give me room to swing my leg over.
I got my leg over then shifted my weight slightly and the next thing I knew we were slowly falling to the ground, the Vespa on top of us. I was mortified,as was he. I wasn’t hurt that I could tell (but boy do I have a massive bruise on my calf still). A bystander said “wow you guys that was graceful”.
Way to start the date.
I loved the Vespa. Loads of fun to whizz through city traffic. It was a beautiful afternoon and we settled on an equally beautiful corner seat on a restaurant patio. Our knees touched. He looked at me intently, often.
Our conversation covered work, parents, travel, and dating horror stories. We laughed a lot. It was a lot of fun.
We scootered over to a dinner location and had awesome barbecue and friend chicken. As we wrapped up he asked what I wanted to do next. Since he’d made no hints about any intentions with me, I left it open ended and asked “what are our options?”
One option was to go back to his place for some drinks.
He’s the kind of guy who’s eliminated most plastic from his house and has amazing drink syrups for his seltzer maker and a fully stocked bar. He made “light and stormies”, grabbed a blanket and a candle, and we went outside to his deck. We talked and talked and I found myself starting to wonder if I had misread his intense stares earlier.
But then he kissed me and all those wonders evaporated. Soon he asked me if I wanted to go upstairs and I said yes.
It had been close to 20 years since our last kiss. 20 years since the last time we’d had sex..and that last time was long after we’d broken up and was actually pretty good, unlike our earlier times. He was a bit messed up about sex the first time we dated. I’d have to go back to my diaries to remember the specifics, but it was insecurity combined with lack of talent and passion.
The passion was there. It was interesting to undress a man I knew when he was young. He is now 45. He’s a bear of a man – over six feet tall, barrel chested, and furry. I like furry. Tony is furry. (Sidebar: Fox actually shaves his public area, which was surprising to me. Goes to show you never know).
He spent a lot of time with his face between my legs. I have no idea how long but my guess is about thirty minutes. His goal was to have me write on my blog that he made me cry for mercy. I laughed when he said this and he laughed back and said “uh oh, what have I gotten myself into…are you saying ‘he’s got no idea?'” I told him of course not, but I at some point I would insist he get inside me.
And then I learned why he’d gotten so good at oral…I think…the sex was nowhere near as good. It was…fine. Just fine. Not terrible. We finished and we cuddled and at some point I told him I had to take my contacts out. He was fine to have me stay over but I had no change of clothes and didn’t have the time in the morning to go home first.
So he kindly offered to drive me home. This time we took his car, not his Vespa. He kissed me goodnight and I went to sleep in my own bed, wondering what the heck was going to happen next.