when sparks fly

When a woman wants to prevent herself from being too slutty, there are several things she can do, such as:

* Make sure her bedroom is so embarrasingly messy, bringing someone home would be out of the question.

* Leave legs and girly bits unshaved.

* Wear unsexy, grandma-approved underwear.

I did all of the above for my Friday night date with Computer Dave.

We didn't have an extensive correspondence before meeting up, because I had a good feeling from him from the start and wanted us to get to know each other face to face instead of keyboard to keyboard. In person, he looked just as good as his photos: warm, friendly, attractive. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a light hug. I felt a nervous buzz travel through my body when we separated and smiled at each other.

Chemistry.

We had it, in a palpable way Hipster Henry and I didn't; I knew it immediately. While we were waiting to be seated in the restaurant I was babbling about something. I paused and saw CDave looking at my lips in that I-wonder-what-it-would-be-like-to-kiss-her kind of way. Excellent. I love that look.

Throughout dinner, I was a little flustered. I dropped my chopsticks and nearly took the tablecloth with me when I stood up to use the bathroom. There were pauses in the conversation while we ate, but they weren't awkward.

CDave had two things which really drew me to him: a great smile and a great voice. He smiled an easy, genuine smile that lit up his face and brightened his blue eyes. He spoke in a soothing, slightly low tone of voice that made me lean in a little to hear him and made me hope he'd keep talking. The guy could read a phone book aloud and make it sound sexy.

I realized mid-way through the meal that, despite my nervousness, I felt relaxed in CDave's company. And not just relaxed, but happy, too (must have been those pheromones firing away). I hoped the date would continue.

He paid for dinner (I think I'm getting better about men paying for meals, though it's still taking some getting used to). Outside, we started walking down a dark, fairly quiet street. I wanted to get a drink with him, but didn't want to be the one to suggest it, so I waited. We walked in silence for a few blocks and I started to worry that he was going to end the date. Luckily, we reached a dark, lounge-like bar a little while later and CDave asked if I wanted to go in (hell yes).

I insisted on getting the first round of drinks. CDave drinks whiskey; there's something about men who drink whiskey that I find sexy and I can't explain why. He navigated us to a secluded corner of the lounge. When he chose to sit next to me instead of across from me, I knew for sure that the attraction was mutual.

We talked about... oh, you don't care what we talked about. Luckily, it didn't turn into that situation where you end up talking so much, you leave no room for the kissing moment. Our body language was great: we sat with our knees pressed together, leaning towards each each other. While in the middle of saying something, CDave took my hand under the table. Ooh... What was I saying? I finished my sentence and we just stared at each other, squeezing hands, smiling. I had that amazing elevator-plummeting feeling in my stomach. I live for that feeling.

He pressed his head against mine and said he didn't want to make out with me in the middle of the bar. I said that was okay (though, as we all know, I have no problem kissing in public). However, there was an atmosphere of such intense anticipation and tension hanging over us, he couldn't resist kissing me a little bit. In some ways, it was even hotter to have quick mini-make-out sessions, before CDave felt self-conscious and had to pull away. It was sweet.

I made sure not to drink too much, and attained a pleasant tipsy state. I was having a terrific time and didn't want the night to end. CDave didn't either, and invited me back to his place. I was tempted, but my contact lenses were killing me and I needed to take them out. I also wanted to sleep in my own bed. But I wanted him in that bed with me.

We took a taxi back to my place. I made him wait in the living room while I rushed around my room, throwing piles of clothes, magazines, and mail into a small suitcase. Then I swapped my granny bloomers for a black thong. Nothing I could do about the shaving at that point, but the hair growth wasn't too bad and besides, I was determined that the underwear would stay on. Nothing would happen beyond kissing, cuddling, and light petting.

I was naked within an hour. CDave was able to get me off despite my buzz, which he gets major points for (it's very challenging for me to come when I've been drinking). We passed out and I slept pretty solidly.

In the morning, I wasn't sure if CDave was going to want to go right home or what. He smiled and asked,

"Am I still allowed to touch you?"

We fooled around some more in a semi-sleepy state, napped, woke up, and fooled around again. While the caffeine rush of my morning coffee is usually my favorite way to start the day, being given successive orgasms by a hot man is so much better. He turned me on so much, he didn't even need to do a lot to get me off. That's how good the chemistry was.

Neither of us said anything about seeing each other again, but when he was leaving, we had a lingering hug that made me think this could be the beginning of something. I don't normally have first dates that last 18 hours.

I have no idea if he'll call, but I'm not stressing over it. I'm fully aware that I might have blown it (if you'll pardon the pun) by rushing the physical side of things. At the same time, if a guy is going to dismiss me because I put out on the first date, then I probably don't want to be with that guy anyway. I went with the flow of things and being intimate with him felt natural. A tiny bit too-much-too-soon, but still natural.

I do hope there's a second date, but I'm not pinning all my hopes on it.