I made out with a man who I'd met five minutes earlier as Seattle rolled into 2013. We saw everyone around us kissing, and he, being drunk, suggested we kiss as well. I, being sober and indifferent, agreed. His beard scratched my face, and I regretted the kiss immediately. Motherfucking men in this city and their facial hair.
"He makes a lot of money and owns his own place!" was the first thing that a mutual friend said to me. I guess that since I'm 30, those things are supposed to make me excited. They don't. I'd rather have a poor boyfriend who saves the world, travels, climbs mountains, and shaves occasionally.
He found me standing by myself a few minutes later and used the pickup line, "I told your brother I thought you're cute." Nice, I'm sure that's what my baby bro wanted to hear.
We talked a bit more and then he asked if he could kiss me again. I was wary about the beard but saying no sounded like a lot of effort, and I was tired. Lips locked for another minute or so before I said I was going home.
In a normal city, when you make out with a woman who's leaving a party, I believe the following happens:
You ask for her number.
You walk her to the door.
You offer to wait with her outside for a cab OR
You offer to walk her home.
None of the above happened last night. He said it was nice to meet me, and I left. And then, the thirty year old man who "makes a lot of money and owns his own place," asked my brother for my phone number.
The text message arrived twenty minutes after I left:
"R____, this is the creepy guy you met tonight. I would love to see you tomorrow or whenever. I really did like kissing you, but I am much better. How about dinner tomorrow? And yes, I'm a little forward."
HELLO MEN OF SEATTLE, there is nothing forward about asking a woman out on a date after you have already made out with her. In fact, offering to buy her dinner is probably the most respectful thing you could do given the circumstance.
I said yes. Why not?
"He makes a lot of money and owns his own place!" was the first thing that a mutual friend said to me. I guess that since I'm 30, those things are supposed to make me excited. They don't. I'd rather have a poor boyfriend who saves the world, travels, climbs mountains, and shaves occasionally.
He found me standing by myself a few minutes later and used the pickup line, "I told your brother I thought you're cute." Nice, I'm sure that's what my baby bro wanted to hear.
We talked a bit more and then he asked if he could kiss me again. I was wary about the beard but saying no sounded like a lot of effort, and I was tired. Lips locked for another minute or so before I said I was going home.
In a normal city, when you make out with a woman who's leaving a party, I believe the following happens:
You ask for her number.
You walk her to the door.
You offer to wait with her outside for a cab OR
You offer to walk her home.
None of the above happened last night. He said it was nice to meet me, and I left. And then, the thirty year old man who "makes a lot of money and owns his own place," asked my brother for my phone number.
The text message arrived twenty minutes after I left:
"R____, this is the creepy guy you met tonight. I would love to see you tomorrow or whenever. I really did like kissing you, but I am much better. How about dinner tomorrow? And yes, I'm a little forward."
HELLO MEN OF SEATTLE, there is nothing forward about asking a woman out on a date after you have already made out with her. In fact, offering to buy her dinner is probably the most respectful thing you could do given the circumstance.
I said yes. Why not?
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