You know the feeling. The rush, the butterflies, the “will he kiss me” anticipation at end of the night. In my opinion, there’s nothing sexier than a first date. You’re both so interested, anxious. You can almost feel your heart beat out of your chest with excitement.
You’ve had this planned for days now, and it’s finally here. You’ve been stressing all day about what to wear, what to talk about. Those typical “first date jitters”. You decide on an outfit and now you’re just waiting for him. He picks you up and away you go. He walks you to the car and opens the door for you and all you’re thinking about is what a gentleman he is. How it feels so rare these days to meet a guy who is chivalrous. Then there’s the drive to dinner. You’re already in awe of the amazing restaurant choice, feeling like he wants to impress you from the start. How can that not make you feel special? The drive is anything but awkward too. Conversation is flowing and you’re flirting and smiling with those “getting to know you” giggles. It feels like high school all over again, because who really dates these days? It’s all about meeting someone out at the bars and exchanging text messages. Where you’re hooking up long before you’re going out on dates, when it used to be the other way around. This is such foreign territory but you’re trying to remember a simpler time when this is actually how people started relationships.
You get to the restaurant. You go inside and the host takes you to a dimly lit booth. Now you’re sitting across from each other, staring and smiling and you can tell you’re both already thinking about that kiss. “Get through dinner” you tell yourself, there’s plenty of time for that later. You both order drinks, you get a glass of wine to ease those butterflies that keep fluttering, even though you tell them to calm down. And away you go, with conversation and “getting to know you” questions. Deep into that foreign territory, and yet it feels so good. You order dinner, on his recommendation since he picked the restaurant. You share your equal love of food, and you’re both starving since neither of you ate all day out of nerves. You’re sitting there thinking of how nice it is to be out with a guy who is a foodie and wants to have a progressive dinner. To course it out and enjoy each other rather than power through to the main course. He’s totally your style. The waitress eventually brings out dessert, and she most likely told the kitchen to decorate the plate with sauce shaped like a heart because of course she can’t keep her cool and asks if this is “date night”. You both turn the same shade of red as the raspberry sauce on the cheesecake. You look at each other with huge grins and acknowledge that it is indeed “date night”. In a weird way, that eases the tension because now you both know you’re on the same level. You’re both nervous/excited/anxious.
You leave the restaurant and head to the car. He walks you to the door and you wonder if he’ll kiss you now or wait until you get home. You don’t want him to wait, but he doesn’t make a move so you get in. The conversation is easier now that you’ve been together for a couple hours. You flirt, elude to hanging out again. Slyly throw in that you want him to take you for a ride on his motorcycle sometime. SO SEXY.
You get home and he seems nervous. All you can think about is that kiss. Will it happen? Will it be good? Will it make you like him more? Less? Who knows. You get out and head for your door, and it feels like the longest walk ever. You fiddle with your keys and he goes in for a hug, but that’s not what you wanted. So you invite him in to hang out for a bit. It is only 9:30, the night is young. Maybe sitting and talking more will lead to that kiss. 45 minutes of conversation, sexy eyes and inching closer and closer and he finally leans in. Realizing you’re both talked out, and you both want this. Any it’s everything you were craving. Slow but wanting. Soft but intense. Before you know it, it’s midnight and you’ve been kissing for hours. But you don’t let him stay. Something tells you that this won’t be the last time you’re kissing this man. The way he’s looking at you, he feels it too. So you say goodnight, and kiss some more, and say goodnight again. When he finally leaves, all you can think about is kissing him again. Hoping it’s sooner rather than later.
To be continued…