As she softly strummed the cords of her acoustic guitar, Blondie gently announced to me, “One more song and you’ll have to go home.” She began to sing (in a folk manner similar to Jewel), and my mind raced to a previous conversation we had shared.
About a month ago, Blondie had confessed that once she decides she will sing to a suitor, it most certainly will result in passionate “date sex”. I’m sure my face became as red as her lipstick, when I suddenly realized there was no way I could walk out of this apartment with the same friendship status I entered with.
Oh Lord, how did I get myself in this situation?
Earlier that day, I had made plans to go on a date with a gal I met on Plenty of Freaks. She fit nicely into the small window of women I call my type; single mom, average looks, nothing too special, but still witty enough to hold my attention in a conversation. Now if you have ever dated on-line, you already know what is coming next. Her text came in at about 4pm,
“Hi Sweetie! My son was injured at his football game today”…blah, blah blah…”I have to cancel our date.”
Ugh! Prepare for the low mood swing…
Now enters Blondie…
“Text me a picture of what you’re wearing on your date!”
Blondie always has perfect timing. It’s as if she is wearing a mood ring set to your emotions.
“Date was canceled.” I replied, as I began to sink lower into my private own pity-party.
Another text from Blondie,
“I’m off tonight, come pick me up. Dinner is on me.”
Hold on…what’s this? Was this a date?
“This isn’t a date,” Blondie quickly followed-up with. …is she a mind reader?
Blondie and I had already agreed weeks ago that our lives did not exactly line up enough for us to expect anything other than a good friendship. However, over a month of talking and we had yet to actually meet one another. So excited for that opportunity, I replied that I was on my way. Before I knew it, I found myself creeping slowly (in my “drug dealer” style car) through a very classy apartment complex. Was I even in the right place? But as I turned the next corner, there she was, waiting kindly on the sidewalk for me to notice her. She was wearing a tight red skirt and a light tan, leather jacket that had a soft, artistic kiss of ‘70’s retro. I lowered the dark tinted passenger window, and as she approached my car, I said something extremely clever, “Hey, baby, get in!”
Quickly I sized up the Blonde situation in front of me. Her big eyes, beautiful red lips, and all ten fingers and toes made for a nice combination. She shut the door and we were off into the night.
The air was warm, so Blondie requested dinner outside somewhere. We chose a downtown Mexican restaurant (one of her favorites).
As we were walking up to the restaurant, I bumped straight into my step-father who was waiting at the crosswalk. A wave of panic overwhelmed me. Was my mother with him? The last thing any man wants is to bump into his mother on a first date (or non-date…whatever this was). I panned around quickly. There across the street I spotted my parent’s ’69 Stingray with the top down, and sitting in the car was my mother facing the opposite direction.
“Welp, Pops, you have a great night!” I quickly escorted Blondie across the street.
Because we had already been texting friends for weeks now, the awkward “first date” small talk was well behind us. We quickly found our conversation to be both playful and sexy, and it rolled on until we were the last couple sitting on the patio. Deciding to walk over to the nearest dive bar, we found our way inside and chose a black, leather loveseat near the back. We laughed, we flirted, and we talked about our exes, as well as the all the people we were currently dating. At one point, she even scrolled through my phone for texts I sent to other women, just so that she could tell me all the things I was doing wrong. Blondie and I bounced around to a few more bars, and before we knew it, we were sitting in her apartment.
“That’s the last song I’m going to sing you, it’s late and you have to go now,” she said while directing me to the door.
“But there is one thing I need to know. Are you a good kisser?” She innocently inquired.
As she leaned into kiss me, I pulled back before our lips met. “This isn’t a good idea,” I said. I was torn, do I switch from friend mode to date mode? Should I dare cross the friend line with someone who already knows me this well?
Blondie opened the door and we stepped out into the hallway of her apartment building. As the door slammed closed, we embraced into a whirlwind of kissing, touching, and slamming each others’ bodies against the wall of the hallway. We quickly regained our senses and stopped.
“You have to go,” she said again.
“You’re really sending me home? You won’t get another chance.” I threatened as I turned the corner of the hallway.
Walking down her hallway, it was as if I could hear Blondie’s brain questioning what she wanted. Suddenly, I heard the sound of her tiny feet running after me. I began to run away from her, laughing playfully. I let her catch me at the top of the stairs and we stumbled down a few as we started to kiss. My eyes quickly scanned for security cameras…none in sight. I ran my hands under Blondie’s dress and around to her back. I hooked my thumbs into the top of her panties, slowly bringing my hands around to the front. Before we knew it, we were laughing at our random spots of rug-burn and bruises from the stairs.
“What will this mean for our friendship come morning,” I thought on the drive home.