Dating 101

My date with the Gorgeous Giant was last night, as I'm sure you all knew. He's very sweet... funny... and tall. Very, very tall. When I asked him about what sort of bed he sleeps on he responded, "If you're lucky, someday you'll find out."

I broke several of my rules. I gave my number out in a bar. I talked entirely too much and too fast (he calls me the Gilmore Girl). I kissed him on the first date... lots. He looked through my photo albums on the first date. He saw my apartment, and my bedroom on the first date... which wasn't particularly tidy, so I was embarrassed. And, he knows about this blog now too. And my MySpace page.

He made fun of me for not taking off my shoes as we sat on my bed. Damn father of mine in the back of my head telling me to behave like a lady.

So, I guess, this puts us well at date three meaning I should be cooking him dinner next if he calls again. Which I hope he does...

We went to Lauriol Plaza for dinner. I wasn't overly hungry, and thus broke another rule and ate very little. I try to eat normally in front of guys only because I don't want them shocked later on when I'm craving a Checker's hotdog and fries.

He's had a string of psychotic girls lately. The most recent didn't speak much English and introduced herself as his girlfriend. He told her on the phone he'd say I love you to her if she knew his last name. She didn't.

But it was nice to be with a guy. A real guy, with buddies and Fraternity stories and the ability to pull me to him if he wants to kiss me.

While I've never not enjoyed being out with a Lost Boy, I'm ready for someone else to control the date. I think this is why I was always attracted to players and a-holes... and sort of became one myself at one point. I don't want a guy that can quote Sex and the City. I've got girlfriends. I don't want a guy who can tell me what's in fashion. I've got a subscription to Vogue. I don't want a guy who let's me drive him everywhere... who I catch reading my Glamour... who tells me Justin Timberlake is hot... I want two chromosomes- XY. I want a man.

We'll see if he calls again. I didn't take my shoes off... or anything else for that matter. I suppose if he doesn't call, at least that's one less thing to worry about.

But, I will say this, I'm glad I gave my number out in a bar. My father was wrong.