Isn't there supposed to be some kind of stigma about the third date? Being me, I mean that in an entirely non-sexual context, as that's what's popping up in my Google-ing. For some reason, I feel like there's something that's supposed to have been significant about date #3 - aside from the fact that I haven't gotten to that many dates with the same person in a very long time.
I was talking to Casanova last night (you'll be introduced to him before long, never fear - both Snow White and I have our tales!) and he mentioned his terror to ask a girl on a second date because that would mean he was committed to at least 10 or 12 dates with her. I thought it was silly, but he is also the most commitment-phobic man I've ever met. I guess The Tenor doesn't have that problem, as this is the third date in less than a week, and there was no sense of this being the last one.
Woah - 3 in less than a week? How does that even happen? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. And within that week there have been at least two group hangouts, as well. Back to the stigma of the number - I may have figured it out. Is this the date where you're supposed to kind of establish what you are - have the dreaded DTR, as it were? A friend last night called him my boyfriend, and while I didn't correct her, I don't know if that was totally applicable. Not that I'm in any rush to define this, I'm perfectly happy just having fun in his company.
In case you're wondering, the date was once again splendid. We had a bite to eat, walked around hand in hand, and saw Super 8 (which I neither truly recommend nor say anything negative of, except for the amount of profanity). He's so much fun to be around, always entertaining and very sweet. I'm definitely looking forward to the rest of my summer!
29 June 2011
26 June 2011
firsts!
Hello! and welcome to our blog. Largely inspired by the Anti-Austen blog, this is going to be kind of our kiss-and-tell recording of various escapades that boys get us into. There's so many things we've just wanted to share, but doing so anonymously so no ones toes get stepped on is so much more fun.
I was going to wait so that the inaugural post would be jointly written with the lovely Snow White, but alas and alack she is traveling to far off places, and co-authoring is difficult via text. And I'm just starting to absolutely burst with stories, so here goes!
I went on my first 2nd date in over a year last night. (I've had a few other dates, but only just the one and done kind.) We'll call this one The Tenor. As a music major, I'm a sucker for a boy who sings, though normally I'm drawn to the baritones. The Tenor just oozes so much charm that I've been quite whisked off my feet - literally, as you will see.
We met at a midnight movie premier in a large group of friends. Home for the summer, he's a second cousin of a friend and decided to come along. There was a lot of cute little flirting, and in the middle of the movie I felt his pinky entwined with mine and it was adorable. Out at a diner afterward at 4 am with the group, I for some reason mentioned needing a whisk in my kitchen, and suddenly I found myself spinning through the air in his arms - whisked!
We met again at another group game night, and after more flirtations, some subtle couch cuddling, and some facebook chatting we set up a date night for next week. Somehow, before that one has even had a chance to happen yet, we've managed to squeeze in two more!
The first one, we went out to breakfast. Living almost 40 miles apart, we managed to find a place in the middle, a delightfully tiny hole in the wall with scrumptious food and friendly service, and we sat and talked until the lunch customers began to arrive and we decided we should probably head out to the rest of our days. I love a good conversation, where there's never a lull or awkward moment, and you just can't seem to stop talking to a person.
That night, we actually saw each other again at a broadway sing-along at another mutual friend's house, and he serenaded me and danced with me in the kitchen. I even heard from one of his friends that they'd heard about 'this girl' he talked about and were excited to realize it was me. There was much blushing, I'm sure. He walked me to my car after, and about another hour later we finally said goodnight. Did I mention my love for this kind of effortless conversation?
Date #2 came two days later (still 3 days before our originally proposed first date), after I went with some of my girlfriends to see his show. (Being nicknamed the Tenor, it logically follows that he is a performer!) It was marvelous. Standing around afterward to greet the cast, he inquired as to our plans for after. Upon hearing we had none, he said that it was decided, we were going to go swing dancing. I had thoroughly enjoyed my one dance with him at the sing-along, and even gone on to blog about it on my 'real' blog, which he then read. I just have to say I think it's so sweet that he then acted on my desire (mentioned in the blog) to go to this very swing place soon. Happy sigh.
Dancing we went, and when we left, I told him it was the most fun date I'd ever been on. I'm not a very skilled dancer, but he is, and there's something about dancing with a lead who really knows what he's doing that will make you feel as if you really are graceful. I didn't even ever step on his feet! I was whirled and spun and dipped dangerously low. Most of the evening is a glorious blur of good music and moving feet and his guiding arms. He even said that if I really didn't know how to dance, I just must be one of the best follows ever, and that warmed my heart. The rest of me was quite warm, too, as the Arizona summer is reaching its miserably hot stages.
Dancing really is incredibly personal. You're wrapped up in another person, leading or following, arms around each other, bodies close. You have to communicate, verbally and otherwise. You're likely going to be covered in one anothers' sweat. You have to trust that when he dips you, he won't let you fall. It's really very intimate. I loved it!
Dancing with the Tenor, if I haven't made it clear by now, was a total rush. He's a performer to his core, and I don't think I stopped smiling the whole night, at the dancing or his antics or how much fun we were having. Breathless and with hearts pounding, we danced until the place closed down.
Stepping outside at 11pm, one expects a cool refreshing breeze, but no such luck in the desert. I decided we'd run to the nearest convenience store for a popsicle to cool off, but somehow we ended up at Denny's for ice cream shakes and apple pie à la mode. Again with the fabulous conversation - we finally got in our cars to go our separate ways two hours later.
All in all, I find him incredibly charming. And cuddly. And cute. The combination is probably lethal. I find myself avidly looking forward to the fact that he's hanging out with our group again tomorrow night, and that our date is still planned for the next day - even if it's date number 3 instead of 1. Especially because it's date #3 instead of 1!
I was going to wait so that the inaugural post would be jointly written with the lovely Snow White, but alas and alack she is traveling to far off places, and co-authoring is difficult via text. And I'm just starting to absolutely burst with stories, so here goes!
I went on my first 2nd date in over a year last night. (I've had a few other dates, but only just the one and done kind.) We'll call this one The Tenor. As a music major, I'm a sucker for a boy who sings, though normally I'm drawn to the baritones. The Tenor just oozes so much charm that I've been quite whisked off my feet - literally, as you will see.
We met at a midnight movie premier in a large group of friends. Home for the summer, he's a second cousin of a friend and decided to come along. There was a lot of cute little flirting, and in the middle of the movie I felt his pinky entwined with mine and it was adorable. Out at a diner afterward at 4 am with the group, I for some reason mentioned needing a whisk in my kitchen, and suddenly I found myself spinning through the air in his arms - whisked!
We met again at another group game night, and after more flirtations, some subtle couch cuddling, and some facebook chatting we set up a date night for next week. Somehow, before that one has even had a chance to happen yet, we've managed to squeeze in two more!
The first one, we went out to breakfast. Living almost 40 miles apart, we managed to find a place in the middle, a delightfully tiny hole in the wall with scrumptious food and friendly service, and we sat and talked until the lunch customers began to arrive and we decided we should probably head out to the rest of our days. I love a good conversation, where there's never a lull or awkward moment, and you just can't seem to stop talking to a person.
That night, we actually saw each other again at a broadway sing-along at another mutual friend's house, and he serenaded me and danced with me in the kitchen. I even heard from one of his friends that they'd heard about 'this girl' he talked about and were excited to realize it was me. There was much blushing, I'm sure. He walked me to my car after, and about another hour later we finally said goodnight. Did I mention my love for this kind of effortless conversation?
Date #2 came two days later (still 3 days before our originally proposed first date), after I went with some of my girlfriends to see his show. (Being nicknamed the Tenor, it logically follows that he is a performer!) It was marvelous. Standing around afterward to greet the cast, he inquired as to our plans for after. Upon hearing we had none, he said that it was decided, we were going to go swing dancing. I had thoroughly enjoyed my one dance with him at the sing-along, and even gone on to blog about it on my 'real' blog, which he then read. I just have to say I think it's so sweet that he then acted on my desire (mentioned in the blog) to go to this very swing place soon. Happy sigh.
Dancing we went, and when we left, I told him it was the most fun date I'd ever been on. I'm not a very skilled dancer, but he is, and there's something about dancing with a lead who really knows what he's doing that will make you feel as if you really are graceful. I didn't even ever step on his feet! I was whirled and spun and dipped dangerously low. Most of the evening is a glorious blur of good music and moving feet and his guiding arms. He even said that if I really didn't know how to dance, I just must be one of the best follows ever, and that warmed my heart. The rest of me was quite warm, too, as the Arizona summer is reaching its miserably hot stages.
Dancing really is incredibly personal. You're wrapped up in another person, leading or following, arms around each other, bodies close. You have to communicate, verbally and otherwise. You're likely going to be covered in one anothers' sweat. You have to trust that when he dips you, he won't let you fall. It's really very intimate. I loved it!
Dancing with the Tenor, if I haven't made it clear by now, was a total rush. He's a performer to his core, and I don't think I stopped smiling the whole night, at the dancing or his antics or how much fun we were having. Breathless and with hearts pounding, we danced until the place closed down.
Stepping outside at 11pm, one expects a cool refreshing breeze, but no such luck in the desert. I decided we'd run to the nearest convenience store for a popsicle to cool off, but somehow we ended up at Denny's for ice cream shakes and apple pie à la mode. Again with the fabulous conversation - we finally got in our cars to go our separate ways two hours later.
All in all, I find him incredibly charming. And cuddly. And cute. The combination is probably lethal. I find myself avidly looking forward to the fact that he's hanging out with our group again tomorrow night, and that our date is still planned for the next day - even if it's date number 3 instead of 1. Especially because it's date #3 instead of 1!
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