Wham, Bam, Thank ya Ma’am

What a night, ladies. Had a nice night Wednesday with Mr. Cocky – dinner at Cashion’s, holding hands, some intense sex afterwards, the usual. The highlight of the evening was sitting next to an awkward couple on their first date. At one point, she actually asked, “Am I annoying you?” I think a review of their date will require a separate post. Amazing.

So last night I decided to invite Mr. Ironman over. While I was waiting for him, I was sitting with one of the girls, on the phone with Mr. Cocky, while Mr. Starbucks was beeping in on the other line (is that even the proper terminology for cell phone speak??). You see, I canceled my date with Mr. Starbucks on Tuesday night because I was uncomfortable with the date he planned. At first, he asked if we could go to the Gibson. I said, yes, of course…I dig that place and all its secrecy and fancy pants cocktails. Then he texted inquiring if it would be alright to cook dinner at his place together instead. This was far too intimate for our second date, especially when I wasn’t sure I was feeling it in the first place. You see, it’s important to leave an out if things aren’t going well when you first start getting to know a guy. A drink at the Gibson and, yaaaawn, “man, it’s getting so late and I have school tomorrow…I need to get home…thanks for the drink!” Cooking dinner at his place would have been a real time commitment. I faked having an assignment and got out of the date. We said we could shoot for Thursday night, but since he was moving Friday, he would probably have to pack Thursday night. I said that was fine because I had to do an autopsy Thursday at the ME’s office and would probably smell of death and not be in the dating mood. I panicked as he beeped in last night when I was on the phone with Mr. Cocky. He left a voicemail. I did not listen to it. There was too much going on. I had to get my conversation with Mr. Cocky over with before Mr. Ironman showed up. Too many men? Never.

So Mr. Ironman showed up. We had a nice little chat with one of the roomies before she left to go over Mr. Wonderful’s place (siiiiiigh). Together we sipped some cheap but delicious Trader Joe’s wine and watched Jersey Shore. We talked through most of it though. I really do like him. We started making out and decided to move down to my dungeon. As the clothing started flying off, I stopped him and asked if he wanted a purely sexual relationship. His reply…

“Well, what are you looking for?”

“I can’t say for sure right now obviously. But I do enjoy talking to you and would be open to getting to know you better.”

“I like you, too. I’d like to get to know you better as well. You know, we don’t have to have sex.”

“Clearly I know I am not obligated to have sex with you.”

And then we started having sex. :)

It was okay. Not nearly as intimate as even the first times with my two favorite partners. I barely accomplished an orgasm before he was finished. “I got a little too excited. Ha.”

“Eh, it happens.” I am certain he heard the disappointment in my voice. I am not very good at hiding it. When you are nearly 30 years old and are wearing a condom, you should be able to last more than 10 minutes. I mean, trust me, I know I’m good (wink, wink), but have some self control, man.

I knew from talking to Mr. Ironman earlier that he had it in mind to go to class the next day and I told him there was no way I was going to be up in time. So he decided to go after around 60 seconds of cuddling. I didn’t feel good when he left. I may have scared him away or made him feel badly about not being able to resist cumming. Not sure what to think about it yet. I guess we will see what happens when he comes back from NYC after the break.

After he left, I texted Mr. Cocky. To be honest, I still think about him whenever I kiss someone else. I start with that retarded fucking mantra again. As stupid as it sounds, I just want to live happily ever after with him. I see other guys to try to gain some control over my situation with Mr. Cocky. It provides only temporary relief. Woe is me.

Mr. Ironman

So back when I was neglecting my blogging duties, I hooked up with Mr. Ironman for the first time. Mr. Cocky had just sauntered back into my life and I was feeling confused and vulnerable. I had spoken with Mr. Ironman, a classmate of mine, a few times before and knew he was going to be out at good ol’ G &T for our post-Q2 finals partay. I told a good friend of mine that I had it in mind to make out with him that night. He walked into G & T wearing a hideous Christmas-themed vest over a tank top with a tie; apparently he had just come from an ugly Christmas sweater party. This did not deter me. We were like magnets, together the whole night…chatting, flirting, taking shots. The girl he has been hooking up with in our class was awkwardly hanging out beside us, vying for his attention. Who did she think she was dealing with? Mr. Ironman was mine that night. At one point I looked right at him (drunkenly) and casually asked, “You wanna come home with me tonight?” He did. So home we went.
Our night of passion resulted in a broken lamp in my bedroom and half a can of beer spilled in my leather bag. It was fun. No sex though. He left later that morning but I realized we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Oh well. I didn’t think much about it over break. I was far too concerned with my revived pseudo-relationship with Mr. Cocky.
When I came back last week, I found Mr. Ironman in one of my Pathology small groups. I was happy to see him, but not overly excited. We chatted briefly before the ER attending began. After class, I was walking home with the iPod on full blast listening to M83 when I noticed him slide up next to me while I was waiting to cross the street. We walked back up to Glover Park together, along with a few other dudes who live up this way. Still, I didn’t think much of our night of passion.
Things changed the next evening. I got texts from several of my dude friends telling me to come to their house party. I had a few drinks, put on a dress, and headed over. One of the first people I saw was Mr. Ironman’s roommate. He immediately said to me, “Hey, Mr. Ironman is here…you should go say hi.” Ahhh, so he’s been talking about me, eh? Interesting. I did go say hi. We started talking and at one point we were side-by-side, sitting on the edge of a table, and his hand slid behind my back to find my hand. The drunker I got, the more I wanted to take him home.
Meanwhile, a few of my dude friends, all of who were quite inebriated, were starting to get inappropriate with me. I have no problem talking about sex, joking about sex, flirting, yada yada. But when one of them grabbed my left breast, I told him, “Too far.” It was worse when he slid his hand up the back of my dress later on. We all piled into a cab to go to the bar at which our welcome back to school party was being held. I, on Mr. Ironman’s lap, continued to be verbally harassed by my drunken male friends. Mr. Ironman held my hand and jumped in when necessary. I talk a tough game, but by the time we reached the bar, I was visibly upset. I couldn’t understand why men, correction, boys, whom I considered friends would treat me the way they were treating me…so disrespectful. They walked in the bar ahead of us as Mr. Ironman tried to console me. He said, “Come here,” and kissed me very sweetly before we walked in.
At the bar, to make a long story short, we made-out hardcore in front of our entire class… like middle of the dance floor. After a while, we decided to go back to his place. We caught a cab and did just that. We had some drunken sex, which was not too shabbs as far as drunken sex goes, and passed out. I should mention that his body is nothing short of phenomenal.
As we slowly woke up the next morning, we had our first prolonged sober conversation. I liked talking to him. He offered to make me breakfast, drive me home, but I opted to just walk home as a certain roommate was definitely home and needed an update. I smiled to myself as I walked home and realized I actually liked him.
He texted me later that night, and again the next day. I got up the nerve to say, “Soooo this may be presumptuous of me, but would you like to hang out some time?” He said, “I definitely want to hang out some time.” I squealed with delight.
We have tentative plans for later this week. I have butterflies. This feels good.

Mr. Starbucks

But first, to bridge the gap…

I have been dating Mr. Cocky on and off for 6 months now. I may be in love with him and he may be a total douche. But, he continues to rock my world. On to the new guy…

The day after I returned from LA, I decided to drag my tired ass over to the local Starbucks to read a book…for pleasure. I hadn’t showered, was quite jet-lagged, and had my greasy hair pulled back with a cloth headband and no make-up on. I strolled in, ordered a skim latte and settled down next to the window, putting my feet up on the chair next to me as I opened The Road. Not long after I had settled in, I noticed a handsome gentleman, tall and thin with dark hair and glasses, walking in. While he was up at the counter presumably ordering an over-priced coffee, an older man (dad’s age) was looking for a seat. I didn’t dare move my feet. He took the seat next to the one my tired heels were resting upon. I saw that the cute guy was looking for a seat, so I nonchalantly took my feet down and he nonchalantly took the seat. I noticed him glancing at me out of the corner of my eye but it took a while for him to say something. He said, “Hard to put that book down, huh?” I mumbled an agreement, then something about being jet-lagged. We ended up talking for about an hour.

I found out that Mr. Starbucks was from Richmond and had a sister who is a physician there. He works for the World Bank, doing something with crisis management in sub-Saharan Africa. He went to Hamilton, which is one of the upstate New York colleges I considered attending. The Road was his favorite book. I liked Mr. Starbucks. Our conversation came to an end when he informed me that he needed to head to work. He took out his phone and said, “We should go out some time.” As he asked for my number, his hands shook just slightly. I thought it was adorable.

I knew he was going out of town for New Year’s, but when I still hadn’t heard from him Monday, I texted. He texted back in under half an hour and asked if we could go to Bistro Lepic the next night at 8:30. He wanted to know my address so that he could swing by and we could walk down together. I was quite nervous, especially because Mr. Cocky was texting me before Mr. Starbucks was set to arrive, asking me to have dinner with him. Mr. Starbucks showed up and I introduced him to 2 of the girls. As we headed out, the conversation was easy and natural.

The food and wine were all delicious. I found out that he is far more sophisticated than I. He knew all about wine and wanted to order pate. But I can hang. There were no lulls in the conversation. I was beginning to like Mr. Starbucks. However…I had this nagging feeling that this was not the guy for me. Even on the way to dinner, I felt like I had to hold back. You all know how I can be…and I was on my best behavior for this guy. No lewd conduct whatsoever. From my first date with Mr. Cocky and my first time talking to Mr. Never-Gonna-Happen, I felt like I could be myself, like neither of them would judge me or be turned off by my frequent dropping of the F bomb.

After some appetizers and wine, Mr. Starbucks invited me back to his place in Georgetown. I was hesitant, but I went anyways. Not 5 minutes after we got in the door, he kissed me. We ended up making out quite a bit. Good kisser. He poured more wine and we went upstairs to a sitting area with books and a tv. More making out. He tried to take off my shirt and I had to stop him. I stumbled over my words…we’re moving kinda fast for me…I’m not that kinda girl…if that’s what you are looking for, I get it, but it’s not me…yada, yada. He quickly apologized and asked me to stay. More making out, more chatting.

And every single time he kissed me, I thought of Mr. Cocky. It was like some fucking retarded mantra… “I wish I was with Mr. Cocky, I wish I was with Mr. Cocky.”

Eventually, I told Mr. Starbucks I needed to go home. He made a brief attempt to make me stay, then walked me to Wisconsin, hailed me a cab, and gave the driver money to take me home. He is a Southern gentleman for sure.

HOWEVER…I can’t help but think he just wants to fuck me. While we were making out, he would occasionally say things like, “Your have the best lips,” or, “Your eyes are so beautiful.” They felt like lines. I cannot explain why…but I am certain you all know what I mean. Some men sound sincere and some don’t. It is a gut feeling, and every time I have ignored my gut, it has gotten me into trouble. Mr. Cocky never made me feel like I was being fed lines. Neither did Mr. Never-Gonna-Happen. I am going to go out with Mr. Starbucks again, but I am not so sure about him. I was texting Mr. Cocky the second I got in the cab. I just wanted to crawl into bed with him. FML.