Though I do believe sex isn't something to be made available to anyone who asks, I have revised the firmness of my previous stance. As I have embarked upon incredible life changes in the past weeks with surprising results, I decided to throw caution to the wind and do something I vowed I would NEVER do. Here's the story:
After losing a bet with a friend, my ‘punishment' was 7 days on Tinder–an app I despised from its inception. But, being a good sport, I sucked it up and put up a profile. As per the guidelines of the bet, I said ‘yes' to 10 people and waited to see what happened. I was matched with 9 of the 10 within minutes, which I found disturbing. I mean, are these clowns glued to their phones 24×7 desperately awaiting fresh blood? But I digress.
The first ‘match' to message me could barely string a coherent thought together and immediately asked me to find him on Facebook. No thanks. I unmatched him post haste. Then a seemingly semi normal guy messaged, but then quickly fell off a cliff with “You should come over tonight and see if what we have is real.” WTF? And then came Sean the following morning…
Sean was funny without being cheesy, smart without being arrogant and seemed to grasp my penchant for sarcasm from the get go. Not to say that he didn't push the boundaries of innuendo, but it was never vulgar, so I took the bait. He asked to meet that afternoon for iced tea (his with lemon, and mine without) and the banter continued seamlessly without the typical awkward silences. Just as I was prepared to declare him ‘normal', he said we needed to walk to his hotel so he could change for dinner. How original. But instead of feigning insult, I found myself walking with him. Once in his room, he changed (while I politely turned around), and it's then I knew I was in trouble. The make out session that ensued was…memorable.
I began to wonder if I was losing my grip on reality, considering I had somehow ended up in a hotel room and making out with someone I'd known for 2.5 hours, but I soldiered on bravely into this new frontier. He then picked me up, threw me on the bed and proceeded to give me a glimpse of heaven. After I came to my senses (temporarily anyways), I put my feet back on the floor, smoothed my dress and announced he was the devil. Alas, clothes stayed on, he was a gentleman, and off to sushi we went.
I've read ginger and sushi are aphrodisiacs, so I'm blaming the subsequent events on the fact that I clearly overindulged. And considering I was stone cold sober, I'm left grasping at straws. We walked yet again back to his hotel room, under the guise of watching the MLB playoff game. (I started to sense a pattern). And if I thought I was in trouble earlier, I was in WAY over my head now. All of the rules and boundaries I had so painstakingly created and lived by were slipping through my fingers at an alarming rate. But it felt so ridiculously good, I couldn't bring myself to stop. He was dominant, yet curious; questioning, yet persuasive. Sean was intuitive to the point I was starting to doubt his career as a trader–clearly he was a medium specializing in reading minds.
And the way he read every involuntary gasp, inhaled breath, and clenched fist was revolutionary. Who'd have thought a man could pay attention long enough to process a response and adjust accordingly? I'm sold. As a marketer, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I could bottle and sell that shit.
So yes, I broke my own rules and slept with someone I'd known only 5 hours. And I didn't catch on fire, feel like a hooker or leave in disgrace, even though my mother assured me that's what would happen. (Sorry, Mom) My first one night stand? Hell, no–I went back for more at 10am the next day.
P.S. To those of you who told me only sluts put out on the first date, bless you. You have no idea what you're missing.
P.P.S. A special thanks to Sean for feeling the need to change into pants. And for that magic trick you do with your finger.