This weekend heralded in yet another large stride in my hippy, self-help, overemotional journey to discover the real me. I took J* out on a date; this, I suppose, is my first real first date in about ten years. The other women I've been spending time with and taking out for a night on the town I had already slept with so I really don't consider that to be a first date. Those first dates were spent sharing a passionate moment, worshipping the beauty of the human figure, and unashamedly committing wonderful acts of fornication. It was fun, but with J it's different.
Having been married for five years and living with my wife for the five years prior to the marriage, I haven't been in the company of another woman in quite some time. While I am usually a fairly confident person and ever headstrong, charging blindly forward in the pursuit of my desires, I was slightly taken aback at the twinge of nervousness and doubt sneaking into my consciousness. To quote the Stones: "Am I rough enough, Am I tough enough, Am I rich enough, I'm not too blind to see". Do women see me as that charming, handsome bloke that gets more than a passing glance? Do I still have the romantic repertoire to make a lady blush and set her heart aflutter? Such negativity must be squashed lest it tear you apart from the inside. Easier said than done, but a feat that is far from nigh impossible. And so, with my fears and worries cast aside, I set about having a lovely time with a beautiful woman.
Saturday:
The phone rings and it's early. Not too early for me to be awake, but certainly too early for me to be expecting phone calls. It's J and she informs me that she will be late to arrive for our 'date'. It seems that she had a little bit too much fun the night prior, perhaps imbibed one too many libations, and had left her car in Hartford. Insisting that she was very sorry for the inconvenience, she professes her continued interest in traveling the more than one hour trip to come see me despite her less than ideal circumstances. What a sweet girl, no? Tired and hung-over she still wants to drive up. I, of course, have no problem with her tardiness whatsoever. Had I not myself been out drinking the previous evening and gotten more than fuck all done before I left, I would be entirely prepared for her arrival at that very moment. Naturally that wasn't the case so I welcomed the opportunity to finish my preparations and the chance to tidy the house, my car, and myself. A chin bestubbled with a tongue to match most certainly wouldn't make a great impression after all.
J pulls into the parking lot, late, but she's too pretty for me to be mad at her. Stepping out of the car she flashes a smile that radiates her fun and bubbly personality . . . and it's for me. She looks good, especially for someone who had to be driven home less than twelve hours ago. Rockin' body, great smile, nice eyes. The only thing that strikes me as a bit odd is this braided piece of hair on one side of her head. It looks a little out of place, but she's kind of a hippy chic so for the time being I will just write it off as a quirk. Besides, I like quirks. They make people more interesting and I have plenty of them myself. Like how I never take off my socks. There's nothing wrong with my feet or anything, I just like to wear socks. After the brief discussion on what should be brought and whose car was to be taken, we were off on the 'official date'.
The game plan was to go for a hike, have a picnic, and then have some drinks afterwards. I've never been hiking before; however, since we were on my turf I had little difficulty locating an appropriate venue for the activity. A small state park with a steep ledge that offered stunning views of the forests surrounding my home town. What better place for a romantic picnic than the edge of a cliff? Neither of us is in poor physical shape but the steep climb made our conversations a little sparse at certain points along the trail. We reached the highest point of the cliff but sadly it was occupied by a largish group, whom I assume were all related, drinking bear and talking loudly while their children ran about throwing stones over the edge.
[derail]Seriously, who the fuck brings little kids to hang out at the top of a cliff? I secretly wished that one of them would take a digger and tumble the three hundred or so feet to the bottom just to teach them a lesson. I would have felt badly if he died so I threw in at the end of my wish that it would be good if the kid landed in the water of the pond below. Thank our Lord, Bob-Almighty. Amen. Not that stupid people ever learn lessons. They would have just tried to sue the state and get a fence put up to keep stupid people from doing stupid things. Fucking twats.[/derail]
Since the spot I had chosen as the perfect place for a sit was taken, we decided to just continue on down the path until we found another appropriate place where we could find a little privacy and respite. This didn't happen for quite some time as we spent the afternoon meandering our way through the woods on a sunny autumn day, chatting about whatever and smiling at each other. Eventually we make our way around to an area behind where we had first stopped that was a little more tucked away but still offered some nice views.
Prosciutto wrapped melon, cherry tomatoes stuffed with olives and sun-dried tomato, and assorted cheeses with crackers made for a refreshing and light lunch that we both barely nibbled at. I spent a considerable amount of time and more than a few dollars to prepare everything and I still wasn't disappointed that it was hardly touched. I've been told that women adore a man that can cook well. She was very appreciative of the effort I put into the picnic; however, we spent more time talking and sipping from the glasses of spicy Syrah I had brought than trying to snack. Ah, but the coup de grace. Her birthday is coming up this Thursday but I won't be seeing her again until the weekend following. So as a celebratory gesture I made her a cake. It was a walnut torte topped with chocolate ganache and thinly sliced strawberries with a small candle inserted for obvious reason.
As the sun slowly moved to hang low in the sky behind us we just sat there at the cliff's edge learning about each other. There is precious little else in this world that could best the feeling of connecting with another person. Gazing into the eyes of a beautiful woman, exchanging playful touches in an involved conversation, hearing words whose literal meaning pale in comparison to the enchanting song they weave when passed over the lips of an innocent seductress; this is what gives life meaning. I was oblivious to the people passing on the nearby path, the view of the surrounding area, and the wildlife calling in the distance. All I could see was J, hear only her voice, and breathe in every moment.
Shortly after we began to wrap things up. Everything packed up and ready to go, we hiked back to the car and headed to the pub. The pub is a local watering hole where everyone knows me but nobody wanted to talk to me as I entered with another woman so as to not intrude. We sat by the fire to continue chatting over a couple of beers. Unfortunately the time for her to leave was fast approaching and the evening was cut short. I drove her back to her car, exchanged a good bye and a short, soft kiss, and then she was gone.
While I watched her drive away I began to reflect on the events that had just occurred. I was decidedly convinced that it was one of the best days I had experienced in a long time. I recalled my earlier apprehension and feelings of insecurity and it made me chuckle. I realized that I really invested very little in how much she enjoyed herself that day even though that was my primary goal. It pleased me to know that she did, in fact, have fun in my company, but more importantly I was pleased with myself. I had fun being that romantic guy again. I took the time to plan a day without taking any consideration for myself and focused on someone else's interests. I was genuinely interested in what another person had to say. I told stories and gave opinions that almost nobody has heard while sitting in the woods with this fabulous woman. I opened doors for her and held her hand while helping her down rocky ledges. I was a man that I had not been in far too long. Ultimately I don't care what anyone, even J, thinks of what I did or how I felt. Call my actions anachronistic or proclaim me pussy-whipped new-age wuss and I'll hear none of it. I'm becoming happy with me and that's all that matters. That, my friends, is my stride.
* ~ For anonymity purposes, I'll just call her by her first initial.
Having been married for five years and living with my wife for the five years prior to the marriage, I haven't been in the company of another woman in quite some time. While I am usually a fairly confident person and ever headstrong, charging blindly forward in the pursuit of my desires, I was slightly taken aback at the twinge of nervousness and doubt sneaking into my consciousness. To quote the Stones: "Am I rough enough, Am I tough enough, Am I rich enough, I'm not too blind to see". Do women see me as that charming, handsome bloke that gets more than a passing glance? Do I still have the romantic repertoire to make a lady blush and set her heart aflutter? Such negativity must be squashed lest it tear you apart from the inside. Easier said than done, but a feat that is far from nigh impossible. And so, with my fears and worries cast aside, I set about having a lovely time with a beautiful woman.
Saturday:
The phone rings and it's early. Not too early for me to be awake, but certainly too early for me to be expecting phone calls. It's J and she informs me that she will be late to arrive for our 'date'. It seems that she had a little bit too much fun the night prior, perhaps imbibed one too many libations, and had left her car in Hartford. Insisting that she was very sorry for the inconvenience, she professes her continued interest in traveling the more than one hour trip to come see me despite her less than ideal circumstances. What a sweet girl, no? Tired and hung-over she still wants to drive up. I, of course, have no problem with her tardiness whatsoever. Had I not myself been out drinking the previous evening and gotten more than fuck all done before I left, I would be entirely prepared for her arrival at that very moment. Naturally that wasn't the case so I welcomed the opportunity to finish my preparations and the chance to tidy the house, my car, and myself. A chin bestubbled with a tongue to match most certainly wouldn't make a great impression after all.
J pulls into the parking lot, late, but she's too pretty for me to be mad at her. Stepping out of the car she flashes a smile that radiates her fun and bubbly personality . . . and it's for me. She looks good, especially for someone who had to be driven home less than twelve hours ago. Rockin' body, great smile, nice eyes. The only thing that strikes me as a bit odd is this braided piece of hair on one side of her head. It looks a little out of place, but she's kind of a hippy chic so for the time being I will just write it off as a quirk. Besides, I like quirks. They make people more interesting and I have plenty of them myself. Like how I never take off my socks. There's nothing wrong with my feet or anything, I just like to wear socks. After the brief discussion on what should be brought and whose car was to be taken, we were off on the 'official date'.
The game plan was to go for a hike, have a picnic, and then have some drinks afterwards. I've never been hiking before; however, since we were on my turf I had little difficulty locating an appropriate venue for the activity. A small state park with a steep ledge that offered stunning views of the forests surrounding my home town. What better place for a romantic picnic than the edge of a cliff? Neither of us is in poor physical shape but the steep climb made our conversations a little sparse at certain points along the trail. We reached the highest point of the cliff but sadly it was occupied by a largish group, whom I assume were all related, drinking bear and talking loudly while their children ran about throwing stones over the edge.
[derail]Seriously, who the fuck brings little kids to hang out at the top of a cliff? I secretly wished that one of them would take a digger and tumble the three hundred or so feet to the bottom just to teach them a lesson. I would have felt badly if he died so I threw in at the end of my wish that it would be good if the kid landed in the water of the pond below. Thank our Lord, Bob-Almighty. Amen. Not that stupid people ever learn lessons. They would have just tried to sue the state and get a fence put up to keep stupid people from doing stupid things. Fucking twats.[/derail]
Since the spot I had chosen as the perfect place for a sit was taken, we decided to just continue on down the path until we found another appropriate place where we could find a little privacy and respite. This didn't happen for quite some time as we spent the afternoon meandering our way through the woods on a sunny autumn day, chatting about whatever and smiling at each other. Eventually we make our way around to an area behind where we had first stopped that was a little more tucked away but still offered some nice views.
Prosciutto wrapped melon, cherry tomatoes stuffed with olives and sun-dried tomato, and assorted cheeses with crackers made for a refreshing and light lunch that we both barely nibbled at. I spent a considerable amount of time and more than a few dollars to prepare everything and I still wasn't disappointed that it was hardly touched. I've been told that women adore a man that can cook well. She was very appreciative of the effort I put into the picnic; however, we spent more time talking and sipping from the glasses of spicy Syrah I had brought than trying to snack. Ah, but the coup de grace. Her birthday is coming up this Thursday but I won't be seeing her again until the weekend following. So as a celebratory gesture I made her a cake. It was a walnut torte topped with chocolate ganache and thinly sliced strawberries with a small candle inserted for obvious reason.
As the sun slowly moved to hang low in the sky behind us we just sat there at the cliff's edge learning about each other. There is precious little else in this world that could best the feeling of connecting with another person. Gazing into the eyes of a beautiful woman, exchanging playful touches in an involved conversation, hearing words whose literal meaning pale in comparison to the enchanting song they weave when passed over the lips of an innocent seductress; this is what gives life meaning. I was oblivious to the people passing on the nearby path, the view of the surrounding area, and the wildlife calling in the distance. All I could see was J, hear only her voice, and breathe in every moment.
Shortly after we began to wrap things up. Everything packed up and ready to go, we hiked back to the car and headed to the pub. The pub is a local watering hole where everyone knows me but nobody wanted to talk to me as I entered with another woman so as to not intrude. We sat by the fire to continue chatting over a couple of beers. Unfortunately the time for her to leave was fast approaching and the evening was cut short. I drove her back to her car, exchanged a good bye and a short, soft kiss, and then she was gone.
While I watched her drive away I began to reflect on the events that had just occurred. I was decidedly convinced that it was one of the best days I had experienced in a long time. I recalled my earlier apprehension and feelings of insecurity and it made me chuckle. I realized that I really invested very little in how much she enjoyed herself that day even though that was my primary goal. It pleased me to know that she did, in fact, have fun in my company, but more importantly I was pleased with myself. I had fun being that romantic guy again. I took the time to plan a day without taking any consideration for myself and focused on someone else's interests. I was genuinely interested in what another person had to say. I told stories and gave opinions that almost nobody has heard while sitting in the woods with this fabulous woman. I opened doors for her and held her hand while helping her down rocky ledges. I was a man that I had not been in far too long. Ultimately I don't care what anyone, even J, thinks of what I did or how I felt. Call my actions anachronistic or proclaim me pussy-whipped new-age wuss and I'll hear none of it. I'm becoming happy with me and that's all that matters. That, my friends, is my stride.
* ~ For anonymity purposes, I'll just call her by her first initial.