Tassles part 2

A few weeks back now, maybe even a month, I finally got round to having a second date with Tassles.

Tassles is a beautiful girl, a dirty mouthed, insightful and articulate girl. If it wasn't for the fact that she is maybe a little self absorbed and crazy - not her fault, she's crazy hot and also sharp with it - I'd be pursuing her more actively. She has the midas touch I imagine, a side effect of beauty I've speculated on before - and maybe if I felt I had nothing to lose (which is how I felt before K) I'd be chasing her down more.

I've realised I chase girls who are 'out of my league', find that I can actually get them, then either get bored, or in the case of K, open up and stop playing games. Which I've learned is a BIG no no......Now maybe some girls are shaking their head thinking "What? Of course games are stupid, all we want is a man who will say they love you, that you're the best whilst also being strong, solid yet open" well sure, yes you do.

But you also want to have a man who is slightly out of your reach still - 'Alpha' - you need to feel like you have never quite tamed him, that he's still independent and though he loves you, it's on his terms. His terms in that he is deciding at every point to give you his love, because he is not short of other girls to give it to. He's allowed you to have the key to his heart. Once you feel like you've got the key, that his love is there to be taken for granted - that's where there's the element of coveting something more. Of, hmmm - well I got that.....maybe I could do better. It's animal nature. Men and women manifest the same things in different ways. Now I'm not saying all girls or guys slavishly act on this instinct - but nice guys finish last.

But anyway back to the point...

We'd arranged a date or two which we'd had to cancel for whatever reason, and we'd been sending a few texts here and there - even if she's not the most communicative of people. One night I sent her a picture of me in a state of undress - not balls out naked (who would just jump in with two feet and do that?), just with my top off. Now I'd not typically send this out of the blue, but the way she was on our date, things we'd said and stuff she'd say on facebook made me think that she'd be....well, down with some 'naughty' business.

Turns out that she wasn't. She asked me why I'd send it to her and generally made me feel like a bit of a dick for sending it. Wups.

However she then a day or so later apologised saying that it was her time of the month, she wasn't feeling hot at all and that she was sick of guys sending her pictures like that (haha, who knew we were all at it??) and that I'd just caught her at the wrong time - because now she was now 'appreciating it' alone on her couch.

So we arranged to meet on a Sunday afternoon for a few drinks. Now ordinarily I'd never go in for this, and certainly wouldn't on a first date because: it's more than likely that I'll be hungover, and: you can't really drink and get up to no good. Which is pretty much diametrically opposed to my general game plan for fun. There, I said it ok?

So Sunday arrives and true to form I'm of course hungover. She very kindly offers to come over to Dalston to meet me speculating quite correctly that I'm hungover and won't want to travel too far, so we hit on 4pm and that's that. In my head I'm thinking two things, first "That's seriously nice of her" and as my brain narrows it's eyes and strokes it's chin, a second more interesting thought introduces itself "....I wonder if she wants us to be close to my flat so we can maybe end up there too?" - either way, it was a cool thing for her to suggest.

I walked up to meet her at the train station, dark blue slim jeans were hanging off me as I'd forgotten to put my belt on, a white black polka dotted polo shirt done up to the top (natch) and black vans - which aside from some trusty Loakes, are the only shoes I've worn pretty much exclusively for the past few years: Unremarkable truefact.

I took a short cut down through Ridley Road, which whilst quaint, interesting and great to have on your doorstep, upon reflection isn't the best way to go on a 'romantic amble'. Let's just say the smell of fresh dead farm animals and their fishy cousins won't be bottled and sold on the shelves of Perfumeries around the world any time soon.

We get to the pub and grab some seats by the bar, a Guinness for me and a white wine for her. The conversation is easy and flowing. Some people leave a table and we slip into their places, the acquisition a small victory in the slowly building crowd of Sunday drinkers.

I've pulled back from the whole dating thing for a while now simply because it was offering me little thrill. Little insight, little novelty or elucidation by the hand or word of another. The melodrama of that sentence aside, I look forward to speaking - especially in person of course - to Tassles because I actually get this with her. It's not just the thrill of basking in the attention of a beautiful woman, it's the fact she surprises me, brings things out of me. Maybe that's more an indictment of my situation than her, but it is what it is - we seem to get on.

Mild though it is, my hangover is lifting. Tassles goes to the bar to get more drinks so I sit back and take my surroundings in. Tipping back in my chair I notice a battered dog bowl full of water under our seats, I wonder what dog was here before us, whether it's lead was held by a local stopping for a Sunday pint on his way back to his wife and kids, or maybe it was quenching the thirst of some nouveau-local's French Bulldog. Around me I see groups of smiling faces, the summer sun is setting and giving everyone a golden beatific appearance as though we're all in some kind of wholemeal bread advert. There's a breadboard in front of me on the side of the bar by a dumb waiter, I note how deep cut lines run from 10pm to 4pm - countless right handed bar staff through the years sawing their way through tower blocks of bread. My eyes return to the bar and to Tassles. I can see her profile, she's looking around too. I watch her wondering what thoughts are being formed from what she sees. She has a halo of golden hair around her as the sun gleefully plays around her too. As she bends forward to hand over her money my eyes fall down to her ass, for a second I forget myself and instead of thinking how much I wan to fuck her I purely see a beautiful behind, a tight pear shape of beauty.

She collects her change, picks up the drinks and turns back to bring them over. Rather than act like I'm otherwise engaged looking out the window or on my phone, I smile warmly at her and hold her eye holding out a hand to take my drink with a quiet "Thanks Tassles"

A few more drinks, a few more laughs and challenging questions/opinions later (that shit to me is everything) and we decide to move on.

We have to walk past my flat on the way back to the station (a very fortuitous geographical factor to my living arrangements), so since it's about 6pm now I suggest we go have a drink at mine.

"Sure but I'm not coming up to suck your dick"

o_O

Hahaha, brilliant.

However.

It soon conspired that somehow, by some unknown force that is still beyond me....she was.

I remember us talking on FB for the first time so many months ago and thinking "Wow, you've replied." and then "Wow, we're kind of getting on" and then thinking, "I'm going to date you at some point"

And date we did.

I have a third date with her tomorrow, and although she's potentially flakey let's hope we do see each other. I shall at the least continue recollecting the rest of this Sunday date afterwards, and hopefully have more to tell you besides if tomorrow night happens.

Thanks for stopping by here, I shall try to write a little more interestingly soon xx