So I haven’t seen the hot guy from the building since I walked out of his apartment leaving him frustrated and half dressed. But am honestly not that bothered. My stomach didn’t do the flippy thing when he kissed me and I don’t get excited at the thought of bumping in to him. I actually couldn’t care less.
Maybe that’s because I picked up another distraction two weeks ago.
I was going to play this one as close to the rule book as was humanly possible for someone who lost her copy 13 years ago.
We met at a pool party. He asked me if I’d take a picture but could I get lower down to take it at an upward angle. I said if he wanted me on my knees he only had to ask. He ended up leaving his friends and sticking with my group as we headed back to my apartment. After a couple of hours of flirting I announced it was time everyone went home as I was tired. He handed me his mobile and asked for my number. Wow, how often does that happen?!
The next day he text. And we continued to text for the next two days. He text on my way home from work on the monday and asked me if I wanted to go round to his to watch a film. I agreed and he picked me up. We chatted, flirted, laughed, watched the film, drank some wine and went on to the balcony to look out to sea. The lights of the city around us, and the expanse of black ocean in front. It was the perfect place for a first kiss. Except he didn’t kiss me.
I decided to call it a night and asked if he’d drive me home. In the lift he turned to face me. Stepped forward very slowly and kissed me. My stomach not only flipped it shot up, down and sideways. And in seconds the lift bell went and we had to part. Not bloody fair.
He dropped me home and the texting continued. He asked what plans I had for the weekend. I said very few. He asked if he could see me and I said yes, if he thought of something fun to do. We loosely agreed that if he’d finished what he had to do on Thursday (boring bar related stuff) then we’d do something.
So he texts on Thursday asking what I’m doing. Clearly nothing as I thought we had loose plans. He says he’s not quite done but can he pop over later. I asked to define ‘later’. He LOL’d. I fucking hate LOL. He said maybe 9pm. I said I might be asleep but it’s worth trying his luck. So he came over at 10pm.
I know I know. That is against the rules.
I had previously informed him on text that I had a 5 date rule.
Yes, I laughed a lot when he believed that too.
So we watched a film, snogged like teenagers and I let him under my t shirt. Very teenage. It took all the self control in the world to not drag him in to my bedroom. The kissing was amazing.
Saturday he wanted to spend the day together. So we chilled by the pool. Swam for a bit. Had lunch. And then spent a few hours on the sofa again. I may have given him a treat.
Sunday he went back to working full time. You see, he’s a personal trainer and the week we met was holiday season. Now the fat locals are back and need beasting back in to shape. So the texts have dried up to occasional, but initiated by him.
And all week there has been no mention of date four. Despite me all but demanding it three times.
I know deep down he’s ‘just not that in to me’ but it doesn’t mean I can’t be just a little put out.
He’s 5 years my junior. He’s got an amazing body. He’s sweet, tender and an amazing kisser. He asked for my number. He asked me out. I have turned a blind eye to text speak that irritates me. He got under my skin.
But I guess I should be thankful that I haven’t slept with him or I’d feel worse.
The thing is, if the kissing was that good, and the passion is there, I just know it would have been great sex. And now I’ll never know. So who exactly do these rules help eh?