A clever ruse?

He’s not much at the first glance. But he’s someone who has yet to fail to disarm me. This much I would never have guessed by the barren conversations that we had previously, at the bar on those infrequent occasions. I am not sure yet if he hints at depth he does not contain, or if it is so overwhelming he must hand it out sparingly, little tastes now and again, fat worms on a shiny hook. He consistently speaks in riddles and I struggle to catch up, which is both irksome and enticing.

I went home with Drew on our first date, but we did not sleep together. After my bar, we went to another one, and nightcapped at yet another one, which wasn’t close at all to the first or second, so I suspected that it was closer to his flat, which ultimately meant further from mine. I stuck to Guinness however, so as not to lose my head, as we sometimes can in the company of people we deem attractive.

Even so, I found my eyes lingering on his too long, his lips even longer. I tried to converse more, learn about him as we had been on a date for a few hours and while my comfort level had certainly increased after the whispering we were forced into in the noisy bar, the personal anecdotes we’d shared about bad dates in the quiet bar, and the familiarity of home in my bar, he still felt like a stranger.  He was humorous in an evasive way, always changing the subject back to me if it stayed on him for very long. I wasn’t sure if that was to remain mysterious or in his best interest to learn about me. 

Toward the end of the evening, I found myself sharing a small leather couch with him. I was doing my best to be coy but I don’t think it was working as well as I had anticipated. I moved around restlessly, fidgeted, looked around the room as he focused on my empty pint. “I think I have some Guinness at my apartment,” he finally said softly, smiling.

“I suspect my apartment is pretty far from yours,” I said confidently, throwing my purse over my shoulder.

“But mine is pretty close to here.”

I became pensive then. He had tap danced around me all night, and though it had been fun, I’m not the dancing type. I like to see what I’m getting. Like hell I was going to go home with him.

The time it took for his hand to land on my knee dragged, felt infinite. I would hate to say that I’m easily swayed, that I let my guard down, but I suppose that night I reveled in my atypical behavior.

He certainly did have Guinness in his apartment. We had a pint and sat on his patio, silently, listened to the cars go by below. He called me a vixen, waited a good thirty seconds for impact and kissed me. It was inoffensive, welcomed, life-altering.

I didn’t know if I was discovering a diamond in the rough or being duped by a game-show host. And six beers in, I didn’t much care.



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