Tonight is my third date with Tina. Our first date went well. We went to a coffeehouse in SE and got to know each other better. I found out that she’s really into music, can talk intelligently about politics, and can hold her own on during a night of barhopping, all of which are good traits in a potential mate. I kissed her goodnight and was pleasantly surprised to find her tongue in my mouth.
Four our second date, we went to a bar downtown for drinks and appetizers. I prefer this arrangement, as the alcohol helps with my nervousness on dates. Apparently, this is true for Tina as well, as she had a great sense of humor that night. We joked about George W. Bush, hipsters, and impotent but expensive drinks served at most downtown bars. I walked Tina to her car, and she suggested we keep talking in the back seat. Naturally, talking led to making out. Although our hormones were raging, we were limited in what we could do since we were on a busy, well-lit street. I’m sure if we were in a bedroom (or a dim parking garage), my six-month celibacy streak would be over.
Tonight, Tina is coming to my apartment to watch a DVD. I’m sure she’s expecting to test the springiness of my mattress as well. I was thinking the same thing until I woke up this morning and felt a searing pain on my upper left thigh. Upon further inspection, a gigantic red zit has taken residence right near my junk. How am I going to explain this to Tina when we get naked? “No it’s not an STD. It’s a zit. Just ignore it and come fuck me!”
I’m going to cancel tonight. I hope Tina doesn’t lose interest.
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