I like beer. and I like being adventurous and trying new beer. so, when I received a witty new OKC e-mail (from a recently divorced lawyer with a sexy looking beard and appropriately chunky-but-not-too-hipster set of frames) inviting me for a drink at a bar known for its extensive beer list, naturally, I said yes!
The bar was maybe a touch to loud, but the beer was good and he was an easy conversationalist. Most of the time, in loud places, I tend to get pretty quiet. Loud is not my thing. Thankfully, by an “easy conversationalist” I really meant he was a
talker lawyer…I should’ve known. But, I found his stories interesting enough and I was certainly attracted to him physically. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I’m a sucker for the hairy man. so, he had that going for him. After a couple of beers and a few stories, he made an off-handed remark about being the mayor at a bar uptown….and I squinted my eyes at him and said, “mayor? as in foursquare?!” and he said something about how (insert whatever day of the week it was) was his “night” at his bar. Well! Clearly, I needed to witness this mayorship in action, so I suggested that we move uptown.
And so, we ended up in his bar, which is german and only serves beer in HUGE steins…of which I drank 2 (well, 1 and a half, but it might as well have been the full 2…cuz at that point i was just plain drunk). So, when he suggested we go back to his apartment, naturally I didn’t even hesitate. I mean, he’s a lawyer with an apartment in midtown! Clearly, I needed to see the digs…and I was totally ready to make-out with this cute bearded man.
So, we cab it to his place. He says hi to the doorman, we ride up the elevator and all the while I’m thinking, “so this is how the other half lives?”…And then we enter into the SMALLEST STUDIO I’VE EVER SEEN. and I immediately remember why I love Astoria so much…but that’s beside the point. Anyway, we shuffle into his apartment and we start making out on his couch. Why his couch and not his bed, you ask? Because the genius decided to try and maximize the space by building a loft bed. not buying. BUILDING. but he hadn’t quite finished all the building. he was missing one thing: THE LADDER…
So, we are playing high school and doing some heavy petting on his couch…and we are in the process of removing some choice items of clothing when he asks if I want to move to the bed. I look at him, then up at the bed and then back to him…and make a joke about me having short arms…and he says, “I’ll give you a boost.” Well, I know from previous experience that sex on a leather couch can sometimes get messy and…I mean…if I stand on the couch, it can’t be that hard to get up….right? Well, never in a million years did I imagine that I would be an adult woman, naked, getting a boost (read: his hands were all up on/in my ass and his face was super close to that area for a first date) onto a loft bed by a man I barely knew. I felt a little like a beached whale, flailing limbs and jiggly bits trying to get back out to sea, or in my case, to the top of the mountain…but I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as I’m making it sound.
I mean, really! I was his first date since getting divorced (RED FLAG!!!)(that I chose to ignore) AND he was about to get laid….so I’m hoping that he was suitably distracted by the other things about to happen that he didn’t notice all the flaws that I was obsessing over in those 5 seconds that it took for me to actually get onto the bed.
Enough about by insecurities…
He followed, with surprising agility, and we were soon back to making out, but now we were in the comfort of his bed. Somehow, he had managed to keep his boxers on while I had been awkwardly naked for the trek to the top…so I went to remove his boxers and turn up the heat. And as my fingers started to graze under the elastic of the waistband he got a little too excited and came before I even got the chance to see it.
huh. well, that’s a buzzkill.
Truth be told, I don’t fully recall exactly what we said after that. We were nice. We said we would call. And somehow, I made it back down from the crazy loft bed (unassisted by him this time) and back into my clothes and into a cab and back to my beautiful, spacious apartment in Astoria. And neither one of us called the other. And that’s okay.
There could be many morals to this particular story, but I’m going to go with: don’t get involved with men who have loft beds. it’s too complicated.