Hard as it is to believe, neither "The Prude" nor "Ms. W", the vixen formerly known as "the Whore" believe in kissing on the first date.
To me, the kiss is so indelibly personal and intimate that when performed gratuitously can be the equivalent of an invasion of space, privacy and dare I say, trust. By the second date, a kiss becomes a prelude to possibilities.
In that spirit, I went on a second date with a certain behind the camera type of industry dude who shall henceforth only be referred as Mr. Average Penis Guy. Yes, you read right.
How does one jump from the possibilities of what a kiss can bring to being forever imbedded in my psyche as "Average penis guy"? Simple, but in the interest of decent storytelling, I must build.
Average Penis Guy and I met for Brunch on a Sunday at The Belmont Restaurant. He lives in "the valley". If you do not live in Los Angeles and plan to move here some day, stay away from "the valley".
His geographical placement alone, should have been my insight into things to come. I'm a Virgo, which means fastidious, crazy- pain in the 'arse' perfectionist. I hate being late because I respect my time. If I am to meet with you and you are late, you obviously do not respect your time. I made it a point to remind Average Penis Guy that he does not live a stones' throw away from civilization and should avoid the 101 freeway and take Laurel Canyon instead.
I text Mr. Average Penis Guy to let him know that the car wash I was going to pre-brunch was literally two blocks south of The Belmont. In true Virgoan form, just as the human car dryer was waving his towel toward my car signaling that it was ready, I sent a quick text to Average Penis Guy, stating that I was about to get in my car.
"That was fast! got caught up with an email. Be their ASAP!" was his reply.
I am disturbed by this direct affront and rebellion to my due diligence. I am slightly insulted too. I take a deep, deep breath and reply: "That sucks! I will start without you and if I am done before you get there, loose my number!" (Jackass! was the subtext but I thought I'd be polite and hold back some, it is only date number two after all)
"B there in 5", he texts back.
At the Belmont, Justin, my favorite and most charming waitperson greets me, I order a mimosa in honor of one of my favorite saints, 'Saint Sunday' and get preferred outdoor seating.
Average Penis Guy shows up 15 minutes late! He apologizes profusely, and showers me with expected slightly above-average pleasantries. In a passive-aggressive manner I sort of forgive him, but berate and dig at every possible turn. No matter, my mind is made up, no kiss and definitely no third date for Jackass! (Yes, I am doing him a favor! So quit judging!)
Justin, our waitperson, finds a way to both support me in being incensed and showing sympathy for Average Penis Guy. Three mimosas later, we combine cars. I hop in his and off we go to a rooftop poolside bar in a swanky joint in Beverly hills for Sunday afternoon cocktails.
We have growing up in New York City, NYU and our latest topic of the day, my nipples that appear to be in a perpetual state of arousal in common to discuss. I have now switched to vodka ginger berry martinis. He is sticking to white wine chardonnay (another insight into his virility I chose to ignore).
It is now seven in the evening and dinner time. We move our 'party of two' to one of my favorite reliably authentic Italian restaurants, Dominick's. They offer a Sunday night supper there, that makes you want to call the matriarch of your family and thank her for all of the comfort food that made home, a home. I am digressing. I guess I am letting my love for food creep in. We share a bottle of red wine, eggplant parmesan, escarole salad. (We'll agree that red wine is appropriate in this instance)
This date has now entered its eighth hour and should come to an end. To my car he takes me. In his car, parked in the street, we make out. The wrestling of the tongues, not quite in sync but manageable with some practice. I like him and could grow to like him even more in the future, provided he's on time. He asks me if he could come hang out with me in my home.
The term 'hang out' coming out of the mouth of a 39 year old leaves a strange taste in my mouth. I politely decline his self-invite to my 'casa'. My original instinct of no third date is quickly rearing its little head back.
As I prepare to hop out, he unzips his pants and shows me his- you predictably guessed- PENIS!!! My jaw drops as I hear myself exclaim: "THAT is SOOO.... AVERAGE!!!!" He looks at me with a crestfallen stare and mumbles pathetically "average?"
"Dude, are you kidding me with this? WTF did you expect? Am I suppose to squeal with sudden desire, lift up my skirt, shove my thong aside and jump on top of THAT!!! SERIOUSLY??? REALLY!!!"
With that, I urgently grab my jacket from his backseat, open the passenger side door, leap out and state: "Don't you ever call me again!" SLAM!
I am still not sure if I am offended by this bizarre come-on or disappointed by his average penis. I mean, if you are going to use that as a seduction tactic, can it at least be the most amazing looking appendage ever!
Seriously! Really!
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