I went out with this girl last night for the first time after meeting her at the mall while she cut my hair. Let's call her Daisy. When I first saw her I was immediately and fairly intensely attracted to her. She always wears hells, this time I think they were 4" heels, and she love-love-LOVES to show off her butt. She looks like she could be a makeup artist with the time she must spend putting on her face. Not that she needs it…just that she puts a lot of time into it. One of the thickest southern accents I've ever heard, she was born and raised near Raleigh.
She has a great personality, I mean great. I'm not a big talker most of the time, but I was more than happy to chit chat the night away while she cut my hair. She smiles and laughs a lot, and is fairly flirtatious. I could tell she was a good 10 years younger than me so I made no attempt to indicate I was interested in her. Maybe next time I thought.
I regretted not asking for her # when I was done, even if I was one of dozens of others who had before. So I decided immediately to return for my next haircut, which I did 3 weeks later. She remembered me and we started chatting away again as if we never left off. I asked her how old she was at one point and she wouldn't tell me, I took this as an indicator that she was interested. So after I paid I asked for her # which she wrote on a piece of paper.
I texted her about a week later, jokingly referring to something one of her ex boyfriends had said to her about having his baby. This ex boyfriend lived in Charlotte where my phone's area code is. She thought I was this ex boyfriend and responded back fairly harshly, calling me "Vick" and saying if she wasn't a Christian woman she would have cursed me up and down. I was pleased to have gotten such a rise out of her, and even though I was tempted to play on I decided to apologize except for the fact that my name was (my name) and not Vick.
She said she would call me back in a few minutes, and I thought "oh no, not the phone call" but I answered anyway. She is one of those types that likes to talk about pretty much nothing while she's driving, running errands, etc. She was picking up Chinese takeout and would briefly ask me to wait while she paid for the takeout, etc. I told her I was in the middle of watching Monday Night Football and would call her back sometime after 18 excruciating minutes of this. She didn't appear too offended, and I texted her the next day.
We texted for a couple of days before scheduling our first date the following week. She said she really liked Italian so I made reservations at a place that came highly recommended by a coworker, except after seeing a picture at what was a fairly drab interior decided to change it to Maggiano's which (while having just average food) has a much better ambiance (hence the over-priced food). She doesn't drink which I found highly attractive (I favor those who are different from others), however she appeared to be a bit too sophisticated in her attire for my taste. She mentioned when she got in the car that had she known I was wearing jeans she would have dressed accordingly. I refrained from admitting that jeans are the only thing I wear other than athletic wear outside of work.
I must say that I had some of the most stimulating conversation I've ever had on a first date. Herpes. Voyeurism. Face lifts, botox, boob jobs. Dildos. Climaxes. Intimate details surrounding a swinger's party (at which she supposedly did not participate). And of course, crazy, psychotic ex-boyfriends. But all in a very entertaining, humorous mood. Other than that, she made it fairly clear that she expects gifts from her boyfriends. And that when someone "proposes" (as in proposing to be boyfriend/girlfriend) he had better come with flowers, etc.
Time flew. Maggiano's is evidently tight as hell when it comes to the heat bill, they turned down the heat around 9:30 and my legs were turning numb by the time we left. Which made the 25° weather outside all the more chilling.
As we walked to the car I looked back at South Point Mall and asked which stores she liked. "Express, Victoria's Secret, Nordstrom," she replied. "Ah, Nordstrom...of course. I haven't been to Victoria's Secret in ages," I replied. "Well I'm a 34 double D, a medium panty and I like boy shorts," she said. Evidently she WAS used to getting spoiled. Mental note made.
I drove her home, expecting not to have so much as a goodbye kiss after she stated at dinner that she won't kiss anybody that's not her boyfriend (she appeared fairly hard up for a boyfriend). When I opened my door to walk her up she looked at me with surprise and said "You're gonna walk all the way to my door in this cold?" I thought she was referring to the fact that I parked one row further away than needed (to avoid door dings to my car), so I said "oh I'm sorry did you want me to park closer?" Evidently she thought I was trying to come inside with her, which evidently wasn't happening (nor did it). I told her of course I would walk her to her door, which I did.
(Again I somehow manage to almost forget one of my main points)--So while we're pulling into her apartment complex she references something to the extent of having been a stripper at one time. For some reason it didn't register until I'm walking her to her door. "Did you mention that you used to be a stripper?" I asked her. She replied with something that I found hard to decipher, so I asked again, whispering so as to not let potential eaves droppers hear. "Yes" was the jist of her response. "Wow," I said. "The last girl I dated turned out to be a stripper, but I didn't know until after we started dating."
The only thing it left me wondering is if in fact she had actually stopped stripping. Some strippers make really good money, and it's extremely rare someone gives up making good money in the absence of replacing it with something (or some one) else.
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