[dropcap]I’m really struggling[/dropcap] to write about Date #7. With Trucker Joe. The Date with the answers. Because. To be honest. This situation is novel. New. Fresh. Virgin. (Never thought I’d find a way to slip that word into this blog did ya?) Like totally and completely never happened to me before. And it’s tough enough trying to figure out how I feel about everything. Where I fit into everything? What is going to happen next? What is my next move? Let alone trying to figure out how to say it all. In truth. But with style. And humor. Because we all know I love the humor.
So here I am. Pondering. Thinking. Attempting to feel it all out. When it comes to me. This part. The uncertainty. This is not new. In fact. This is a recurring problem. And by problem I mean excuse to talk about Chuck Norris. So I look back. To a post I wrote. Almost at the very beginning of this whole adventure. The beginning of Something She Dated. And I ask myself. WWCND. What would Chuck Norris Do (fix link). And I tell ya what. It makes perfect sense. He’d round-house kick that uncertain Artax-Me out of this universe and I’m saying…my shoulders are feeling lighter already…that bitch was really weighing me down. (if this part doesn’t make sense it’s because you didn’t read the link…which normally I’m not high pressure about but honestly it’ll really help you understand where I’m at.)
So it might not be perfect. I might forget to mention details and have to come back. I may say things. And then change my mind about how I feel about them. I may have all the answers. I may only have some of the answers. I may still have more questions. I might learn things. Adapt to things. Say things I don’t mean. Say things I do mean. But there ya go. Because Chuck Norris came to me in a dream last night. And he said, grow a pair. So I’m grabbing my balls, boys and girls. And taking a leap. There may even be some emotions involved in here. I’ll keep ya posted.
So just to do a quick recap. So that everybody is on the ball(s) about Trucker Joe. Here is the post by post. The blow by blow. The lack of touch by lack of kiss if you will. The confusion before the answers.
Pre date Online Dating and First Date Jitters
1st date Trucker Joe: Starbucks Coffee Date
2nd Date Second Dates: What’s Missing from this Picture? and Why Hasn’t He Kissed Me Yet?
3rd date Third Date: Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Part One) and (Part Two)
4th date Tuesday. Hot. Sticky. Delicious
5th date Vancouver Dating Blogger and the Case of the Missing Move and Vancouver Dating Blogger: His (Hardy) Boys Solve the Case
6th Date Night at the Drive In: Awesome, Awkward and Answerless
So Sunday rolls around. And I get a text. Hey SSD, How’s your weekend? Tuesday night you want to go play pool somewhere? And I’m thinking. Major points. Because I love love love to play pool (though I’m not good). And I asked him about pool once before and he seemed not so keen. But alas I was out on the town and didn’t want to send a text at like 2am when I got home. So the next day I responded. Sounds great. Count me in.
And then there was Tuesday. Which was technically still part of my busiest weekend ever. Having done a movie night Friday, attempt to attend two parties (only made it to one) on Saturday, night on the town with friends on Sunday, Lady Gaga on Monday…and now Tuesday. Trucker Joe and I have a quick chat on the phone. We meet at his place. He drives. We go shoot pool.
While playing pool I notice something. We have spent a great deal of our time side by side looking foward. While walking on the beach. Watching movies. At the Drive In. Not that this is crazy weird. But I notice this because though I had noticed his smile before. I really notice it now. Every time I smile at him. And he smiles back. Makes me smile again. The whole night is one big merry-go-round of smiles. Which is good. Because I didn’t play very well. He played well above what I was expecting. I can’t lie. It was a huge turn on. I may not have mentioned it before. But he has really nice forearms. I know I know. A weird thing to be attracted by. But they’re muscley. And manly. They’re grown up forearms. Forearms that could carry shit. Just Sayin’. Though in the end. With a couple chance shots here and there. I win a game or two. I managed to come out the victor. He assured me we would have to have a re-match.
We laugh. We’re having fun. But there’s no touching. Still not touching. I mean christ. I’m not even sure he checks out my boobs when I bend over to make a shot. I actually think it’s entirely possible he doesn’t. This is a novel situation. Is he just really covert with the glances? Does he really just never check me out?
We leave. Go back to his place. I’m feeling a bit weird. I don’t know what is going on. Should I stay? He indicates I should. Okay. I think. But fuck me. I think it’s time I grew some balls and just fucking asked what was going on? The TV is on. We’re watching it. And by we. I mean him. As I’m clearly sitting there having this exact conversation with myself.
Fucking say something!
Ask him. Just say it. Just fucking say something.
Why don’t you ever touch me? What is the deal? Am I bad kisser? Have you decided I’m not hot?
Do your balls hurt when you get turned out? Do you just have no sex drive or something?
Are you not attracted to me? Has something changed since we made out?
Ask him. Just say it. Just fucking say something.
Grab some balls bitch! Man the fuck up!
You CANNOT have another date without finding out the answers to this.
And then I do. After about 10 mintues. I turn and look at him. Grab my balls like Chuck Norris would have wanted. And I say it. So…uh…this is really embarassing but why don’t you ever touch me?….like I understand if your balls hurt and you don’t want to have sex and all that…but like…you never touch me…there’s no kissing…I mean except for the hugs at the end of the night…there’s like no physical contact whatsoever.
And the thing is. I knew as soon as I started. As soon as I turned to him. As soon as I started asking. That he knew what was coming. And honestly it was a relief. To know that at least. I wasn’t alone. In being totally aware of the lack of touching. That I wasn’t a total floozy for thinking it weird that we hadn’t done more, gone further by now. But the relief disappeared quickly. Because immediately I’m thinking. Shit. If he’s aware of this. Then obviously there’s a reason. An answer. To all my confusion. To all my questions. And I’m guessing. It’s not going to be great. I’m guessing. It’s Not. Going to be. Total Awesome Sauce.
To Be Continued…
Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time
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