A limo ride to waffle house?

I woke up Saturday, after all the drama and drunk dialing by sales guy and such and checked my voice messages from Friday night:

"I know you have to take your friends home. I'll send a limo to your house to pick you up and bring you to waffle house..."

Limo to the Waffle House. Yeahhhh. Just picture that one. It wouldn't even be rock star. It would be lame and baffling. Honestly, that is one of the most confusing offers I have ever received.

One from Yorkshire:
"Hello sweetie. Watching some documentary and its gotten me all upset. Felt like a chat with you. Missing you. Cheers."

Brits with their accents make the ordinary sound interesting and charming. I listened to the message three times.

I got out of the concert tix date by saying I couldn't find a babysitter. Lame.

Saturday I had a great day - met S for lunch and shopping. Bought a fabulous black halter top at North Hills. Got a makeover late in the afternoon, and the really good make up artist at Saks Fifth Avenue made me look like a porn star. No lie.

After all, this was a third date, and I needed to do something special. Drastic even. Porn star was one option.

Yorkshire hottie was indeed missing me. Two messages about England and the World Cup. This is important to him, no doubt, but an excuse to reach out as well.

Ivy League was late that night. I waited for 15 minutes in the bar of the restaurant. I wasn't mad though. Lots of cute waiters.

He showed up and noticed the make up right away. "I like what you've done with your eyes." Ahhh this is good. This guy does not miss a thing. My phone - sales guy - pings:

You should be here. The concert is fantastic...

Hmm. I think the phone is going to need to be set on silent. The restaurant is too quiet and he is just too cute.

He's very very charming. He talks a lot, but there are smatterings of compliments in there. (I'm thinking to myself...Dude, you had this in the bag when you asked me out last Monday. There's not been a lot of sex in my life the past few months, and you willing and are easy to look at it. You do not have to try this hard.)

We go to WCC. That's the third time for me in four days. He's never been, and I am hoping that same DJ is there.

I am nervous. He's making me nervous. I know why. I now realize that I like everything he does or is. I like how cocky he is. I like how he tries a little too hard to be cocky b/c he knows I like it. He sniffles a lot, as he has allergies, but its hot. Honestly. I could watch him sniffle all day. I like how a cigarette looks in his mouth. He looks like a movie star, and I don't mean like Tom Cruise. I mean like an old fashioned glory days I am ready for my close up Mr. Deville movie star. And his face...especially his nose. God he has this profile that is just - beautiful. I so am in trouble here.

There was an awful lot of conversing going on. He accused me of being guarded with him. (I am soooo trying to be casual about this, so I guess I come off as guarded.) We meet my friend Bunny (who happens to be very beautiful and out on the town with her boyfriend) and also the ex (my ex, who is also her ex) from the other night. Confusing, but they were all out together.

So I introduce Mr. Let's Have a Threesome to Ivy League and its a very very funny moment for me. All is well.

They leave, and Ivy League and I don't because they are still playing good 80's/90's music. They play Rob Bass, and Bel Biv Devoe (Poison). We dance to Turn Me On (Kevin Little) and honestly, it was the most erotic three minutes I have ever experienced with all my clothes on and no kissing. I won't soon forget it.

We keep dancing, thinking we'll leave if there's a bad song. But there isn't, so we don't leave WCC until 2.

He walks me to my car. We have another short makeout session with me pinned against my door in that parking lot. Any words I could put down would not do justice to the moment. I just knew that there was no where that I would rather be.

Nor would any words do justice to what happened at my house...