A Fantastic Date With Someone I Dumped

Going backward took us forward.

Do you hear that sound?

That’s my head banging against the wall.

How did I end up attracting a guy even more since breaking up with him?

Sean and I began dating a few months ago. We hit it off instantly. I’m a sucker for a tall, muscular guy with a powerful job. And a kitchen with three ovens.

I never knew where I stood with him. Was I just a casual fuck? Then why would he text me just to chat about Wandavision? Was I maybe something more? Then why would he never make efforts for us to go out, opting to stay in and drink?

After a while of initiating our messages, I simply stopped texting. I grew weary of Sean’s inconsistency after he got a new job that required traveling 75% of the month.

When my company made the news for all the wrong reasons a few months later, every guy I’ve ever dated came out of the woodworks to check up on me (at least it shows I didn’t date douchebags). From there, Sean and I reconnected.

At this point, I was already into moving-out-of-my-marital-home-to-divorced-woman-home mode. I couldn’t make time to see him in the small windows he was available.

I got fed up one night and texted him point-blank if he was looking for something more or if we were just fucking. If it was the latter then I was getting the raw end of the deal; Sean’s dick is highly dysfunctional and it baffles my mind why he doesn’t take a blue pill for his flaccidness (I don’t know if that’s a word but courtesy of my Sean situation, it now is).

When Thomas and I got more serious, I tried ending things with Sean. Which only made him want me more. I insisted that there would be no more naked shenanigans (while also alluding to his wonky dick issues) until I got a proper second date. That would put things on pause, right?

Wrong. Sean jumped on the chance for him to take me out for our true second date…nine months after our first.

A true, proper date requires a dress. But I don’t know where Sean’s taking me. And this is Southern California; the most upscale place still allows jeans. I settle on a sweater dress because it’s cold as fuck at night and I’ve gained enough weight that none of my skirts fit.

He shows up at the door looking sharp holding a bottle of champagne. I give him a mini-tour of the house and we leave for dinner. Poor guy tried to find the fanciest place near my house. I live in total suburbia scattered with businesses. This means the pickings are Target, Jersey Mike’s Subs, and Del Taco.

Sean found a small wine bar and made reservations. Bless his heart, it was a Monday…not prime dinner day. I’m impressed that he went through the list of all my food avoidances and preferences to select a spot.

We head over in his fancy schmancy electric BMW. I don’t know shit about cars. But I do know that a car with a huge screen and glowing lines mimicking a nightclub is high-end. It’s a change from Thomas’ dusty Jeep with ginormous tires. I put my foot down that I was no longer climbing into that monstrosity wearing skirts; hoisting myself up and flashing the parking lot isn’t sexy. It was part of my speech telling Thomas he needed to behave like a grownup if wanted to date a female who has no patience for guys who dump tons of money into an offroading vehicle so that they don’t have a practical everyday car.

In other words, being in a nice car was a refreshing change that didn’t make me feel like I was dating a college kid.

In the small restaurant, I give the drink menu to Sean. He has a massive library of wine and he knows my tastes. He orders a bottle.

We couldn’t stop talking and laughing. The waiter made several trips to take our order because we’d forget to look at the menu. Sean asks me to pick an appetizer. After I mumble while glancing at the menu, he says “we’ll order all of them”. Not only did I get to pick the food we ate all night, but it was also a stark contrast from my dates with Thomas where he makes it a big deal if he pays for a big-ticket evening.

And by “big-ticket”, I mean sixty bucks. The last time we went out, I secretly swapped credit cards because I make double his salary. But I’m not loaded and I’ve got a new mortgage, so paying for everything isn’t something I can do on the regular.

When the bill arrives, Sean ninjas it before I can even do the fake pulling-out-my-wallet move. I forgot what it was like for the bill to not even be a question; it’s like arguing with a friend over who will pay the bill when I’m on a date with Thomas. I’m not a gold-digger but dayammmm…I could get used to this.

As we get up to leave, I know this next part of the evening will get dicey. I told him naked fun wouldn’t happen until he took me out on a proper date and that criteria has been met. But what about his lack of erections? I vow that this is it. This is the night I refuse to spend hours reviving a limp dick with my mouth. I’ve got TMJ and I deserve to retire my mouth.

…Right?

The rest of the evening is a whole other tale, I’ll link when it’s ready. For now, enjoy the PG-rated part of the night.