Wait, is this going to be a "date" date?
We recognize each other on the airport concourse instantly, despite having not seen each other since high school, and having not been more than acquaintances even then.
Despite the imminent closure of both our departure gates, we linger a minute in catching up, quickly establishing that we are both married with no kids, work in the same industry, and live just a few miles apart. It would be good to catch up.
Checking our schedules and exchanging info, we figure out the next night we both have free back in town, agreeing to meet for burgers and beer. I suggest Red’s Tavern, a popular spot.
And that’s when you look me in the eye with a hint of a smile, one hand on my shoulder, and declare, “It’s a date, Joe.”
“See you then, Mike,” I reply.
Did you just ask me out on an actual date? My dick seems to think so, positively tingling in response. You are the first man to ever provoke that response in me.
My mind, and my meat stick, buzz with excitement thinking about the possibilities. If this is to be a real date, might it lead to manly pleasures? I’d sure like that.
I am technically available or will be soon. My marriage is coming to an end. It was my wife cheating on me that finally catalyzed our separation. In retrospect, I recognize that Connie and I have been growing apart, and this has been a long time coming.
With newfound singlehood approaching, I have been pondering the idea of sex with men and not just women. Or, perhaps more provocatively, even dating men. Wining and dining, the whole bit. Why not? Might as well cast a wide net, and I have to admit to quite a bit of curiosity. But so far I haven’t spent much time thinking about how to go about finding people for either of those endeavors.
It can’t possibly be this easy, can it? And so perfectly timed? I bump into you, a decades-old acquaintance at the airport, you ask me out, and if we like each other we can just go at it.
Maybe I am getting ahead of myself. Maybe the timing isn’t so perfect. Connie and I haven’t even filed papers yet. If it were to come out (so to speak) that I am getting it on with you, might it look like she wasn’t the only one who cheated, and undermined my case?
And even if you did mean to ask me out on a date, does that necessarily mean you’ll want to have sex with me? Well, it takes me just a millisecond to realize that of course, it does. You’re a man. Even if we don’t hit it off, and I think we will, you probably wouldn’t even have asked me out if you didn’t.
And what a thought it is, with what I’ve been going through right now, to feel sexually desired!
What will a date with you be like? Will we say goodnight at the end, just as if one of us were a woman, and leaning in for a kiss? And then, the your-place-or-mine? The fervent making out just inside the door? The stripping off of each other’s clothes? The tasting of each other’s bodies? The penetration of orifices? The glorious mutual climaxes? The sated collapsing on the couch or bed together? The affectionate afterglow kiss?
That’s a lot of question marks. I’m asking myself whether I want all these things. And for each, the answer for each one is yes. I do want to experience all these things.
I keep reminding myself that “it’s a date” can just be an expression people use. It will be fun to catch up with you even if that is what you meant. Heaven knows I could use a new friend right now, even if that’s all this is.
But I do hope that it is a real date.
