A Requested Story - Part 2

Part One is HERE.

Much to my surprise, he replied back.  We emailed back and forth for about a week, exchanging pictures sometime in there. 

His picture:  Cute!  Overweight, but not F A T.  Moustache/goatee hair encircling the mouth thing.  GAH.  I hate those.  It looks like you were eating something and didn’t wipe your mouth off.  Maybe he would be willing to go full beard.  I like beards.  What in the world is that shirt he is wearing?  Are those cockatiels all over that shirt?  The faded from washing (ok, bonus points – he knows how to do laundry), icky green, rolled collar, shirt.  Covered in cockatiels.  Oh my.

My picture: Boobies!  (I did not own a digital camera.  I had to go to my sister’s house and have her husband take my picture with their very cheap web cam.  He took the picture sitting down, while I was standing up.  Being shot from below made my already prominent chest, look even bigger.  And the room was very dark.  But it was all I could do.  Oh well.)

Imagine my amazement when he actually wanted to meet in person.  I talked it over with my friend from work and another friend and decided to accept.  I was worried because of the horror stories you hear about meeting someone from the internet and getting chopped up into little pieces.  I finally figured that it isn’t really much different than meeting someone out in a bar or something and then going out with them.  You don’t know them any better by having first met in person.  

Plus he specifically stated in his ad that he was “NOT a psychopath or a serial killer or anything like that”.  So ok.

I called my friend and told her where we were going to meet at, and what time, and to call me in one hour to check in, and that I would call her when I left the restaurant.

We met for dinner.  I wore jeans and a t-shirt, with my hair in a pony tail and no make-up.  Which is my usual look.  I briefly considered dressing up and doing my hair and make-up, but I am not a girly girl and don’t wear make-up on any kind of regular basis.  I figured I might as well start with the real me.

I don’t remember hardly anything about dinner.  I was too nervous.  He did almost all of the talking.  When he gets nervous he talks even more than he normally does (which is quite a bit) and when I get nervous I don’t talk.  So it kind of evened out.

As we were walking across the parking lot to our cars, he asked me out again for the coming weekend. 

That next date lasted about 9 hours.  It included dinner, miniature golf, drinks, and a “kidnapping” that ended with some necking at the duck pond and the police.