OK. I scared some of you with all my talk about fall last week. Yes, it's on its way, but we live in Chicago. It can be winter in the morning, summer in the afternoon, and by the time the sun rises the next day, it's fall. So get out your sweaters, but keep the shorts handy.
I've been on quite a few dates in the last month or so. OK, so some of them weren't really dates. They were just meet, greet, show me your meat kinda nights. Quite a number of them have been really great guys too. But there's this tricky thing about an orgasm for a lot of guys. It's like they just received a shot of truth serum.
Out on the town one night, I met this guy. He was handsome, funny, and definitely interested. A couple hours later, we were knocking boots at my place. *DING* Round one ended and almost immediately after the fireworks, the truth serum kicked in an he started telling me about his boyfriend.
Umm, boyfriend? But, um, we just did the bed dance...
On the Brown Line one morning, I met a guy who I ended up talking with all the way to the Loop. We decided to meet for dinner a few days later and settled on Japanese. Dinner was fantastic. I was impressed with his chopstick skills and his adventurous appetite.
He invited me back to his place and I naturally accepted. We drank some great wine while listening to Billie and Ella on the stereo. Things quickly became carnal. He pulled out a bottle of good lube and the walls shook as we got busy. Minutes later, just after the big moment, he started to tell me about his girlfriend, who recently moved to New York. He was considering moving out there to be with her.
Girlfriend? But you were playing Billie AND Ella! And you had good lube!
Call me Samantha if you will, but when I'm in NYC, anything goes. Something about NYC boys really lights my fire. A couple years ago I was in the Big Apple on business. Two weeks in Manhattan on an expense account made for a very festive Peter, let me tell you.
I had been out on the town with friends in Chelsea when they all decided to head home for the evening. Somehow I ended up somewhere on 9th in Hell's Kitchen at a bar that had a dart board.
A few friendly games of darts later, I managed to charm one of the locals back to my room at The Palace. We had loads of fun, but moments after his shotgun went off, he began to recount how he was massively in debt and his landlord was threatening to kick him out of his place. He even asked if he could come back to Chicago to stay with me.
This phenomenon is apparently not unique to the male of the species. Having chatted with several lesbians, they have similar experiences. So folks, turn the music UP after sex. I'll take a happy tune over the truth any day. Or night.
With you in 4/4,