It’s another day in my single-girl monotony. Work is fine, workout routine could be better, and the sex draught rages on. Just another day in the life for me! I decide to delight myself in my favorite game: is there anyone hot on Bumble?
Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left until my hand cramps. Too short, awful quality of pictures, only wearing sunglasses, and “only looking for something casual” clogs the dating app, per usual. Then… I see him. Tall, good smile, looks like Alexander Skarsgard, and appears to be holding… an Olympic medal?
*Alexander Skarsgard plays Eric in True Blood and Nicole Kidman's psycho husband in Big Little Lies*
We will call him S and he’s only two miles from Philadelphia. Hmmmm this could be interesting. I swipe right and BOOM, we’re a match. I smirk to myself as I sit at the open text and think of something to say. *Sigh* I’m awful at this shit. I just say hey with a waving emoji and he soon answers back with pleasantries. The conversation goes back and forth and results in a date set for next week. I was excited, he could have potential.
It’s Tuesday night and I’m actually looking forward to going on this date. I look him up on IG and saw that my friend follows him too. It appears that they were teammates back in college. I ask my friend about S and he sings his praises and thinks we will really get along.
I had just gotten a lash fill so I was feeling like THAT bitch and looking amazing. I quickly get ready and settle on high waisted jeans, platform sneakers, and a low cut white blouse with gold jewelry. My quintessential date night outfit that shows off both my assets and good fashion sense. I call an Uber and am silently buzzing with excitement as I make my way to Tria in Washington Square West.
It’s fucking hot out, of course, and I’m the first to arrive. I’m patiently waiting for him at a high top when he texts me he’s just looking for parking. A few minutes go by and I suddenly get a swarm of nervous butterflies in my stomach. Please, let him be cool. My dating soul couldn’t take wasting my Giorgio Armani foundation on another loser that doesn’t deserve to see me naked.
I see him before he walks into the restaurant and the swarm in my stomach flutters madly. Wow, he really does look like Alexander Skarsgard. We hug and immediately I tell him about the mutual friend we have. He only has nice things to say about our friend and I believe this connection made us both feel more at ease. We both order wine and some appetizers and start with the standard get-to-know-you-date-questions.
Where did you go to school? How many siblings do you have? How big is your penis?
KIDDING at the last one... We continue to get to know each other at Tria with more wine and more laughs. Shit, he’s dreamy. With his blue eyes and sexy face I can feel my attraction for him building with each bite of truffle egg toast and sip of overpriced Pinot Grigio.
We’ve been talking for more than an hour and I realize our legs are now touching. I love when that happens, when you just naturally gravitate towards each other without even noticing. He asks me if I want dessert there and I suggest going to get Insomnia Cookies instead. He’s down for it and he pays our bill and we walk to satisfy our sugar craving.
The walk is nice and for the first time I appreciate how tall he is. A breathtaking 6’6” with a killer swimmer’s body and nice-sized hands. Oh, I forgot to mention him being an Olympian and all, silly me. Yeah, he’s an Olympian for another country (he has dual citizenship) and is only home in Philadelphia until mid-September. I know what you’re thinking, I’m cruising for tears and torment. Thank you for your concern, I’m aware but right now we’re talking about the GOOD…not the inevitable doom and despair of S.
ANYWAY, before you imaginarily interrupted me with reality… S offers to drive me home and I’m already prepping mentally for the kiss. I really want him to kiss me. He puts his four ways on outside my place and we talk about seeing each other later this week. We make plans for both Thursday and Friday and laugh at the fact that we’re both planners. I know, fucking TURN ON.
We both go silent and I turn and look at him and he exhales and says, “yeah” as he pulls my face to his and passionately kisses me. I was a little taken aback by the passion because it was our first kiss but as his hands traveled to the side of my face I melted into it. He had just the right amount of tongue and lip biting. Heavy breathing, hands everywhere, and that tingle in the nether-regions ensued with the longer we kissed. He made me feel wanted in that kiss.
Wanted, what I truly crave overall. The need to feel wanted always baffles me because I am such a high-functioning loner. However, S had me planning metaphorical happiness with that kiss. That was how good this kiss was. So good I was subconsciously planning a future with a guy I know I had no future with. S opened my eyes to what I secretly crave… someone that's all mine.
In the end, S and I ended up having sex and went out a few more times, it was great. A few weeks later he moved back to his other country to train for the Olympics and I never saw him again. The practical sun/moon Capricorn in me knew that this was going to happen. However, the submissive dreamer in me secretly wished something more could have come from it. We’ve stayed friendly and who knows what will happen in the future. I’m just thankful to have a connection with a guy that was more than just physical. S truly made me laugh and have a glimmer of hope there may be a, geographically-desirable, guy out there for me. Most likely won’t be an Olympian… but hopefully has a gold medal in the bedroom. More importantly hopefully he has a gold medal in making me feel wanted/needed/and fulfilled. That sounds like a world-class winner to me.
*Disclosure: this story is from the Revel&Motion writing archives and was written more than a year ago*