Coffee Bilities

"Dammit," the coffee splash running down my hand and... "shit, I knew I shouldn't have worn cream-colored, now latte-colored, pants." I desperately try to dab and swab the magic bean-water before it sets beyond repair. As I wipe what I can, I look up and see you holding out a stack of napkins, "Thanks."

"Same thing happened to me. They need to be better about checking their cups for holes." I chuckle slightly. You appreciate that I appreciate your bad joke. You're cute I think.

"Thanks...see you around." I smile and take my leave. You follow me out.

"Not to be presumptuous, but can I give you my number?"

"You mean, 'can I get your number'?"

"Oh, no - I'm not that guy. But I do think you are quite lovely and would love to chat with you, but on your terms."

I smile. Are there good guys still out there and did I just meet one at the Java Shack?

"Ok," I hand over my phone with a blank contact entry up on the screen.

You enter your name and number and even snap a quick selfie for the contact pic. Looking at your entry, "Thanks a Latte?"

"Yep, bad jokes on me. I'll tell you my name when you reach out. Otherwise, I'm a fun quip for your story-drawer."

"How did you know about drawer?" I coyly reply, "I'll text you."

You keep creeping into my thoughts, looking down at the stain on my pants was an easy reminder. You had a nice smile and sweet eyes, funny, smart. ...

I text you. "Hey, It's Coffee Pants. Wanna grab a drink after work?" Send.

Ding "sure"

"Marley's @ 5:30?"

Ding "See you then."

I find myself smiling most of the afternoon.

I sneak out a bit early and run home to change my pants and run a brush through my hair. Maybe a quick shower? Oh damn...when was the last time you shaved? It's just a drink...do you really need to shave? Yes...you'll know, even if he doesn't. Ohhh and then you could wear your cobalt dress. ... So, now I'm basically running late. Crap.

I get to Marley's a few minutes late and I spot you, strategically placed in a booth, near and facing the door. Good man. Very low creep factor. Aww...you changed your shirt and brushed you hair too. Cute.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," I say as I drop my purse in the booth, "can I grab you a drink?"

"I'm good, I don't drink. But was very excited to see you. Please, help yourself."

"Ok, be right back," I grab my wallet and order a drink, no need to open a tab - I'm not that presumputous.

We get to know each other. You make me laugh. You have no idea what a turn-on that is. Or maybe you do? I feel like you must. This is your secret weapon isn't it? Shit...I think I like you. I'm also feeling slightly lubricated and a bit bold. "Would you mind if I sat next to you?"

You slide over to make room, "Please."

My dress has inched up slightly and I don't adjust it down when I sit next to you. The evening progresses and not as I would have ever thought.

I never do this. Say yes, be vulnerable, be bold, ask for what I want. But why don't I? ...this is fun, this is sexy...why the fuck do we condition women to be small and expect less and wait? Wait to be seen, to be acknowledged, to feel appreciated. Maybe it's not all women. Maybe it's GenX women? Man, we got a shitty deal from our free-love wrapped in Puritanical parents, followed by decades of straight-up misogyny. Maybe it's just me? No...maybe? Get out of your head and back in your body. Total hottie sitting next to you. Hello...what are you babbling about? Say what you want.

"I'd really like to kiss you, would that be ok?"

"I'd like that."

...oh my god...I'm making out. I'm making out with a man I just met in a bar on a school night. Get back in your body!

I place my hand on your thigh and I think you like it. I hope you like it. I want you to touch me. All of me. I want to run away and escape reality for awhile with you.

Why does this feel so good? It feels good to be touched, to touch another human. And it doesn't have to be anything more than that. It can be for now. Now is good.

I break from you for a minute. "I am really enjoying this."

"Me too."

"And I'd like to continue it."

"Me too."

"But not now."

"Ok"

"I'd like to have a proper date and fuck your brains out." Who...said...that???

You choke and stammer slightly, "Well, um, yeah, that sounds good."

I smile. Big. We make plans to meet up in a couple days. I kiss you good night and head home.

I lie in bed, giving myself a fucking, delicious, orgasm thinking of you and our evening and the possibility of more. I've never been so thankful for spilled coffee and the courage to say 'yes.'