"Let's see if we can kiss".
She said it in a way that I can't easily describe. Not playful. Not sexual. But also not just "businesslike" or "matter of fact". It was somehow in between all of those. Interested in a naughty way. But no naughty twinkle in her eye. Not clinical, but truly a question: "Let's see if we can kiss" - meaning "Let's take the next step. Step over a line. And see if you like my kiss and I like yours - to see if we want to continue - or not."
*****
We met via Tinder. The app on smartphones that lets people view "persons of possible interest" and instantaneously "swipe left" to dismiss them or "swipe right" to indicate interest.
Yes, it's been argued that the app is vapid and too dependent on pure appearance, but I had been looking for company from the opposite sex (as is my preference) and had found lots of other "match" websites which all seemed to be filled only with women who were looking for their Prince Charming. Their "One True Love Forever" - despite the fact that most of them had never had a relationship which lasted more than a few years - and broke up over differences in sexual appetite. Nevermind that, they were all still believing the Cinderella story that they would find their Soulmate: the man who desperately wanted them - and only them - forever and ever - but who was vibrant and active and not at all boring. And they definitely actively rejected any "player" - any man just looking for (dramatic music to emphasize the awful word) "a hook-up".
So I had loaded Tinder because it explicitly used GPS locations to help people find people who were geographically close by - with the implication (at least to me) that the intention was ... hook-ups. Right now.
Despite my impressions, I found that the majority of Tinder-ladies were still looking for their "OTLF" (One True Love Forever) and politely, but firmly, discarded me once they found out that I was interested in just some non-committed fun. That means that they liked how I looked - they had "swiped right" on my photos, but hadn't read my description which clearly stated that I was NOT available for any kind of relationship - long-term or otherwise. I was always honest in my communications, so found myself with a growing pile of potential partners who had discarded me.
With a couple of weeks of discards in my Tinder box, I was about to give up and conclude that my understanding of Tinder was wrong.
But.
Then I "matched" with Kimberly.
She was almost exactly the same age as me - which I counted as a positive: someone who had a better chance of having shared some of my life experiences - giving us some common ground, but she also had a free spirit aura to her which was very-much NOT my life experience - so there seemed to be valuable room to cross-pollinate.
Given my experience on Tinder, my first contact made it clear that I was not looking for a LIFE PARTNER and I was quite surprised - and pleased - to find her very understanding and accepting. Not a furtive, smirking, acceptance, but what I think I'd been looking for: someone who could enjoy naughty / sensual company for its own sake.
We texted for a bit to get an initial feel, then she texted me her phone number. Gee! Somebody in the world still actually talks on the phone! Quel surprise!
I clumsily figured out how to use my phone - as a phone - and called.
I clearly didn't know what to expect. Perhaps someone to berate me for being vapid. Perhaps someone flaky and Fatal Attraction. From her photos, she looked vaguely foreign. Attractive without being the next supermodel - and slightly exotic - so I expected an accent. French maybe. Or Slavic.
She answered immediately with a comfortable, unaccented "hi". One word, but it made me feel real and happy and comfortable.
We talked for almost an hour. Two total strangers comparing notes on life, attitudes, pets, pet care, herbal remedies, the importance of kissing, and nothing-at-all. It was comfortable and easy. Not "trying to make conversation" - just easily talking. And with no hope or expectation of anything but a conversation that night.
As the hour passed, she finally said that she needed to get to bed, so she needed to go. I assured her that I wouldn't contact her: wouldn't bother her - that I wanted to "see" her again, but that if she wanted to see me, that she would have to contact me.
And we smiled, and hung up the phone, and I smiled again. And just sat for awhile doing nothing but gently smiling.
*****
A week went by. I wasn't surprised that I hadn't heard from her. Everybody is busy. Everybody has things that they must do. I was hoping that I was something that Kimberly wanted to do. But I waited.
Until the weekend. Until I had a weekend with pretty-much nothing on my calendar. And I thought of her, so I sent a text. Just one line: "I know I promised not to contact you, but I'm free and if you are, too, please consider spending some time with me".
She texted back immediately and said: "Let's meet. Right now."
My jaw dropped - though it was what I'd been hoping for - and she sent her phone number again, so I called and again heard her voice. Her "like a warm kitten on your lap" comfortable voice. And she specified a Starbux to meet at. In one hour.
I raced thru trying to prepare, but didn't have time to do much other than race out of the house and put the meeting address in GPS - realizing that I was NOT dressed to impress: wearing a hoodie sweatshirt (at least I had the hood down) and cargo pants "topped" with sneakers. As I drove, I berated myself for not dressing up, but then told myself "I need to be myself. If that doesn't work, then this isn't going to work anyway."
And I thought about how I shouldn't think about "what I was going to do when I met her" since I'd probably overthink it and it would go badly.
And then I thought about "what I was going to do when I met her". Sigh. OCD is an ugly thing sometimes.
*****
Traffic cooperated and I pulled into the parking lot exactly on time, then my phone "dinged" and I had to deal with a couple of emails and alerts - figuring that I didn't want anything eating at my brain when I met her.
About 2 minutes after our agreed meeting time, I slid out of my car and considered how to make my entrance, but then just looked up and recognized her - sitting in her car - listening to the radio. I walked toward her and smiled as she looked up and recognized me - and all of my plans for "how to meet" just got replaced with reality.
No big drama. Just smiles and small talk.
I held the door for her to get out of her car - then to enter the Starbux, and we quickly fell into a comfortable conversation as we ordered and received our tea and cakes, then selected a table and sat.
I'm not a Starbux person, so I burned my tongue on the HOT tea, and she instructed me on how to take the 2 cups apart and pour a little of one into the other so that it could cool - while keeping the main supply hot.
And we instantly just fell into conversation. About her sexual partners. About the G-spot. About being our age and discovering hair growing in surprising places. Just instantly comfortable talking about "things that are excluded from polite conversation" as well as topics that one would expect to have with a total stranger. There was just no pretense. No furtive concern.
Yes, there was the delicious feel of excitement. Of first-contact. Of naughty. But not in a way that indicated that either of us should care at all - about what anybody else thought of us. Just a wonderful, comfortable easiness as we sipped our tea and enjoyed our crumpets.
The conversation ranged. No subject was off limits. No subject too banal to include. Just enjoying the interaction. And tea.
And then, just as I took a big bite of my cinnamon cake, without any drama, she seemed to decide something and simply stated:
"Let's see if we can kiss".
Our conversation on the phone had highlighted that she was particularly fond of kissing, so I had somewhat anticipated it - but was following her lead and wasn't expecting it *then*.
I struggled a bit with my mouthful of cake - and looked back at her - wondering if she meant "right here in Starbux, right now", and prepared myself to lean across the table to chastely kiss her cheek - maintaining my position as "not a knuckle-dragging stereotypical male".
But she matter-of-factly suggested that we each take another good sip of tea, then pulled out a lipstick-sized breath-spray, spritzed her mouth a couple of times, and offered it to me - adding "It's essential oils. Give yourself 3 or 4 good spritzes, then go to the restroom to spit, if you like".
