Another First Date

If you are worried that texting me would be too soon, it isn't

John was greeted by this message from Riley when he went to shut off his phone's alarm on Monday morning.

Shucks, wanted to appear cool and aloof

he texted back, rolled out of bed and started his day. The first order of business was starting the coffee maker. There had to be a way, he figured, of setting it to go automatically, but he had come to the conclusion that he and technology were never going to see eye to eye. Having pressed the button, he set off to the shower while it started percolating noisily.

As undressed for the shower, he took another look at his phone. No reply, but he did check the timestamp on the last one. Past midnight the previous night.

Hopefully a reasonable sleep schedule was a suitable excuse for the late reply.

The phone buzzed while he was just finishing up the shower and he nearly tripped in his hurry to towel off and look at it.

Don't fall for this girl,

he told himself.

Literally, don't fall over and break your neck in the bathroom in your rush to see whatever meaningless thing she has sent. That's not how you want to die. Not after just one date, anyway.

He was disappointed, to say the least, to see that the buzzing was caused not by a message from Riley, but rather one from Carrie, his recent ex with whom his "friendship," more in the "let's just be friends" sense than in the actual, genuine sense of the word, was rocky, at best.

you still have my stuff

He was uncertain what "stuff" she was referring to, but whatever it was, she could have it. While they were together, they had never officially moved in together, but she'd spent more and more time at his place, which meant that he had gradually accumulated any number of items which she had brought over either for the night and then abandoned or to align his house more with her tastes.

He hadn't minded at the time and, if he was being honest, didn't mind it now. She had never been, for whatever other flaws she had had as a girlfriend, one of those annoying types who constantly pushed to make him or his domicile over in her image, just tweak it here and there, and besides, her tastes were never the problem. Outside of an errant toothbrush or other odd hygienic necessity, they had come to a point of being comfortable enough with most of the items just being "theirs" rather than "hers" or "his" and so he couldn't tell what it was she could possibly want to retrieve, but he also couldn't care.

Whenever

he texted back.

Pretty sure you still have a key. Just don't forget to lock up if I'm not here.

Surely that was agreeable enough and would not start another pointless ex post facto fight about nothing.

not going to just walk in to your house like a creep

will u be there saturn day

???

Autocomplete was never her friend,

he mused. He found her objection bizarre, thinking she should prefer to avoid contact if possible, but for all he knew she was using this as a pretext for another fight.

Whatever.

Sure, not busy.

He decided to ignore any further texts until he was not only toweled off but had ingested sufficient caffeine. It was not until then that he had even remembered he should at least figure out where he was supposed to be going to work this morning. John was what was termed a "consultant," a vaguely important enough nomenclature for what he actually did to pay the bills, which largely entailed reporting to a different company every few weeks or months to listen to one idiot middle manager's plan to screw over some other, equally idiotic middle manager of a different department, then sign off on it.

One might imagine that this type of "work" would be so obviously pointless that no one would ever hire a "consultant" for any reason, but one would be wrong. John was, while certainly not rich, able to make a decent enough living bouncing from company to company, none of which he ever had any insight into the actual workings of, signing off on plans, the success or failure of which never seemed to have any impact on himself, and telling human embodiments of the Peter Principle whatever they wanted to hear. Dumb work, but well-enough paid, and it kept him moving around. He even sometimes got to "consult" in foreign countries, although that particular type of "work" was not the norm.

In any case, his calendar dutifully told him where he needed to be in the next hour or so and so he finished up his coffee. As if by some cosmic coincidence, an apropos message from Riley popped up on his phone just as he closed the calendar app.

I guess you are at work?

don't know where that is. forgot to ask.

guess you aren't the only one bad at first dates

The first three messages had come in rapid succession, but the next did not arrive till he was finished brushing his teeth.

I will be much better on the second one :P

He texted back,

seemed pretty good at it to me

, considered for a moment, and then added

pretty good at Mario Kart, too :P

by mario kart you mean anal, I hope

the memory alone was enough to start his dick hardening.

that and mario kart

He quickly added

off to my mysterious work :-P

The morning's work was unremarkable beyond having to force himself not to check his phone repeatedly while some vaguely-titled executive droned on about "synergy" and "streamlining." The job was an easy one, but one had to remember that what this type found most compelling an in underling, even a temporary one, was his ability to at least appear focused on whatever the boss was going on about, and texting away during an "important" meeting would be frowned upon. He felt he had shown admirable restraint by making it to lunch without checking for Riley texts. He even managed to order himself a light lunch at a cafe near work and find a table in the corner before whipping out his phone, embarrassingly anxious to hear from her again.

...but first he had to deal with more Carrie texts:

will come by

do u have boxes

where do you get boxes for stuff

He could feel his face involuntarily twist itself up into an expression of annoyance.

I don't think I have boxes. Try a grocery store? They usually give them away

The only text from Riley was her preferred emoji of a sunglass-wearing smiley face. He took a bite of his sandwich while he pondered what the correct response, if any, to this could be.

I mean, I won't come off as too eager in any case, right? Like, she's already made it clear she wants another date. Man, I'm such a dork.

He eventually settled on a non-committal nerd emoji, a smiley face sporting big glasses and buck teeth, which he hoped she would recognize as his parallel to her much cooler emoji, instantly regretted it, and then sighed and returned to his lunch.

Where are you taking me for our second date, dork?

I guess it translated well enough.

He had not really considered where the second date should be. This was one of those annoying aspects that he had not missed about casual dating while he was with Carrie; one of the participants had to come up with some activity to justify the time spent together, even if that activity was ultimately largely superfluous. Sure, you wanted to do something fun, but it was secondary. Inevitably this responsibility had always fallen on him and inevitably he was terrible at it, mostly just suggesting the basics: dinner, movie, coffee for blind dates, etc. He often had found himself wishing he was one of those guys that had interesting hobbies that one could share as a date.

Maybe I should take up hang-gliding or something.

I don't know yet.

I'm also out of practice with second dates.

He held the phone slightly too long, some part of his brain trying to will a response from her into existence. Inevitably it came only after he had put the phone back down.

better come up with something fast, dork

my dance card might be full if you take too long

He momentarily wondered where and when people actually used dance cards rather than just referencing them metaphorically.

Ok, dancing it is

he texted.

PS bad at dancing also

You're such a dork

she texted back.

Just take me to a movie. I like scary movies and seats in the back.

Well, that was easy.

He texted back

sounds great. you want to choose the time also, or should I handle that?

Saturday, I will leave the choice of theater and film to you :P

Getting through the rest of the day without texting incessantly was an exercise in willpower, but he managed it. The first thing he did after exiting the building and getting in the driver's seat of his car was to whip out his phone in the hope of a new message, but there was nothing.

She did leave the last message, so maybe she's just waiting on me to say something else?

He texted a thumbs up emoji, as much to acknowledge her plan as to stop himself trying and failing to com up with anything clever, and drove home.

Upon arrival at home, he again checked his phone, but there was nothing new.

Shucks. I haven't felt like this, like a teenager excitedly waiting to pounce on any word from his new crush since...well, since being a teenager. I need to find an outlet or I am going to drive myself nuts.

He marked the date in his calendar app, setting two reminders just to be sure, and headed inside to change. A good long run was just what he needed to stop thinking about Riley and it had the added benefit of giving him a reason to leave his phone behind. It seemed to do the job; he didn't check his phone again until he had showered off, made and eaten dinner, and spent a while screwing around on the internet before bed. When he checked, she had left another single emoji message, of an eggplant, two hours previously.

I'm old,

he thought,

but at least I am young enough to know what that means.

He texted back an emoji of a peach and tried to get some sleep. The run had done his job and he only tossed and turned for ten minutes before drifting off.

The Tuesday morning alarm was no less unpleasant than the Monday morning one had been. He began his morning routine as usual, not even aware of the text Riley had sent at some point in the middle of the night until he had started breakfast. It was again a single emoji, this time of a smiley with hearts for eyes.

They say communication is key to a healthy relationship,

he thought, sent back a string of emojis: eggplant, right arrow, peach, and then finished getting ready for work.

This is going to be the longest week of my life.

He filled most of his Tuesday morning drinking company coffee and lazily filling out a report template that he had made months ago and which had worked surprisingly well. It was amazing how almost all companies he had consulted for had the same problems, and how many of them were happy to try his suggested solutions, which he had been happy to copy-paste to executives in various industries over the last few months. Nobody seemed to notice or care that his expert advice was essentially a rephrased version of the first few hits on a google search for "increased employee productivity."

An identical lunch order to the previous day, placed at the same cafe with the same cute blond barista, who gave him the same empty smile did little to alleviate his feeling that this week would not end. He checked his phone as he sat in the same seat as the day before. Riley had left another emoji about an hour ago, this time of a drooling face. As he couldn't think of an unambiguous way of conveying via emoji the concept of inserting his dick into her drooling mouth, he opted for plain text instead.

Saturday cannot come soon enough

He found himself wondering at the circumstances of her intermittent texts: was she just covertly texting at work? That would explain the irregularity of response time. Maybe she was not on lunch break? Maybe she didn't get one. She had merely described her job as "office drone" and so he had not asked any more details about it on their first date, and so he didn't really have much more of an idea of what she did than she did of him. In any case, with phone in hand and nothing to do for the next twenty minutes before returning to work, he decided to check the dating app for the first time since he had used it to connect to Riley. To his surprise, the boy he had responded to had actually sent him a reply, and it looked like kind of a long one:

Hey, how's it going?

I'm new in town and looking for an older guy to show me around (and maybe show me some other stuff :)

I saw your picture and thought you looked kind of hot and your profile was funny (and also kind of hot)

If you're interested, I'm up for anything. I don't have a car, though (I'm working on it!) so only stuff I can uber/walk to, sorry!

Liam

John took another look at the kid's profile. He kept referring to Liam mentally as "the kid" partially because the kid was pretty clearly at least a decade younger and partially because he just liked the sound of it. The kid was cute, shortish brown hair that had clearly had a lot of effort put into making it look effortless, a smile that one imagined was infectious in person.

Why not? Riley, that's why not. Better make sure. Don't want a repeat of that "we didn't say we were exclusive" situation a few years back...

Just checking, because I've been out of the game for so long, but a planned date does not imply exclusivity, right?

The response came almost immediately.

no dork

it better not imply anything

This was followed by an upside-down face emoji, which John did not know how to interpret, but was relieved by the response, anyway. A quick series of texts followed.

only rules are these

don't give me a disease

tell me upfront if you're getting serious with someone else

Fair enough,

he thought. He was about to text as much when another text appeared:

and don't run out of cum

I like cum, don't make me regret it

He smiled. As much as entendre and flirting could be amusing, he was far happier with Riley's preferred method: explicit, unfiltered sexuality.

fair enough, just checking anyway. not running out of cum any time soon, anyway.

He added:

Saturday cannot CUM soon enough, I meant

Riley replied with the drooling emoji again, followed by a "back to work" and an emoji he assumed expressed her frustration.

This reminded him that he also had to return to the office, and so he did, making a mental note first to reply to Liam after.

Besides mentally crafting a reply, he did very little else that afternoon and so practically bolted out the door at the end of the day, anxious to be doing anything other than pretending to work. He had already scheduled the rest of the day for himself: write a reply to Liam, hit the gym, jerk off, shower, dinner, read, sleep. Having expended a decent amount of mental energy on the reply already, he was able to crank it out quickly:

Hey, Liam.

Thanks for the message. I wasn't sure when I got on there if I would get any interest.

You seem cool so if you want to hang out and see how it goes I would be down for it. Honestly I have very little experience with guys but am happy to learn :)

The profile was actually the result of something going wrong and not updating but it's all true :)

Hit me up if you're looking for something casual! I'm still working out this being single thing so let's take it easy

- John

Next was the "gym," which is what Carrie used to call the "junk room" for the obvious reason. The junk included, however, some stray dumbbells, a treadmill which worked intermittently, and a yoga mat which had never once been used for its intended purpose but was suitable for various core exercises, which John had been neglecting as of late. Just looking at it made him instinctively feel his gut, and so, disappointed with what he felt, decided to start there before moving on to some upper body work. The exercise had the intended effect of taking his mind off of dating and texts, so he didn't even consider looking at his phone until he was toweling off sweat.

There was a text from Riley,

ugh, still at work, this eats ass. not in a good way

.

I sympathize. If you want the good way...

he texted back.

He checked the dating app. Besides some more old guys trying desperately to show him their hairy assholes, which he ignored, there was also a reply from Liam:

Hey, I am free pretty much all the time

Such a loser, I know :(

Do you want to meet up at a bar?

I don't know if you drink

Anyway that seems easy

The rest of the reply was some vague details about which part of the city Liam lived in. It was not quite on the opposite side of town but too far to walk to. He remembered a place over there that college students frequented, as he recalled, looked it up to see if it was still operating, since he had not been there in years, and copied the link into his reply:

Hey?

You know this place [link]? I could use a drink. You free tonight?

John decided to put off the jerk off session for the moment on the off chance that Liam was looking at his phone. He was pleasantly surprised when a reply came back less than a minute later.

Yeah, that sounds great!

I can be there in half an hour, ok?

Better get to that shower quick,

he thought. He replied with a quick "see you then," and double timed it to the shower.

First date with a trans girl, now a first date with a guy. You're becoming a player...a weird old bi player, but that's still a player.

The quick shower plus the drive over plus the inevitably annoying search for street parking had taken up approximately two-thirds of the allotted thirty minutes, which seemed good to him. The place was called "Davie's". John had no idea who David was or why he would voluntarily choose to go by "Davie" instead of "Dave" but it was nice enough as far as these types of bars went. The place was mostly empty, to be expected on a Tuesday night, its only other customers a few groups of college kids, from which emanated the usual sounds of merriment. He pulled up to the bar, took a look around to check if he had not missed Liam, and, upon confirming this, ordered himself a beer. "In a bottle, please," he'd added, just to be sure, noticing the number of cheap plastic cups that littered otherwise empty tables.

"Sure thing, hon," the sweet-looking dirty-blonde barmaid answered, producing the requested beverage for him. She seemed to be not too much older than any of the patrons. He thanked her with a tip and she scuttled off to the other end of the bar with a smile.

He had finished around half of his beer by the time Liam came in, looking around anxiously, a few minutes later. John signaled him with a raised hand. Liam smiled and came over, John getting up from his seat to great the younger man.

"Hey," he said. Not knowing what else to say in such a situation he added, "I'm John. I mean, I guess you knew that, but..."

"Hey," Liam smiled. "I'm Liam..." there was just a hint of mocking in his tone. "Did I keep you waiting? Sorry."