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Seven months later
It's official! I. Have. Lost. My. Ever-loving. Mind!
How did a quirky housewife (or I should say former housewife), who hasn't had an orgasm during sex in four years, end up in a New York City hotel bar waiting for a booty call?
Not just any booty call, a PITY booty call set up by my crazy college friend Rane who happens to be roommates with a self-proclaimed man-whore willing to have sex with any woman, any time.
I should have felt lucky. After all, I am an overweight divorcee who is trying to get her lady bits working again, but.... OMG, what was I doing???
I couldn't do this! I needed to go!
As I started to walk out of the door, I had to mentally smack myself to stop from leaving.
You have to do this, Kelly.
You are not allowed to chicken out!
Kelly, you NEED this!!!
After thoroughly ranting at myself, I walked back towards the bar, and I decided then that it was best to go ahead and order a vodka cranberry.
Alcohol tended to have a calming effect on my nerves.
I had never done this before... casual sex.
A virgin until I was 25, and then again abstinent till I was 30, all of my sexual experiences had been more than lacking. Even my ex-husband, who I was married to for eight years, only conjured seven orgasms the entire time we were together, the last of which was during the conception of our first child.
UGH!!!! Where was this guy? He was already late, and I was seriously going to lose my gumption if he didn't show soon. I probably should have asked for a picture, but I didn't want to psych myself out and find a reason not to meet him.
Back before I was married, anytime a friend would set me up and forward me a picture of said date, I would always find fault in some part of their appearance. It's why I told Rane that she was absolutely NOT allowed to send me a picture of her roommate Dale.
All I knew of his appearance was that he was 42, brown-haired, 6 foot plus, and named Dale. Thus, I figured it should be easy to find him. After all, how many guys are named Dale these days?
Maybe he was already here, and I was just too much in my head to pay attention to my surroundings. Taking a moment to look around, I scoped out three men who could potentially be the mythical Dale.
Possible Dale #1: brown hair, metrosexual clothing, aaaannnndddd... now I see the girlfriend.
Next!
Possible Dale #2... not bad, but a little angry looking to be the fun-loving man-candy that roomed with Rane.
Didn't she always talk about how absurdly happy he was? It was probably all of the sex. Now that I think about it, Rane talks about him a lot and had brought him up in every single one of our conversations since 2008. Maybe she was secretly in love with him and in denial.
What if I destroyed our friendship in the hopes of an orgasm and she could never forgive me for sleeping with her one true love?
Shut up, Kelly!!!!!
Rane was not a masochist. She wouldn't set you up for a booty call with her dream man. Stop trying to talk yourself out of this. After all, when we met for coffee just the other day she was practically bouncing over the fact that her boyfriend Michael had taken her ring shopping. That was definitely not the behavior of a woman lost in unrequited love.
With a mental shake, my focus switched to the last possible Dale.
––––––––
POSSIBLE DALE #3. BROWN hair, dressed a little fancier than I would have guessed, very handsome in a nerdy Matthew Goode way, and SHIT!
He was looking right at me.
Awkwardly, I averted my eyes to the menu propped up by my chair. I needed to collect my nerves before approaching my target.
That had to be him.
Dale was supposed to meet me here at 7:00 pm. Since it was now 7:15 pm, and #3 was still staring at me as if he somehow knew me, I decided that this must be my date for the evening.
All right, it was time to get my shit together, go over there and talk to the man to verify if he's Dale, and spend the night learning how to sex again.
After all, I was not here to waste time. I had a babysitter for the night, and I was here to get laid so that I could regain my sexual confidence.
Although, I'm not quite sure I ever had any sexual confidence to begin with.
As I slowly made my way over to verify Dale #3's identity, my senses were overwhelmed by the pull his eyes had on me.
Damn, weren’t those dark brown eyes beautiful?
With our eyes remaining locked, I also saw a little bit of humor cross his face as I approached. Or was that excitement?
As I said, I was out of my depths.
Hoping that his facial expression meant that he was reflecting on our situation and not mocking me, I bravely asked, "Excuse me, but is your name, Dale?"