Chemistry, Mops, Parkinson and the Upcoming date with my SecretCrush

After reading this post from my SecretCrushForTwoWeeks, I’m feeling a little self conscious. This is the first time I feel I am evenly matched in terms of perspicacity and overall sexiness. In our talks she has proven to be  keenly in tune with the way things look, taste, sound, feel and smell. Given that  and her being unfairly voluptuous, it has made me rethink my normal approach.

Valentine’s day isn’t too far away either so their is a bit of pressure. And while it’s important that her looks and all around (literally all around) allure has made me mop up more puddles than the guy cleaning the glory-hole section of your local video shop, there is much more to it than that.

What do I wear?

Normally before I go out on a date 80% of my unclothed body isn’t plastered on a blog. Between the  sexy leggy project and my silly stuff at the gym post I have unwittingly and for a few laughs exposed everything but the good stuff.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind being objectified and reduced to a piece of meat, man-meat has to enter sooner or later. But subsequently in terms of dress there is not much to show or play around with visually unless I am grabbing myself and while that is potentially fun,  baseball season is over and there are not many places one can self-indulge outside of religious places of worship and  locker-rooms.

NYC weather doesn’t help.  Lately it has been painfully & erratically all over the place like hand loving from a young woman with Parkinson’s. (I’m just imaging, I wouldn’t know). Hard to plan cool shit to do in the city when it can be raining , snowing, windy or 60 degrees all in the same day.


But what really has me concerned is always chemistry. The phone conversations have been fun as have the emails, but there is always the chance that whatever tangible chemistry there has been so far may not translate to real life. Unfortunately unlike most men I cannot grind organs unless there is some sort of chemistry, I guess that makes me  a romantic.

You see without chemistry we would tend to become great friends. I’d take your calls and listen when the lunch or dinner with your moms goes badly, usually because she noticed that you can no longer  cram yourself in your bullshit light blue pastel sweat pants from freshman year high-school. Or when that bitch you hate at your job who’s hell-bent on showing you up ever since she started dating your  male friend Phillip (the rebound-relationship guy you gurgled 3-4 years ago).

But I’m older now. I’m tired of hearing about how crazy you and your girls got on sangria in Cancun, and Lisa’s subsequent crazy abortion scar that brings to mind Harry Potter‘s first meeting with Lord Voldemort. I’d hope there is more for me relationship-wise than befriending drunkard females especially since I really like this one, seed spilling and tent pitching aside.

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  1. “I cannot grind organs unless there is some sort of chemistry, I guess that makes me a romantic.” One of the most brilliant comments on sex I’ve heard in quite some time. Thanks for that. I may have to use that in a post, with full credit of course.


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