The Magic (and Mystery) of Date III

So there I was, on my couch, counting down the time to leave my place so as to arrive fashionably late. Not late, mind you – just fashionably late. You know, 10 minutes or so “because of traffic on Key Bridge.” Well, she one-upped me with the infamous “I am running late…” text when I was already on the road. Giddy up.

I arrived in Georgetown, found a great parking spot, and decided to kill time in Barnes & Noble. I sent a text to that end, hoping to demonstrate my lifelong devotion – sorta – to the written word. I’ve been told women “dig” that kind of thing, and I’m not one to turn down solid advice. To my knowledge, it worked: “You must be so smart,” my date said when we finally caught up. Playing the humble card, I responded with “Yea,” and spat off my SAT score. She was definitely impressed.

At this point, before we discuss dinner, I should touch on the significance of the third date. Let’s get it out there: the third date is no ordinary date. It’s the “nookie” date. If you don’t know what nookie is, I suggest you turn back now. If you know what nookie is, then read on…

Anywho, as one who is open to advice, a good friend of mine told me that, if all is going well, nookie happens after three. Not once, not twice, but thrice. And this was thrice. So a quiet dinner it was. We settled in at a “classy” dive bar where the Redskins were being cheered on by some of Georgetown’s finest. The atmosphere was perfect for a good meal and great conversation. We talked about our jobs, long-term career aspirations, the “really annoying guy” in every office, and, of course, football. Suffice it to say, the date was going phenomenal.

Fast forward an hour or so, and it’s time to depart. She came straight from work and had to travel home to NOVA. I drove into the city, and, by a coincidence gifted unto me by the Gawds, I also had to travel home to NOVA. “Care for a ride home?” I said. “Sure,” she responded, adding that she “hoped I would ask.” Score! We walked the five blocks to my car – ahem, Jeep – and set in for a crisp autumn drive. Again, we shared an intelligent, revealing conversation that, to me, promised nookie. Until…

“Just so you know, you’re not getting a kiss goodnight.”

WTF? I paid for dinner. I drove you home. For the love of creeps, I pretended to enjoy literature! And then it happened. In my male-induced state, I foolishly said, “We don’t have to kiss...but you can still put out.” Put out? Are you serious? Jebus, you are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Unless…just maybe…she smiles and says “Deal.”

“Yesssssssss,” I shouted under my breath – my efforts had paid off. When we arrived at her place, I parked the Jeep, and followed her upstairs. All the lights were off in her apartment – it was past midnight – so we crept to her room. Once inside, she pounced like a starving tiger and went to work. Three minutes into our so-called “vision quest” she brought in her two roommates and really made things interesting. But I should stop here for fear of revealing too much. Some things are better left unsaid. So let’s just close with this: I am a new man.

Thanks for the third date, Kobes.