Day 14 of #100IndianTinderTales from Mumbai.
“The conversation was quite beige – not really fun; not really boring – somewhere in between. He had an artist’s face – a brooding, lovelorn, guitar strumming, bearded cute boy of a man. But he finally had my interest when I heard him rattle off the name of a band that I didn’t often hear, that was also one of my favorites. With that we began our little tête-à-tête that lasted a little less than a week, ending with me meeting him on an impromptu night at a bar.
We spoke about our love for music, art, history, symmetry, and swapped stories about our exes. He told me about his last girlfriend, someone he lived in with for three years, and had broken up with a few months ago. I figured he was on a rebound but was okay. Haven’t we all been there? So all was mostly well – well besides the fact that he kept pinching my arm, and much to my dismay kept saying gleefully – “it jiggles!” it wasn’t such a bad night. Okay, if you think I let that get to me and put me off him, you’re wrong. My luck with Tinder was close to being a myth, and right at that point anything worth salvaging, needed to be salvaged. So as was planned, I met him for another dedicated night out – starting at his favorite bar (and I owe him this one – I have a new favorite now).
Okay, so I was a little frisky after a few beers, and after some deliberate flirting, and nudging each other on, we found ourselves gate-crashing someone else’s party. The night was turning out to be fun, and my date promising, (except for the fact that he kept a strict tab of who had what and made sure I paid for every drink that I was now sculling down like a tanked bone-head). There was the eye-contact, and the gentle brushing of the arms, the oh so slight grasp of the small of my back, the gentle moving of a lock of my hair from my eyes, and tucking it playfully behind my ear, the locking of the eyes across the room, the playing with my hair … he had all my lady parts alive!
Any-who, before this little story turns into a Mills & Boon novella, let me say, it did end with one of the best kisses I’ve ever shared! Good enough for me to throw all caution to the wind, and land up at his apartment, and spend the night laying in his “bed for one” and hearing him tell me repeatedly how beautiful I was. I was in love! Yes, yes, I was! At least for one more night.
The next night, I had figured would seal the deal, and I made sure I looked every bit as enticing as I thought I did the previous night. So like a hungry seductress, I walked into his little apartment, plopped myself on his bed, we put on the music we both acknowledged was “the sign” that there was something here worth pursuing – and the next thing you know, we’re at it like little Duracell bunnies on speed. And then, just while we are at it, he pulls away and starts to cry!
Crawled into a fetal position, this naked beauty of a man, cries… and cries… I try to console him, but nothing can make him stop. He weeps. I put my clothes back on (and also notice that a lock of my hair is missing, that’s just how passionate it was minutes ago). Any-who again – I finally manage to get him to uncoil, to drink a glass of water, sit up, put his clothes back on – and finally muster up the question.
Me: What exactly happened there?
Him: I was saving myself… *sob sob*
Him: Yeah… I have always thought, that “this thing” has to happen with someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.
Me: But you lived in with your soul-mate for three years. You’re telling me you guys never did it?
Me: That’s ermm… Kind of cool actually… To have a guy think that way.
(Feeling quite slutty about myself right now.)
Me: And why again did you break up?
Him: I found out she was cheating on me…
Him: She was sexting another guy.
Me: So you were holding on to yourself for after marriage, and I sauntered in and forced myself on you…
(Has got to be the best story a woman has ever told – I just forced myself on a guy who wouldn’t have sex with his girlfriend of three years and made him cry!)
Me: I’m err… sorry.
Me: I had no idea… you should have stopped me or at least told me so.
Him: I didn’t expect it to happen.
(My turn to return the silence, albeit with a mouth open aghast.)
Him: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have led you on…
Me: I’m sorry I didn’t know (?!?!)
Anyway, the night ended with all the chemistry flying off like coffee foam on a windy morning. I didn’t get anywhere close to dating him, we hung out for a bit, I figured more strange tidbits about him, and narrating these stories became a hobby for a brief time – but I’ve never had a woman not roll her eyes and guffaw a big guffaw every time I tell this story.
So for that, and for one of the best kisses ever, for finding a bar I now love, and for many other wonderful memories, I send him a little wish into the universe, and hope he finds the one he’d like to do it with soon. If he hasn’t already that is… “
Day 14 of #100IndianTinderTales from Mumbai.