Date Rate: ♥♥♥♥♥
I will now admit that for my (3rd) date yesterday with Mr. Jetpack I did a slight bit of scheming. I came up with a location for the afternoon happy hour date that is within walking distance from my apartment. Ideally it is better to ride one's bicycle there because after dark the path can be frequented by Denver's slightly less than savory folks. I decided it would be best though if I walked.
Can you see the scheme yet? What if I told you he had to drive to the location because he doesn't live downtown? That's right people. Because I like to be driven around and because riding in the same car is a far better set up for some kiss action, I tried to make sure I'd have to get a ride home. I'm very thrilled that a scheming plan of mine has finally worked. So after four hours of happy hour I got a ride home.
I think he may have caught on to my scheme and played along. He pulled the well I better just park instead of merely pulling up and I'm quite sure even uttered some kind of line to the tune of, "I'd really like to kiss you." To which I devilishly replied, "Then you better come in." The scheming had gone to my head by now, obviously, and I now fancied myself some kind of smooth talker.
We had the niceties. He ogled my road bike, looked at my camp pictures on the wall and complimented the photos my brother gave me. I gave him water and turned on music. Then I figured as he had put the kissing suggestion on the table it must be my move. So I did. And there was makey outey and it was good.
Can you see the scheme yet? What if I told you he had to drive to the location because he doesn't live downtown? That's right people. Because I like to be driven around and because riding in the same car is a far better set up for some kiss action, I tried to make sure I'd have to get a ride home. I'm very thrilled that a scheming plan of mine has finally worked. So after four hours of happy hour I got a ride home.
I think he may have caught on to my scheme and played along. He pulled the well I better just park instead of merely pulling up and I'm quite sure even uttered some kind of line to the tune of, "I'd really like to kiss you." To which I devilishly replied, "Then you better come in." The scheming had gone to my head by now, obviously, and I now fancied myself some kind of smooth talker.
We had the niceties. He ogled my road bike, looked at my camp pictures on the wall and complimented the photos my brother gave me. I gave him water and turned on music. Then I figured as he had put the kissing suggestion on the table it must be my move. So I did. And there was makey outey and it was good.
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