This is a story I have kept to myself for a while, but it's one of those funny dating stories that everyone seems to have experienced at some time or another.
I was in my late 20's and had been working out and gotten fairly skinny. I was cautiously dipping a toes back into the dating pool, testing the waters after being absent for a while.
I went to a wedding and met a guy at the reception who instantly, well, captured my interest and my libido. The chemistry was scary. I like to flirt and yet, so many flirting partners have no gift for witty repartee. This guy did. He probably had a Ph.D. in Flirting.
He was well known to my friend John, and John's brother, but not to me.
His nickname was pretty distinctive but I won't mention it here. Here I'll call him Baz. It's easy to type.
So Baz and I did a lot of flirting at the reception.
I was totally excited. I felt like he might be THE ONE. He was good-looking, smart, funny - wow.
A few days later, Baz invited me to come over to his apartment, and watch fireworks. A bunch of friends and his roommate were all drinking and planning to go up to the roof and watch the fireworks display nearby at the old Knoxville World's Fair Site.
It was July 4th, my birthday. What a present.
Getting on the roof was a bit of a challenge, since I had on a skirt, but once up there, we stretched out on a picninc blanket. The fireworks display was awesome. We were on a hill, on a roof, and so the display felt like it was immediately overhead. I felt like the fireworks were just for us. They were huge and magnificent. I've never seen anything like it before or since.
I remember thinking, I'd rather be here, with an attractive, funny guy, watching fireworks, than anywhere else on earth. This is bliss.
After it was over we went back inside, and retired to his room to make out. He had a small room but a king-sized bed.
He had my favorite CD on the stereo.
I don't want to get too graphic, but he was quite the lothario when it came to making out. Just his kissing technique was amazing. Wow.
They say the tongue is the strongest muscle in the body.
There was a lot of electricity in that room.
Things were advancing and clothes were getting loosened.
All of a sudden, I froze IN HORROR. I was wearing the oldest, most ripped, mended, elastic-shot granny-panties in the universe. White cotton.
I hadn't done laundry in a while.
I pictured him getting a look at those tattered granny panties and screaming in horror.
I brought the making out to an abrupt halt.
"I gotta get up REALLY early tomorrow! Need to run!" I called, as I jumped off the bed.
Baz was not a happy camper.He looked like he was in shock.
I only saw him once after that. It was not a happy date. That's another story.
I told some of my girlfriends about the embarrassing underwear faux pas sometime later and they all stared at me like I had totally lost my mind. There was dead silence in the room.
I then learned that my knowledge of male behavior was totally inadequate. Baz didn't care about the appearance of my undies.
Drat.
I also learned, from John, that Baz was a huge trouser snake. He'd make out with any woman in the world. "Wow, information I could have USED, John," I huffed.
However, to be fair, I felt a little better about our disastrous non-relationship. John was saying to me in a brotherly way the guy plowed through women like a bulldozer and I would've just been another in a long line.
Interesting sidenote. I found Baz on Facebook not long ago.
A couple of years after our granny-panty session, he married a woman who looks JUST LIKE ME.
Hmmm......
