Houston's Missed Connections: Somewhat Slutty

In any case, I informed you that I would call you later that night after I had dinner with my family (Ok, really I was at home watching the finale of America's Next Top Model, but you, super-cute guy and potential boyfriend could NOT know that). After "dinner" was over, I gave you a call and attempted to convince you to meet me somewhere. Much to my horror, you were not having it. You wanted to come over to my house. I entered panic mode.

Why? Several reasons. One being that my house was a cesspool of disease and filth. I've been really sick for the last few weeks and have had absolutely zero motivation to clean up after myself and as a result, my whole house reeks of Vicks and old pizza. Normally, I am a perfectly clean person but not these past two weeks. If you were anyone else, super-cute guy...I may not have cared, but you are too good for my illness ridden haven of disgust. This would not do.

Also, I knew that if you came over to my house there was very little chance I would not sleep with you. Don't judge me for this because you, super-cute guy are indeed super-cute. Not just in the looks department, but personality-wise as well. You stimulate me intellectually and make me laugh. You are charming in the best kind of way and unless we were in a public place, I was going to have a very hard time not ripping your clothes off.

However, when I realized that you were set in your decision I had to cave. After all, I had canceled a jam session with my band, babysitting for my brother, watching project runway with a carton of pistachio ice cream and a number of other equally important tasks just to hang out with you. I had also already done my makeup and hair and I'm not one to waste perfectly good foundation. So I told you, super-cute guy that you were welcome to come by. You said you would. Fortunately, you were FAR away and it was going to take you over an hour.

After hanging up with you, I flew around like a mad woman cleaning up kleenex, vicks vapor rub spilled on the coffee table, thousands of Dr. Pepper cans and wine glasses, pizza crusts and beer bottles. I then noticed that it looked like Saks 5th Ave. had vomited clothes all over my house. I even found clothes in the guest bathroom and the kitchen. I shoved all of them in my closet, febreezed the living crap out of everything and my house took on a much more respectable air. I still had 30 minutes or so, so I catapulted myself into the bathtub to shave my legs and erm....more intimate area. I hadn't done this before because I intended to meet you in a public place and NOT have sex with you, but I figured that my resolve was basically gone at this point so I might as well be hairless and smell nice. Especially since I knew I was never going to be graced with the presence of you, super-cute guy ever again.

When you arrived, you were adorable. You didn't even try to kiss me for two hours, but instead, you asked me questions about my job and my family. You showed me pictures of your gorgeous little boy. We talked about hunting. Told some innapropriate jokes. You told me what a good time you were having and that you liked me. In short, you were super-cute (as we have already established).

But as the night wore on, super-cute turned into super-sexy as you went in for the kill. I will admit: You have some good moves. Really good. I won't go into detail for obvious reasons, but just know that you had me in the palm of your hand. There was a point during our little make-out session where I really would have done absolutely anything you asked of me.

But what makes you really cute, super-cute guy is that you stopped at second base at basically told me that you would like to save some fun for next time.

*Sigh of relief*

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I didn't want to have sex with you...I REALLY did. But I know I would regret it right this second if we had, so I appreciate so much that you were nice enough to release me from your seductive hold of super-cuteness long enough for me to catch my breath and recalibrate.

I will say, however: I haven't been that turned on by anyone in a long time. If "Next time" isn't soon, I might end up hating you. Just saying.

Thanks again, super-cute guy. You get a second date gold star.

*EDIT*

To you, mildly-cute friend of super-cute guy: Do not be pissed off that I didn't go out with you. I truthfully have no idea how you ended up with my number the night I met you and your super-cute friend. I guess you couldn't tell that I only had eyes for him. I know that you have been text messaging me for almost a week asking me to hang out, and I may have accepted your offer had it ever been at a time well before one in the morning.

So please do not blame me from accepting a date from your super-cute friend (who you should totally take lessons from, by the way). He extended an invitation at about 4 in the afternoon as oppose to your middle of the freaking night. No offense (because you are indeed, mildly-cute), but any guy that text messages me at one a.m. to hang out is probably not one that I would consider dating.

Thanks for understanding :-)

We know that you may find this hard to believe, but some guys may actually decide during the course of a make-out that proceeding much further may result in Fatal Attraction like stalking or at least a serious Chia Petting of our VW's floor mats. Also, you may not want to laugh at every single comment said target guy makes. That's just too creepy.

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Photo: flickr user fd.