I've never had my emotions toyed with so much on a first date.
70 miles and $10 in tolls later, I arrive at the bar I was supposed to meet my girl. I find a tiny spot right in front of the bar and spend more than 5 minutes parallel parking. Finally squeezed in with less than two inches to spare.
I get out and look at my phone, and see a text from my girl.
"don't hate meee..."
This fucking girl confirmed plans three times, including right before I got in my car to meet her, and then flaked as I ARRIVED, knowing how far I drove. Her excuse was that she really wanted to meet me, but her weekly paycheck hadn't arrived in the mail that day, she "forgot to tell me," and that she wanted to reschedule as she would feel very uncomfortable if I paid for her drinks. Of course this was all through text.
I wasn't even angry - my brain literally could not compute what had just happened. I couldn't comprehend how anyone over the age of 7 could be so incredibly inconsiderate. I decided it'd be best to call her while I was still calm, she answered, and she apologized. I explained that I was planning on paying. I teased her lightly for being an asshole, even though it was not a teasing matter. She was most definitely an asshole of epic proportions, and I felt my shock turning into rage with every passing moment. However, since she actually was not a complete coward and answered her phone, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed she was sincere. I also felt that she was a bit nervous about meeting me, and that she equated me paying with her being obligated to fuck me, which I assured her was not the case.
I knew I didn't have too much bargaining or guilt tripping power with someone who was willing to do me so dirty, so I didn't scold her or aggressively shame her into meeting up. I very tentatively agreed with her counter offer to meet up on Saturday instead.
I told her I didn't have it in me to get right back on the road, and that I was going to grab a drink. I did, vented on the phone to a couple close friends, and then thought about what to do.
20 minutes later I sent her this: "Honestly I'm more concerned with just having a fun night. You sure you don't want to just grab a quick drink? It's a completely zero pressure siutation - there's no expectations, seriously. If it's really about money just get me a drink next time or send me a check for $14 in the mail. IDGAF"
Her response: "oh ok. would still wanna go to (the bar we were supposed to meet at)?"
She then said she wanted me to pick her up and texted me her address.
It made no sense. Even though I saw her social media that had pictures with her and her sorority sisters, I thought there was a decent chance it was a setup, and she was sending me to a place where some North Philly street dudes would relieve me of my money and valuables. I cross checked the address with my brother, who confirmed that although it was still hood as fuck, many college kids lived on that street. I took my chances and went to scoop her.
I parked out in front of the address she gave me, called her. No answer - voicemail box is full and cannot accept any messages. Sent a text, and another text. No answer after 5 minutes. I felt like a fucking chump. Why am I allowing myself to get played? I know better than this. I was supposed to meet her at 830 - its now 10:15, and I'm still 75 minutes from home.
Just as I was about to tell her off, she walks out the front door. She looks as good as I remember. Great style and very fit. Titties are still looking pretty big despite not being propped up to her chin like they were on Halloween.
I take a deep breath to let go of my frustration, and get out of the car to greet her. She is visibly nervous, talking very fast, and apologizing a lot. I crack a couple jokes, put her at ease, and it's on. I ask her to take me to a bar closer to her house and we find one.
She barely drinks the drink I bought her, but her body language goes from OK to great over 45 minutes. She's laughing her ass off, and the cool bartender is enhancing the conversation with some friendly banter. We start touching each other's shoulders and knees when we want to add emphasis to a sentence, and the conversation topics start becoming more sexual. It's 12:15 now, and she's had half of one Bud Strawberrita in almost two hours - banging isn't going to happen, so I tell her I need to get going.
I drop her off and get out of the car to say goodnight. She comes in for a hug while looking down and away. Submissive and embarrassed, not "thank god this date is over." I grab her face, look her in the eyes, and kiss her. I get a big smile in return.
Two hours later, at 2:30am, she texts me "I hope you got home OK!" I take this as a big positive, and at the very least a sign that she's thinking about me.
At my age, 75 minutes is right at the absolute max distance I am willing to commute for pussy of this caliber. My plan is to stay as non-needy as possible, and then come back Saturday evening after she gets to have a drink or two with her friends. The iron should still be hot.
Updates to come.