+1
Local white girl, I'd say a 6.5 overall.
First for the year, 2nd Tinder notch ever (2 years from my first ever Tinder date...lots of catching up to do I know
)
Something about her appearance set off alarm bells in my head which I couldn't put my finger on, though she look too different from her photos. Nevertheless, I didn't let that throw me off and we hit it off well from the get go.
She mentions that she hasn't had dinner yet, for which I could've kicked myself. (Memo to self:
Always make it clear what sort of dinner you haven't got in mind!) My chance of a 1st date bang seemed to have taken a nosedive. No matter, the street where we'd met is our city's Little Italy, and there were no shortage of eateries. After inquiring into a couple of them, I decided on a trattoria 2 doors down from where we'd met -- its name means "I love you" in Italian.
Shortly after, she mentioned how she prefers dinner dates on the first one. Again, that sounded an alarm mentally. I've bothered to screen hard for SIF's on my latest Tinder incarnation, which she passed, and her dress was figure-hugging enough to make her pass my boner test. Or so I thought then.
The conversation progressed towards travel. It's a huge topic fodder for me, but one with a double-edged sword - with Australian girls, it can provide almost too much comfort to place you in the friendzone. Nevertheless, I must have managed to hit the sweet spot of just enough comfort, rapport, emotion and sexual undertone.
Given that it had taken what seemed like forever for the food to arrive, I wasted no time in moving us on. Gulp. I hadn't managed to drop any bait with which I could steer us back to mine. The game gods had heard my plight, however, and somehow espresso martinis came up in the conversation -- I mentioned how they were one of my favourite drinks to mix.
Thus getting her to agree to come back to mine was smoother than expected. Having suggested a bar down the road she'd heard of, I said that my place was nearby, how about those espresso martinis? OK. There was a little detour to buy coffee liqueur first.
My current logistics are among my best yet in my hometown, but still a bit of a walk from the big entertainment precincts, on the other side of the university. No matter, we talked a little bit about our alma mater as we walked past.
There were a couple of distractions back home that I should've taken care of, including my ill housemate who came down to fix herself some tea. I also had to dart upstairs and ask how to use the coffee pot.

Carry on. Drinks were slung, a date was impressed and we headed to check out my dance playlist.
There was no resistance at all in going for the makeout. After chatting a bit more, she agreed to come upstairs, see my glasses and paintings. There was only one place they'd be . . .
The latter was examined in detail not the former. After wasting a bit of time with her wanting to see our cat, I pinned her against my wardrobe door and started to peel off her dress. Crazy stiff LMR from here which ended up with her down to her knickers on my bed. That came off eventually.
Remember those red flags I mentioned? Nothing could conceal that ripple of cellulite framing her belly. That took her from a reasonable 7 to a paltry 6. Maybe even a 5.5 if I wanted to be harsh. While I managed to conceal my disappointment initially, I said something mid-sex that brought her to tears. She mentioned how cheap she felt, that she thought it was a mercy fuck, and that she didn't want to change her appearance for someone else. Minutes ago, she'd said how this was among the best sex she'd had. I had to comfort the shit out of her so she'd stay, god knows why, I'd been half-prepared to kick her out having seen her figure starkers.
We eventually fell asleep in each others' arms. Proved that you can bang on the first date and still get her to make it to work early.
