For Christmas I received, amongst other things, the Bath and Body Works 2010 V.I.P. Bag. It contained (also amongst other things) a bottle of Twilight Woods Men’s Shower Gel. “Great!” I thought. “The next time I have a man over to spend the night, I can present him with his very own bottle of Twilight Woods Men’s Shower Gel!” (I will lure him in with my new Secret Wonderland Fragrance Mist and he’ll be so impressed by my coordinated His and Hers shower gels that he’ll drop to his knees and propose on the spot—either that or he’ll wonder just how many men have helped themselves to a dollop of my Twilight Woods and will flee the scene. I will keep you posted.)
Speaking of keeping you posted (like that segue there?) I’ve been remiss in my duties. To date I have been on not one, not two, but three dates with PSM#1. He even deigned to enter the Chocolate Lounge at Continental last week where my all-female co-workers and I were taking full advantage of the Happy Hour drink specials on Wednesday night. Rare is the man brave enough to smile and shake hands and apologize for whisking me off to the movies a mere three dates in. Rarer still is the man willing to go see “Black Swan.”
Date #9 was the first one to put the thought of seeing “Black Swan” into my head. He was rather into film and since I’m usually about a decade behind the times when it comes to movies and pop culture, it was with great pride that I later told Date #17, “There’s this new ballet thriller starring Natalie Portman. Oh—wait? You haven’t heard of it? Black Swan?”
The thing about “Black Swan” is that it’s rather sexual… by which I mean sexually explicit and therefore not the easiest film to watch on a third date. It’s also rather bloody and squirm-inducing. At one point, I was so squeamish that I kicked off my new black heels, tucked me legs underneath me and probably would have spent the rest of the film with my hands clutched over my mouth if PSM#1 hadn’t commanded, “Relax! It’s just a movie.”
We didn’t talk very much afterwards. The full extent of our conversation was:
Him: Well, that was…
Me: Want to grab a coffee?
Him: It’s kind of late.
Me: Yeah, you’re right.
Him: Let me hail you a cab.
Me: Okay. (Followed by my now-regular internal monologue of “Will he or won’t he kiss me???”)
Him: Send me a text to let me know you get home. (For the record, he did kiss me, but only a very quickly as a cab pulled alongside the curb so that hardly counts.)
As you can see, there was no time for me to casually drop into the conversation that fact that I’ve been blogging about our dates on the internet. Or that I’ve been on eighteen first dates in the past five months. Or that I’ve been corresponding with half a dozen men on eHarmony and have no intention of falling for the first PSM to catch my eye.
Had PSM#1 not texted me between his various familial dinners to wish me a Merry Christmas I would be concerned, and had he not already hinted that he’d like to take me ice skating for our next date, I’d be worried that “Black Swan” had cost me a repeat performance with PSM#1. But obviously it hasn’t. (And I’ll be damned if someone doesn’t put that Twilight Woods to good use by Christmas 2011.)