My date with Tom went...

...Really well! We had a few drinks and some pizza, talked about the city and...other...cities...?? You know, I think I might not be an awesome listener...(my friends are saying, "DUH."). I remember we toasted to his recent achievement of the coveted Green Card and clinked glasses. He doesn't like sweet potatoes, just like me...uhm...ANYWAY, we had a nice chat and I didn't spill any martini on my lap! Yay!

Towards the end of the date, I asked what was next on the agenda, as it was only 8:30. He suggested coming to his place for continued drinking and "conversation." I knew right away that this was an urgent situation. I could A) say, "No thanks, let's go to another dead bar on a Sunday night and spend way too much money on drinks," or B) say, "Why the hell not?! You're not an American citizen, so you'll get deported if you take advantage of my lady bits without my expressed permission!" Well, this was hardly a decision that I could make all on my own. I had to call the Super-Bestie (my sister) and hold counsel with her. I excused myself to go to the restroom and in getting up, my feet got tangled in the legs of the bar stool next to me. I tripped and down I went, onto the floor in the middle of Bier Markt...I'm sure it was even in slow motion to make it all the more humiliating and funny, at which time I was grateful for two things: I don't embarrass easily and I decided not to wear that skirt. Tom helped me up without making a deal of it (how cool that my clumsiness didn't turn him off) and I went on to the restroom to call my sis. It went a little like this...

Me: Sis (I never call her that in real life), I need your help. I'm out with a guy and he's really nice and I think he's cool and we had some drinks and some food and he's nice and asked me to come back to his place for another drink, but I don't know for sure, so I'm calling you to see what you think, but he's really nice and I don't think he'd chop me up into tiny pieces, so what do you think? Would you go?!

Sis: Whaaaaaa?????

Three minute conversation short, she said I should go if I wanted to. SO I went with option B! (minus pointing out to him the whole "deported if you rape me" thing, figured he should know that on his own) Yessir, I went to a man's apartment on the first date. I'm such a floozie. He was a gentleman who lives in a nice Downtown apartment in the Warehouse District. The cabernet he poured was delightful and so was the view of the bridges over the Cuyahoga. No, you don't get any more detail than that. This isn't that kind of blog anymore, remember?

Overall, we had fun on a Sunday night and he's out of town for this whole week. I've decided not to call him. If he wants to see me again, he'll have to contact me first. I'm done playing the "let me be the accommodating and ever-eager to please" girl. (I know, I know, I say that now...) Besides, I've been told that if a guy is really interested, he'll make it known. We shall see!