A Date Gone Orally Wrong

After the difficulties that ensued from my terribly unsuccessful engagement I regrettably found myself back in the harrowing  arena that is online dating.

“Join Match,” they said. “You will meet a nice guy,” they said.

Desperately trying to move on from my failed relationship of five years I audaciously swiped through my matches with hopes of starting anew.

Logan was a fair-skinned and particularly aristocratic-looking specimen. Armed with a charming pick up line and a recently completed masters degree in computer science, he had me quite intrigued to accommodate his request for an in-person meeting.

Being relatively new to the millennial phenomena that is online dating, I figured Logan would suggest we meet at a bar or coffee shop of some sort, so I was delighted when he suggested we go to a wine and cheese tasting event he had purchased tickets for.

Wine and cheese are certainly the direct route to this gal’s heart.

Logan and I settled into a quaintly romantic brasserie and exchanged light badinage while waiting for the instructor to begin the tasting.

Soon I found myself very much enjoying our time sampling various French burgundies, discussing the flavorful aromas of each and deliberating which cheeses complemented them the best.

As the instructor concluded her presentation we continued getting to know each other over the remainder of our vintages.

To my dismay, I had to bring the date to a close as midnight rapidly approached, and my speech began to noticeably slur.

I told Logan what an enjoyable time I had and expressed my desire to to see him again, hoping the feeling was mutual.

“Do you have to go home now? It’s so early!” He pleaded.

“I have to be at work at seven tomorrow, so I think it’s for the best. Plus, I have already had a lot to drink,” I said, slightly abashed by my tipsiness.

“We don’t have to drink anymore. I’m sorry, I’ll just say it. I would love to take you home and eat you out.  You won’t even have to do anything to me,” he said, expecting me to be eternally grateful for his offered services.

Dumbfounded, all I could do was cackle in embarrassment on his behalf.

“Or, we could just cuddle. I’m a great cuddler too,” he threw out as a last ditch effort to get me into his apartment.

I’m good, Logan. I’m good.


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