A Serious ASS-umption

Ethan and I met through a mutual friend we both went to college with.  I was privy to the idea of meeting someone the good old fashioned was as opposed to the plethora of dating applications I had been miserably failing at, so when he invited me for drinks I delightfully accepted.

After some scheduling mishaps, Ethan texted me and suggested we grab some refreshments at a rooftop hotel bar on a warm summer night.

A fabulous idea, indeed!

Being that it had finally hit the 80 degree mark in New York City I selected my girliest flouncy sun dress with a pair of statement earrings and some strappy nude heels. The wardrobe and I were both ready for summer to be in full swing.

My first thoughts after seeing Ethan in person was that he looked just as adorably handsome as he did in his Instagram photos.

Ethan was a tall and lean California boy with a slightly tattered head of hair and just the right amount of 5 o’clock shadow skimming across his perfectly structured jawline.

I hoped very much that he would find me equally as attractive.

We took a seat in the back corner of the rooftop and patiently awaited a server to take our drink order.

We made a few comments about how glad we were to finally see the sun subsequent to a notably frigid spring, then got to talking about the basics of where we were from, and what we do to support ourselves in the monetary vacuum that is New York.

The server brought over our requested Montauk Summer Ales and as he gingerly poured it into his frosted pint glass decided to give me a little heads up about something on his mind.

“So just letting you know, I want to be friends first. I am not going to jump into sleeping with you right away or anything serious. Wanted to put it out there before we go any further. That cool with you?” He asked.

“What would make you assume I would want to sleep with you or be anything more than friends ever? I just met you five minutes ago. You really shouldn’t flatter yourself so much,” I clapped back cheekily.

“I don’t know, you are all dressed for a date. Some people want to jump straight into something whether it be sexually or a relationship and I am just saying I require us to be friends first.”

“I like this dress, so I wore it. I would have worn the same thing if I came out with my girlfriends tonight. But anyways, you to not have to worry about me wanting to be anything more, I can assure you of that,” I graciously informed him.

I finished the remnants of my beer and pulled a Hamilton out of my clutch to cover my share of the drinks.

“Oh no, I got this,” he offered.

“Thanks, but apparently this wasn’t a date.”

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