I know, I know. I'm a dumbass. I'm 26 years old, not inexperienced in this area. And so I know The Engineer isn't going to call. And I'm in a grumpy mood because of it.
Secretly, I knew he wasn't going to call when he kissed me. If they're in a hurry, it is always a bad sign. But the wine and the kissing and the crisp air and his great smile and teasing way -- it was all just so fun. Cuter. Nicer. I let my guard down, ignored my inner monologue and lessons of the past. And I lost myself in it and it sucks.
It sucks because I know better. I know better now and I knew better then and I'll know better the next time. The buying of the cow in the instance of the free milk. Got it.
I should have been confident enough to walk away. Hand him my number and smile, drive him crazy with my self-control. Restraint is sexy. Making out outside a bar is not. Teasing is sexy. Having that late-night glass of wine is not.
Many men still have this whole Madonna-whore thing going on, wanting to get physical with women but not to commit to a woman who is too bold, too physical, too "whore-ish." You would think that they would have outgrown it by now (certainly the ones in their mid-30s!) but they haven't.
And I want to have fun but ultimately end up with more than a notch on the bedpost and I always forget that you usually can't have both, at least at first. You would think that I would have outgrown it by now (certainly now that I'm in my mid-20s!) but I haven't.
So, I give, I give. Uncle.