what's the rush?
You can read all the stories you want in Cosmopolitan or whatever about how men don't know how to kiss, and only women know how to enjoy a slow, lingering, seductive kiss. But I've met three women in the past three days who have just been, BLAMMO, right away sticking their tongue down my throat.
I happen to prefer slow, teasing kisses; at least when I'm getting warmed up. But last night a woman actually chastised me for wanting to "take my time." What's going on with women these days? Always in such a rush.
Last night was actually pretty funny, as it came right on the heels of that whole how to buy me a drink" spiel.
I noticed a cute blonde woman checking me out at the club last night. I had finished work, and I was standing around relaxing and minding my own business. Then she came up the stairs and accidentally bumped into me on purpose.
"My name is -----," she said. (I'll call her Jane.) "What's yours?"
"Philip," I said.
"Philip?" she said. "Philip who?"
"Philip Clark."
"Oh my god, you're Philip Clark," she said. She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm talking to Philip Clark."
(This is the kind of place Halifax has become for me.)
"...So are you going to buy me a drink, Philip Clark?"
(I felt like saying, "Wait a minute, that's not how this is supposed to work.")
"Come on," she said. "Buy me a beer. I want to talk to you."
In my experience, if a woman repeatedly pesters you to buy her drinks, it means one thing: she's an alcoholic. That can be a turnoff sometimes.
I suspected Jane was well on her way to drunkenness, but anyways, I figured I'd sit down with her and see if she was worth talking to.
And so it came to pass that we wound up at the little bar under the stairs in Hell's Kitchen. Theresa the sweetheart bartender said, "How about a shooter?"
"Nah," said Jane. "Shooters are boring." (I sat there and remembered what I'd written about women and shooters and thought, "This is hilarious. This is too perfect.")
"So if I buy you a drink, will you make out with me?" I said.
"Sure," she said.
"Okay," I said. "Theresa, we'll have a couple of gin and tonics."
To summarize: Jane was drunk, she had a boyfriend, and half the city of Halifax watched us leave together. "You are sooo busted," I said when we got out on the sidewalk. Needless to say I found all of this highly entertaining.
Jane had been pulling this psychological domination stuff all evening, like trying to make me take my shirt off in the bar and whatnot. So while we were talking, I walked slowly towards her, and she walked backwards, and I marched her right up an alleyway and threw her against the wall.
She bit my neck, which is a good sign. But soon she was all over me. All lips and tongue and whatnot. I found myself thinking, "I wonder if she's a better kisser when she's sober."
Apparently she sensed my hesitation, which is why she said, "Come on, why do you want to take your time?"
Maybe I frowned a little bit.
We wound up talking, and things seemed on the verge of turning awkward. "I better go," she said. I shrugged and walked over to my bicycle.
"I'm going to the party at so-and-so's," she said. "Come to the party." But instead I got on my bike and drove all over Halifax.
I think Jane went back inside the bar after that. I hope she did, if only for the sake of her reputation, and mine.