Dateline: "He's already gone through the trouble of completely undressing me..."

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9:00 p.m. - The night starts out innocently enough. "A drink," he said. Which is fine by me, because I've been off the sauce for about a fortnight now and I have a whiskey itch that needs scratching.

9:30 p.m. - This is our third time out together, so we've already covered all of the important conversational basics: he's close with his siblings, happy in his career, prefers dogs, big into brisket. He's a good guy. We're three dates and three drinks deep at this point, so the conversation turns away from delicious animal products and heads in a more earnest direction.

9:31 p.m. - He tells me how nervous he was to call me, and how this edgy, dark cocktail den we're currently sitting in was meant to impress. He laughs, as he admits that, no, he doesn't really frequent the place, and I laugh because, well, I know. He's a black t-shirt in a sea of after-work blazers — he hasn't told me anything I didn't already figure out.

10:40 p.m. - He tells me about a previous relationship that lasted for four years. My reaction to this takes him aback: "Phhfff, fuck, dude, that's a long time!"

10:41 p.m. - Apparently he is aware of the duration.

12:10 a.m. - He tells me he's an honest guy, a guy who likes straightforward communication. He likes me a lot, he says. But as I'm partial to evasive communication, I can't vocalize anything more than, "Huh. Well, uh, okay."

12:12 a.m. - My thoughts race — I like the waitress' hat, but I wish I had worn different boots. What's the deal with airplane food? Kit-Kats are just an okay candy. Is that man Abe Vigoda? Seriously, why did I wear these boots?

12:13 a.m. - Oh my God, I have a midterm in the morning. I'm destined to disappoint this guy, but not until after tonight, because I have to pass this test tomorrow, and returning to my own home makes no locational sense. His place is significantly closer to school, so really, this night has just become a question of logistics.

1:55 a.m. - He's pretty thrilled I'm actually going home with him, but I don't have time to think of the moral implications of sleeping over, because I have a half-gallon of free bourbon coursing through my veins, and a questionably anti-Semitic South Korean Business Law professor to impress in mere hours.

2:15 a.m. - Luckily I brought my notes, because nothing says foreplay like learning the definition of stare decisis.

3:15 a.m. - Once I adequately understand tort law, I allow him to turn off the lights and we get down to a much different type of compensation. He's a considerate lover, which is nice. Things are getting heated, really heated, so I suggest a condom. He slams on the brakes and in all sincerity says,"I like you a lot. I want to take it slow." Admirable, maybe, but what part of this is slow? He's been finger-banging me for the better part of an hour, so I fail to see a significant difference between this and the actual act of "sex." He's also already gone through the trouble of completely undressing me. And let me explain, gentle reader, that the last time I was in this position was four months ago. The deed is as good as done, and as long as I get to my exam on time tomorrow, I'm unconcerned.

7:30 a.m. - His alarm goes off. I have just enough time do a comparative analysis on the merits of common versus civil law.

7:45 a.m. - I find my sullied panties and ask him if he thinks I'm sexy when I talk precedence and partnerships. I lament that I have to wear the same boots I wore the day before, but I put my clothes on, splash my puffy mug with cold water, and look ready to hit the (yester)day.

7:55 a.m. - I hail a cab downtown to class, and Yong-Jun is pleased. 

 

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