It is at least 5 to 10 minutes past 3 am and my friend MJ, and / or her male companion, have been kind enough to get my jacket at the coat check while I talk with Bodyguard. I have no recollection of what was said at the time (yeah... makes my mom real proud!), but I do remember he asked for my phone number. I also remember giving it to him. He entered it in his cell phone. We said goodbye and I left with MJ.
After a few hours of some very much needed sleep on MJ's couch, I am sitting in front of a cafe latte and breakfast at one of our usual spots. "If he respects himself", I tell her, "he won't call me". Come on! Let's recap: a tipsy girl who didn't want to tell one guy off physically attacked a second guy (Really! I clearly charged right into his chest and wrapped my arms around him) with the only intention of using him as a scapegoat. Yes, the hour that followed the assault was quite pleasant and we assume he enjoyed my company since he asked for my number but... come on! I would understand if he didn't call. After all, the situation was exceptional and perhaps... just a tad strange? I could not clearly remember what he looked like (encore une fois, c'est ma mère qui va être fière...). I remembered he was about 5'10 because I was at a comfortable height dancing with him with my new boots on - but I didn't have to stretch on my tippy toes like when I hug my dad who is 6'1''. The broad shoulders were definitely imprinted in my memory, as well as the silky-smooth shaved, Black skin. But I feared I wouldn't be able to recognize him on a picture. Nice one, Miss IPP... I wish he would call, but try to convince myself the way I had introduced myself to him was reason enough not to call me.
In the late afternoon, I went to see the-man-of-my-dreams at the movies with my best friend: Will Smith in Seven Pounds. I cried like a baby at the end. Little did I know that I was often going to go to the movies in the Spring 2009. I came home, took a hot, long bath while reading (one of my favorite things to do!) and was getting ready to read on the couch when my cell phone rang. I did not recognize the number. My heart started to beat a little faster. I picked up the phone. BODYGUARD! He had survived my assault and called back the night after we met. We spent three hours on the phone discussing general information about our lives: age, work, habitat, latest seen movies, siblings, etc. We hung up the phone and had scheduled our first date for the Tuesday evening, at Starbucks. (I find out later he doesn't drink much coffee. I am addicted to it).
In the last hours before heading to our date, I start to be a bit nervous because I realize I am not sure what he looks like! If there are three shaved Black men with broad shoulders at Starbucks, I am screwed! "What are the odds?" I try to calm myself. It is our very first date and, unusually, I am 5 to 10 minutes late. He calls me and I reassure him I am on my way. I think this is the only time he was on time for any of our appointments! (LOL. He won't be happy I wrote that but... it's still true! Ok, I sidetracked.) I walk into Starbucks and, oh thank you, I only see one shaved head. And the shoulders match what my memory is telling me. I should be safe. I walk up to him and he recognizes me. Hurray; we have a winner!
I can assure you that I was completely sober that night, but I honestly do not remember what we talked about for the first 10-15 minutes. I just have a very vivid recollection that, at one point early in the date, I found myself to be as giddy as a teenage girl on her first date. Would you calm down, I have to tell myself. It's not the first time you are in the presence of a hot man. Because that's exactly what I am telling myself... How on Earth could I have spent over an hour dancing with him without noticing just how hot he is? (Click here and Open Link in New Tab to continue reading). Even under the influence of alcohol...How could I have missed that?
Here I am, sitting in front of what I believe to be an absolute hunk. The shoulders, the shaved head, the perfectly trimmed goatee... enhanced with a few white hairs (sublime), well dressed and all. Only a few minutes in the conversation and I can tell he has a huge... vocabulary. Wow. I spent half a second to find a scapegoat in a club and I land this work of art? I must have done something good! We are kicked out of Starbucks around 11 and, freezing outdoors, we quickly say goodbye. I get in my car and call my sister. "OMG!!! MÉCHANT PÉTARD!" I still can't over the fact that I charged into this man - of all people. Again, you go girl!
The next week-end, he has plans with his friends to celebrate and I am sick as a dog. I call to wish him a happy birthday and we make plans to see a movie during the week. We arrange to meet at the movie theater near my house and he is so late that I wonder if I am being stood up. Well, no! This is part of the learning process. Bodyguard is incredibly handsome, but rarely punctual. Considering this is only our second date, I rank his looks at a higher spot than punctuality on my fun-o-meter, and I wait patiently. We watch Gran Torino and we head outside to our cars. I can tell he wants to talk, but I am freezing my onion booty (it's January!) and therefore invite him to sit in my car to continue the conversation. "You drive standard?" He's surprised. "Yes, it is allowed for women, right?" I refrain from mentioning something vulgar. Nevertheless, Greenpeace wouldn't be happy with me. We must have spent over an hour in my car, getting to know each other a bit more. He goes and starts his car and we set a third date. He doesn't even give me a dry kiss on the cheek as he wishes me goodnight. Ok... next time, maybe?
For our third date, we see The Reader. Not exactly halfway through the movie, I glance at my sexy chokola and find him sleeping like a log! Gee, I must really be impressing him! He must truly enjoy my company (forget the movie, this is about me now!) if he falls asleep. (Again... I find out later that this is another learning curve. Bodyguard falls asleep very easily and rapidly when he sits down on a couch or lies on a bed). This time, his car is the nearest so he drives me to mine and, again, we talk for over 30 minutes while my car heats up. We agree to call each other during the week to fix another date and he wishes me goodnight, not moving an inch from the comfort of his driver's seat. I leave, happy but confused.
I drive home thinking to myself "Why doesn't he make a move?" Surely, he must somewhat enjoy my company or like me because he always sets up another date but yet, unlike most men I have dated before, this one does not even try to get into my pants! During the week, I get a promotion at work and, to celebrate, I suggest we go out for drinks. At the Whiskey Cafe, he is surprised that I drink whiskey and scotch. He orders a beer. I am looking good in my pinstriped suit and again, he leaves me with goodnight wishes and a smile. We already have plans for date # 5. More confusion, but I remind myself that I have just spent another great evening and, if anything, I had fun and enjoyed myself.
We see Defiance on our next date and then have dinner at the restaurant. We are alone and the waiters are waiting for us to leave in order to close the place. It's a given: he always has something to talk about and constantly inquires about my point of view; on anything and everything. I'm thinking... this is it! This has been a wonderful evening and, surely, I'm going to get my first kiss! On the way home, I have to make a quick stop at my parents' house. My mom, who knows I was out on a date with the poor fellow I savagely attacked in a bar earlier that month, inquires how it went. "He still hasn't tried to kiss me", I pout.
On the last Friday night of January 2009, I have a girl's dinner and evening planned. I want to leave early and meet with Bodyguard. He has suggested we go back to Whiskey Cafe for drinks. I like the company, I like the lounge and I like the drinks. I decide that I have no more expectations. I know I will spend a few nice hours and, at this point, I am just glad I am not heading home so early in the evening only to find myself going to bed with my heated sac magique. (I figure a warm sac magique at my feet under the blankets is much sexier than going to bed with socks even if my cats are my only witnesses!). I am sitting across the table from him sipping on my Scotch and I think to myself... MI-AOW. Head-turning, gorgeous face when he smiles - paired with those broad shoulders, biceps that make me want to use them as my new pillows and boy, do I love to watch him leave the room! But I have many handsome friends and if he is going to be one more, than so be it. I have (almost) given up.
I drive back to his place. We are sitting in my car talking (my apologies to the One Tonne Challenge). This situation has become usual and is quite comfortable. During the evening, however; we have discussed something new and it involves what we want and look for in a relationship. I sense a bit of nervousness as his hands reach out to mine. I have an outer-body experience and I see myself looking like a deer in the headlights. Think Bambi with a dropped jaw. He holds both my hands in his. He tells me he is looking for a serious relationship and would like it to be with me. He leans in and kisses me. I faint.
:oP Come on! Does Miss IPP faint over a kiss? Pfffffffffffffffff. Hell no! But the plot is better this way.
