A Day Full Of Women

Today was a pretty good day, mostly because I accomplished all the errands I usually do on my days off. You know, laundry, gym, that kind of stuff.

That, and a woman asked me out today.

This girl I've been e-mailing/IM'ing with over the last week or so sent me a text saying we should do drinks the next time she's in New York. Now, for starters, she lives between here and Philadelphia. I helped her with a pair of shoes several months ago, and she left me her business card. She happens to be a professional model.

She recently came by the shoppe, to which I idly chatted with her about how she likes our new store. She was quite stunning and it didn't occur to me that I already had met her.

That was until after about an hour after she left. "Oh, shit," I said to myself, scrambling for the envelope where I keep business cards. "That was her..." I found her card and e-mailed her saying I just remembered who she was, how was she doing, and she should come back for another pair of shoes sometime.

We had an exchange for a few e-mails then nothing, until a few nights later after I got home late with some friends. She sent a (rather quite thoughtful) message, saying she would come in this week for a makeup bag and that she didn't want me to think she forgot about me. I teased her about writing so late, and she replied with laughter, to which I added her to my BlackBerry messenger (I love that thing!)

We've since corresponded a few times. She sent me a photo of her during her shoot this week, which I thought was pretty cool. And today, I asked her what she was doing in PA. More modeling stuff.

A few hours went by. I was home taking a nap, when she sent a message, asking me out for drinks. I said fine, and that's been that.

Did I mention she was a model?!?

Then the war between my head and penis began. Again.

I fought all impulses to try and reply something cleaver. Even cutesy. I already had a separate situation this morning to learn from: I went to the gym and was walking to the stretching/mat area, where one of the (really hot) staff trainers was hanging on the stretch machine I use. The following exchange occured:

She: Do you need to use this? I'm just standing around killing time.
Me: Oh, no, that's okay. (In a deeper, comical tone:) I'll just stretch another part of my body.
She (Walking away, a little puzzled, but still smiling:) (...)

Yes, I really said that. And about a second later I realized I said something rather creepy, even though I was trying to be funny. Thoughts of B came rushing back. (B once confessed that when she met me she thought I was creepy.) I think all the color drained from my face, because I had a stupid, scolding look while I was stretching. "Idoit," I said to myself. "I'll stretch another BODY part?!? You've GOT to be kidding!"

I got over that soon enough. Later, when I went to get my haircut, the cute shop girl who sweeps up the hair, brought me a few M&M's (peanuts, too, my favorite!) and some orange slices. She's this adorable girl from Russia, and though we didn't say much, she sat across from me. I could feel her looking at me, and it made me feel good. We met a few months ago, when she washed my head before my last haircut. The only reason I haven't made a move is because I think she's my stylist's girlfriend.

But that's okay. She's still nice.

Then I get asked out by The Model.

So one out of three isn't bad.

(...)
And my relationship with The Boss is somewhat back to normal. We have private moments in the same room here and there, just the two of us, alone. I try not to think about how much I want to rip her clothes off (especially when she wears skirts-- she's got great legs.) Over the last few days, I've tried to keep conversation light.

But I wonder if she's dropping hints. Yesterday, I see her and she offers a hello. I immediately offer her a piece of chocolate, to which she accepts. She blurbed something while I was making a call on the phone, something about how the chocolate will take her mind off her shoulder. And it might be me reading into it too much, but it sounded like it was delivered in a way that I would be offering to give her a rub.

I don't know. Perhaps I am reading into it too much. I so want to date this woman. I don't care that she's 10 years older than me. I think she would be a great lover. She intrigues me. I want to get to know her better. My mind keeps playing back the moments she may have been trying to tell me: The time at the bar when she pecked me on the lips goodbye; the time in the elevator when she joked the piece of paper in my hand was a note asking her out; the time at the Christmas party when she took my arm; the time at the other Christmas party when she tried to kiss me, but I gave her the cheek instead.

Aaaauuuuggggghhh! Enough! She gets me hot, and I really don't need that right now.

(...)

On another note, I don't think I've written about so many women in one day. I wonder if this will be a trend?