Dinner, Conversation, and an Evil Cowgirl Laugh

What says, "I just want to be friends but hey, I still want you to think I'm sexy"?

As you can tell I wasn't really sure what to wear to dinner last night. I briefly considered the above outfit but decided the hat would be a bit too much ;) Finally I settled on a simple white blouse, casual black skirt, stockings, and black heels. Since I was curious about statements he'd made in the past (and because he's at least a foot taller than me), I thought by wearing 4" stilettos I could simultaneously assess him for signs of a foot fetish and keep us from looking like Mutt and Jeff.

He was prompt - a good sign, I thought. When I opened the door he smiled and looked only at my face. Interesting, I thought. Usually even when men just want to be friends, they'll do a quick survey of what a woman is wearing.

His manners were as impeccable as I would have expected from a 50-something Southern gentleman. He held onto my arm at the elbow as we walked down the steps and crossed the driveway to the car. I whispered a quick prayer of thanks for that since I've been known to trip when walking in flats let alone heels. He opened the car for me and then once inside the car himself asked where I'd like to have dinner. I mentioned a couple of types of food I favored and asked him to make the choice.

When we arrived at the restaurant, he again opened my car door. It was when I was stepping out of the car that I looked up and caught his eyes surveying my calves and heels. He glanced at my face in time to note my amusement and flashed a bit of a grin in return while at the same time sporting slightly flushed cheeks. Friend or not, it's always good to make a man blush ;)

Dinner was nice, but the conversation was far more enjoyable. He was knowledgeable about a wide variety of things without being obnoxious and seemed quite interested in my thoughts regarding everything we discussed. It wasn't until I noticed the waiter hovering that I realized a couple of hours had passed.

Once he'd caught my eye, the waiter approached the table with the check and moved to hand it to David. I opened my mouth to protest, but stopped when he quietly asked, "May I? I'd really like to." I agreed, wondering what he would have done if I had said "no".

On the way home, I thanked him again, then asked, "What would you have done if I had insisted on paying?"

"I would have said thank you."

"As simple as that?"

"As simple as that. I preferred to pay, but if it seemed important to you, I would have done as you asked."

"Do you usually give in fairly easily to a lady's requests?" (I should have said "surrender", don't you think?)

"It depends on the lady and on the request," he smiled.

I decided a few years back not to flaunt the fact that I was dominant when I met new people but also not to attempt to hide it either. We'd been pleasantly dancing around the issue a little since we first met, so I thought - why not? It seemed like the right time.

"You might say I'm pretty used to getting what I want, David." To my ears that came out far more egotistical sounding than I intended.

"I suspected that the first day we met. By the end of our phone conversation today I knew it."

"Do I come across as that bossy and demanding?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I wanted to know.

"Not at all. It's difficult to explain but I got the impression it wasn't that you expected people to do what you wanted but instead that you were simply used to it happening."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It depends."

That was certainly an honest answer. "On what?"

"It's a bad thing if people are selfish and unreasonable about what they want from others. You're not like that."

"That didn't sound like a question."

"It wasn't. It's obvious you're a kind, gentle woman. It's - let's just say it's appealing and leave it at that for now."

He changed the subject and we talked of trivial things til we pulled up into the driveway and he walked me to the door.

"I'd like to see you again. I know you don't want to date so as I said earlier I am happy to be friends. Call me if you would like to do something. You're the boss."

I had to laugh then and I know it was that evil cowgirl laugh. I couldn't help myself.

He smiled, handed me a business card with his contact information, and walked down the steps. At the bottom, he paused and added, "By the way - spectacular heels."

I'm pretty sure I could hear him chuckling softly as he walked away - I suspect in response to the surprised look on my face.

---

This is probably going to be my last entry on this topic for awhile. I think if I'm going to blog about him, it's only fair that I tell him and I'm not quite ready to do that yet.

Also, I tend to be a storyteller. The above is an accurate account of what happened with the possible exception that the quotes aren't necessarily verbatim. I tried as closely as possible to record the interaction.

That Neighbor Fella

Several days ago I ran into that neighbor fella I've mentioned a couple of times. Since I was standing by my car with my hand on the door and it was obvious I was about to leave, the conversation was relatively short, mostly an exchange of pleasantries. He did mention that he was relatively new to the area, not just the neighborhood - something I had not previously known.

Toward the end of the conversation he casually remarked, "We'll have to get together sometime."

Since the comment was vague, I assumed he was being polite, (OK, maybe I just wanted to assume that). I smiled and gave a rather non-committal response.

Today my phone rang at lunch time and to my surprise it was Barack (not his real name). (Ha - just teasing - I'm going to call him David.) It would seem David had seen my mother outside last night and had asked the best way to contact me. I am still amazed that my over-protective mother provided him with my cell phone number. "Well, he seems like a nice man and you've been so sad lately..."

We talked non-stop through his entire lunch hour. Isn't there something truly exciting about getting to know someone who is intelligent, articulate, and possesses a good sense of humor? I was really enjoying myself until near the end of the conversation. I knew by this time that he was going to ask me out, but I pretty much repressed that thought so that as long as possible I could enjoy talking with him.

"I have to get back to work, but I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go out to dinner sometime this weekend."

There it was, I had to deal with it. It's not the first time since my break-up that I've been asked out, but dealing with that sort of situation is still uncomfortable and this is a really nice man. I'd mentioned early in the conversation that I'd recently gone through a breakup, but I mentioned it again and replied that I really wasn't ready to date as I was still very much in love in spite of what had happened.

He assured me he completely understood the circumstances, then asked, "You do still eat, don't you?"

I laughingly admitted I did.

"So let's just go out and enjoy making a new friend. You're someone I want to get to know better and it doesn't matter to me that it won't be a date." He paused, then added, "I understand you're hurting. I'm not trying to push. If you want to say no, it's ok."

I wonder if he knew being all sweet and understanding made it more difficult to say no?

"I'm honestly busy this weekend, but - "

"How about tonight then?" he interjected.

"Not trying to push, huh?" I laughed.

"You can't fault a guy for being persistent."

No, I guess I can't. We're going out to dinner tonight.

About That Man

After reading my accounts of the interactions I've had recently with a neighbor, a friend of mine wrote privately, "I think the gentleman you've been writing about on your blog has put 2 and 2 together and knows your online "identity," but is too polite to explore, for lack of a better term, whether telling you and expressing an interest would be a good or bad thing. Almost like he's hoping you'll say something that gives him "permission" to "go there." Just a thought...."

It's true that I don't want to believe that for many reasons, so maybe I'm in denial, but I think that I'm just more in tune with people using certain phrases and once I catch it, leading them conversationally from there. Think about it - women talk about training men all the time - that's not a strictly Domme statement. Some men talk about being well trained and others talk about their wives trying to train them (with and without success). That's not strictly a submissive thing.

One of my other friends asked me how much of Sunday's story was embellished for storytelling purposes. None of it was. Admittedly I left out a lot of boring details and chat, but what I wrote was what happened. I may have changed the exact words that were said a little bit but that was only a memory thing, not an embellishment thing.

I don't think any of the things that were said are unremarkable at all. In all likelihood this fellow isn't the tiniest bit submissive - I've never thought otherwise. His statements were interesting to me because of how the words usually apply when I hear them, not how I think he meant them. Not sure if that makes sense..

It Was Another Day

On Saturday before the storm I took my car through the automated car wash. Spending $10 to clean my car doesn't seem the most economical thing but washing it without getting soaked is difficult for me because I'm not a tall person. Without fail when I try to wash the roof of the car, the front of me gets soaked.

After the storm on Sunday, my car was covered in dust and badly needed washing. While I might spend $10 a week to wash my car, I was not about to spend $20. So, after donning a tshirt and some old jeans, I filled my wash bucket full of soapy water, grabbed a sponge, dragged out the garden hose, and began washing my car. I always start with the roof first so that the dirty water doesn't drain down over the clean parts of the car. I'd just finished washing the roof and was walking around to the back of my car when I noticed the neighbor from Sunday walking by.

I'd like to say I was happy to see him, but the entire front of my tshirt was soaked and I'm sure my hair was a complete mess. Even though I'm not interested in him in a "let's go out" sort of way, few women want to look a wreck in front of any man. Additionally I was mindful of what a combination of a wet tshirt and a 70 degree temp with a bit of wind had done to the upper half of my body. I decided this was one occasion when avoiding eye contact was warranted as that might discourage him from stopping to say hello. I apparently underestimated him.

"Well hello there!" he called out as he turned to walk up the driveway. "Are you washing yourself or the car?"

I had to laugh because to be honest it was a fair question.

As we stood talking for a few moments about the storm, the neighbor with the head injury, and a few other things, he held out his hand and asked for the sponge. I protested that I couldn't let him do that - after all, he was dry and I was already soaked. He laughed and assured me that he thought he could finish the job without completely drenching himself.

I thought hmm - why not?

He finished the job while I watched. We chatted about a few things and sort of skirted around the questions from the other day. I could have directly addressed the subject and I get the impression he was fully confident enough to do the same. For some reason, I had the feeling that we were both enjoying dancing around the issue. I know I was.

As he worked, I noticed him glancing at me several times out of the corner of his eye. I wasn't sure if he was trying to decide whether or not to say something or if he was just looking at my wet tshirt. When he finished washing the car, he rinsed out the sponge and bucket, and put the hose in it's proper place. I gazed up at his face, carefully watching his expression, and laughingly commented, "Well aren't you well trained?"

He laughed and replied, "Not all men are untrainable."

After a few more moments of chatting, he remarked that he should leave and let me change out of my wet clothes. I thanked him and walked inside, all the while wondering.

A Question For Another Day

Today we caught a taste of the remnants of Hurricane Ike. The wind has been 40-50 miles an hour most of the day with gusts over 60mph. Since I heard the howling even before I crawled out of bed this morning, I thought perhaps it would be wise to hurriedly get dressed in case something happened. The winds were so high for all I knew the roof might disappear, Mrs Gulch might cycle by, or the neighbor's cow could moo as it flew past the window.

I'd just finished rinsing off from my shower when I heard my mother calling through the bathroom door that the next door neighbor had been trying to secure the doors to her storage building and had been hit in the head by flying debris. She was lying on the ground, conscious, obviously hurt but adamantly refusing to allow anyone to call 911. I yanked on a blouse and pants and ran outside. To my dismay a number of people were standing around her but no one seemed to be doing anything.

As I moved toward her, whoosh! Up went my blouse and before I knew what was happening I'd flashed everyone waiting expectantly for me to do something. Yes, I know - should have pulled on a bra, but who pauses to do that when someone is hurt? I just pulled down my blouse and trudged forward, all the while trying not to get knocked over by the wind.

As I knelt beside her, the wind continued to be unkind. I tried not to be overly mindful of it, after all I was trying to help an injured woman. As I examined her, I had to periodically reach and pull down my blouse. I sent one neighbor for a first aid kit and another inside for a flashlight so that I could do neuro checks, again pulling down my blouse. As I began to work to hold pressure on her head wound (nothing too scary but bleeding nonetheless), I picked up the flashlight to check her pupils. My blouse started to rise once more (the wind was blowing from behind me), when a gentleman I recognize from the neighborhood moved to stand behind me and grasped the end of my blouse and held the bottom securely. Flashing a quick smile and averting his eyes, he said he was just doing his part.

After I treated the woman's wound and completed her neuro-checks, she stood up, declared herself fit, and returned inside her house, all the while refusing further assistance. At this point, the crowd had grown to about 10 people, all of us standing staring after her. What do you do when someone stubbornly refuses medical evaluation? I'm pretty good at persuading men to do what I want and usually not bad with most women, but this one wasn't budging.

The gentleman with the quick smile pulled quietly away from the crowd, rang the woman's doorbell, spoke with her, and after a few words nodded his head while flipping open his cell phone. When finished, he beckoned to my mom, indicating her neighbor wished to speak to her. As Mom disappeared inside Mrs Neighbor's house, he returned to my side and shared that Mom would be sitting with Mrs. N for a few moments until her sister arrived to take her to the Emergency Room for further evaluation.

My eyes went quickly to his face, trying to determine what about this man persuaded my neighbor to do what she should when common sense and all of our urgings had failed. As we stepped inside Mom's house to get out of the wind, he admitted that he had been a bit unfair with the neighbor. "I told her she really should be checked, if for no other reason than to not worry the nice woman who had knelt so caringly beside her and who had tried to make certain she was ok."

I thanked him for that and remarked that he certainly seemed quite the persuasive gentleman. He smiled and admitted that except under certain circumstances, he was usually quite persuasive. I couldn't let that remark remain unqualified so I asked, "Under what circumstances are you less than persuasive?"

He hesitated a moment and then replied perhaps that was a question for another day. I didn't press the issue and after thanking him again, we exchanged a few pleasantries and he placed his hand on the doorknob.

"Oh!" I interjected, "and thanks for keeping me from flashing the whole neighborhood even more than I did by holding down my blouse."

He nodded and replied, "I'm not sure the other gentlemen share your opinion that I did a good thing, but I didn't want to see you embarrassed in any way. It was a pleasure to do something for you."

He was standing on the steps of the back porch by this time, his hair tousled by the wind, when he look back and remarked, "You were quite impressive in the way you took control of that situation, issued orders, and moved everything along. Are you always that take charge or just in an emergency situation?"

I smiled slowly and replied that too was a question for another day.

He grinned and walked away whistling..