Well allow me to retort... Casual Encounter Part III

In the interest of fair debate, here, in its entirely is Katie's point of view recollection of our "casual encounter" as detailed in my two part series that precedes this post. And I'm even so generous as to not cut her off. Told you she could ramble as well as I can...

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it started out the typical way. iming various pervy, "send me your pubic hair" posts back and forth with a friend. then i read dante's post which was a welcome break from the skeevy fetishists and sounded relatively sane. much more sane than one would expect on craigslist. i was feeling particularly lonely and particularly commitment-phobic so i responded with a similar list of 10 of my own and figured his response would be less intelligent, funny, and thoughtful and more "send me clippings of your pubic hair mixed with ketchup". unfortunately, it was brilliant, hilarious, and pensive. so i googled him like any self-respecting woman does in this day and age and found his blog, realizing that no, he's actually quite a creepy person and probably watches csi to laugh at the amateurs. i crafted what was intended to be a snarky response but ended up digressing myself with my own long winded verbosity.

so. over two weeks, 20 emails (20 emails?!), and a foolproof plan involving four friends in three separate states, i assured myself that the odds of becoming the next ripped from the headlines episode of law and order were tolerable. i told him to meet me at 1100 in the arena district at a low key bar designed for such tawdry trysts. of course, that was the night that all the middle aged, former hippies came out to play creating a loud, crowded, not at all low key atmosphere. so i left at 1110. yes, i know i told you 1115. what are you going to do? refuse to fuck me?

i came home and explained the situation to my friends. being nicer than i am, they pointed out that since it was late on a saturday night in the arena district, traffic was likely a bitch and he couldn't find a spot to park and i should have at least waited 30-45 minutes. in the comfort of my own home while wearing fuzzy slippers instead of four inch heels, i could admit to them that i might have acted a touch hasty in leaving. but i'd be a disgrace to my gender if i wasn't able to spin the entire evening to make it all his fault.

after only ten words:

wow. you sure fooled me. i actually showed up. whatever.

as you can see:

"Anyway, I do suck and you don't have to grant me anything except to believe that I had no intention of standing you up, or being late, or otherwise fucking up your Saturday night. Any degree of forgiveness would be great, but I think your "whatever" is likely a justified final word in the matter."

i succeeded.

so i wrote back to cut through the shit and say that after two weeks and a failed attempt to meet, it's ridiculous to continue as we had been. it may not have been the most erotic thing he's ever read, but honestly dante, would you have preferred to jack off to my email or actually come over to fuck me? ........... actually, don't answer that. so i gave him my number, told him to call me, and we'll see what happens. so he called. and since his voice didn't sound anything like a ketchup and pubic hair masturbater, i gave him my address, called my friends, and grabbed a bottle of vodka that i proceeded to consume while getting dressed and being berated by my friends.

so, he came over and we quickly realized that the combined strength of our will wasn't enough to force the sun to set at noon. and even though talking politics is the equivalent of talking dirty to me, the silliness of the situation just wasn't making me hot. now, granted i was pretty inebriated, and dante insists that this is an indication that my memory of the day won't be as crystal clear as his faulty memory, but i do remember that he was the whining about being sober. i perked right up with an offer of rot-gut vodka. three or four shots later, i did not say "this is as drunk as i'm going to get, so this is your last chance" and he did not "flinch" or "try to get comfortable". what happened is that i sat down and said "wow, i'm drunk" and he said "finally" and then grabbed me and started kissing me. i remember this because in my drunken frame of mind i thought that was a little shady and was going to shove him away. but, ahem, i opted against that course of action.

i'm sure most women will commiserate on some level the apprehension to allow a man you've just met to take a glance at your cellulite ridden, non waxed butt in the unforgiving light of day. however, now that the entire internet is under the impression that i'm a boring lay with mundane body image problems, it's unlikely that you'll need to worry about my quirks, anal or otherwise.

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Alright, we'll have to agree to disagree as to who kissed whom first. I will concede that I made the motion for alcohol. And to be fair, I thought "wow I'm drunk" was Katie being sarcastically cute and trying to get something to happen--not honesty brought on by a third of a bottle of vodka. Maybe I was going for a hug, saw a vulnerability and made a move. I do remember that once we locked lips I was pretty determined not to let go until we were well underway, lest she realized how ridiculous the whole situation was. By the way, Katie is not and was not a boring lay, nor does she have body image problem, lest there was any confusion. And she's got a cute butt, shaved or otherwise.