Discover more from A.B.C.D.E.F.G.
This past Friday, I went out with the psychiatrist I met while #dancingonmyown. We had texted sporadically over the past 5 weeks (mostly him initiating—ha!), and he finally asked if I wanted to get a drink when he came into the city for a haircut and a change of scenery as he studies for the boards. I had already scheduled a bikram class before our date, and I only had time to shower before meeting him, which means I was fairly dehydrated and hadn’t eaten since 2pm. He chose a bar for its live music (woof), but it ended up being a surprisingly great time. When the music ended, I’d had three beers (and water!), and told him I had to stop drinking and start eating. He suggested I also start smoking, so once again we ended up back at his friend’s abandoned apt (which he cleaned!!!) to smoke, listen to music, and eat pizza.
Every smoke session is a roll of the dice with me, and this time I was decently awkward. At one point, I played Pizza Day by The Aquabats for him, which killed any semblance of a mood (at least for me, haha). He didn’t try to kiss me until right after the pizza arrived, and I had to shut him down after less than a minute because I was starving. Aside from correctly guessing many elements of his birth chart (double Virgo, Venus in Cancer), we didn’t get too intimate and I eventually went home.
Reflecting the next morning, I felt unsettled by the fact that we hadn’t “progressed” on our second night together (in fact, I’d say we regressed), and I got anxious about whether or not he would text me. Reflecting on THIS, I realized that I’m not used to *not* rushing into sex, and I subconsciously assume taking it slow (which is apparently more than 2 dates) hurts my “chances.” Chances for… I’m not really sure what. Sex? Love? Maintaining their level of interest? I had apologized when I stopped our makeout, and he told me I never have to say sorry for that—[pause to swoon]—so, logically, I’m not worried; but psychotically, I’m convinced I “messed up.” As a supposedly progressive, feminist woman, all this introspection has been quite the mind-fuck—especially when all I’ve been wanting for the last 6 months is a body-fuck. Or have I???
If I do see him again, would it be inappropriate for me to lay all this on him and get some professional feedback? :)