Monday, January 9, 2017

Just Another Couple Of Dates

There was a time when I was seeing my therapist many years ago, one of the several spans of time during my life that I was going to him for advice of differing sorts, that I told him about this gorgeous girl I met in Santa Monica.  Her name was Julie.  I had actually met her at a Del Taco drive through in Marina Del Rey.  She was so sexy and pretty and sitting in her friend’s blue bug’s passenger seat while they were ordering.  I was getting back into my car on Lincoln Avenue when I decided to put my order to go into my car (I had walked up and ordered), and go up and talk to her.  It was a funny scene.  Her friend was ordering while I was squatted down on the drive through curb talking to her on the passenger side with my elbow resting on her friend’s car.  I got Julie’s number and told her I’d call her.

I took her out on a date and we went to eat at a place on Main Street in Santa Monica, kind of on the far northern side of the same street of where the Oar House used to be if you remember that place. Also, north of Schatzi, or whatever Arnold Schwartenegger’s restaurant was called.  We had a great dinner that night and enjoyed each other’s company.  She wore tight jeans that made my heart flutter and all that I could think about was that I wanted to sleep her directly in the next few weeks. I was about age twenty-seven, so forgive my directness of intention; I was young at the time.  As we were walking to our cars (now that I remember it, we had both driven there separately and we had parked in the same lot near Ocean Park Blvd by coincidence), she pulled out a cigarette and puffed it pretty quickly so that as we arrived at the lot, she had finished her cigarette down to the nub.

I made sure that I got a really good, slow, french kiss from her before I opened her door for her.  Let me reiterate, she had such a pretty face and a calmness about her that I was very attracted to her and really wanted to be intimate with her soon.  But as I got into my car, I realized how much she tasted of smoke.  I almost hadn’t noticed it when I was frenching her so much because it was so exciting to kiss her and touch her hair, but as those moments receded away, I realized that her mouth was kind of rancid tasting.

I told all of this to my therapist , and he strongly suggested I not date her anymore.  He said that women who smoke like that have psychological vices, and that if I wanted any kind of long term relationship soon, she wouldn’t be the one.  I remember him literally saying to me, “Do you really want to taste a trash can each time you kiss your girlfriend?”

As a quick side note that in the next few months after this, I would be moving to a beach apartment where I would meet a women with whom I would indeed have a long term relationship for a few years.  It’s funny for me to think that this date with Julie happened just before that future long relationship came about, and yet, that one date with Julie is still so fresh in my memory.

So a few days went by and she called me and wondered why she hadn’t heard from me, as I had made the decision not to call her based on my therapists’ advice.  Julie said that she really liked me and wanted to see me again, which given my generally good success rate with women at the time would have translated into intimacy soon.  I know that I write that at the risk of sounding completely full of myself, but back then I was not that bad looking.  However, I told Julie that I was not really interested in pursuing something with her because I was so busy at work, which was a true, and yet, still a poor excuse.  I could tell that she was upset and she even called me a few more times sort of testing the water, but I never relented, feeling that I was holding a steady course towards more workable prospects for myself. 

And my therapist was correct.  It was the “right” decision given that he and I were exploring the fact that I wanted a long term relationship soon, but it was the wrong decision for what I desired, which was to feel Julie’s incredible ass with my hands and to make love to her (I think I’ve made that intention here perfectly clear by now).  It wasn’t that common for me to be so completely attracted to a woman, and she was just beautiful all around. 

So, to tell the truth, I have always regretted not having seen her a few more times and becoming intimate with her.  I really wanted Julie, and from that point on, I decided never to let anyone including my therapist do more than make suggestions for me, and I would never just blindly heed anyone’s dating advice again like I had.

I know it’s selfish, but we only get a finite number of opportunities in this life to feel that kind of desire before we’re aged sixty-something and all of that has smoldered out.  And really, Julie was definitely interested and willing; I could sense it.  And to sophomorically justify my Monday morning quarterbacking just a little further, when I think about it, Julie ended up feeling hurt anyways in the end, so if we had just indulged with one-another carnally two or three times, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. 

No joke; any discussions of smoking always conjure up memories of this gorgeous brunette.  And it’s one of those missed opportunities that still pangs my stomach every time.