[MF] Three Signs Your First Date Is Going Well

*None of these are really full “stories” but I wanted to tell them anyways. So, here we go: three signs your first date is going well.*

**Part One.**

*You know a date is going well when she absolutely ruins your sense of self but you still want to make out with her.*

I’ve written extensively about how I went to a liberal arts program at uni. So needless to say, I am the “artsy” one of my friend group, the one who still buys DVDs, goes to film festivals, who thinks art galleries are the best dates.

*They absolutely are, btw. Keep reading for proof.*

So when I met Becky, I thought “finally, someone I could totally vibe with, who shares my artsy interests.” And I was wrong. Because if I was an 8 on the arsty scale, Becky went all the way up to 11. Not only had she heard of all my favourite obscure films, she had complex and nuanced opinions on them.

But it cut both ways. She referred to directors I hadn’t even heard of before as if they were common knowledge. All of a sudden, I saw my film conversations on all these dates for what they were: grandstanding. I was showing off, and I’d finally met someone who made me realize a) that I was showing off, and b) that I didn’t know shit.

*It was intimidating. It was kind hot.*

We were getting ice cream – a bold choice for a November date, but one that worked. I admitted that I had never heard of Jacques Demy. She replied that she had The Umbrellas of Cherbourg on Criterion and we could go watch it now if I wanted.

*I did want.*

It’s a testament to how great the film is that we didn’t make out until after it was done. But the moment Genevieve leaves Guy and the credits rolled, we were on top of each other. I was kissing her neck as she fumbled with my fly. We were dry-humping each other, most of our clothes still on, although enough in disarray that we could get to the fun bits.

My pants weren’t even fully off when she climbed on me. She pulled her panties to the side and slid down me, moaning as she descended. I had both hands on her tiny, tight ass, guiding her and helping her find a rhythm.

In the background was the looping music from the dvd’s menu. It made for a sensual experience.

Becky’s mouth opened and closed, gulping for air as she rode me, grinding down against the base of my body. I wanted her, in that moment. All of her. She buried her face in my shoulder as we came together, shooting my load deep inside of her.

*Moral of the story: Jacques Demy knows how to get people in the mood.*

—

**Part Two.**

*You know a date is going well when she starts making fun of naked statues.*

Sarah and I had a window of about a week between when we matched and when she moved across the country to live in an artist combine – true story. I was determined to make the most of that week. Our date? Going to a local art gallery.

I love galleries as dates (example here). They’re chill, you can talk about the art if you have nothing else to talk about, and they’re super public, so they feel safe for everybody.

*Plus, there’s guaranteed naked bodies on display, which is always fun.*

We had moved through the European Romanticism gallery when we saw them: a line of bronze sculptures of very naked dudes. These were gorgeous, larger-than-life renderings of various heroes of antiquity.

I pointed at one cast-in-bronze posterior. “Sorry to disappoint, but mine isn’t nearly as cut as that.” Sarah raised an eyebrow and said “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get to see it,” I replied.

Sarah got close to me, and whispered in my ear, “show me now.”

“Huh?”

“Take a picture and show me now. I want to compare.”

Needing no further prompting, I made scarce, finding a washroom stall and contorting myself to try to take a decent picture.

*Was it a work of art? Absolutely not. But it got the job done, which is what’s important.*

Thirty seconds later, Sarah was chatting with me, complimenting my ass, saying it looked good. “I mean, it’s no bronze statue,” she said, “but that’s probably good for me.”

I pushed my luck and asked for something back. A minute later Sarah was also sending me weirdly-contorted pics from a different bathroom. Hers were easier – she was wearing a skirt and just had to pull it up. I remember she was wearing red panties.

We stayed in our respective stalls for half an hour, snapping each other back and forth. We saw everything we wanted to: she wanted to see my dick so I took one for her, a bead of precum appearing at the top of my erect member. I wanted to see her tits and she obliged – they were perky but honestly the hottest thing about them was that she was just getting them out for me.

And when we were done with the pictures, we finished walking through the gallery. She especially appreciated the cubists.

*Moral of the story: if you are going to an art gallery, it’s a good first date.*

—

**Part Three.**

*You know a date is going well when she says “this is a good place for a first kiss.”*

Sometimes, you just know. Sometimes, the whole point of the date is just to make sure that the other one is normal enough to shag safely. Such was the way with Dina, whose chats on Tinder quickly devolved into conversations on what we’d like to do to each other in bed.

That is to say, I didn’t exactly have to try really hard on this date. But Dina was a delight: rambunctious, a big personality with curly, uncontrollable black hair. I could not stop thinking of wrapping my hands in that hair and pulling it, and I think she felt the same because after one pint each we grabbed the bill.

Going back to her place, we stopped halfway across a bridge that went above the train tracks. From here, we could see the whole city skyline – it was incredible. The moon was out and even the skyscraper lights couldn’t completely overshadow a few stars.

“This is a nice place,” I said.

“Not a bad place for a first kiss,” Dina agreed.

I leaned over and kissed her. She came back at me, eager and lusty. We didn’t stay on the bridge for long.

The moment we got through her door, shoes came off, closely followed by coats, sweaters, pants, and all else. We left a trail of discarded items behind us as we made our way to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and I dove between her legs, slipping a condom on as I ate her pussy. I could feel her shake above me, feel her groan at the feeling of my mouth on her.

“I want you inside of me,” she moaned, and I came up and, flipping her over, pressed into her. Her body was still half-off the bed but neither of us really cared – one of my hands grabbed her hair and pushed her down, and the other smacked her jiggly ass.

Dina had one of those new-build condos with the giant floor-to-ceiling windows. The way she was facing, I could see her reflection in the glass. But looking beyond the reflection, I could see the city stretched out in front of me. It was a great view. I came deep inside her, Dina chuckling in ecstasy.

*The moral of the story: if you get laid after the first date, then it probably went ok.*

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/vehf5u/mf_three_signs_your_first_date_is_going_well