Last night I went for drinks with a man I’ve matched with a few times but never made the leap to meet. Sliding into the booth he had chosen, I sized him up. He was handsome, taller than any man I’d met yet, and the scent of his cologne was understated and pleasant. I already liked him. Ordering our first drinks we immediately delved into conversation, going over the basics. Conversation flowed from there, and ten minutes in he suggested a toast over me being even cuter than my pictures. We really shouldn’t have waited so long to get together.
We talked for over an hour, finishing two drinks a piece (concluding at the end they weren’t the best) leading him to smoothly suggest he could make a better one at his place. I agreed, knowing exactly what he wanted but going on about how I was excited to see his amateur bartending skills. He paid the tab, and a few minutes later we were riding the elevator up to his apartment, me teasing him a bit about only living steps from the cocktail bar we had been at since the traffic downtown was crazy and I struggled to get there.