When It’s Better to Wait for Date #5

If the 3 Date Curse, in which no man I have ever dated has lasted longer in a relationship with me than three dates, has proven anything, it has clearly shown that dating me is not for the faint of heart.  It takes courage, strength and resilience.  To survive what my Production Assistant commonly refers to as ‘The Gauntlet’, potential suitors need be able to stare down a Doberman, succumb to the examination of my children and roll whatever adventures unfold in my day to day life-in combination and repetition.  It takes a solid effort boys, a rare mixture of scholar and rugged maniac. He who can survive is worthy of a reigning champion and an honorable mention in this blog. Cue the Rocky theme track!

From the beginning, Dave’s and my relationship has not gone according to schedule.  He dropped everything during our first meet-up to be my bullet-shield from teenage drama for the evening.  Next, I attended a party he threw.  While both occasions lasted to the wee hours of the morning, neither really felt like a date but couldn’t exactly be discounted either.  As a result, my 3 Date Curse was extended by fractions.  It gave us plenty of time to get to know each other and in a short time, Date Number 2 1/2 was at hand. Throwing caution to the wind, we retired to the bedroom for some heavy petting. 

Well,  that was the plan that night anyway!

So still mostly clothed, my guy and I shared a long passionate kiss.  He then sighed, looked me in the eye and smiled.  I love his smiles, they disarm me almost immediately-and he is very much aware of that because still smiling, he moved his hand from a holding pattern to a tickling one. Being of a hyper-ticklish nature, he no further placed his fingers near my arm pits before he sent me leaping from the bed in a style most recently captured on film by the movie Exorcist.

“You’re ticklish?” he asked.  He knew darned good and well but just wanted to rub it in. 

All puns aside, what’s a girl like me supposed to do when confronted by someone holding all the Kryptonite?  Lie!

“Of course not,” I said.  “I don’t know why you would think that.”

The desperate deflection was accurately interpreted as a bluff and was appropriately met with a volley of tickles that left me bucking and reeling in a giggling mess of gasps and protests.  I knew he had the tactical advantage and loved every minute of it.  But I don’t concede to surrender so quickly.  So I launched a small counter-attack, brushing my nails across his side. Success!  He cringed.

“You are ticklish too?” I asked in a tone that sounded a little more smug than inquisitive.  He admitted he was, he just didn’t expect me to return fire.  

With that, it was on and the once steamy scene was transformed into a tickling version of Wrestle-Mania with him straddling me now simply for a better tickling position and me squirming to get out.  Grinning from ear to ear, he immobilized me.  He had me and he knew it. Sitting on top of me with his hands on my wrists, there was no way for me to push up and break free.  But like the Death Star, there was one avenue which had not occurred to him.  There was one way out of my predicament, by reaching down.  I pulled my right hand out of his grasp and moved it along his leg until I found the flesh of his cheek, and moved my fingers along the line of his gluteus muscles. It was a play intended to get his attention. And to that end, it did. For noticing my escape, he too repositioned a little farther to the left and instead of my fingers traveling to the point of his seat, they slid right past his buttock and straight up No Man’s Land.  

Instead a playful gesture, I found myself with one-knuckle and four inches of cargo shorts imbedded up my date’s ass.

At once, all movement stopped.  His face turned pale white for a second, then morphed as if his skin was outfitted with LED lights, changing to an intense stop-sign red.  Earlier he had mentioned his troubles with high blood pressure and for a moment, I feared I had just given him an aneurysm.  We modified our assaults as the shock of our situation began to marinate.

“Hey now,” he said, remaining motionless.

“I’m so sorry,” I almost pleaded.

Then I realized the irony of my having the upper hand.  Although our physical positions remained unchanged, the tables had certainly turned.  And even though the attack from the rear was certainly NOT what I intended, what was I supposed to do when it succeeded?  Exploit it!

“Tell me Ghost Busters II sucks!” I demanded with a flick of my finger.

“Never!” he wailed with his eyes closed, his head thrown back and his buns clenched tighter than an inmate in maximum security.  

Though I could have easily continued the campaign and won the battle, I admired his grit and the way he was willing to go down with his ship. I removed the threatening digit and he rolled off, suggesting perhaps something that should have been saved for Date #5.  That fearless determination in the face of such paralyzing adversity is rare and that night as we kissed, I declared my search over.

The next day, my kids asked how my date went.  Not one to keep anything back, I told her and a curious friend about dinner, drinks, and the digital violation.  

“Wow,” Erin said with an impressive nod.  

Her friend shrugged, “I would have waited for Date #5.”

And so it was confirmed.  Dinner and drinks on Dates 1-4, digital penetration beginning no sooner than Date #5!

I’m Jennifer Beck and I’m Jenuinely Jennifer

Writer, Researcher and hand-washer!