Talk or sex? – entry no. 14

Photo: Mette Morgan

I got to the bustling but cosy Café Norden at 5:15 p.m., or 5:24 p.m. to be precise – I didn’t want to be the first to arrive. Michael is tall and well-proportioned with beautiful blue eyes, thick, dark hair and great cheekbones. He was wearing well-fitting jeans and a dark polo shirt with a brown leather jacket. We smiled and said hello, and he pulled me toward him, kissing me on the mouth. The kiss was a little hasty, but I figured he was nervous. I was too.

We took a table upstairs and the conversation took off so smoothly that my nervousness vanished. We started talking about work – that was neutral territory. First he told me about his job, then I told him about mine. When I was finished he crossed his arms in front of him and said – how on earth did you land that job?! Apparently he was feeling provoked. What the hell kind of question was that? The man didn’t even know me – why didn’t he assume; I had gotten the job because I was highly educated and qualified?

Besides that momentary lapse the conversation was a hit. By the time I looked at the clock an hour and half had already gone by – time flies! And he seemed to take it as a good sign. He looked at me and said out of the blue: Is this going to be a talk-relationship, or are we going to have sex?

I was surprised, but I didn’t let it show. Told him that I found him attractive, because I did.  ”I’m attracted to you,” he said, ”and I want to dress you.”

Isn’t it about undressing me? I thought. Did he want to get me in a nurse’s outfit? Was that his thing? Or a full-leather suit? As puzzling as it was, I didn’t want to ask him straight out. We weren’t close enough yet, so how could I know if I wanted to play his sponge-bathing nurse  – if that’s what he wanted?

As it turned out, he meant my everyday clothes. In his opinion, I could look better and sexier than I did. But because I didn’t know if I wanted to look sexy for him I had toned it down – and he was clearly not pleased. He was looking for arm candy, he said.

Notwithstanding the fact the too-good-to-be-true Michael can’t understand that I’m the boss, that he wants to dress me and not undress me and his kiss was too brief, we had a good time. But I’m not sure if we’ll take it any further. So we probably won’t.

Handy Man Ahoy!:

A no. 3 for handywork, Lasse, 27 years old

Carpenter. Currently unemployed so he’s got time to help me out, even with the computer. A nice young fellow who’s tired of eating pasta in his one-bedroom flat and wants to exchange services.

His five year-old son Martin lives with his mother in Northern Jutland, so Lasse sees his son here in Copenhagen whenever he can.

It sounds plausible, and there’s not a shadow of a chance that we’ll end up in bed – he’s bald and covered in tattoos! Who’d have thought I’d meet a man like that… but he’s got nice eyes, and judging from his photo there’s nothing at all wrong with his biceps either.. eye candy for mama.

We’re going to meet on Saturday at 2 p.m. – he’ll come by with his toolbox and his son. I just tucked in Mille and she’s looking forward to it – she’ll show Martin her old hiding place in the hollow tree. Nice that she’s still a playful kid at heart.