There was supposed to be an order to how we do these types of things. A long list of rules for how we approach it. We’d sat down the same day we’d decided to go on this adventure & made up a comprehensive way we thought we could make this work & maintain boundaries. A month in and I can successfully say, most of them have been left at the door as arbitrary, unhelpful or as a needless complication.
We have four rules that seem to have stuck around and evolved. And Mr. #1 helped created one of the big ones: no second chances. Flake on the first date and YOU’RE OUT, regardless of what your excuse is. The others I’ll go through another time, but right now lets talk about why I’m so goddamn merciless when it comes to canceling meet-ups last minute.
Mr. #1 got his name because he was our first choice to actually meet up for drinks/whatever comes later. But I honestly can’t even remember his face or dick (I’m pretty sure I saw both, it’s just etiquette) so maybe what happened next is for the best.
We’d scheduled Mr. #1’s meet up for the first Saturday after we’d dove into all this. That night I excitedly got all slutted up, threw my panties to the wayside & walked out of the house with W in tow to go meet what was supposed to be my first dick date.
I send him a text saying we’re on the way to the bar we agreed on right now, telling him how excited I was & get an almost immediate response back of…
“Oh wow, I totally forgot about our date (??). My mom has been in a serious car accident (?!) and I’m working out of town the next few days (!?!?!) so I can’t make it.”
Needless to say, I didn’t really buy it. Now, fuck me with a smiting if his poor mother did suffer some sort of accident, but the way it was typed (almost exactly how the above quote is) reeked of “the dog ate my homework” so I left him on read.
My disappoint & annoyance swelled until I remembered that Mr. Martini was close by where we were going to meet Mr. #1 and with a few quick text messages, date night was saved.