know why. This was the expected outcome. I'm just not sure what to do now that I know for certain who he is.
I jot down his address, just in case I need it for some reason later, then I log off of the system and head home.
While I'm stuck in Houston traffic, all I can think about is Colton's voice. He sounded so damn dreamy over the phone. When I was talking to him, I could picture him sitting in front of me all over again. Except this time, he wasn't a delinquent client determined to ruin my day by being an asshat. This time, he was an assertive, dominant man who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to go for it.
I had a smile on my face throughout that entire conversation. Just thinking about it now causes butterflies to swirl in my stomach. Normally, hearing a man be so openly sexual would disgust me and scare me away. Talking to him though...I hate to admit it to myself, but it kind of turns me on.
What's wrong with me?
As soon as I get back to my apartment, I go to my room and fire up my laptop. Then I do an image search for Colton Larsen and ogle his pictures for a good fifteen minutes. There aren't a lot of them, but the ones that are there are lust inducing. He looks good in everything he wears...and doesn't wear. My craving for him is undeniable, and annoyingly enough it transcends to my desire to hear from him again.
I open up the dating website and stare at his headless profile like a lunatic, waiting impatiently for the little red light next to his screen name to turn green. I wait and wait and wait. Then I eat dinner, spend an hour watching television and sit down in front of my computer to wait some more. He doesn't come on, though, and I refuse to message him first. That would give him way too much pleasure. It would make him think that I'm actually interested in him. Am I interested in him?
With a groan, I force myself to go to bed. For whatever reason, he isn't messaging me. To my surprise, that bombs my mood far more than I thought it would. Maybe tomorrow I'll hear from him.
***
Friday comes and goes, and I hear not a peep from Colton. The day is spent neurotically checking my phone and the dating site in tandem. For some reason, I keep trying to convince myself that the phone app is messed up. That if I don't see a message from him on the phone app, there will somehow magically be one on the website instead. Of course, that's never the case. I'm just going crazy. Going crazy because I've become addicted to the attention of a guy who is obviously an asshole who was just messaging me for funsies. I should have known better. There's no way that a man like him would really be interested in a girl like me. He probably got his kicks and has now decided to move on to some other poor, loveless girl to tease. Jackass.
I'm so upset about it that I agree to go out on a second date with Richard just to distract myself. In truth, he's not a bad guy. Definitely the breadwinner of internet men that I've met in person so far. I just feel like his interests aren't in line with mine. He enjoys traveling and snooty high society events. And I enjoy...well, I don't really go out much. Frivolous spending isn't really my thing. Occasionally, I'll have drinks and dinner with co-workers, but that's about it. Most of the time, I'd rather stay home and watch Netflix. Getting out more would probably do me some good.
Knowing that he's planning to take me to an exclusive art exhibition event at the Museum of Fine Arts, I dress to the nines, pairing a red dress with beige sandals, nude hose, and some fake gold jewelry. I wear my hair down in waves over my shoulders and do my makeup in smoky tones. The look is nice but not overdone. To be honest, I have no idea what women typically wear to these sorts of things. I refuse to buy a new dress for the occasion, though, especially when I'm not even sure I like this guy enough to make it to date number three.
Richard shows up at my door looking dapper in a suit and tie. He
I jot down his address, just in case I need it for some reason later, then I log off of the system and head home.
While I'm stuck in Houston traffic, all I can think about is Colton's voice. He sounded so damn dreamy over the phone. When I was talking to him, I could picture him sitting in front of me all over again. Except this time, he wasn't a delinquent client determined to ruin my day by being an asshat. This time, he was an assertive, dominant man who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to go for it.
I had a smile on my face throughout that entire conversation. Just thinking about it now causes butterflies to swirl in my stomach. Normally, hearing a man be so openly sexual would disgust me and scare me away. Talking to him though...I hate to admit it to myself, but it kind of turns me on.
What's wrong with me?
As soon as I get back to my apartment, I go to my room and fire up my laptop. Then I do an image search for Colton Larsen and ogle his pictures for a good fifteen minutes. There aren't a lot of them, but the ones that are there are lust inducing. He looks good in everything he wears...and doesn't wear. My craving for him is undeniable, and annoyingly enough it transcends to my desire to hear from him again.
I open up the dating website and stare at his headless profile like a lunatic, waiting impatiently for the little red light next to his screen name to turn green. I wait and wait and wait. Then I eat dinner, spend an hour watching television and sit down in front of my computer to wait some more. He doesn't come on, though, and I refuse to message him first. That would give him way too much pleasure. It would make him think that I'm actually interested in him. Am I interested in him?
With a groan, I force myself to go to bed. For whatever reason, he isn't messaging me. To my surprise, that bombs my mood far more than I thought it would. Maybe tomorrow I'll hear from him.
***
Friday comes and goes, and I hear not a peep from Colton. The day is spent neurotically checking my phone and the dating site in tandem. For some reason, I keep trying to convince myself that the phone app is messed up. That if I don't see a message from him on the phone app, there will somehow magically be one on the website instead. Of course, that's never the case. I'm just going crazy. Going crazy because I've become addicted to the attention of a guy who is obviously an asshole who was just messaging me for funsies. I should have known better. There's no way that a man like him would really be interested in a girl like me. He probably got his kicks and has now decided to move on to some other poor, loveless girl to tease. Jackass.
I'm so upset about it that I agree to go out on a second date with Richard just to distract myself. In truth, he's not a bad guy. Definitely the breadwinner of internet men that I've met in person so far. I just feel like his interests aren't in line with mine. He enjoys traveling and snooty high society events. And I enjoy...well, I don't really go out much. Frivolous spending isn't really my thing. Occasionally, I'll have drinks and dinner with co-workers, but that's about it. Most of the time, I'd rather stay home and watch Netflix. Getting out more would probably do me some good.
Knowing that he's planning to take me to an exclusive art exhibition event at the Museum of Fine Arts, I dress to the nines, pairing a red dress with beige sandals, nude hose, and some fake gold jewelry. I wear my hair down in waves over my shoulders and do my makeup in smoky tones. The look is nice but not overdone. To be honest, I have no idea what women typically wear to these sorts of things. I refuse to buy a new dress for the occasion, though, especially when I'm not even sure I like this guy enough to make it to date number three.
Richard shows up at my door looking dapper in a suit and tie. He
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