First Date?

Cesar and I went to the Conga Room last Thursday. I'd wanted to go to this Nat King Cole tribute but Melanie was doing VMA rehearsals next door, so it was unlikely that she'd be able to go with me. On a whim, I text Cesar on Wednesday night and ask him...interested in going? I get an immediate yes. Immediate accelerated heartbeat.

So we went. Mel ended up meeting us outside, which was awesome, so we all went in together. Later, she'd get us deluxe VIP, because...that's how Melanie works. As we were walking up, I reached out and held his hand. I only held it for thirty steps, but those were content moments. I feel so comfortable with Cesar; every thought comes flowing out, everything I feel for him is so plain in my smile and blush.

Inside, I got a drink pretty immediately. Felt golden and tipsy and loose, shaking my hips to the spanish music and grinning happily at my comrades. I had Cesar's hand on my back in an almost constant contact, the back of my neck, my leg when we'd later sit.

It might sound silly, but I'm really judgmental on how a man touches me. It conveys a lot about themselves; their security, confidence, maturity. Chris touched me to evoke a reaction, like a child. He didn't do it to "arouse" me; he'd touch me inappropriately in public to get a rise out of me, to get his hand slapped away or glared down and giggle in response. Cesar, who is, by the way, an amazing gentleman, didn't send out any odd signals; it was just a man touching a woman, to let her know she was cared about. Not possessive, or even particularly romantic. Just contact.

Whatever I felt unsure about before is gone now. If nothing manifests, that's fine. But I know without a doubt that someone I care about cares about me back, and that's enough.

(In case it isn't clear, there was no end-of-evening kiss. If there's no kiss, is it even considered a date? ...Titles aren't that important, anyway.)