Do You Fancy a 69?

Unexpectedly, my Thursday night “Let’s go out for a quick drink” turned into my Friday morning “O my god, where did I leave my underwear?” Who can guess these things at the outset of an evening?  I met Gold Miner Greg(*) at the casual drink establishment of Subeez in downtown Vancouver.  We shared a drink, chatted a bit and then decided to move our date on to dinner.  Obviously, I had passed the first of his criteria, which he posted in his online profile as, “must be able to carry on a decent conversation” and he had passed mine, which I didn’t post but reads: “must have job and hair”.  

Off we were, walking around the gloriously gentrified neighbourhood of Yaletown in search of our dinner when I realized the shoes I was wearing were not meant to find a restaurant in.  Gold MIner Greg was walking at a good clip and while trying to keep up, and at the same time not look unsexily hurried, I couldn’t help but wondering if he was as hungry as I or simply trying to lose me!  Finally, Goldfish. A swish little place that serves seafood and West Coast fare.  A glass of wine accompanied the oysters on a half shell appies. And another with the Arctic char and then a third to wash down the salad and keep the conversation flowing.  Dessert followed with banana spring rolls in caramel and white chocolate dipping sauce and, of course, a small glass of Italian dessert wine.  With my head a tad swimmy, I proceeded to break the rules of things not to do on a first date.  We talked about exes with detail, marriage, kids, money, politics, religion. All laid bare on the table along with the half dozen empty wine glasses.  It was clearly too soon to call it a night.  We decided on Glowbal for post dinner drinks. Tightly packed and noisy, we had to lean in to hear each other. Two more glasses of wine and then my see-through declaration of, “I’m not responsible for my behaviour beyond this point” swiftly took us walking back to his place.  From his rooftop balcony on the 32nd floor we shared a kiss, followed by a long, passionate session of making out on his couch.  When he politely asked me in that killer British accent, “Do you fancy a 69?” I knew that I was going break my last rule of things not do on a first date: always keep your underwear on!

(*) names have been changed to protect the innocent