I told Matt I didn’t want to do anything real fancy on our date. I just wanted to do something casual, and for it to be fun enough to keep me from being nervous about being out on a date with a guy—I didn’t tell him that of course.
I took forever to get ready. I must have changed clothes five times. I eventually ended up in my favorite green Henley top and some “boyfriend” jeans. My attire wasn’t overtly sexy, but the Henley top and jeans were tight enough to give me that “hot girl next door” look. I added a “newsboy” cap and the boots I received from my secret admirer--and undid a few of the buttons to the Henley to show off the cleavage.
BTW, after a month of not hearing from him, my secret admirer is back in a big way—but I’ll get to that later.
Matt picked me up in his black Jeep Wrangler. It’s an older model than I used to drive as Jake, but it really made me miss having a vehicle. I tell him I like his jeep.
We ended up at a pub/restaurant called the Asgard. It’s an upscale Irish pub; it was cushy, yet had a casual feel about it. I get shepherd’s pie and Smithwick’s (an Irish brand) beer—both were delicious.
“So you do eat real food after all.” He says to me. “I half expected you to get just a salad.” I’m guessing he was referring to the yogurt and apple I had when we ate breakfast together.
I shrug. “It takes a lot of work to—“I pause, because I wanted to say ‘it takes a lot of work to look as good as I do, so I watch what I eat’, but I caught myself.
“--to keep in shape, so I watch what I eat.” I finish.
I wonder if I’ll ever get used to being Ashlyn that I’ll get over all these narcistic tendencies. It can’t be healthy to be so attracted to yourself.
“The food here is great.” I tell him. “What made you pick this place?”
He gives me the same goofy grin he gave me at the fire house. “Isn’t it obvious?” He motions to me. “Red hair, greenish eyes, fair skin and your name—Ashlyn—is Gaelic, bringing you here seemed like a safe bet.”
“You knew Ashlyn is Gaelic?”
“I looked it up. It means ‘Dream’ “. His eyes gives me a once over. “That’s a very appropriate name.”
“OOOhhh. That was smooth.” I roll my eyes but give him a grin back. I was slightly impressed; the guy did a little ‘homework’ for his date.
We eat, drink, talk and have a good time. Matt likes to tell dirty jokes and he is pretty good at telling them. It might have been the beer, but he told one that had me in tears I was laughing so hard.
After dinner, we head over to Flat Top Johnny’s in Kendall Square. Flat Top Johnny’s is a fairly nice pool hall near the Kendal Square theater. The place was packed with college-age kids and had an energetic vibe. Hmmm… I wonder if people look at me and think “kid”.
I was kind of surprised, but pleased, that Matt had brought us to a pool hall. Shooting pool was something I had done as Jake, and I enjoyed it.
“It looks like all the tables are taken.” I say disappointed.
“Not a problem.” He says. He points to a table in the back, and the two guys playing there wave at us. Matt waves back and we walk over.
“Ash, these are my best buds Trey and Vince.” Trey was tall and thin, Vince had some weight on him—they reminded me of the number ‘10’ when they stood next to each other.
I give a little wave. “Hi guys.”
“Trey and Vince have been holding a table for us.” Matt tells me.
“Oh. Wow. Thanks.” I say.
Trey hands me his pool cue. “We warmed up the table for you. Have a good time.” He mouths ‘she’s soooo hot’ to Matt when he thinks I’m not looking.
I tried to convince Trey and Vince to stick around; it seemed rude not to try. They wouldn’t do it. They were gone in minutes.
“That was awfully nice of them, to hold us a table.” I say.
“Eh, maybe. Those two are the best, but they needed a favor from me—and I needed a pool table for us. We worked it out.” He grinned. “You want something to drink? Then shoot a little pool?”
“That sounds great.”
I can play pool. I’m not a pool shark or anything (well, not quite), but I’ve been playing since before Matt was born. Hell, that applies to my current body as well. My father loved to play, and taught me how to play as soon as I was old enough to hold a pool cue. When my parents were killed in a car wreck and I went to live with my Uncle, I took the pool table with me and spent a lot of time playing. Every time I play I think of my dad.
I guess because I am a girl, Matt assumes I don’t know how to play.
“Here, let me show you how to hold the cue when you shoot.”
He gets behind me and wraps his arms around me. We lean over the table, and he guides my hands on the cue. He smelled nice.
That first game I pretend not to know how to play. He was enjoying explaining the game to me, so I decided to let him. Besides, it was different to play as Ashlyn and I was getting my bearings. The boobs kept getting in the way—and when I leaned down to shoot, my hair would get in my eyes. I also realized that whenever I leaned forward, Matt was getting a good look down my top.
After the first game—which Matt won—I asked “Can I break? That looks so fun.”
I break, and then nearly run the table.
“You know how to play?” He asked, stunned.
“Maybe you are just a really good teacher.” I give him a smug grin.
We play for a couple of hours—really, I let him win. He would get all tense whenever he was losing, and I was more interested in having a good date over winning a pool game. We also played pinball and darts, and he legitimately kicked my ass at those. I love pinball, but I’ve never been able to play it very well—of course we had been drinking all evening so that didn’t help. I’ve never looked as girly as I did trying to play darts slightly drunk, I couldn’t even hit the target.
Eventually we call it a night.
I don’t know if girls are supposed to admit this kind of stuff, but I wanted to get laid. It had been a while since I had slept with Jean-Michel, and I had an itch that needed scratching.
But this was our first date—I inherited Ashlyn’s reputation, which was a bit slutty. This is my life now, and I am trying to make it my own--so tonight I had limits.
On my doorstep, I found out that Matt is a pretty good kisser. So good, I found myself waffling. Maybe I could count breakfast as our first date, and then this would be our second date. It would be okay to have sex on a second date, right?
I manage to restrain myself.
“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s day?” Matt asks.
At the time, Valentines was just a few days away. “No, not really.” I say.
“Want to go out again?” He asked.
“Okay—but nothing Valentine-y.” I say.
“How about going to the Celtics game?”
“Have I mentioned I love basketball?” I say to him.
We kiss again, and he drives off.
I’ve got to run, I have a meeting with a college advisor and then I’m working dinner—I’ll catch up on Valentine’s Day tomorrow.