Everyone wanted to hold my hand this weekend, eczema and all.
I’m back from Cuba, where I befriended a 22-year-old, the-best-dancer-ever Cuban model. But we’re taking things slow. Like, no besos slow. Sorry to disappoint.
Before leaving for my Cuban adventure, I started talking to two guys on Hinge. I have since met them both: two dates with my coworker’s friend, and one date with Valleyboi.
Coworker’s Friend: 31, so obsessed with music and yet doesn’t even care that I physically can’t answer the question, “so what kind of music do you listen to?” He’s a bit awkward (but so am I 65% of the time), but he’s super sweet and funny and he somehow managed to kiss me on the subway (my least favorite locale for that activity) without making me cringe. I’m going to his apartment for dinner tomorrow, but so is my Diva Cup.
Valleyboi: my age, my area code, and we were talking about poo long before we met in person. After two CF dates, I wasn’t particularly excited about this one, but he surprised me. Very smart (in med school), very funny, with an unexpected dose of sex appeal. Tentative plans to hang out on Saturday.
Mr. Pineapple went to Peru to take ayahuasca while I was gone and he should be back now, but I doubt I’ll hear from him and I don’t even care. Because going down on a woman is table stakes, dude, and we ALL need to remember that.