Slipping through my fingers

We learn more from our failures than our successes. At least that’s what I tell myself after nights like last night.

Last night I went to a Halloween concert. I made eye contact a couple times with a very cute Cleopatra. I smiled but didn’t say anything. Eventually she opened me by asking my name. We started dancing together and pretty soon she was grinding me like a stripper. Life is good.

Intermission comes and she wants me to come with her while she smokes a cigarette. I do and also run across the street to grab a bottle of water. When I come back she’s chatting with here friends. I say “Cleopatra, introduce me.” She does, but I feel kind of tongue tied for some reason and don’t really win them over to my team.

Also during this time she tells me she’s 21 and just graduated college this past year. I tell her I’m 42. She says she doesn’t believe I’m that old. I suspect that was less about how I look than the fact that most 42 year olds don’t grind chicks on dance floors.

Soon we’re back in the theater and things escalate some more. We’re making out, she puts my hands on her tits, I run my hands up her skirt and play with her pussy. We start to leave to go back to my place (her suggestion: “I need to get out of this costume”). We’re almost to the door when she gets cold feet. She needs to tell her friends where she’s going because she doesn’t have her phone.


We go back in and dance some more, then she goes to tell her friends (“I’ll be right back”). At that moment I knew I’d lost her. Sure enough, she takes her time with them and only “comes back” after the concert is officially over and I’m walking over toward here. She tells me she’s not going home with me. She’s moving to a large city over a thousand miles away in two days (she’d told me that earlier) and wants to make the most of her time left here. I tell her that’s exactly why she should go home with me, but of course that doesn’t work.

She says she’ll call me but I say “no you won’t.” That’s weak, but OTOH I know I’ll be tied up tonight and tomorrow, so it’s not like I could see her again anyway.

Ah well, live and learn. She would’ve been my third lay in a week, but I know better than to count chickens… Next time something like that happens, I’m just dragging her out the door and telling her to call her friends from my car. Or alternatively dragging her into the bathroom.

Fortunately I have another date tonight, and earlier last night I had number closed and scheduled a date with a girl at a coffee shop. So between those two I hope to fuck my frustration away, perhaps draining it into their mouths. 🙂