(no subject)

So... how did the meeting today go?

"Magic" is the only word that works.

Or... well...

It creates a quandary.

So let's start with the magic. I was to meet her at three o'clock. I left in plenty of time, found that the directions I got online said that the coffee shop (Espresso Vivace) was on the corner of E. Denny Way and Broadway.

This is my first trip into "downtown" Seattle. (I don't know if it was definitely "downtown", but it was definitely in "a heavily trafficked place, with metered parking". I found a parking space within two blocks. With time on the meter, yet.

I ran down to the nearby gas station, and bought a bottle of water (Dasani - I'm a cheapskate on water), and got a dollar in change. Jogged back to my car (knee still holding out fine...), and put a quarter in... silly me. I'd found a parking meter with 90, not 30 minutes remaining. Like many parking meters, it has marks for full hours, and everything between the two marks is in minutes. So my "thirty minutes" was an hour and thirty, and now I had an hour and 45 minutes. I happily walk down to Broadway and Denny... and there's no coffee shop. In fact, Denny looks awfully residential, sort of, out here. Jog quickly back to the gar, and pull out... lousy filthy Expedia *LIED* to me... Drive around, come up on Denny, and try to find an address (I know the coffee shop is at 901 E. Denny Way), and see a 100... okay, no problem... and then I see a 1000. And then, a 900...

And *THEN*... right in front of the coffee shop... a parking space. Two miracles in one day, and I ain't wasting them.

I wasn't a perfectly polite driver doing a 3-point turn into a parking space, but I'll let this sin fester on my 'driving' soul because it was already just about three o'clock. Now, if she were a straight spanking top, being just a few minutes late could be a perfect play, but she's not. I walk in, and see that there's a line. Guy, gal, and... about the height she reported, approximate appearance, and she's looking at me... and I'm wearing the shirt I told her. A few seconds later, I ask the two people behind her if they mind if I cut in, and they're gracious about it (it was a long line, and one more person didn't really change it. It wasn't *TERRIBLE*, mind you, but there were probably lots of SMBD pairings set for this particular 3 o'clock at this particular coffee shop.

All of you know, I can have social phobias, and, damn it, I *WANTED* this to work. And, while, deep in my heart, I knew I could probably charm a friendship out of her, I sensed there was more. So, what about the awkwardness of beginning?

Well... I suppose it was like two spaceships docking. Gently touching together, at rest to each other... and then they fly away, as one.

I guess "aura" is the word I have to use, and, did she have a lovely one... I mean, I don't know what I sense/see/feel about people, but today it was in fine style, and she was shining like a star.

Conversation... well, it flew from topic to topic, and we were able to keep track of meanderings, and backtrack to previous points... conversationally, we matched well. We talked about BDSM histories and so forth. Our playthemes are mildly different, but workable, it seems. Oftentimes, BDSM play *IS* the art of compromise. (I say "oftentimes", but I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to claim "almost always". Two people usually don't have PRECISELY the same fantasies. But, sometimes, I'm sure, fantasies must match enough that, to apply the label of "compromise" to what is essentially "complete agreement from the getgo" seems wrong.

I don't remember if I told her that I thought she was beautiful before we left the coffee shop, or if that was over dinner. But we did agree to keep conversation going, and stopped by "Babes in Toyland"

( Read more... )

(no subject)

So... how did the meeting today go?

"Magic" is the only word that works.

Or... well...

It creates a quandary.

So let's start with the magic. I was to meet her at three o'clock. I left in plenty of time, found that the directions I got online said that the coffee shop (Espresso Vivace) was on the corner of E. Denny Way and Broadway.

This is my first trip into "downtown" Seattle. (I don't know if it was definitely "downtown", but it was definitely in "a heavily trafficked place, with metered parking". I found a parking space within two blocks. With time on the meter, yet.

I ran down to the nearby gas station, and bought a bottle of water (Dasani - I'm a cheapskate on water), and got a dollar in change. Jogged back to my car (knee still holding out fine...), and put a quarter in... silly me. I'd found a parking meter with 90, not 30 minutes remaining. Like many parking meters, it has marks for full hours, and everything between the two marks is in minutes. So my "thirty minutes" was an hour and thirty, and now I had an hour and 45 minutes. I happily walk down to Broadway and Denny... and there's no coffee shop. In fact, Denny looks awfully residential, sort of, out here. Jog quickly back to the gar, and pull out... lousy filthy Expedia *LIED* to me... Drive around, come up on Denny, and try to find an address (I know the coffee shop is at 901 E. Denny Way), and see a 100... okay, no problem... and then I see a 1000. And then, a 900...

And *THEN*... right in front of the coffee shop... a parking space. Two miracles in one day, and I ain't wasting them.

I wasn't a perfectly polite driver doing a 3-point turn into a parking space, but I'll let this sin fester on my 'driving' soul because it was already just about three o'clock. Now, if she were a straight spanking top, being just a few minutes late could be a perfect play, but she's not. I walk in, and see that there's a line. Guy, gal, and... about the height she reported, approximate appearance, and she's looking at me... and I'm wearing the shirt I told her. A few seconds later, I ask the two people behind her if they mind if I cut in, and they're gracious about it (it was a long line, and one more person didn't really change it. It wasn't *TERRIBLE*, mind you, but there were probably lots of SMBD pairings set for this particular 3 o'clock at this particular coffee shop.

All of you know, I can have social phobias, and, damn it, I *WANTED* this to work. And, while, deep in my heart, I knew I could probably charm a friendship out of her, I sensed there was more. So, what about the awkwardness of beginning?

Well... I suppose it was like two spaceships docking. Gently touching together, at rest to each other... and then they fly away, as one.

I guess "aura" is the word I have to use, and, did she have a lovely one... I mean, I don't know what I sense/see/feel about people, but today it was in fine style, and she was shining like a star.

Conversation... well, it flew from topic to topic, and we were able to keep track of meanderings, and backtrack to previous points... conversationally, we matched well. We talked about BDSM histories and so forth. Our playthemes are mildly different, but workable, it seems. Oftentimes, BDSM play *IS* the art of compromise. (I say "oftentimes", but I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to claim "almost always". Two people usually don't have PRECISELY the same fantasies. But, sometimes, I'm sure, fantasies must match enough that, to apply the label of "compromise" to what is essentially "complete agreement from the getgo" seems wrong.

I don't remember if I told her that I thought she was beautiful before we left the coffee shop, or if that was over dinner. But we did agree to keep conversation going, and stopped by "Babes in Toyland"

( Read more... )