Date with Daniella 2 of 3

It’s a Friday and it was time to see Daniela the giant Amazonian princess again. By this time I had so many picture messages and cellular texts that I felt like I’ve known her for a little while now. I knew this date would be better. I figured I could skip past a lot of the talking formality and just kiss her intermittently throughout the night. Why kissing became my new “funnest” thing to do beats the hell out of me, but it was, so that’s what I looked forward to.

Called her up, asked her what she was doing, then asked her to come out with me that night. She was down and suggested I come around 9 to pick her up. That was perfect because Friday was a busy day for me and that would give me time to finish what I had to do and then relax over a few drinks with Daniela.

On the “shit I have to do before I see Daniela” list, was to buy a new bed (I lost it in the “divorce” if you will) and help my room mate finish moving in. My room mate is a Dj/Recording Engineer/Free Lancer that goes by the stage name Dj Kofa. Well that’s one name of many Aliases he carries. He seems to think that each and everyone one of his musical personalities should have a different name. I can barely keep track of them all, so lets stick to the one I know.

Kofa and I go way back. He used to date my cousin, we soon became close friends, they soon broke up, we became closer friends, we started DJing together, now he fills the void that was left by Angelika in my apartment. He’s a great replacement, he’s clean, he’s funny, he’s over his ex (that’s a light at the end of the tunnel type thing for me), and he keeps me grounded with the special blend of almost moronic but actually quite pertinent wisdom he brings to the table. He’s super weird and that in itself makes the friendship worth it. When there is nothing on TV, I just observe him and I’ll be damned if I’m not thoroughly entertained.

So as we were wrapping up the move and cleaning the hell out of the place, Kofa engages me on my date for the night.

“Yo, you need to chill with this chick son. Sounds like you’re catching feelings, you been talking about her all day.”

“Hey listen, I haven’t been excited about seeing some one for a long time. Can I enjoy it for like a second?”

“Look man, I know you just got out of something big, you don’t need to be jumping back into shit that soon. See what you got to do is surround yourself with women. You need to build a team of girls.”

“Ok?”

“See you surround yourself with women and you start to become in tune with their needs. You begin to understand what they look for and what they’re about. I’m not talking about surrounding yourself with bitches you want to smash (that’s ghetto speak for girls you would like to have sex with), I’m talking about some plutonic ones in there as well. You build a basketball team of ladies. Here’s the lay out. The ‘Point Guard’ is the one chick you trust. She’s like the coach, she knows about all your other chicks and she gives you the advice you need to make headway. The ‘Shooting Guard’ is the chick you got the best shot with. She’s not necessarily the one you want to be with, but you know that if you worked it just a little it would be in the bag. The ‘Center’ is the girl that steals the spot light. The one you are most interested in. This is the one that you’re really working on. The ‘Small Forward’ is the full on rebounder. This is the one that fills the voids. Need some one to talk to you when your feeling like a bitch, call her. Need some one to stroke your ego, call her. You get me? Lastly you got the ‘Power Forward’, also known as the friend with benefits. You keep this network of ladies around you and you will have it all figured out in no time. You’ll be killin it son… KILLIN IT!.”

I appreciated his well thought out team of girls approach, but I’m not sure I can put together a team. That’s a lot of girls doing a lot of things that I need to keep track of. The best I could do is a doubles team in tennis, and that’s kinda gay. I’ll stick to one simple rule, make lots of friends and you’ll meet lots of people. I was starting to get he general idea though. Basically I need to enjoy experiences for the sake of the experience. I shouldnt put so much pressure on myself by looking for the next one.

You know, all the guys I talk to seem to have it figured out. Jay has "shelves" that I'm supposed to put women on, Bailey has "mission objectives" im supposed to follow, and Kofa has "teams" I'm supposed to build. Life as a single guy can be quite confusing and arduous, but I think I'm getting there.

It was now 8PM. I finished putting the bed together, moving Kofa in, and cleaning the hell out of the place. I was ready for some drinks and some female interaction with my "Center". I took a shower, put on the pimp gear, hopped in the car, and off I went.

I wasn’t sure what we were going to do that night, but I figured we would stay in her part of town. I was digging through my memory banks to see if I could pull some cool place out of my ass and pretend that I’ve been there before so that she could, by association, think I’m cool. Nothing. I couldn’t think of anything. Whatever, we had a car, I’ll wing it.

Picked her up about 9:05, and began to drive.

“So where do you want to go?” I asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t really feel like hanging out in my part of town, what’s going on in your part of town?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all!” I said. There is no way we are going to my part of town. Last thing I need is for her to want to come over and drop into my apartment. I hadn’t chick proofed it yet. I still had pictures of the ex up, in fact, I still had some clothes that my ex left, I had all kinds of remnants of the prior relationship scattered about. That would not have been good. Then I remembered that Kofa knew a Brazilian spot in Williamsburg. I called him up, got the details, and plotted the new rout. Destination: Bembe.

Bembe is a hot little spot that has the finest Brazilian ladies shaking it to their native sounds. The place is all vibe and culture, the drinks are cheap, and there is no cover. This was the move for the night.

We arrived at Bembe and walked in. People were dressed in Carnivale costumes because it was after all Halloween weekend. I wished I would have dressed up myself, but alas, my costume was not ready for it’s debut.

I walked up to the bar, ordered a jack on the rocks and got her an ice cold corona. We clinked glasses and began to drink. She was a little stiff but I could tell deep down inside she wanted to dance. I decided to loosen up the atmosphere and try to get her to dance…

“You know what I love about this place? People are just here to dance and have a good time, they don’t have a care in the world. Being around people like that makes you want to dance.”

“I don’t need to be around people to want to dance; I just always have it in me.” She said in her most monotone voice.

“So your telling me that as long as you want to dance that is all you need to actually get up on the dance floor? Like if no one is dancing, but you want to dance you will go and dance? You are not at all influenced by the vibe?”

“Yes, I dance when I feel it, I guess it is better when there are more people dancing, but I just dance when I feel it.”

“Are you feeling it?”

“I’m getting there.”

Just then some salsa came on. I don’t claim to know how to dance salsa, but I can fake it really well. I grabbed her and said “Let’s dance.”

She got closer to me, we assumed the position, and began a basic side step. Back and forth. I never seen someone more uncomfortable in their life. I pressed on. I finally realized that her idea of dancing was little more than a simple side step and the occasional white girl booty shake. You know the one where they crouch down, put their hands on their sides and gyrate their hips? The very same one you see Bambi doing with a pole between her butt cheeks at your local titty bar? Yes, that one. She eventually realizes that she isn’t feelin it and says: “You know, dancing is a very intimate thing for a second date. Maybe we should go for drinks.”


“BOO!” I thought. Too intimate for a second date? I’ve danced with women that I’ve never dated at all. I guess in Brazil it’s not really the forbidden dance. That shit is American made hype. In brazil it’s just called… Dance. It’s not like we were doing the Lambada, it was a simple side step. But fine, lets go to have drinks…


“Alright, where do you want to go now?

“Lets go back to your hood, I’m sure there are some cool places there. ”

“Well we have the beer garden which is great, but I’m not feeling beer tonight.”

“Ok, so lets go to that place we went to on the first date.”

“Ahh yes. Ok. Sure.”

Of course back to the scene of the crime. Was this going to be a repeat of the last date? How boring would that be?

So we get there, we order some more drinks, we sit in the same spot as before, and we start talking again.

The conversation this time is decidedly controlled by her. I kinda liked the fact that she was taking charge. Mostly because it just meant I could sit and drink and let her do all the work.

“So how long have you been living with your room mate?”

“Man I’ve known this guy forever.”

Notice how I didn’t answer her question? Jay calls that verbal sleight of hand. I answer a direct question by answering a different question. I didn’t lie, I just gave them some info that would allow them to use their own judgment and draw their own conclusions. I suppose if you catch me on it and ask the question again directly, I would answer directly, but I’ve yet to be called out on it.

“That’s cool, I’d like to meet him some time.”

That’s weird, but “yah cool. Next time you come by I’ll introduce.” (fatal mistake)

“Lets go there now! I’m bored of this place.” (result of fatal mistake)

“Nah see the apartment is a mess and I’m really quite embarrassed by it and plus he doesn’t know he’s doing a meet and greet tonight and well it’s just not a good idea, plus my neighborhood sucks.” I can’t believe I dissed my own beloved neighborhood. I love where I live, what was I doing?

“Why are you so against going to your place right now? What are you hiding?”

“Hiding? Nothing. It’s just a mess and I don’t want you to see it that way. You got to wait till its all nice. I want to impress you.”

“I don’t care about your apartment, I care about you.”

Did she just say what I thought she said? Is this not the second date? She care’s about me? She was being pretty aggressive and I wasn’t really into that at the moment. I was taken aback really by the speed at which this train was accelerating.

“Good things come to those who wait. Trust me, when it looks nice it will be much better. I will feel more comfortable.”

Did I just say ‘Good things come to those who wait?’ Was I starting to pretend to be smooth? Yuck. This is so not me. I’m totally trying to smooth talk my way out of this.

“Fine, nevermind.”

After a few more drinks and some ridiculous banter, it was time to head home. For some reason I wasn’t looking forward to the end-of-the-night make out session anymore. I had been turned off by something and I couldn’t quite place it. Was it the whole “I care about you” thing? Was it the pushiness? Was it that I had lost sight of my objective to just have fun and I accidentally tried to see if she was girlfriend material?

I decided to give myself a pep talk on the ride to her place. My internal dialogue went a little something like this:

“You got a 5’9” hottie sitting in your car, she wants you. You don’t care if she is girlfriend material, you just want to see what her undies look like. You want to make out with her and get a little touchy feely. Who knows what it might lead up to, you could very well be the man tonight. Don’t lose sight, the real thing is better than porn. You’re the man, man. You’re a rock star…”

Dumb as that sounded, it did the trick. I caught my second win and was ready for the kissing action. We pull up in front of her house, only this time I stay in the car. I wasn’t about to let the cold beat me. I lean in and the kissing begins.

Minute 5: Good introductory stuff. Kissing, necking, etc.
Minute 10: I am now cupping some boob. Kissing is still in full effect, the weird lean I have to do to kiss her may pose a problem later.
Minute 15: Sliding the hands down town. Heart is beating fast cause I can’t believe she is letting me do this. Neck is hurting a little. Re-adjusting position.
Minute 20: Lips are numb. Neck is sore. Hands made it down town but didn’t get to do much except for explore the fine quality of the denim jean seams. Excellent crotch join if I do say so myself.
Minute 25: How do I stop this thing?

I finally just said “Alright, I got to head out. I’ll see you later.”

She stepped out of the car and I drove away. I was a bit bummed. I was chasing that same high from the first date and I really wasn’t feeling the excitement this time. Kissing is getting boring, its time to move to the next step.

I began to plot out the next date. My plan was to bring her over to my place and finally introduce her to my inner sanctum.

‘I’m gonna get some booty.’ I thought. ‘Oh yes, I will get some.’

Stay tuned for the 3rd date. She comes over. I have the place to myself… the mood is right, I can see the booty comin, but first I have to answer one little question….