I go slow.
Usually. Unless I'm at Dewey Beach and there's beautiful Mr. Navy just standing there looking beautiful and wanting to buy me beers and kiss me on the dance floor. I mean, what else are you going to do in this situation?
See, I am not "Dewey Beach Girl." I never went to Panama City or Cancun for spring break. I don't wake up and keep drinking to alleviate the hangover I have from the night before. I don't run around in my bathing suit drinking Bud Lights at noon on a Sunday. I do not stay up until 5 AM and wake up the next morning to find that my entire group is being evicted from our condo for numerous noise violations. I am not that girl.
Usually. Unless I'm at Dewey Beach and it's Labor Day weekend and I've quit caring about who I'm "supposed to be."
When I told my friend L that I wanted to go to Dewey, he was shocked. He told me I was his BBF--Best Behaved-Friend. (Needless to say, after this weekend I don't think I deserve that one anymore.) But I'm trying new things, putting myself out there and letting myself cut loose a little. So, I said, "Sign me up!"
L's girlfriend had let on that she wanted to introduce me to her friend Mr. Navy who apparently is one of her favorite people of all time, so much so that she refuses to set him up with any of her friends because none of them is good enough for him. Until now. Yessssssss.
Mr. Navy--he is tall, dark, and gorgeous. So naturally, we immediately hit it off and it only took a few mixed drinks and some great cover band music on Friday to start off the weekend lip-locked on the dance floor. I had felt some sparks earlier in the week with Dr. Nutrition, but that got blown out of the water by Mr. Navy. I'm sure the vodka helped.
The next day I felt incredibly hungover from the drinking and the kissing, and I wasn't sure how I felt about the situation. This is how I am--overly analytical about whatever feelings I'm having about a guy. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to have fun like that, and then I feel bad when I do. And I'm not even Catholic! So what's up with this semi-guilt I feel over a harmless make-out session with Mr. Navy?
I spent Saturday recovering, getting my ass kicked in the ocean (the waves were insane!), and watching college football with Mr. Navy. I decided that I'd learned my lesson the night before and stuck with beer rather than mixed drinks, and still had a great time. We kissed more. He fell asleep next to me without coming on too strong. I was getting used to having a cute boy around.
On Sunday, we got kicked out of our place (long story....but I still feel kind of badass to have been kicked out of a place in a fucking beach town where craziness is the name of the game) and decided to spend the day--where else--at the bar. More drinking, more dancing, more kissing. Once the sun went down, we ended up on the beach, stripped down to our bathing suits and got ready to jump into the water...until we felt how fucking freezing it was. So, we spent some time on the sand...
And yep, that's where the storytelling ends for that night. :-)
This morning Mr. Navy drove me back to DC, showed me his place, and kissed me before I headed back to my place. I think I floated all the way home.
Looking over the pictures from the weekend, I look so happy, so relaxed, just having a good time. I never expected to meet someone who is not only fun, but also seems to have his act together and is understanding. And, I confess I am a little smitten. I know, I know--it's Dewey Beach. It was alcohol-induced. It is not usually the kind of thing that goes anywhere. But, I'm hoping this might be an exception. From what I've seen and everything my friend L has told me, he is an awesome, solid guy--and that he was really into me, too.
In the meantime, I've got four dates this week. But, part of me thinks my thoughts might wander back to Mr. Navy....