“Have you thought about selling your iPhone with Flappy Bird on it?” Mike from Tinder asked me, one day before my birthday, which is one day after Valentine’s Day. I mentioned that I was a Flappy Bird enthusiast on my short-and-sweet profile. It was refreshing to get a message that said something other than “you are one fine Hershey’s kiss” or my all-time favorite – “do you have nipple rings?”
Mike was just like the rest of them in the beginning – smart, funny, a fast responder. And not to mention cute as hell. We Tinder talked and then transitioned to texting easily. We didn’t run out of things to talk about, which is so easy to do when you’re just getting to know someone. He asked me out for a drink the next day, and I said yes. I thought it was a very grown and sexy way to bring in my 23rd year. At the same rate, I was very cautious – I’d ended things with Mitt a few days beforehand and didn’t really trust anyone. But it was one date. One drink. It’s not like I accepted a marriage proposal.
We met up in Union Square on a very cold evening. I didn’t feel cute at all – I had like three layers underneath my outfit and couldn’t even wear cute shoes since snow was still on the ground. I took my weave out that previous week and was praying that he didn’t think I was a catfish. I was freaking out about being funny and flirty and witty in real life versus our texts. Everyone has first date jitters though, right? He was probably going through the same thing on his end. My nervousness melted away as soon as we met up, though. Everything was so natural…he was easy to talk to, and we laughed a lot. He took me to a very cute bar in the East Village that wasn’t too crowded and lit with Christmas lights all over the place. He complimented my jewelry and glasses (bonus points!) and looked at me a lot. We paid for a round of drinks each, and I even took a sip of his beer. It was a really nice night.
“So when was your last relationship?” he asked as we walked out of the bar and into the cold. I told him that I’d never been in one and silently prayed that he wouldn’t think I was weird. Thankfully, he didn’t.
“And what are you looking for?” I told him that eventually, I want a boyfriend…but at that moment, I wanted companionship. Mike said that he’d gotten out of a three-year relationship last year, so he didn’t want anything serious – “just someone to hang out with and have sex with occasionally,” he said. I was glad that we were having that conversation sooner rather than later, and I appreciated his honesty.
We finally reached my stop, and I thanked him for a good time. I wasn’t sure if Mike liked me or if he’d even want to hang out again…but the night gave me a much-needed confidence boost after all that happened with Mitt. I reached out to give him a friendly hug, smiled and tried to make my way downstairs to my train…
…until he grabbed me and proceeded to gnaw my face off.
I’d NEVER been kissed like that before. It started off innocent enough…he grabbed my lower lip with both of his and held me close. But then he proceeded to bite the living shit out of my mouth. Like…a LOT of teeth. I didn’t know what to do! Was I supposed to bite back? Throw some tongue in there? I felt like I was a statue…I let him take control and feebly kissed back until we broke it off.
It took a few days for me to get over the initial shock (and for my bruises to subside) to realize that everyone’s kissing style is different. And that Mike’s was aggressive. And kind of hot. And that I kind of liked it.
I wasn’t sure what would happen with him exactly, but I knew that Mike would be a fun foray back into the game. It was a new year, I had a new job, a new hairstyle and a new outlook on life. A new boo thang wouldn’t hurt, either.
When she’s not watching for Blue Ivy sightings or doing some serious Facebook creeping, Khalea, a recent Howard University graduate, moonlights as an editorial assistant in New York City. Follow her on Twitter at @letsbeKHAlear, or feel free to Twatch. Whatever works for you.