A Valentine's story from a former sexting virgin

Perhaps you've heard of this trend called "sexting"? It's basically texting, about sex, usually to the person you'd like to have it with. It's been in the news a lot in relation to teenagers, but last night I became an unwilling participant. The sexter, however, was 32, and up until an hour before, had been a seemingly perfect first date.

Tyler and I had met for drinks, talked non-stop, and agreed to date number two before the bill came. He took care of the check, paid for my valet, and I spent the 20-minute drive home beaming. I've been on a lot of dates lately, but this was the first in a while in which I'd felt a quick connection. It didn't entirely surprise me when he texted me an hour later, perhaps to seal the second date deal. He'd already told me he didn't have plans for Valentine's Day.

(11:15 PM) Him: So what did you have in mind for the second date?

A lame effort, I thought, considering he was the one that had asked me out.

Me: I don't know - dinner? More Tyler time?

Him: You'll get more Tyler time for sure. Question is, what will you do with it?

Oy, vey, I thought. I don't know what he is asking here and I am too tired to find out.

Me: Whatever you let me get away with. (Short and sassy, throw it back on him.)

Him: Interesting. You should know, I'm very forgiving. You could get away with quite a bit. Depends on what you want.

Okay, he's talking in circles here. I need to go to bed.

Me: Hmmm... I'll have to think about it. (Please stop this now.)

Him: I think you know what you want but you're hesistant to say.

I do? What do I want? I want to go to bed.

Me: You do? What do I want?

Him: I said, YOU know what you want. I know what I want, but that wasn't the question.

I'm officially annoyed. It's too late for double talk, and too much trouble to text this much any time of day.

Me: I want to go to bed by midnight. And have date number two in the bag. (So hurry it up.)

Him: So that means I have 18 minutes to flirt with you?

I can't keep this up for 18 minutes. I let five pass before I write him back.

Me: Sure. So make it count. Give me some good text. (Probably, in hindsight, I shouldn't have said this. )

Him: What, you want to know what I want?

Me: Sure. (Not really, but it will keep me from having to type for a while. I think he's going to ask me out for Valentine's Day or at least say something really nice.)

Him: I want to know how you kiss when you can't resist it, I want to know what the back of your neck smells like, and I want to know what you sound like when you lose control... But we all want things we might not ever know the answer to.

Me: *Blink.* *Blink.* What? Was that a line from a movie? Or has he used that before? I suddenly feel violated and dirty, like I did something wrong. I must have inadvertantly sent out slut signals to receive such an assumptive message. Somewhere in the span of an hour I had gone from feeling like an elusive prize to an easy lay. My whole takeaway from the date was suddenly cheapened.

Me: Okay, that's a bit much. I'm going to bed. Goodnight.

(11:50) Him: Well, you asked. Sleep well.

(Actually, I hadn't asked. He offered.)

(11:55) Him: And for the record, you said make it count.

(12:03) The phone rings. "Did you get offended by that?" He's laughing in disbelief, so rather than apologizing for his overstep, he makes me feel like I need to apologize for my prudishness. Because it is after midnight and I've inexplicably been put on the defense, I am not apologizing for anything, and tell him we can talk about it tomorrow. I hang up. This actually makes me feel worse because, clearly, I must be taking things way too seriously. Some people like dirty texting, I imagine. I may even be one of them, albeit not after a single, two-hour date. Scratch that, I think. I'm not a fan of texting in general. I don't discriminate based on subject matter.

I went to bed pondering how it is possible to have a first fight without even being in a relationship. Will I hear from him today, I wonder, or just get another late-night message? I don't have the desire to get into a teenaged-type text war, but I would like him to know that he made me feel cheapened. And that the back of my neck almost always smells like Gucci. That way, at least, he'll have some idea of what he's missing.