He wanted to kiss me on the first date. I could feel it.

It had been a great night of beer and chicken wings. Laughing at the smear of blue cheese on my cheek and our matching buffalo sauce claws. Easy conversation shouted over a live band. Saying yes to a third drink and getting tipsy enough that when he asked me to dance I said yes yet again.

He spun me around as the band played a song we both knew, but I can’t for the life of me remember. I grinned, in part because it was nice to be in the arms of a man, but also because I knew we were the epitome of white people dancing. The song ended and I quickly rushed my date out the door. In part because it was almost one in the morning, but also because I was a little self-conscious. Did I mention we were the only ones on the dance floor? Still, I’m a sucker for a fella who’s not afraid to dance (as you have seen before many, many, many times).

As we walked down Bleecker Street towards the subway, he reached for my hand. In the chilly, spring, after midnight air, it felt especially nice to have warm fingers grasping mine.
“This is a good first date,” I thought to myself.
Anyone who has ever dated in NYC knows the rarity of that sentiment.

I have no qualms about a kiss on the first date, so the thought was on my mind. No, I wasn’t going to make the first move. Yes, I certainly have before. I made the majority of first moves with the last guy- we all saw where that got me. So, naturally, this time around I wanted everything to be different. But when we reached the West 4th Street station and descended the stairs, I knew there would be no kiss tonight.

The harsh glare of fluorescent lighting bathed us a jaundice hue as we said our good byes. The dirty tiles on the walls the backdrop to a drawn out farewell. A homeless man lay sleeping in the corner on a bed of cardboard boxes. Dozens of people sauntered in and out of the turnstiles, passing us. Yes it was 1AM but remember, this is the city that never sleeps.

I have come to cherish first kisses. They are fleeting, lovely moments. I missed them when I was in a 9 month relationship (red flag much?). It was then I realized when I find the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, I will (hopefully) never have a first kiss ever again. Hey, I told you I was a hopeless romantic. So while I have no problem kissing on the first date, there was no way it was going to happen in a shitty subway station.

Before he could make a move, I made mine. Pulled him in for a hug and offered him my cheek. We parted ways: I went uptown, he went downtown.

That first kiss would just have to wait until next time. I felt pretty confident there would a next time. (I was right- read about the next time here.)

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