We were to meet on the 13th floor at the bar. It was one of my favorite places. I had been there once before and had fallen in love with the ambience and the music. I met him at the entrance, still hesitant. I wasn’t sure how to date someone when I knew my heart truly was someplace else. We walked in, and I did the usual whiskey and fries. He was a beer guy and I never really understood the beer guys. Beer for me was water; never got me anywhere, whiskey and scotch were the real deal. I don’t recall what it was about, but we did have a long conversation. November rain started playing and there were two options ahead of me. Ted or Barney? I chose to be Barney and ignored the ‘so-called’ signs. Hours passed, alcohol and conversations took over. I remember being torn between trying to move on and mourning the loss. I chose to try. We jumped tables, we connected on certain levels, although I believe alcohol did do most of the work. We had the entire city ahead of us, the street lights, the trains moving back and forth, clear dark sky, countless stars, candle lights to exaggerate the mood. This was entirely up to me, I could either accelerate or pull the brakes to a hard stop. I decided to let it go with the flow; such silly beliefs! By then, we were sitting a little too close; wooden bar stools right next to each other, yet another whiskey and beer, the flames of the candle burning resilient. Not entirely sure if it was cold or if I made the classic move; I held his arm for one tenth of a second. Realization hit and I pulled out; but he had to ask, why I’d pulled away. Gentlemen be damned, I wrapped my arms around his, yet again. I looked at the view and turned to look at him, his face was inches away from mine. Ah, fuck it and I bridged the gap. I was taken aback by the level of intensity that followed. My ego just wouldn’t have it; I threw in more passion. In that moment, I was lost in his lips. For that moment, all the heartbreak and misery vanished. The waiters lurked around in the darkness; I wondered, have they no sense of decency? It was us, who was in the wrong here, but to hell with all that. I didn’t mind being a hypocrite for that moment. It was One in the morning when we gathered to leave; we hadn’t had enough though. I made a sour face, as we walked into the elevator; we weren’t alone, and his face reflected my emotions. We realized we’d gone up through a different elevator and proceeded towards the right one again. The doors shut with a chime and we resumed. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me with a passion, I couldn’t possibly top. The 13 floors of the building were whizzing by, as his hands grabbed my hair and his lips ravished mine, almost as if he was racing against the speed of the elevator. We reached the top and we pulled apart for a second, to push the buttons down again. We resumed for what I thought was the last time and I gave myself in completely. Breathless, we walked out, I held onto him as my head spun. We waited for the cab on the street, my thoughts circling back to the last 15 minutes; this was too overwhelming, I had never done anything like this before. The cab arrived, pulling the brakes to my train of thoughts. He held the door open, and I smiled, but then aren’t all men chivalrous on the first date? We sat in the car and I relaxed into the seat, thinking I had plenty of time to think through the night’s events. I gave my address, but he held my hand, pressed it for that one magic second and said, maybe not yours. Chivalrous men be damned, I kissed him again and said maybe not.