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"  On the morning of my date with Justin, of course I woke up with an enormous pimple smack dab in the middle of my forehead. &amp;quot;I look like a unicorn!&amp;quot; I wailed to Nina after my attempts to cover it up with concealer only made the thing look more pronounced.  Nina studied my forehead intensely. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m sure the restaurant will be dimly lit.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I just wanted to feel sexy tonight.&amp;quot; I said, forlornly.  &amp;quot;You do! You look great. If you were going on a day date I would be more concerned for you. But you are most definitely going to some romantic little Italian place in the West Village lit with nothing but candles.&amp;quot; She grinned. &amp;quot;And the fiery passion in your loins.&amp;quot;  An hour later, as I sat beneath the fluorescent overhead lights in Nona&amp;#039;s, a brightly lit caf\u00E9 in Little Italy, I slyly undid one more button on my silk shirt. If anything could distract from a humdinger of a zit, cleavage could.  &amp;quot;The spaghetti and meatballs are amazing,&amp;quot; Justin told me as I perused the extensive pasta list.  &amp;quot;Works for me.&amp;quot; I set the menu aside and smiled.  The waitress came by with our carafe of cab and took our order.  Justin took a sip of his wine. &amp;quot;How was your week?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Uh,&amp;quot; I paused. &amp;quot;Eventful would be the best way to describe it.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Eventful can be good.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Sometimes.&amp;quot; I took a big gulp of my wine.  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m sorry if that event was uncomfortable for you last week,&amp;quot; Justin said. &amp;quot;Elizabeth said you had apologized to her and that you two were civil, so I didn&amp;#039;t think it would be a big deal to invite both of you.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Well it wouldn&amp;#039;t have been if, you know\u2026&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oh, I know,&amp;quot; Justin said.  The wine had hit me and I was in a good mood. &amp;quot;You know what? Let&amp;#039;s please, please not talk about Elizabeth tonight.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I can agree to that,&amp;quot; Justin said.  So we talked about our jobs, our friends, our hip flexors (mine have really been bothering me lately!). By the time the bill arrived, I was so not ready to call it a night. But we had practice early the next morning, and I knew I would regret it if we got another drink.  &amp;quot;I would say let&amp;#039;s go get another drink somewhere, but\u2026&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I know,&amp;quot; Justin said. &amp;quot;It won&amp;#039;t be worth it tomorrow. What if we just\u2026walk?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Okay,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;Where?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Over the Brooklyn Bridge maybe?&amp;quot;  If Ashley or Nina suggested this, I would have shut them down so hard. But the idea of taking a stroll along the bridge with Justin sounded like the most romantic thing ever.  We hopped a cab down to Chambers street, and got out just a few blocks west of the bridge. It was a mild night, especially for December, but even so I felt my temperature shoot up a few more degrees when Justin took my hand in his.  The bridge was practically deserted\u2014just a few tourists and random joggers. As we climbed up the Manhattan side, the traffic noise beneath us gradually ceased.  &amp;quot;This is much more pleasant than the last time we were here,&amp;quot; I said to Justin, remembering how painful that run had been.  &amp;quot;It definitely is,&amp;quot; he said, then squeezed my hand.  When we reached the top of the bridge, Justin pulled me towards the south side, all the way up to the edge. I was feeling much sexier in the dim lighting, ready for whatever we were about to do, when Justin dropped my hand and hoisted himself up onto the edge of the bridge.  &amp;quot;What are you doing?&amp;quot; I asked, my palms instantly going sweaty. He was sitting on the edge of the bridge so casually, like it was the kitchen counter or something.  &amp;quot;Come here,&amp;quot; he said, smiling.  &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re making me really nervous,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;Can you, um, not sit there?&amp;quot;  Justin looked over his shoulder. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s fine. Come here.&amp;quot; He patted the spot on the ledge next to him.  I shook my head vigorously, and Justin hopped down off the ledge\u2014thank god\u2014and laughed. He reached out and pulled me against him. &amp;quot;Don&amp;#039;t worry so much,&amp;quot; he whispered, then tilted his head down and kissed me.  My knees went soft, and I leaned into him. Our bodies pressed firmly together and Justin hooked his hands around my waist, holding me against him. The anxiety I&amp;#039;d felt moments before melted away.  I love, love, kissing tall guys. They make me feel like a petite, delicate flower. And Justin was a really good kisser.  &amp;quot;Get a room!&amp;quot;  Justin and I jumped back from each other as a bunch of teenagers whizzed by on their bikes and skateboards, heckling us.  &amp;quot;Get off my lawn!&amp;quot; I fake-hollered at them.  &amp;quot;Okay, Clint Eastwood,&amp;quot; Justin laughed. He took my hand and we made our way back down the bridge. Once we were at street level, Justin hailed me a cab.  &amp;quot;See you tomorrow.&amp;quot; He said, as he tucked me inside. I wanted to kiss him again, but there was a car honking behind us, so I gave him a little wave instead.  Gahhhh. Like this one. A little weirded out by that scene on the bridge, but other than that, I&amp;#039;d say it was pretty much the perfect date. Thoughts? "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a11031/j-bedroom-blog-over-the-bridge/>