I Don’t Want To Decide.

I don’t want to decide.

I don’t want to decide how our date will go. I don’t want to decide where we go, or what I wear, or who will drive, or where we’ll end up.

I don’t want to worry about choosing a restaurant that you’ll like, or wonder if you’ve been there before, or are picky about that kind of cuisine, or dislike the neighborhood it’s in.

I don’t want to hem and haw over which outfit will make me look my best for you, but not too slutty, but isn’t too uncomfortable, but is still sexy. I don’t want to fret over choosing underwear that will sit right under the dress, if I should make it match. If I should wear an unlined bra because you’ll want to touch me through it, or a padded bra because it will make me look stacked in a wiggle dress. 

I don’t want to worry about whether I should meet you there so I have an escape route, or allow you to pick me up because you want to be a gentleman, or take an uber to be safe.

I don’t want to stress over whether taking you home with me tonight is too soon. I don’t want to wonder if you’ll think I’m slutty if I go home with you. I don’t want the night to end too soon because I’ve got ideas in my head of what’s appropriate for a first, second, third, or fourth date. I don’t want to rush into things and spend tomorrow worrying if you think we went too far.

I want you to take the lead. I want you to decide.

I need you to share your preferences, indicate what you would like, or outright make a request. 

Take away my worry by taking away the options that plague me.

You like Thai food and Indian food, or better yet, you want to go to a specific restaurant. You’d like to see me in a little black dress, no panties. You’ll pick me up so we don’t both have to worry about parking. And while you know we both want so much more, you set boundaries for the night because you want me to be comfortable. Because there’s always next time.

I don’t want to decide. I need you to. It’s just so much easier that way.