Last night I posted a picture on IG talking about #nodietday. Some man commented “Wow impressive hot younger 💋” which makes zero sense, so I liked his comment and moved on. This morning he commented TWO more times and had the AUDACITY to tell me to say thanks. The first comment read “Hi say thanks I think you forgot it” and the second comment said “Say thanks dear.”
1. I do not have to thank you for an unsolicited comment on my appearance, especially one that makes no sense, if I do not want to.
2. You do not control what I do or do not do. I do not have to respond, especially politely, if I do not want to. What gives you the right to think you can tell me what to do?
3. Women are more than just an object to look at and comment on. If you want a genuine thank you back, comment on something more than my appearance, or if you do comment on my appearance “hot” is not the go-to word for that.
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How To Shake A Clinger, And Other Things That Make Me A Horrible Person
(using this picture is one of them)
So, a while back I wrote a couple of posts about The Clinger - a guy I met on OkCupid, had weird bondage-sex with a couple of times, and then couldn't get rid of.
This was, I realize now, mostly my own fault. I totally should have seen it coming. I totally should never have set up the second booty call. And I TOTALLY should never have agreed to a third encounter - this time an actual, dinner-in-a-public-place date.
After our second hookup, I knew I had screwed up. (Okay okay, I knew I had screwed up as soon as I met him, really, but that's not the point.) I was getting daily texts asking about my day, telling me about his day, pictures of what he was wearing to work (yes really I am so not kidding you), asking what I'm thinking about, do I want to see him soon, "i don't know if you noticed but I deactivated my okcupid profile", do I like this or that in bed, bondage things, today I bought new handcuffs look at this does this turn you on when are you coming over again etc etc etc
IT WAS CRAZY AND I COULDN'T HANDLE IT
And so finally after several weeks when he insisted that he wanted to take me out on a "real date", I was like YES OKAY FINE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
I agreed to meet him for dinner one night after my class was over, with the condition that it couldn't be too late because I had to be back in class at 8 the next morning. Somehow this led to him trying to sext, again, and I never play along because I hate sexting, but then I started to get texts like:
"well...as long as I'm not scaring you away i guess that's good?"
"this is me trying to get you to flirt back but i'm having a hard time trying to read/figure you out"
"but you know...our relationship doesn't have to be just physical. or are you content with what we are?"
And instead of responding I decided it was best to just go to bed and deal with it later. Because surely this guy isn't seriously trying to come on this strong intentionally after 2 booty calls. Obviously I was in denial. And also I sort-of wanted that dinner, since he spent all kinds of time talking about how great I was and how he wanted to take me out for something nice.
Turns out that in his mind, "something nice" was the very suburban, middle-aged soccer parents sports bar that was about the halfway point between us. Again, I should have known better. It took about 30 seconds to realize that being out in public with that guy was the absolute last thing I wanted to be doing. In true Clinger fashion, he was all over me. I was literally pulling my hands out of his after he kept trying to hold them across the table while we waited for our food. Finally he called me out, since I was obviously acting incredibly uncomfortable, and all I could say was, "I'm just really not into PDA." It was miserable. I don't even remember what we talked about, all I know is that I have never been more grateful for a TV playing basketball in my line of vision. So we ate, we drank, and we finally reached the point in the conversation where I had to say that I just wasn't interested in any kind of serious relationship. And I don't know if maybe he just chose not acknowledge that fact, or if he really thought he could change my mind, or maybe he just wanted to get laid again? I don't know. I just could NOT get this guy to back down.
After managing to power through our meal, Clinger dragged me out to the car and drove to the empty end of the parking lot. Unfortunately, I was so disinterested by this point that even parking lot sex sounded like a chore. It didn't help when he pulled out a bag from the backseat that is apparently used for toting around handcuffs and ball gags. My first instinct was just to say something along the lines of, "You have GOT to be kidding me with this I am so out," and push him off of me. Instead, I just decided to distract him with a blowjob and go on my way.
Another huge mistake.
I literally had a text waiting for me when I got in my car about how amazing it was. And then another text about 10 minutes later about how sexy I was. And then another text the next morning. And the next. And the next, saying that he was going out of town for 2 weeks. And then 5 days later, asking if I had plans (even though he was still gone), and then saying that he'll be home in another week. Attempts at sexting. "One more day here, so ready to come home!" Paragraph about feelings on travel. "I'm back until Sunday!"
It was so much. So much all the time. Mostly I didn't respond, and if I did it was pretty much small talk or sarcastic responses to get out of sexting. I didn't really think too much about it until I got a text saying that he was moving, and "should be closer to your next of the woods!"
And then I started to get a liiiiitle weirded out. He was texting constantly, telling me about moving, when he was getting the keys, when he was going to have the place all to himself, asking me about free nights and how he can't wait to have me over. I tried to be cordial but non-committal; lots of "Okay, great, I'll let you know when I'm not so busy." "Oh, I'd love to, but I'm really not feeling well." After a few weeks, I started to run out of excuses. I finally caved and said I could maybe stop by on my way home one day. He suggested a day, I agreed, and I magically didn't hear from him for almost a week.
And I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT when he first checked in the day before to see if we were still on, but I didn't. I don't even know why. I guess I sort of felt bad for the guy - he was obviously super into me and trying so fucking hard, and I was going to have to break his heart eventually. And I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT when he texted the day of, to check on my schedule for the night, and I just said I'd have to give him an ETA closer to time. And I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT when I used my first excuse to delay, which was that my friend was in emotional crisis. (For the record, it was actually true.) But instead of just saying we'd have to rain check, I said I'd let him know when I could escape.
Finally, 3 hours later, I asked if we could postpone to the following week. All I got in response was, "Sure!" and then nothing for 2 days. I felt sort of bad. But mostly relieved.
He sent a text asking if I'd seen a movie that had just come out. I had. We both liked it.
Two days after that he sent a series of texts about the bondage equipment he got online from a company that was going out of business. I never responded. And I never heard from him again.
I'll be honest - I was pretty terrible to this guy. He was actually a very nice person. I guess maybe, in some sort of twisted way, I led him on a little bit and generally I am not somebody who wastes time on that sort of shit. But to be fair - THIS LITERALLY STARTED WITH A BONDAGE BOOTY CALL, OKAY. How was I ever supposed to know that after two, count them, TWO random sexual encounters this guy was going to be so attached to some girl he met on the internet and has only met in the real world a handful of times? It just doesn't make any sense. There's no way bondage kink and super-clingy tendencies could have gone together in my head. So, whatever.
I guess I sort of just got lucky with this one, too - he must have gotten the hint and finally given up without me having to do too much of the work. Oh god, it could have been so much worse.
And so concludes the story of The Clinger. There haven't been any more so far, thank god. But as usual, I'll keep you posted.
Alright, guys (and also ladies who bring hookups home that don't have coffee in their kitchens, but I just feel like that is far less frequent because we know about the caffeine, RIGHT LADIES), it's time we had a discussion.
A discussion about coffee.
The thing about coffee is that there are a hell of a lot of people in the world, including myself, who need it to live. There are also a lot of people who don't, but most of the time those people aren't out in the middle of the week getting drunk and going home with somebody who has to get up at 8am for work the next day. More power to you if you can start your day without caffeine, but not all of us have those kind of magic abilities. Me. I don't have them. I NEED THE COFFEE.
The point here is that I've had this recurring problem where I stay over at a guy's place for the first time, and then in the morning there is absolutely no coffee to be found. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm not sure I can name a SINGLE guy I've woken up with that had coffee in his kitchen, at least not the first time. Repeat offenders are usually threatened until they at least keep some Instant in stock.
Allow me to give you some examples.
---
The first time I ever stayed over with The Highbrow was a very spontaneous, drunk decision. I'd actually spent the first part of the night with these two bros I'd met in a class, and we were celebrating the defeat of said class by sitting around his apartment, drinking lots of vodka and smoking lots of weed. We had a super hilarious lust-triangle going: I was trying to get with Bro#2, and Bro #3 (I'm adding them to the Stoner Bros list, and I already have a Bro #1, just trying to keep it organized) was trying to get with me. But both of them appreciated the dress I was wearing. (By "dress" I of course mean cleavage.)
Anyway, I discovered in the course of this night that not only was Bro #2 significantly younger than me (if you saw a picture I PROMISE you wouldn't blame me, so shut up), but he also had a girlfriend (who, oddly enough, is older than me, and I recently saw on Facebook that they're engaged now.) But his girlfriend wasn't there, and I was fairly inebriated, and flirting never hurt anyone, so I continued to sit on the counter and mix drinks while he made a huge bowl of ramen for our munchies. And when Bro #2 got a phone call it never occurred to me that maybe I should turn down the volume on my talking/laughing to Bro #3, and then all of a sudden Bro #2 was sitting on the floor in his bedroom trying to calm down his hysterical crazy jealous girlfriend because there was another woman in the house.
After about an hour of this, combined with Bro #3 trying hard to make his move, I decided it was clearly time to escape. I texted TH, he was awake, told me to come on over. After finally kissing Bro #3 goodbye and telling him we could meet up again later (I haven't seen him since), I cracked a beer for the road and went on my way.
I rolled up at Highbrow's around 1am, and we immediately did a tequila shot and then went ahead with kitchen-counter sex. Now, tequila is pretty much the only liquor that will really, REALLY fuck me up, and so obviously we did another shot before we went upstairs. I think there was also wine involved? But this is where it starts to get fuzzy. I'm pretty sure this was only our...fourth?...time having sex, and sometimes when I'm very drunk I get a little...aggressive. I have been known to leave scratch marks, in my time. But I guess this tapped into his penchant for biting, because the next day I had several pretty impressive marks - fortunately I had enough sense to make sure they ended up someplace I could cover. (Mostly thighs, if you were curious.) The best part of this story I actually learned from him later, when he told me that towards the end I straight up pushed him off of me and declared myself done for the night, apparently right before he finished. Occasionally I am a selfish drunk.
Anyway, we passed out, and the next morning he got up at 9am and told me he was leaving in half an hour. And I said fine, is there any coffee? And there wasn't. And so he kicked me out at 9:30, hungover as hell, to go and find my own fucking coffee in an unfamiliar part of town. I'm pretty sure driving hungover, after 3 hours of sleep, with zero caffeine is way more dangerous than any other influence. I'm completely serious.
---
The next time I saw TH was slightly more planned: I'd been texting him all night while I was out barhopping with friends, initially trying to get him to come meet us, and once it got late just trying to get laid. He was at home, very drunk, and suggested that I wait and come by in the morning on my way home, AND that he would make coffee. Because both my libido and caffeine addiction operate at dangerously high levels, I accepted.
I woke up on my friend's couch in the morning, shook my hair out, smudged my leftover eyeliner, threw on some deodorant, and grabbed some gas station coffee on the way. And it's a GOOD FUCKING THING, because guess who didn't have ANY COFFEE when I arrived? This motherfucker was literally taking off my clothes while I just stood there, drinking my gas station coffee. I brought the coffee to bed. I was leaning over for sips while he was going down on me. This is how important coffee is. After we were done, I immediately rolled over and grabbed the coffee.
(This story actually ends with me going home, and him sending me a text asking if, for MY birthday, I wanted him to get a hotel and we could have a threesome with one of MY friends. True life. But I'm trying to stay on topic. Sort of.)
---
My first hookup with The Boozer was similar. (Also I feel like I've told at least the beginning of this story before. But, whatever. You'll deal.) We'd met at a house party, where my original intention was actually to try and sleep with the host. (I'd been after this guy forEVER.) The issue here was that the host had a girlfriend. This wasn't a new issue with him, but even worse: She was actually present at this party. And I was very, very drunk. All leaning against the wall, stirring my drink (with a fork, I was later told), flirting my wasted ass off, all while Girlfriend is standing right there, claws in the poor guy's arm. At some point I finally decided it was a lost cause, and I scanned the room for a new conquest. TB was the new guy, a friend of a coworker-friend, and we'd had some casual party interaction, I think. He was the first single, straight guy I spotted, and so I called it. To this day I have absolutely NO idea what I said to him, all I remember is grabbing my purse and running out the door.
The sex was, from what I remember, pretty enjoyable. I woke up relatively early the next morning, fortunately facing away from him so I could take a minute to check out my surroundings and try to remember how I got there. The morning sex, which I definitely remember, was also enjoyable. Plus, it was interrupted by a knock on his door by a bible salesman, which made it even better. What WASN'T enjoyable was when I finally got up to go to the bathroom, almost fell over, and asked if he had any coffee. He didn't, shocker. Fortunately, I didn't have my car or most of my belongings, so he was stuck with me and took me to get breakfast. And also mimosas. And also then we had an hour to kill so we walked around a furniture store. But I'm getting off-topic again.
Of course, he's been the most frequent flyer, so after about a month he started keeping coffee around.
---
I only ever stayed at The Clinger's that one time, and I am pretty sure I wrote about how much of a disaster that was already, ESPECIALLY when he didn't have any coffee. I think he even had a coffee maker, just nothing to put in it. I just don't understand. What is going ON with you guys?! I get that some people just don't need caffeine like I do, fine. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen Boozer drink coffee - he can just jump out of bed after a night of drinking and be all ready to go, it's fucking insane. A few of these guys (including Highbrow and Stoner Bro #1) don't even have food or dishes or appliances or ANYTHING in their kitchens, which blows my mind even more. Are men just better at mornings than women? I can't think of a single girl I know that doesn't have a coffee maker.
Anyway, I'm starting to get ramble-y, so I'll wrap this up. The moral of the story is this:
MEN. DO YOU WANT WOMEN (okay, me, and all the women I know, because we all like coffee) TO WANT TO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH YOU?
IF YOU MAKE THEM COFFEE THE MORNING AFTER, THEY WILL WANT TO FUCK YOU AGAIN.
Assuming, you know, that you were good. And they don't hate you. Or anything. You know what I mean.
But seriously, and this applies to everybody, regardless of gender: If you're going to bring people home, I feel like you should be better prepared for mornings. Because nothing is better than a good morning-after, you know? Morning sex, coffee, maybe eggs or toast or something, showers. It's nice.
OOH. Speaking of showers! You know what else you should get?!
- So much random, seemingly unplanned travelling, frequently international
- He calls me "babe" a lot. And I'm just automatically suspicious of anyone who says "babe" a lot
- He doesn't act/look like he has all kinds of money, but just bought himself a new car and a new house and had almost no furniture or dishes but the bar is fully stocked with Top Shelf Booze
- Because all drug runners drink scotch, yeah?
- Yeah.
- He's a "writer"
- With a "day job in finance"
- One time he told me his bosses wanted to come see his new place over lunch...? What? Weird, right?
- OBVS DRUG LORDS
- OR THE MOB
- OOOH
- MAYBE HE WORKS FOR THE MOB
- GET SOME GODFATHER SHIT GOING ON UP IN HERE
- I'm going to suggest a movie night of all mob movies because I'm clearly a genius
- Has all kinds of friends come in from out of town that he's always responsible for "entertaining"
- Because
- You know
- Friends. And drugs. I mean. Right?
- I MEAN
- "I'm entertaining some friends who are here for the microsoft convention."
- BULLLLLLSHIIIIITT
- Random texts like "Hey babe, I'm going abroad tomorrow for a 7 day vacation. See you when I get back." are, like, weird? What about your day job? And, like, I just saw you 4 days ago and you never said anything about that? Also, "abroad"? Just "abroad"? That's pretty vague, bro.
- One time he went to a wedding in Columbia.
- You know Columbia.
- Where the drugs are.
- "...leaving for Columbia tomorrow for a wedding, be back in a week, want me to bring you anything?"
- DRUGS
- BRING ME THE COCAINE
- Also this was literally 2 days after I'd seen him last. Who doesn't even bring up a trip like that?!
- Anyway. The point is: Drugs. Right? Totally drugs.
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In which I bang 2 men within an hour of each other.
True story.
So I've got this whole "Practically Insatiable Sexual Appetite" thing going on, right?
And, so, there was this point where both The Highbrow and The Clinger were super into me and wanting to see me all the time, right?
And, so, the obvious course of action was to see them both in the same night, right? Because I'm so busy and that's just the most efficient use of my limited free time, right? RIGHT?
...Yeah.
If I'm honest, I'm not really sure how I even managed to set this up. If I remember correctly, this was less than a week after my first hookup with Clinger, who had been texting me approximately a million times a day whether or not I responded, and even Highbrow had been upping the text frequency from his normal, totally acceptable amount, and so I was starting to feel more than a little smothered (not that it takes much, for me). I had one night completely open in my weekend, so I decided to consolidate in order to have an excuse to keep the interactions brief.
TH had been less annoying and was ahead by one date, so I gave the dinner-time slot to him with the qualifier that I had to be home relatively early. Clinger got the "I'm busy all day but I can come over later that night?" slot, since I was under the impression that we were only about sex, anyway. They both took me up on my offers, and off I went on my 2-in-1 conquest.
Since TH is even worse than I am at being on time (which is an impressive feat), I made my way through a beer and a half at the restaurant bar before he even arrived. For whatever reason he enjoys ordering 4 or 5 things off of the menu and sharing between us, as well as many many drinks. Like I said before, this is pretty much the reason we got along. Also I never had to pay for any of it, so there's that.
So, yeah, dinner was pretty standard, we drank a lot and ate a lot and I rambled a lot and he probably also rambled a lot while he stared at my boobs and such. Anyway, once we felt buzzed enough we decided it was time to get on out of there and get to the sex part, since I had to "be home early" and all. When planning the evening, I had assumed that meeting him close to his place of residence would mean running back there for a quick hook up after dinner - but as we walked to our cars he informed me that his place was out of the question since he was temporarily putting up a relative. Or something. We resigned ourselves to another night of sex in public, got in his car, and drove to the park down the street.
Since the car sex on our second date hadn't been super kind to either of us, we opted for the park soccer field, behind the goal. (Because that would shield us from cops, obviously.) Protip: having sex in a location that makes it illegal is a GREAT way to make mediocre sex more exciting. Also, moonlight is always really flattering, especially when you're on top doing all the work. Again.
Aaaanyway, soccer field hookup came (on his part) and went, I cleaned up in a pretty sketchy but not entirely unsanitary park bathroom, and went on my way. The drive to Clinger's was about 20 minutes, which gave me plenty of time to fix makeup (I'm a pro at applying makeup while driving, I know you're shocked), perfume, change undergarments, and just generally refresh and reset.
When I arrived, Clinger met me outside again and made some kind of joke about "I didn't know if you'd remember where you were going haha lol" and I laughed because I totally didn't have any memory at all. There was no pretense of dinner this time, and we went straight to the bedroom, shedding clothing as we went.
Now, in true clinger fashion, I'd been getting COUNTLESS text messages from this guy every single day leading up to this night about anything and everything. In particular, he'd been asking me about my BDSM preferences, since he'd apparently been "taking it easy" the last time, and wanted to know how far he could take it. Since I didn't think he'd appreciate, "I'd prefer for you to not speak and also to maybe stay out of my line of vision," I decided just to tell him roughness wasn't an issue and to just go for it, minus choking. None of that mess.
So, okay. I don't know if any of you guys have, like, been handcuffed to a chair while mostly naked? And maybe this is just further proof that this whole thing isn't really my bag, but I was really just concerned that it was not exactly my most flattering position, and, okay, I guess some guys get off on getting head from girls handcuffed to chairs? I don't know, man. I couldn't even tell you what all he was doing to me while I was in this chair, because it was boring and I was mostly just waiting for him to let me out so we could bang already. And he did, eventually, and it was actually not bad. Bonus: being tied up during sex means you actually CAN'T do any of the work, so it was pretty opposite from the soccer field incident an hour (maybe?) before.
And then, because I'm an idiot, I drank too much of his gin afterwards and got very drunk and slept over.
You guys.
Listen.
DON'T. SLEEP OVER. WITH CLINGERS.
It took me months to shake this guy. MONTHS. But more on that later.
Fortunately we both had to be up super early for work the next morning, and there was only brief cuddling before he got up to get in the shower. I think he was trying to hint for me to join him, but I'm the opposite of a morning person, so I wasn't sure? Not that I planned to, anyway - I was actually trying my best to escape while he was still in the bathroom. I failed, of course, and was forced to endure another 15 minutes of Clinger-morning, WITH NO COFFEE, because none of these fucking guys drink coffee and I DO NOT UNDERSTAND but whatever moving on
Walked me to the car, kissed me goodbye, acted all lovey-dovey and made me want to die and finally I got away. And that was that.
I mean, for that day.
Anyway, I feel like this was a super anti-climactic ending, sorry, I don't really know what happened while I was writing this. BUT THE POINT IS:
I slept with 2 guys within an hour of each other because I am a sex goddess and that is all.
Also, I have now been challenged to do 4 in one day/night - I have not yet accomplished this. But! CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
I suppose this is something I should have expected to come out of internet dating, but I was absolutely in no way prepared for it.
I suppose this is something I should have expected to come out of internet dating, but I was absolutely in no way prepared for it.
(This one was still my favorite even with the typo. So I'm keeping it.)
Not long after my first internet date, I got a message from a guy that actually included some questions that would actually be worth a response. My profile evaluation to determine if I actually want to message back goes mostly like this:
Pictures. Sorry bro, if I don't find you attractive at all it's not going to happen.
Also I don't like guys who are shorter than me.
If he can't construct a basic sentence or use apostrophes: pass.
See how much I can read through without getting bored. If I can get through most of it and still be marginally interested, congrats!
Check the questions to make sure he knows the sun is bigger than the earth. And, you know, that's he not racist, homophobic, all kind of misogynistic, or just generally horrible. (Read: Conservative.)
Generally if a profile can survive all these steps and the initial message was in any way decent, I'll send something back. No, this doesn't happen very frequently.
Anyway, this guy seemed very nice and relatively normal (if super nerdy, but I'm into it), and so we got to talking. Basic stuff at first: work, books, movies, general entertainment...and then, a few messages in, I got this:
"I think the idea of a dating website is great in theory. But in practicality every girl on this site probably has a ton of guys she can talk to and I know if I'm talking to someone I'm not the "only one" in her life. Last date I went on from this website the girl was telling me about her FWB (friends with benefits) she has and it was strike 1, 2, and 3 instantly. So if you do have a FWB just don't tell me.
Sorry for the rant, I'm about to head to bed and felt like sharing to a stranger. I like confiding in strangers too at bars (and the internet). It's fun... I don't like telling my RL friends because I feel it shows weakness (know what I mean?)."
But it was late, and obviously I wasn't about to tell him anything about my current sex life, and so I just let it slide. Sometimes people ramble, I do it all the time. No big deal.
Conversation picked up again the next night, and went right back to normal talk. It was the weekend, and we had both come in from nights of lightish drinking, both keeping up the buzz in our respective homes. And so, when I asked him what he does in his free time and he gave me a complete run-down of his weekly schedule, I just blamed it on booze and moved on to something else. And when he said he just happened to have an extra ticket to see his favorite band on Saturday night (I was actually busy, didn't even lie), I thought that was a little weird, but whatever. Maybe somebody just cancelled on him. I didn't know his life. And then when he asked me to come over and offered to make margaritas and asked if I had an early morning...
I started to get a little suspicious.
Now, I am OBVIOUSLY not against booty calls. But the whole conversation was just starting to feel a little strange, and clearly just heading over to some guy's apartment when you met on the internet three days ago is never a good idea. So I passed on that one, and then he said this:
"well what night are you available? I'd love to make you a nice drink and listen to music and figure out who you are."
"Figure out who you are" is never, EVER a good sign. Ever. Not a single time has a guy ever said any kind of variation of those words to me and something good happened. I've gotten all kinds of that shit from guys in my life, about being "mysterious" or "different" or "hard to read" or just a simple, "You're so cool, you're not like any other girls I know." Which, okay, I get that. I'm not like most of the girls I know, either. Girls suck. Girls are the worst. I know that. But, oddly enough, it's never those guys that stick around. It's always, 100% percent of the time, the guys that hang out with me a bit and then say, "Okay, yeah. I know you. I know your deal," and aren't afraid to call me out.
Aaaanyway, this guy. I'd manage to steer the conversation back to smaller talk for a bit, and then he was about to call it a night (which for whatever reason is the same as "give me your number so we can text"), AND THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN TO EVERYONE'S COMPLETE SHOCK AND AWE
He tries for the sexting route. But wait, there's more! Not only is this guy into sexting, he is also the proud owner of quite a bondage kink.
Of course. OF COURSE this guy is into bondage. OF COURSE HE IS. So, now we have a problem. No no, it's not what you think it is.
Because now...NOW I'm intrigued.
Bondage isn't something I'd had much experience in up until this point. I'd never been with somebody who was into it, and as much as I'd tried to introduce a bit of tying-up with The Ex (more on that later), it never really caught on. Plus, it always ended with me doing the tying, which is fun and all, but sometimes a girl gets tired of men always being so intimidated by her, you know?
And so the curious sex addict in me took over, and we made plans for the following week.
Looking back, the problem here was glaringly obvious. I mean, maybe telling me paragraphs of information about his life and hopes and dreams were all a part of his tactic to get me into his bed/handcuffs and leave it at that, but that's a hell of a lot of conversation for a booty call. Also, I have never had a booty caller offer to make me dinner and text me questions about my foods and drinks of choice for days before our meeting. But it was too late, I had the sex blinders on, I couldn't be stopped.
The day has come, and I have chosen the most easily torn-open dress I own for the occasion (I mean, it snaps, no way I'm letting him actually destroy my clothing). He meets me outside when I arrive, and is immediately handsy, not to mention shorter than I was anticipating. (Seriously, guys, don't lie about your height on the internet. Lame.) There are about 6 minutes of small talk in the kitchen as he fills a pot with water for pasta before he stops pretending and pushes me against the counter, discovers the snaps, and then practically drags me to the bedroom.
And so this is all fun and great and whatever, but he's clearly taking it pretty easy in order to not scare me off (as easy as you can take it when you've got somebody cuffed, I guess), and also...I realize that maybe I'm not so cut out for this sort of thing. There are two reasons for this:
I am, by nature, almost never intimidated by people. In any situation. So rough sex is all fine and dandy, but I guess I just can't take any kind of submission seriously.
I am even less intimidated by people who have the exact opposite of intimidating-sounding voice. Like, think of how David Beckham looks, and then think about the first time you heard him talk. (If you haven't, you gotta Youtube that shit like right now.)
I laughed. Literally LOLing. And he's asking me what I'm laughing at in what I assume he thinks is his sexy aggressive voice, and I just keep saying, "Oh, no, nothing," because as long as I can shut up him up the sex is actually pretty great (and also he is seriously packing, I won't lie). The funniest thing is that there comes a point where men simply lose control of the situation, because, you know, dicks. And since he's all NO YOU HAVE TO FINISH OR I'M A FAILURE, I end up taking over anyway. Typical. We get to the end, he uncuffs me, and then gets all touchy and wrist-massage-y and I throw on my clothes and practically sprint for the kitchen because holy god do I need a fucking drink already.
So I have my fucking drink already and he finally makes food, and so we sit and drink and eat and recharge for a bit. Also his roommate shows up and so we do a shot with him, and naturally he is infinitely more attractive and more hilarious and less socially awkward, goddammit. Anyway, I'm drinking gin like it's water, as I do, and trying desperately to avoid the couch cuddling that he's trying to make happen, and decide that the only effective way to do this is more sex. SURPRISE, he went for it.
And then I left.
Unfortunately he did not fall asleep, and so he actually got up and walked me out and tried to convince me to stay. Fortunately, I was not drunk enough to respond with, "Listen, man, I was actually hoping you'd pass out like a normal douchey guy so I could sneak out and not do this." No, I humored him and kissed him goodbye and agreed we'd do it again soon. Which, to be fair, I was totally game for.
What I WASN'T game for was a text 10 minutes later about how great the night was. And then another one an hour later asking if I got home okay. And then a "good morning" text. And then another text asking if I'd be free a few days later. And then texts multiple times a day every day after that, regardless of whether or not I responded.
My first real-life date with a man from the internet was, surprisingly, not unsuccessful.
About a month after I jumped into the internet dating pool I got a message from this guy about boozing preferences (which is pretty common considering the amount of times I talk about drinking on my profile). Turns out we both drink like its our job, and frequent a lot of the same bars, so we set up a date at one of my regular places on a random weekday when it would be less crowded.
A few days before the date, I was updating my mother on this guy's stats because she is ungodly nosy and also ecstatic that maybe I will not die alone under a pile of animals and empty wine bottles after all, when all of the sudden she says, "So, what's his name?"
I opened my mouth to respond, because obviously I've been talking to this guy on the internet for a few weeks and I'm meeting him in less than 48 hours so obviously I know what is name is OBVIOUSLY, but nothing came out.
Because (obviously), I didn't know his name.
Thinking that he must have introduced himself in either a message or on his profile and I was just incredibly indifferent, I logged in and scanned through his (incredibly verbose and pretentious-sounding) profile and our conversation. No dice. He never told me his name, and I clearly didn't even think to ask, since my name is part of my username so I never have to actually introduce myself. I contemplated sending a quick, "Uh, yeah, so, what's your name again?" text message, but decided it was far past the point of no return. I resigned myself to Mystery Date.
And so, the day of the date arrived, and I was starting to feel a bit panicky. Fun facts about me: I don't date. I don't like dates. I almost never go on what people consider traditional "dates" even when I'm actually in a relationship with someone. I'm bad at it. It's just not my bag. So, trying to psych myself up for a date with a nameless man from the internet wasn't exactly an easy feat. I decided the best course of action was to arrive at least half an hour early for two reasons:
1. I could down at least one drink before my date could possibly arrive to calm my nerves
2. As many times as I had looked back at his profile pictures so I wouldn't miss him, I hate having to find the person I'm meeting at the bar. (Also, I am easier than most to pick out in a crowd, so, whatever.)
Of course, since I'm perpetually late, I ended up only arriving about 5 minutes before our scheduled time. Fortunately, Mystery Date was even later. He didn't show up for another 20 minutes, which gave me plenty of time to claim a prime in-view-of-the-door-but-not-looking-that-direction seat at the bar, get 90% of the way through my G+T, and tell the bartender I was on an internet date so he would maybe not charge me for the drink I ordered on my own.
Fortunately, Mystery Date had no trouble locating me when he walked in. Came right over, gave me an awkward side hug, and introduced himself right into my ear but it was loudish and I wasn't ready for it and so I missed it.
I MISSED IT.
And then, because I'm an incredibly awkward human being, I didn't immediately ask him to repeat himself, and so then it was REALLY past the point of no return, and I knew I was going to have to go through this entire date without having any fucking idea what this guy's name was.
Which is exactly what I did.
6(?) drinks, 2 games of Jenga, 1 failed attempt at stealing a bocce ball court spot, and a few hours of mostly my nervous rambling in response to his questions about myself later, we decided we should probably close our tabs before we were too drunk to drive. The great thing about alcohol is that is the perfect way to get rid of any fucks you might give, and so as we walked out I turned around and proudly declared, "You know what, I should tell you, I went through this entire goddamn night without having any idea what your name was."
And, I'll be honest - this is probably the reason I agreed to see him again, he cracked up and said, "OH thank god, I have no idea what yours is either!"
So we ended the night with a proper introduction (I will refer to him from now on as The Highbrow, since he is a sort-of pretentious, intellectual, writer-type), a drunk and sort-of hot second-base makeout against the wall of the parking garage, and went our separate ways.
In case you're wondering, the fact that this is how my first internet date went is pretty typical. Welcome to my life.
