Half Assed Dating

I don't really go on Ok Cupid dates anymore.  Mainly because I'm dating someone, but also because I have a new job that's actually hard.  I work about 5-8 more hours a week, and another hour or 2 or commuting every day.  I travel for work often enough that it would make scheduling dates harder.  Traveling for work is awesome.  You get to stay in a hotel for 2-3 nights, expense your meals, and you have an excuse to do vacationy things.

I got to go to Santa Fucking Barbara this week, and accidentally ended up on 2 unplanned first date scenarios.  So, suck on that, Dudes of Ok Cupid Who Claim They Travel Too Much To Have Time For Dating.  Just do it on location.  You know you're gonna have some time to kill.

I really wanted a margarita and some tacos.  Based on Yelp, I went to the only Mexican restaurant that had a full bar. After I'd had an amazing jalapeno margarita and some average tacos, the guy two seats away asks if I'd like to do a tequila shot with him and his friend.

You can't really think about it too long, before you answer.  Is this a bad idea?  I'm 3 blocks from my hotel, I don't have to be at work until 9 tomorrow, and it's only 7 pm now.  I'm in a public place, and there is no reason I will need to get in a car with this or any other dude.

I switched to the barstool in between us.  He said his name was Mario.  He was wearing a tee shirt that said "What Happens in Santa Barbara Stays in Santa Barbara," so I could be certain I wouldn't be tempted to have sex with him later, no matter how many tequila shots went down.

Mario launched into a monologue about being a fisherman and how cool it is.  Turns out whales are actually scary.  Then we spent a lot of time discussing the man at the end of the bar, because he looked like some actor
"....in the movie with like, snow and winter.."
" 'The Grey?'  Hugh Jackman?"
"   and he's trying to save his daughter..."
" 'Taken?' Liam Neeson?"
"No, no, I know you know who I'm talking about, I just can't place it."
"Ryan Gosling?  Channing Tatum?  Oh Oh I Know!  Morgan Freeman!  Sorry, no, seriously... Steven Baldwin?  Sean Connery?"
"Are you just naming actors?"
"No.  Why would you say that?"

It was Dennis Quaid.  I think it's so funny how that romantic comedy dialogue works so well when you're not at all into someone.  We talked about food and family and work and all the standard first date shit.  He took every opportunity to touch my hand as though it was part of the conversation.  Where do guys learn how to do this shit?

We moved on to probably the best drinking environment I've ever encountered- it was a little no-sign bar, called The Back Room, and the patio was like... Ok, everything in California is gorgeous, but this place was really cool. I'd be there every weekend if I lived there.  Large-scale wicker furniture with big cushions you could lounge around upon, tiki torches and rustic tea light holders, tropical plants in the corners that draped over me like a little canopy, not a single person who looked like they were from the Jersey Shore, and a bartender who might have been Owen Wilson.  I sighed a little about how beautiful everything was (cause I'm that guy)

"Don't leave," he said.

"I know, right?!"

"No, I'm serious.  Do you have to leave?  Can you change your ticket?"

"Um, for a few $100, so, no."

"I don't care, I'll pay for it."

"That's insane."

"I really like you.  Like, I really, REALLY like you.  I don't even understand it.  Why do I like you so much?  Why?"

"Is that an actual question? Like, do you want to know why, or you're just, like, saying?"

"Um, no I want to know, cause I don't get it. My friends set me up with girls, and they're great and all, but I just don't feel it.  With you, I totally feel it, I think you're amazing and I don't want you to leave.  Why is that?"

"No, really, that's a serious question?  Like, you would like me to answer?"

"yes, I wanna know what's up,"

"Well, no one set you up with me, so you weren't expecting or anticipating anything.  I wasn't, either, so there's no pressure on you.  And you know I'm gonna leave in a minute.  If I was sitting here saying 'next weekend we should do stuff, and next month we you should meet all my friends,' it would worry you, cause now I'm having expectations.  I don't want anything from you.  Plus, you know I'm leaving on Friday.  So, obviously that helps.  I mean, I could keep going?"

"Yeah but, I really like you!"

Oh... I don't even know what to do with you.

He walked me the block and a half back to my hotel, and in the parking lot, I said bye, and he didn't try to kiss me or anything.  I've been on dates where the guy didn't seem to show any interest until the end of the date when I was surprise-made-out with.  Mario was all about physical contact, in a totally non creepy way (he only touched my hand or shoulder, not my neck, my hip, my ass.)  I was complicit in the hand touching but didn't really reciprocate.  Like an adult, he picked up on it and didn't try to kiss me.  Even though he was painfully un-self-aware, he had a really good sense of what was friendly and what was inappropriate.  Good job, Mario.  

I had told him I was in town for 2 more days, but I didn't hear from him while I was there.  After I'd been home for a day, he texted a few times "I want 2 C U," and I didn't answer, cause c'mon.  The second night I was there, I got to have another weird version of a first date, this time with an adult.

SincereGuy

Sincere Guy: Hey. How was your week? What are you up to?

(Me:  looks at his profile.  20 minutes pass)

SincereGuy: Lets keep it real.. I was that bad lol?

Me:Nooo! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be an asshole. But, I mean, pretty low match %, we seem to have very different interests and values, 

And your username sounds like you're being ironic. I mean, I don't think you are, and of course it's indicative of my problem, right, that actual sincerity is mistaken for irony. But telling someone you're funny is not as effective as making them laugh; telling someone you're smart is not as effective as making them think, y'know? "Show, don't tell," and all that. Again, I don't want to dismiss someone for their earnestness... And there might be plenty of girls who search for #sincere, but it was a turnoff for me, I guess? 

I mean, since you asked. 
My profile could use some work too, I know

Sincere Guy: That's retarded.. Cause I mean what I say. I am bad. Well actually no it makes sense. Girls like guys who lie and cheat and fuck anything that walks. I was really just starting conversation. And no I wouldn't say you're too good for me.. Lets keep it real!

Me: I didn't respond; and you insisted on a response. I said nothing critical of you. I just tried to explain my reaction, since you seemed interested. 

I'm sorry if I've upset you; I didn't mean to imply anything like that, and it is in no way a criticism of you. Please read my response again, if you think it was "retarded" of that I said you were "bad," 

Sincerity is important to me, but it's something that you pick up in context. 

I am not criticizing sincerity, I'm only suggesting there is a better way to get that across. I went out with someone once who gave a long speech about how he totally had never raped anyone. I generally assume most guys haven't, but the fact that he brought it up for no reason was ominous. I mean, "the lady doth protest to much," you know? 

I don't understand the basis of your reference to "girls liking guys who lie." I said that you came of as inauthentic, although I didn't think that was the case. Meaning, I certainly didn't think you were a lying, but that your delivery triggered the reaction. My intention was to help, since you asked. 

I would never think you or anyone else would say I'm "too good" for anyone. Where did that even come from? 

You implied that I was a girl who "liked guys who lie and cheat and fuck anything that walks." Is that because I didn't want to date you? I gave you some suggestions on your writing style. Have you always hated women?

Sincere Guy: When dis I say I wanted to date you? Are you tucking serious? I don't date gaps... 

And I erased the last message. It was retarded... 

You shouldn't just assume. 

And not always hated women but moat are pigs. Besides my mom and sister. Both amazing people. But ever since I had to get rid of my ex on my 30th bday cause she was stuck on some loser who creates on her then died. I bought her a Michelle watch and ahead said it was important cause he was supposed to buy her one. Like later bitch. Bahah..

Me: I'm really worried for you. you are the worst person I have ever interacted with. I think you should talk to someone. 

If English is not your first language, I'm sorry for the confusion. 

If you're just that drunk, I'm sorry

Sincere Guy: Haha no that's my phone.. I am a great person actually I just keep it real. When did I say I wanted to date you? Lets keep it real.. 

And since you wanna be rude. I have a good dentsit you want his number?

And why cause I don't have sympathy for some bitch stuck on some guy who cheated on her? Cheaters are losers.

Me: I'm actually not that concerned with making myself look the way you think I should, but thanks. 

I didn't say you wanted to date me. You sent me a message, on a dating site, and you were hurt that I didn't respond. It's ok. 

I'm not being rude. 
I'm horrified.

Sincere Guy: I was hurt haha. Ok. No I just didn't understand how a average looking girl would be too good to say anything. I don't date Wc girl anyway they are horrible. Plus what if I bring her out and my buddy says I just banged her baha

Not really sure why either of us are entertaining this conversation you just weren't interested

Me: yeah, no I mean, I'm so concerned for you, that you've never been told what a piece of shit you are. If I can have any effect on that, if there's a chance you'll take a look at yourself address what's really bothering you. 

In the meantime, please don't leave your house. you're the worst human being I've ever interacted with and I hope you can change

Sincere Guy: Why cause I keep it real. I was joking about some things. But I do think Cheaters are losers. And lets keep it real when did I ask to date you? Do I look desperate?

Me: you didn't. I never said you wanted to date me. I said I didn't want to date you. 

You have said you don't want to date me, even though I sure didn't ask. 

see how that works? 

you messaged me. if my face is that fucked up, and you messaged me anyway, you should think about where your life has taken you. Just saying.

Sincere Guy: I never said your face was sucked? I said that? 

I am selective I just message you to see if you had anything to say. Then you kept looking at my profile but were too good to say anything. . 

I actually don't date blondes I am shallow only like women with dark hair. I was actually bored and have a big ego and was confused how you could be too good. That's all. I mean obvious I am not as smart as you and type as proper as you..

Me: I like to say what I mean. I can't fault you for liking dark hair, straight teeth, etc. I'm not attracted to guys that are shorter than me, whatever. I dunno where you're getting "too good." I'm not interested in you (because you're a misogynist), you're not interested in me (blonde, snaggletoooth) No one's better or worse than anyone. 

Are you suggesting you messaged me because you were not interested, because I was so ugly you were sure you wouldn't be ignored? 

I'm kind of attached to the gap in my teeth. I know it's not traditionally beautiful, but I really prefer to not change myself to look like everyone else. I like it because it's me, and it's always been that way. Also I have a dentist.

Sincere Guy: Again I joke a lot. Who am I to say anything about your teeth. I don't have perfect teeth or anything. Not many people do. 

I don't know you so how would I know if I would be interested. 

I do normally date dark hair girls. But again I need more then looks. 

I just thought you went all deep about how I was that bad. So yes naturally my defense was to say something back. Clearly I thought you were cute that's why I messaged you... 

Again how can someone be interested or not interested over a fucking computer. I am arrogant I feel like if I message a girl why wouldn't she say anything back. I am a nice guy who isn't ugly that dresses nice and always smells good. It's not like I am some fat loser that can't get girls in real life. I am just selective and don't meet many girls I connect with so I had to resort to this..

Me: I wanted to give some context to why you username was not appealing to me. If you re read that, I was describing why my reaction was bad, not why you were bad. Sleep on it. 

I'd rather go out with a "fat loser" than someone who thinks most women are pigs

Sincere Guy: Well of course not all women are pigs. I don't know I mean I don't need to sleep on anything haha. I just can't believe you wouldn't reply to someone cause of a username. 

I actually love my mother more then anything. She is the greatest person to ever walk the earth. Also my sister is such a great mommy and wife. My brother in law couldn't be any luckier. 

Also you don't know what I have been through with women . I have only had 4 gfs one left me cause I didn't make enough money. The other cause she wanted to be with her ex who beat her up and smoked crack. And the other two I had to leave cause they weren't over guys who cheated on them.. And I don't lie these were all real reasons. The one told me she was only with me for 9 months because my dick so until you walk in my shoes.. It's hard to judge!

Me: It sounds like you've dated some horrible people. I'm sorry. Seeing someone you care about do something self destructive is so painful. Not being able to do anything to change their mind is even worse. 

If the majority of people you've dated are awful, you should think about what they have in common (hint: it's the fact that they dated you) It sounds like a lot of the women who were attracted to you were also attracted to guys who did hurtful or abusive things to them. 

There are a lot of women who aren't like that. But, if you insult them, they'll walk away. Women who like abuse will stay. If you talk to other women the way you talk to me, the emotionally healthy ones will make a beeline for the door, and the messed up ones will cling until they find another abuser. 

Sincere Guy: Wait are you saying I am abuser whatever. You don't know me attractive all.. I am actually too nice. They tell themselves they want someone nice and they can't handle it. 

You act like you are some angel who is a really nice person. I mean i don't know if you are. But you didn't come off as a good person. 

I am a great uncle, son, worker, brother friend, cousin and person. I was really just joking oh and I called you out on your bullshit. 

My cousin always said I would make a great husband and even better father. 

Also these women don't tell you all this in the beginning. I mean the one came off like a great person. She had her masters from Widner a Bmw and owned her own house. She was just stuck on her part she couldn't help it. It just sucks she couldn't be honest with me about it. Her loss.

Me: Oh word, she had a BMW? well everyone knows that's correlated directly with character. 

Sincere Guy: No not always but it means your successful. Whats wrong with that?

Yeah I think BMW makes the best car its not my fault you don't know that..

Seriously I don't know who you think you ate. Like you're the best person in the world..

Yeah ok... Seriously what makes you think you're so great? Please explain. Cause you know big words?

Me: I don't think I'm great. I just think you're fucking worthless.

Sincere Guy: Oh ok I worthless.. Does that make you feel better. So if you're so great why are you single?

And what normal adult doesn't have a credit card? Aww what American express didn't want you so you wouldn't settle for discover?

Well like you said you're special only 4% of people like you exist. . That's impressive. .

(Me: ....asleep...)

Other People's Rules

I went out with a guy a year ago that I will call Jim because he looks like Jim Halpert from The Office.  We went out, had a good time, and ended up fooling around that same night.  We didn’t have sex.  I feel this distinction is arbitrary, but he seems to think it’s relevant.  He had to leave for a work trip the next day, but we texted a lot during that, mostly about how we wanted to fuck each other’s brains out.  When he came back I tried to make plans to do stuff, like go out to dinner, or get drinks, or something.  He was unequivocally not into that; he wanted to come to my apartment.  And as soon as he walked in the door, that’s all he wanted to do, we were having sex within…  2 minutes?  I guess?  (It’s so great being young)  He hung around for a few minutes chatting, put his clothes back on, and left. 

I was pretty bummed about it for a while.  I tried again to get him to go out, but when it was clear he didn’t want to, I didn’t force the issue.  I kept hooking up with him periodically, because the sex was great and it took zero effort (I didn’t have to leave my house!) and went out with a few other people as well.  When I started dating my boyfriend, I told him so, and obviously didn’t see him again. He kept sending me sexual texts and facebook messages even though I told him to stop, and that it was making me uncomfortable.  I defriended him and didn’t respond to messages for a while.  He seemed genuinely upset.  He would resurface every few months, saying I was so great and that I never gave him a chance.  I explained that he’d painted himself into a fuck buddy corner and of course I was going to end up dating someone else, if that’s all I was getting from him.   

My long-standing belief has been that if I have sex with someone “too soon” and they think less of me for it, that’s not a person I want in my life.

We hooked up again recently, since I’ve gone back to my slutty, slutty ways.  He said he’s a little more careful now, and that when he goes out with someone he thinks he might really like, he’s sure to wait at least until the 3^rd date.  This wouldn’t bother me, except for the context of my history with him, and the fact that the rule is not a natural inclination but an unyielding requirement. 

Sarah: “So how long do you wait?”

Jim: “Like 4^th date, maybe 3^rd.  The first date is like a meet and greet, you just have coffee and it’s under an hour, it barely counts.  And then the second date is dinner.  And then one or two more dinners, and then it’s ok to”

Sarah: “So you don’t really feel comfortable having sex until that long?  Or you want to, and she wants to, but you wait because you believe you should?”

Jim:  “Yeah, I need to wait a while before I have sex with someone, if I want it to be a real relationship.  I don’t want to ruin it by having sex too soon.”

Sarah: “You’re afraid you would mess something up if you had sex earlier?  How so?”

Jim: “Well then it would just be all about the sex, I wouldn’t get to know her and like, build a relationship with her, I’d just be having sex with her.  And like that’s ok for some things.”

Sarah: “You can’t get to know someone after you have sex with them?”

Jim: “I mean, in theory, sure, but I probably wouldn’t”

Sarah: “That sounds like a problem specific to you.”

Jim:  “Yeah, maybe?  I don’t know, that’s how it works for me.”

Sarah: “Do you let people know this, ahead of time?  Because these girls you go out with, they might not anticipate that you’ll lose all respect for them when they put out.  Because you don’t seem like that kind of guy.”

Jim: “Oh it’s not that I lose respect for anyone, I just would stop thinking of them as someone I would date long-term.”

Sarah: “I’ve noticed that when guys want to wait a long time, it’s always been cause they’re really bad at sex.  Just my anecdotal evidence.”

Jim: “So when would you first have sex with someone?”

Sarah: “Second date, almost always.  You have a lot of Ok Cupid-ing and texting, the first date you usually talk for like, hours, and you establish whether there’s an attraction.  Then you text for a while and build some anticipation, and then after you have sex you know better where you stand and what you want, and if it’s going well you go out again soon, and you’re even more at ease with each other, because you’ve seen each other naked.  Icebreaker!” 

Jim: “And that’s worked for you, your 2^nd date policy?”

Sarah: “It’s not a policy, it’s just what ends up happening most of the time.   And it’s absolutely worked.  The times I’ve waited much longer, it’s gone horribly, and I wish I’d known earlier so I didn’t waste time and emotional energy getting to know someone I have no interest in having sex with.”

Jim: “What about the guy you just broke up with?”

Sarah: “Yeah, exactly, we had sex on the 2^nd date.  And we dated for like, 10 months.  By far the best relationship I’ve ever been in.”

Jim: “But you broke up.”

Sarah: “Yes…”

Jim: “So, that didn’t work for you.”

Sarah: “Of course it worked.”

Jim: “You’re not with him now, so it didn’t work out.”

Sarah: “So you think because a relationship ends, it’s a failure?”

Jim: “Of course.”

Sarah: “Heh, yeah I think that’s where we differ, fundamentally. I’m not interested in, like, a race to get married.”

Jim: “Wait so,- what are you planning to do, long term?  Go on Ok Cupid dates for the rest of your life?”

Sarah: “God, I hope so!”

Now there’s this other guy, I’m going to call him Jason, because he looks JUST like Jason Sudekis.  (the TV show of my life is basically casting itself!)  We went out, and then we went out again, and from there went to my house and had sex.  There was really no decision to be made about whether that was the ideal time, I fucking wanted him, and he was so cute, and he kept touching my neck, and it was either go back to my house or push the beers out of the way and start going at it on the actual bar.  I went with “in my own home,” and I stand by that decision 100%.   

He mentioned a few days ago that he has a “12 hours of face time” rule before having sex with someone new.  We had… 9, I guess?  So no, he is not one of those weirdos that makes up arbitrary numerical requirements and bases actual decisions on them, but the existence of the rule is still puzzling to me.

Sarah: “So what are you trying to prevent, what’s the real danger in having sex with someone earlier?”

Jason: “That they turn out to be shitty?  I think after 12 hours if they’re awful, it’s probably come out and you know you don’t want to.  But sometimes you sleep with someone too soon, just off of physical attraction, but they might be a racist.”

(Doesn’t matter; still counts!)

Sarah: “So, can you just not go out with them after you realize they suck?”

Jason: “It’s just a lot harder at that point.  And you don’t want to be a the guy that has sex with a girl then never calls her.”

Fair enough.

John and I went out for drinks the next Saturday night.  In my mind, this was finally the sex date.  We’d developed some chemistry, he’d told me about a hundred times that he had a “very high sex drive” and we’d held out for this long.  At this point I was determined to have sex with him.  After a few hours, the conversation had basically run out and he suggested going back to his place.  “I have a bottle of Cakebread we could open.”  Well, good that he’s finally making a move, but I know that he lives with his parents, and I do not want to go to there. 

“Are you sure?” I asked.  “I don’t want to wake up your parents or anything.  We could go to my place?”

“My place is closer,” he said.

“By like, 3 minutes!”

“I have Cakebread.”

“I have…mango sorbet?  And wine?  A sauvignon blanc, I think?  I mean, it’s not quite Cakebread…”

“What, are you scared of my parents?”

“No I just…” kind of, yeah? “I mean, I don’t want to bother them.  And like, I have my own place.”

“It’s a big house, they won’t notice.  It’ll be fine.”

We got to his house and did this awkward creeping through the darkened kitchen and living room.  I felt like I was sleeping over at a friend’s house in high school and we were sneaking back in so her parents wouldn’t realize we’d gone out 2 hours before to smoke a bowl.  We descended into the basement, and it was abasement, I mean, finished, and not gross or anything, but it was a place for children.  The walls were bright blue with kid’s painting all over them, wall-to-wall thick carpet, a big sectional, a dedicated video game area, and big, glaring, fluorescent lights, the kind they have in office buildings.  I didn’t even know you could have those in residential  settings.  He made several furtive trips up and down the stairs, first to placate his mom who called down for him, then to retrieve wine, glasses, and corkscrew, each in a separate trip.   He poured the glasses on the ping pong table and we moved to the sectional, trying to maneuver a way to sit together with wine.  It proved to be difficult, probably because nothing about that space was intended for two adults to sit there with a glass of wine- it’s set up for a 15 year old to spend hours there with a jug of Gatorade, a bag of Doritos, alternating between Call of Duty and internet porn.  

I had been all keyed up for it, I knew this was the sex date,  but I couldn’t keep it up for him.  First of all, why had I conceded to go to his mom’s house?  Why would he want me to see this, to see him this way?  Also, my house is sexy, it’s grown up, and it’s mine.  We don’t have to sneak in under shroud of darkness, we don’t have to hide in a basement, and we don’t have to be quiet.  This shit is a boner-killer.

Somehow we managed to start making out on the sectional.  I was there, the wine was open, let’s give it a shot.  He slid his hand into my jeans, and soon I was recoiling in pain.  I pulled my hips away; his hand pursued even harder.  I tried putting my hand over his to slow him down, or get him to ease up on the pressure. No luck.  “No, that.. that really hurts, that’s too hard,” I finally said. 

“God, you’re so sensitive,” he replied, almost accusingly.  It sounded like he was pissed off that I’d been offended by a sexist joke.  

“Well, that’s like, where a lot of nerve endings are…yeah.”  He did not let up.  Maybe he’d never done this before?  Maybe he was going off of what he’d seen on the internet?  “With girls, you don’t usually need to go so hard, you know?”  This isn’t your battle-worn, kung-fu-death-gripped dick, ok? 

Needless to say, I was not physically inclined to have sex at this point, but the buildup had gone on way too long, I was already there, and he seemed like he was trying to go for it.  I figured I could tell him it was bad and leave that instant, I could quietly wish for death, or I could take over and try to turn things around.  I sent him upstairs to get a condom, and I rallied.  I know I am not bad at sex.  I hadn’t had sex that bad in years and I was going to salvage it, and prove that I was not at fault for this mess.  He came back downstairs and lay motionless on the sectional, fully clothed except for his cock protruding from his fly, and pulled me over so I was straddling him.  Great, I thought, if you just stay the hell still, we should be able to get this done.  Don’t fucking touch anything. 

I hurried through as efficiently as I could, thanking Kettlebell classes for enabling my legs to work that hard.  We made some small talk and I left as quickly as I could.  On the 3 minute drive to my house, I ran through the sequence of events to figure out what could have been different.  Should I have insisted we go to my house?  Should I have pointed out that after a few hours of drinking our palettes were in no condition for an $80 bottle of wine anyway?  Should I have just stopped when it was clear it wasn’t good and said I wanted to go home?  Would I then be wishing I’d tried harder?

The next day he texted to say what a good time he had, and that he could tell I really enjoyed myself too.  Not sure whether that made me hate him or myself more.  Thanks to a business trip and some family obligations, I was able to avoid seeing him for the next two weeks.  We eventually went out again last weekend.  He wanted to go to dinner at a taqueria, at 6:00.  That seemed promising, maybe he had another date after.  (If I was trying to have sex with someone, I wouldn’t start the date at 6:00.  Just saying.)  I dreaded it for a few days, but the thought of delicious tacos kept my spirits up. 

I got there a few minutes before him, and he texted me “wait outside, I have a little gift for you.”  Oh…. No….  It was a basil plant, and it made me feel even worse for not liking him at all.  The tacos were amazing, and we were done well before 8.  He tentatively asked if I wanted to do something else, or if I had to get home.  Relieved that he seemed just as unenthusiastic, and grateful for the out he’d given me, I launched into a rambling story about the leak in my washing machine and how I had just bought a dehumidifier that I needed to go hook up and I hoped I hadn’t ruined my floor, and god, home ownership, amirite?  I  mean, it was not a lie, at all, but it was totally transparent, and he knew what was up.  I was so happy to drive away. 

I went out with John almost entirely because that he liked food.  Like, legit likes food, plans vacations around food destinations, seriously knows shit about wine, orders the chef’s tasting menu, no hesitation about eating offal.  Before we went out he texted me pictures of a cheese plate he’d made.  He seemed cool enough from his profile, although he hadn’t answered many questions.  On the Personality breakdown page (maybe my favorite thing about Ok Cupid) he only had one bar, and that was More Sex Driven.  But, liking food and sex are my top priorities.

We had a great time talking about restaurants and stuff on our first date, but I couldn’t get a read on whether he was into me.  He was more socially skilled than me (most humans are) and easy to talk to but he didn’t seem to be having a great time.  I’m not naturally flirtatious at all, but I try to make an effort to emote a little, especially on a first date.  We sat at a very civil distance from each other at a bar, and I don’t think any physical contact was made in the three hours.

(I vastly prefer that dates involve sitting at a bar, not a table, regardless of the drink: food ratio.  You’re not staring each other down, interview-style, but more importantly, you can make incidental physical contact.  If you’re into it, your knees will turn in towards each other, you can do the Arm-Touch, which I have never really mastered but I see other women do it and it’s fucking magic.  Or if the bar’s a little loud or you’re saying something a little subversive, you can lean in so your lips are an inch away from their ear and say something sexy like, “don’t tell anyone, but I totally parked illegally.”  Basically anything will work, I think.  When guys do this, I fucking melt.  Across the length of a table, the only tool I have to communicate interest is Flirty Eyes.  That or touching my hair?  I hear that’s a thing?  Or that people think it’s a thing?) 

Anyway, we did a hug and very brief kiss, and he commented that I was taller than I said I was on my profile. “I’m wearing wedges… but they’re like, barely two inches.”  He was visibly upset.  Ugh.  In follow-up texts, he seemed more enthused.  He said I was sexier than my pictures, and that he liked that I was “curvy.”  We had some flirty texts back and forth and I became a little more interested.  We arranged to go out for drinks Saturday night.

I wore a navy silk wrap dress that has become my staple 2^nd date dress.  I love the way I look in it, it’s totally grown-up-sexy, and it can come off in 2 seconds.  I also wore some pretty amazing Agent Provocateur lingerie.  I’m just saying. 

We had a few drinks and talked some more.  Made out a little.  Pretty solid date.  He walked me down a little side street to where I’d parked.  It was relatively private but a few people would walk by periodically.  We made out some more and then he started sliding his hand up my dress.  I pulled away to give him a friendly “Are you serious?” look.  This is the part where I thought I’d be giving him directions to my house.  It’s not that I didn’t want his hand up my dress, but like, that’s why I vacuumed and made my bed. I didn't wear the Agent Provocateur just to get molested in a back alley, you know? We did this stupid little game of him sliding his hand up, me pushing it away when it got indecent and after a few rounds of that I just said that I was totally into it but the middle of the street was just not ok with me.  I really expected him to have a response to that, like he wanted to go somewhere else.  I can’t totally remember, but I think he said something along the lines of “I guess I’ll just go jerk off then.”  Yeah, don’t let me get in your way or anything. 

We went out the following Wednesday to a totally amazing 20-course tasting at a Sichuan restaurant.  The wait staff knew him and knew he was the guy that would order the really authentic stuff, not the usual white person stuff.  The food was amazing and interesting and he was into it too, and I was just totally sold on him.  Way to play to your strengths, dude.  In the parking lot I kind of turned on the charm pretty hard, telling him how awesome it was that he knew about such a unique place, and what a great time I had, and I was kind of all over him.  We made out a bit, and then he sighed, “Another night of sexual frustration.”  Oh?  Is it?  I pressed up against him and said, “Well, what are you up to now, do you need to get up really early tomorrow or anything?”  Or did you want to come home with me and fuck me because obviously I’m asking you to?  He did this obviously fake looking-at-his-phone move and said, “yeah…  I kinda do have to.  Which is too bad.” 

My jaw dropped for a second.  If you want to wait a little longer before having sex with someone, that’s fine.  If not losing sleep on a weeknight is super important to you, that’s fine.  If you think immediately after eating 20 courses isn’t the ideal time for sex, that’s also fine.  If you’re thinking I just ate a massive amount of hot peppers and maybe you don’t want my mouth anywhere near your dick until I drink some milk or something, that is totally understandable.  But do not give me some whiny shit about how you’re not getting laid after taking me out.  That’s not how this works, for one thing, and also your inability to close is not my fault. 

Matt Round 2

I made plans to go see Matt last weekend, got in my car Saturday at 5 to go meet him at the time we’d planned.  Just before getting on the highway I stopped at a gas station and texted to verify the address.  He responded that he was in my town. 

Sarah “What?  Why?  I thought we were meeting in the city”

Matt “I’m at a bbq”

S “were you going to tell me?”

M “yeah I’m texting you now”

S “no, I texted you.  You were not going to tell me”

M “it’s a memorial for my boy that ODed a year ago’

S “if you can’t hang out I understand, but let me know”

M “no I still want to hang out”

S “when did you know your plans were changing?  And when, relative to that time, were you going to tell me?”

M “why are you mad”

S “I’m incredulous.  I would have gone to your house, and you’d be nowhere, you do understand what a dick move that is, right?”

M “did you go in to the city yet”

S “no, because I had the foresight to confirm with you, because I know you’re kind of flakey”

M “its not a big deal, just come get me and we can go to my place and go out”

S “at least tell me that if I had not texted you on my way out, and I was there right now feeling like an idiot, that you would feel at least a little bad about fucking up, so I know that you are not a total sociopath”

M “you are being rude”

S “You said you’d meet me at your house now, you’re not there now, and you made no effort to tell me, you don’t think that’s inconsiderate?”

M “did you have a bad day?  Do you need a hug?”

S “I had an awesome day.  I just can’t believe you would do something so stupid, because I know you’re not stupid.”

This went on for a bit and spiraled until I texted “Fucking you is not worth the effort” and failed to hit cancel fast enough.  I stood in my living room for a few minutes thinking about my options.  I was wearing a new dress that I loved, my hair looked great, I had just booked it to a last minute Brazilian bikini wax…  what was I going to do with my night?  I had a few other offers for that night that I’d turned down because I  had plans with Matt.  Could I call them and say the date fell through?  Tell them they were plan B?  Tell them I got stood up?  Stay home and sulk?  I’d been looking forward to this all week, I had this lingering interest and even though I knew Matt was a total shit show, I’d figured I’d just get it out of my system.  And I felt guilty.  I was angry and I said something just to be mean, because nothing else was getting a reaction. 

Matt “let me know if you feel like apologizing.” 

Sarah “I’m sorry that I was mean, that wasn’t necessary, I was frustrated that you couldn’t understand why that was messed up thing to do.”

Matt “and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  I probably should have”

Wow, ok. 

“and as soon as I get you home you’re so getting spanked for being rude to me”

There it is. 

We went in to Philly, got drunk, went to a party at a club his friend owned.  I got hit on by earnest 22 year olds, because the smiling, wide-eyed girl in the Anthropologie dress is a lot more approachable than the tough looking hipster girls with septum piercings.  One of those beautiful, bad-ass hipster girls hung out with  me in the filthy bathroom asking if her boyfriend had said anything about her to Matt, if she should say she loved him first or wait for him to say it, and did I think it was too soon for her to move in with him?  I should have asked her which Sex and the City character was her favorite.  We danced in the DJ booth while the club owner sprayed a shook up bottle of champagne over the crowd. 

Later, after having sex, Matt was surveying my body and said, as he’d said before, “I want to buy you a really tight red dress and take you out.  You’d look so fucking hot, you should wear tighter clothes.” 

“Why?”  I asked. 

“Like, every guy there would be trying to hit on you,” he said, beaming

“Why would I want that?” 

“Well, it would make me look good!” 

Last year I might have actually engaged in this conversation, that I buy my own clothes, thanks, that I don’t really like red, that while I can’t say I don’t like being hit on, I appreciate quality over quantity, and that making him look good was in no way my job, or even one I was qualified for.  I would have explained to him that while he might find soft, fleshy curves irresistible, this was not the mainstream beauty standard.  I would have told him he was wrong for thinking I was a trophy, for every reason.  But I was exhausted, so I just fell asleep. 

Matt

I don’t even know why I wanted to meet up with Matt, based on his Ok Cupid profile.  Yes, he was 6’4, but he was also a 50% match.  He’s a very striking presence- he’s tall, impossibly skinny (his hips are probably half the width of mine), tattoos haphazardly scattered across his torso, not quite covered by a thin wifebeater.  His jeans fit close to his lean body, and were held together by several safety pins at the fly.  He always wore boots with a 2 inch heel.  He had piles of red hair in loose curls surrounding his sharply angular face.  His pale blue eyes would fixate intensely in one direction and abruptly shift to another equally intense focus, the way a squirrel moves.  I didn’t plan this date very well at all, having tacked it on at the end of another, last minute.  I was wearing a conservative BCBG sundress, with lots of ruffles, in a print of  white carousel horses on a bright blue background, with pearl earrings and espadrilles.  I looked like a character on Glee.  I’d also spent all day in the sun at a street fair on date #1, and my proximity to someone so unconventionally and effortlessly attractive made me aware of how wilted and plain I looked. 

Matt was a drug dealer, in the sense that he made his entire living by selling drugs.  He did not pay taxes, but he did collect food stamps.  “It’s not that I’m poor!” he said, “It’s just so I have more money to spend on cigarettes and booze.”  He lived in a house that he owned, and rented some rooms out to friends.  He did not have any kind of credit card or even a checking account.  He kept his cash and his weed in a Spiderman lunchbox.  He had this amazing dog, a Boxer, whose sweetness and affection offset Matt’s emotional detachment.  He had been a vegetarian since he was 10.  It had nothing to do with his own health, or carbon footprints; he just couldn’t tolerate the idea of killing animals.

He holds the record for my shortest duration of time between meeting someone and having sex.  We drank some wine in the park and played with his awesome dog and had one of those very frank Ok Cupid date conversations where you hash out your sexual interests right up front, and I think this made me feel somewhat at ease with him, quickly.  (Although one is never totally at ease around Matt- while he is unfailingly honest, he is also unpredictable.  There’s an absence of vulnerability that is captivating but makes him seem not entirely human.)  We made out and he told me he didn’t think I was very good at kissing.  (He also told me all the bands I like sucked, but I’m used to hearing that.)  This wasn’t negging; it wasn’t that deliberate.  Matt didn’t pull any shit like that, he just said whatever was on his mind regardless of your feelings. 

The sex was addictive immediately.  Maybe his approach of not giving a fuck was contagious, maybe it was he was so far removed from my everyday life that inhibitions went out the window.  And like any narcissist, he was great at it.  Narcissists care so intensely about being liked that they notice every slight physical or auditory response, they know exactly what it means, and they use that information to make you like it even more.  They do this in conversation too, but it leaves me feeling unsettled and overexposed.  Sex is a much better venue.  Of course it made me want to be just as good.  Better.  The fucking best.  First-time sex is usually plagued by a few main concerns- Is he enjoying himself, am I enjoying myself, and does my body look alright.  Matt left me with no doubts about any of those.  He was truly enthusiastic about every inch of my body, including the parts I hated.  The praise was not for my benefit. He’s say he loved my fat ass or the way my thighs jiggled when I came.  At 20, I’d have died of shame if someone said that to me.  Instead I marveled at the thought, that maybe he really did?

It was that unyielding honesty that I liked most about him, and why I kept going back for more.  He could not stop telling me I was hot, that my body was perfect, that our sex was amazing.  Hearing all that from anyone else would have been embarrassing and contrived.  In fact I’d never believe that from anyone else, because objectively I am not that beautiful and my body is dramatically different from the cultural ideal.  But Matt wasn’t someone who said anything just to be nice.  He was basically a very charismatic toddler.  He didn’t really acknowledge any aspect of the world that didn’t serve his own self interest.  There was no semblance of a social conscious, and morality was entirely based on what he could get away with.

Don Draper is a shitty person, objectively, but he’s a protagonist that most people seem to really like because the shitty things he does are things we’ve thought about.  Maybe we’ve all wanted to be womanizing hedonists at some point, but our damn conscience gets in the way.  We can’t, and we don’t really want to, but damn is it fun to watch.  Going out with Matt was a way to indulge in this world where I get to live everything I thought I wanted so desperately when I was younger.  What would it be like to be so popular that everyone in the club knows you and is visibly excited when you walk in?  To get access to every VIP room and every stash of free drinks?  To have strangers tell you you’re beautiful all throughout the night?  To go out with someone who wants to make sure all his friends see him with you?  To be so intensely desired by someone who seems like he could have anyone? 

When you’re young, being popular and desirable seem hugely important, probably even more so when they’re as unattainable as they seemed to me.  It’s almost always just a scapegoat- maybe if I was thin, if boys wanted me, if I went to parties, then maybe this sense that everything about me is wrong would go away.  The most gratifying part of growing up is how, when that cloud is lifted, those things don’t matter, and you realize they never did.  But to Matt, that was still what he needed.

One night, at one of many hipster bars, he didn’t get the rockstar treatment he’d come to expect.  A significant fraction of the people there didn’t know who he was, and this threw him into a kind of angry funk.  “There’s just kids, when did they even get here, yesterday?  I’ve been in this scene forever, I help my boy build that fucking bar!”  Hipsterism seems based on cultivating a semblance of apathy, while at the same time caring so fucking much.  How exhausting!

Suddenly I felt so bad for him.  What a terrible fate, to be 15 forever!  To worry about what a room full of strangers thinks about you!  In an attempt to salvage the rest of the night, I tried to remind him of the great circle of friends he had, how those people are so much more valuable than some 20 year old hipster girl from New Jersey, how they’d all gone out of their way to take care of him when he broke his leg jumping off a bridge.  (I knew these were huge sources of pride, both the injury and the support from his friends.)  As it came out of my mouth I worried it sounded trite, but it seemed to do the trick. 

Why was I even trying?  I had little attachment to Matt, and even less respect for him.  I was fascinated by him, and a little seduced by the idea of being cool and beautiful, by association.  Everything about him had seemed so effortless, but now the cracks were starting to show.  After that night I took a break from him, and started dating someone else.  Over the course of the next year he’d periodically check in via text, asking if I was single yet, saying all kinds of generous things about my body.  I sort of knew I’d see him again at some point.