This one’s for the gals...
What follows is a snap-shot into the world of “dating” in 2021 in the form of an experience I had and my subsequent thoughts about it.
Like a lot of single twenty to thirty somethings I’ve dabbled in the dating app life- if for nothing more than to window shop. Actually, that’s a lie. Window shopping is fun, but as most of us know it loses its allure after a while. That kind of aimless wannabe consumerism is ultimately for people who don’t know what they want and/or don’t believe they can actually have what it is they want. I am neither. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. Personally, participating in or on the apps is a way for me to challenge myself to stay open and receptive to possibilities even when my natural state is be worn down, jaded, and quite frankly a snarky little bitch. I don’t like the word ‘bitch’ but that’s the truth of it.
I’m not here to bullshit. Not today. Or any day. So here is the story of how I matched with someone from real life on Hinge. He worked at an establishment that I frequented. I won’t give too many specifics because I’m a respectful human being but it starts with a ‘G’ and ends with a ‘Y-M’. We’d exchanged a few classic “How’s it goings?”-s and “Have a good one”-s. It wasn’t anything special, he was just doing his job. I'm in the service industry, I get it. But I definitely thought he was cute. So cute in fact that I went out of my way to ignore the shit out of him. Why? Because I’m awkward. And then wouldn’t you know it there he was on my phone screen. I guess we both swiped right because he slid right into those DM’s with some well positioned flattery and dad jokes.
Chapter 1)
We exchanged numbers pretty quickly and spent several days texting back and forth. This isn’t something I usually do because it usually proves to be a huge waste of time (cough cough). The threads consisted mostly of us roasting each other, exchanging witticisms, but it also seemed to be conversations about the things you talk about when you’re actually trying to get to know someone. So as fate would have it, one night we decided to get together at my place. It wasn’t a date. It was a mutual agreement between two consenting adults (Sorry Mom). I had already thrown up all the stops I had in the ole tool kit. From the beginning I declared that I wasn’t up to scheduling a dick appointment with a man I barely knew. I literally said just that. I was firm about this and while my intention was to deter him from continuing to reach out to me, it didn’t work. He persisted and I continued to not take him seriously. He assured me on multiple occasions that he was trying to get to know me, just wanted to hang out, and that sex was not his motivation. I’m laughing as I type that last sentence because I know better and yet I was still hopeful that maybe he was telling the truth. Why, God?
Chapter 2)
So, one night around Thanksgiving he comes over. It was fairly late, I didn’t know what to expect but I was just buzzed enough not to care. Company sounded nice and at this point I just wanted to know what he was made of. Did he mean what he had said up until this point or was he going to walk through my bedroom door and just throw down despite his proclaimed semi-modest intentions? I was ok with either, this wasn’t my first communion. What transpired the rest of the evening was completely unexpected. He was shy, a little awkward, and visibly uncomfortable with the situation. It was endearing and instantly put me at ease and caught me off guard at the same time. I talk a big game, and in occasional moments of wine inspired confidence I am a sex goddess but mostly I’m shy at first. Probably because I’ve been chubby most of my life but that’s not what we’re talking about here. It builds character though, for the record. So does trauma, but we’re not talking about that either. Yet.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so we’re just talking and drinking wine, he’s laying on my bed- I'm leaning on my stationary bike trying to make this whole scenario seem normal. I know, I know, trust me this is more painful for me to recount than it is for you to read. As it turns out the conversation actually had substance. We talked about family, work, goals, weird experiences we’ve had- I was surprised at how easy it was. It went on like this for a couple hours at least until I was so tired that I announced that I HAD TO go to bed. So, I took my pants off and hopped in. It’s my bed after all, I’m allowed. We laid there talking for another 15 to 20 minutes I’d say before I not so delicately asked “Are you going to kiss me or what?” I do this sometimes. What can I say? I’m impatient and direct to a fault. It makes people uncomfortable and I like that. I’m an Aquarius through and through. To which he responded “Yeah, but I didn’t come over here just to fuck you.”
Interesting.
Chapter 3)
The chemistry was there. I’ve experienced my fair share of mediocre and lackluster physical connections in my day. This wasn’t one of those times. I won’t go into the details about what followed because somethings are meant to exist exclusively between two people, but you could say that I slept very well that night. No sex was had, well, at least not the conventional penetrative kind. The following morning continued much like the night before. When the moment presented itself, you know, the moment when sometimes two people discuss in so many words whether or not they’re going to have sex for the first time...he says “We don’t have to. I told you, I didn’t come over here to fuck you. There’s no rush.”
Also interesting.
Chapter 4)
I asked him if he had a condom. He said no. That settled it. I have condoms because I’m a woman who prioritizes my sexual health and who also isn’t a fan of celibacy but mostly it’s because men always seem to “forget”. But that is neither here nor there because MOST OF ALL it was because I didn’t want to seem overzealous or “thirsty” as the kids would call it. He gave me an out, and I took it. Not because I didn’t want to have sex, I did. But because I was yet again so very curious...do men like this actually exist? We spent the rest of the morning sleeping, not sleeping, talking and cuddling. When it was time for us to get on with our day, I walked him to his car because that’s the polite thing to do. (Some men don’t know that, so here I am clarifying it.)
Chapter 5)
He never called. (Or texted)
Chapter 6)
Note to self. Men like this do not actually exist.
At this point my feelings are naturally a little hurt. I’m not a robot. I’m confused. But I’m not surprised. I know these feelings well, better than I'd like to.
Chapter 7)
He likes my posts, watches my IG stories. Classic.
I’m not sure what to make of the situation. So, I don’t make anything of it and carry on like I’ve trained myself to do when life doesn’t make sense. Maybe we’re not meant to have all the answers.
Chapter 8)
Well, well, well, would you look what the selfie drug in.
To be Continued...
