The Humper

After a slew of bad dates/texters, I met The Humper, a 30 year old, divorced man, no kids.  We chatted on OkCupid for awhile. He was able to write full complete sentences, so I was definitely interested! We agreed to get coffee one day before he had to go into work. He had just recently moved here from Utah. Unrelated: I just spent a good 10 minutes googling US regions to find out what states are part of what regions to avoid naming his state, productive use of time!  Anyway. We met and had a good time. I was hopeful!
We got together a few days later at the beach and I showed him around town a bit. Afterwards we came back to my place for a few drinks and to smoke hookah. Again, we had a nice conversation and a decent make out session. During our chat, I told him that I wanted to take things kind of slow, while I have no real objections with sleeping with someone early on, it tends to change the dynamics of the “relationship”. I’m looking for something more than a fuck buddy. He was cool with that. He shared with me he married the first girl he kissed and bits and pieces about their relationship. He also shared that he used to be extremely overweight, which I already knew and was evident while we were at the beach. Things were going well. He’s a really nice guy.

We hung out a few more times, I met some of his friends and decided it was time to sleep with him. Of course, I got my period the morning before we had plans but that doesn’t really bother me too much. We started fooling around and I mentioned my visitor…he seemed weirded out so sex was off the table. A little bummed but, oh well, then things got interesting. He ends up getting naked by his own accord. It leaves this sense that he wants something done with dick. Well blow jobs aren’t my thing unless I’m really into a guy and at this point, I wasn’t. Making out seems to be never ending and I have to work in the morning, so I think, “I’ll just jerk him off, that’ll wrap things up and I can get to sleep”. Away I go…after a few minutes my arm starts to hurt (seriously, if I were a dude, I think I’d be too lazy to jerk off, that shit is annoying) so I stopped for a moment. He took this opportunity to roll over on top of me and proceed to dry hump the OUTSIDE of my thigh with his naked penis. After a couple minutes, he rolled off. I wanted to get back to business so I could sleep so I asked him to show me how he likes his dick touched. He just took over, which was fine by me. At first, I was encouraging him but after awhile that shit just got old. He would jerk off for a minute or two, dry hump me again and back to jerking off. After awhile, I said fuck it, and just laid there next to him and let him do his thing. Finally he stopped and said he’d rather wait until we can both get off because it would be better that way. WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO IN THE FIRST PLACE?! OH! How could I forget this, in the midst of making out he told me several times that women have told him his too large and can’t go very deep. Riiiiight. Every dude says that, along with they give great massages. While he’s not small by any means, he’s not mega-dick.

Anyway, I liked him enough to over look the bedroom shortcomings, maybe it was nerves or something, so we made plans to go see the meteor shower at the beach one night. I brought some snacks, wine, and a blanket. All the cheesy items needed for a night at the beach. By now, we’ve covered most of the basic, get to know you topics and I’m getting bored. He’s constantly talking about places in Utah, which I can understand to an extent, as that’s all he’s known for 30 years. But it gets boring real fast. His other go to topic is work…I know more facts about his job than probably most of his coworkers. So we are out there, watching the meteor shower, which was awesome, and he’s showing off his knowledge of the constellations, not so awesome. We come back to my place and head to the bed room. The decent kisser he was before is suddenly MIA. He starts to get really aggressive, which is fine by me, and then stops. He has just a couple “rough” moves that he repeats over and over again. He’ll attempt to kiss me hard, but it just feels like he’s pressing his face against mine. There’s no…passion, I guess passion is the best word. His other move is to grab my hands and slam them down to the mattress and that’s it. Oh well, I can work with that. So then the sex. He alternated between slamming his dick into my vagina and an awkward side to side movement. His earlier statement about being too big now makes sense. Some girl trying to be nice said that instead of what the real problem is, or that’s what he took from the conversation. I tried to guide him…he’d listen for 30 seconds and then go back to his own thing. And if I haven’t sounded like an awful person yet, here it comes. Remember I mentioned he had lost a bunch of weight? Well he has lots of saggy skin. His stomach is weird feeling but the worst are the former man boobs that just hang there. When we were at the beach and I saw him without his shirt on for the first time, I kept seeing myself getting smacked in the face with a boob during sex. While, I wasn’t smacked in the face, I now know what boob on boob action feels like. Anyway, I’m just overall not feeling it, I fake an orgasm, he cums and it’s done.

We had already made plans to get together a few days later for him to come over for dinner. I figured, let’s give him one more shot, maybe this time will be better. Dinner was fine, boring, but fine. We head upstairs and it’s a repeat of the first night. My vagina feels like it’s under attack and not in a good way! I ask him to stop and again, he complies for a minute or two and goes back to doing what he wants. The cycle continues. He also spends a lot of time kissing/biting/sucking my ear lobe. He finally cums and we awkwardly lie there for a bit before he gets up to leave. The best part? I discover I have a hickey the next day…ON MY EAR!

By now I’m thinking, clearly this isn’t going well and maybe it’s time to let it fizzle out. Luckily, my work schedule changed, limiting the amount of free time that I’d have. My plan was to get together and put an end to all to it. Last week, he tells me his phone is acting up and to email him instead, so I do. We sent a few emails back and forth and then nothing. Several days later, I get a text from one of his friends says, “I’m sorry to text without you permission. The Humper does not have access to a  phone for a little while and will be unfortunately predisposed for the next week and a half at least. He wanted me to give you a heads up and tell ya that he’ll look forward to speaking to you then.” Ummm ok!?! I didn’t ask his friend any questions at the time because I was relieved I wasn’t going to have to have the awkward chat, but after thinking about it, I really want to know what happened! Jail was my first thought, but he’s so dull, I can’t imagine what he would get arrested for. I guess only time will tell!

The Beast

As I scrolled through my memory Rolodex of dating nightmares, I really struggled with what story to tell next. I didn’t want to blow my load early on and tell all the extreme stories, then fizzle out. So…I decided to just start at the beginning. That’s right…my very first awful dating experience ever! The one that made me shutter at the word “penis” for almost five years.

When I was in high school, I was very naïve. I went out with my troublemaker friends every weekend starting at thirteen. I made out with all kinds of guys when we went out, but kept it relatively PG with an occasional hand down the pants on the dance floor. I only dated one guy before going to college. And I never hooked up with anyone that I went to school with…with one exception. THE BEAST. (queue horror music)

The Beast was really popular. His family had a ton of money, they had a gorgeous house, he had a nice car, all that. But he was fucking weird looking. He wasn’t traditionally ugly…he was fucking weird looking. His face shape was that of a triangle and his eyes were far apart. Despite the great width of his head (at least the top part of it), his nose was really narrow and he had a small mouth (think Queen of Hearts). His small body didn’t compensate for his head. Maybe he was just really hush hush about all the pussy he got, but to my knowledge, he got none.

One night, my friend (we’ll call her BI for Bad Influence) asked me to go to this party with her. After 3-4 seconds of arm twisting, I said okay and away we drove in my cherry red convertible. We got to the party only to discover nobody was there. Never ones for paying attention to warning signs, we knocked on the door. The host of the “party” answered. Evidently, he forgot to put that it was a party of four on the invitation. So BI and I figure we got this and go inside. It is the host, BI, myself, and…the beast (that trickster hid in the shadows until I got inside!).

The four of us sat down on a sofa in the basement and started talking. The host grabbed us some beers and didn’t waste time going in for the kill. “You girls should take your shirts off” was legitimately the way he propositioned us. BI politely declined, but didn’t want to leave the men with nothing. So she said, “Lily just got her nipples pierced…she has no problem taking her shirt off”. I was a known flasher at the time, so it was accurate. Off with the shirt!

I had never actually spoken to him, however The Beast was clearly intrigued (it might have been the first boobies he’d seen in real life). He asked if he could touch them. I was hesitant, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I said sure. Immediately hands were all over me. I turned around for help, but BI and the host were in the corner going at it. Thanks BI. The Beast asked me if I wanted to sit down. I said okay and after about two words, he leaned in for a kiss. I tell you what…I was one polite motherfucker because I went with that too. Tongue all down the throat…nonstop…for at least 5 minutes. Like literally his tongue did not leave my mouth for five minutes. I’m surprised when I turned blue and started punching him, he didn’t get the message, but maybe that was part of the mating ritual for his species. As much of a lady as I was (and clearly still am), when he stuck my hand down his pants and said “touch it”, things had to be put to a stop!

“BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII” I yelled for my friend, who had now disappeared into another room. I stood up and just kept yelling…like a scared little girl looking for her mommy at Wal-Mart. I was so relieved when I heard her voice yelling my name back with the same tone of desperation. We played Marco Polo for another minute or so and embraced when we finally found each other. Like true winners, we mumbled something about curfews and peaced out as quickly as possible…leaving these con artists with serious blue balls and leaving ourselves with no more invitations to these types of parties!

While the end of this story is rather…anticlimactic… there is a valuable lesson in it: DON’T PARTICIPATE IN BESTIALITY! IT’S AWFUL!

Bagged, Tagged & Bored

After my divorce, I broke down & joined an online dating service. I was growing tired of the bar scene & let’s be honest, it’s not as easy to meet new people these days. Apparently, that’s also true for the online world!

Now mind you, I had just gotten out of a horrid marriage – and most people I talked to online so far had wound up being not-so-sane! So my expectations of anything normal were fairly low at this point. But a girl’s gotta have hope, right?

So I meet ‘Gary’. Nice guy, divorced, two kids, a good job – and he lives within ½ an hour from me. So far, so good! He’s friendly and talkative, yet a perfect gentleman. So we agree to meet up for dinner.

In person, he seemed much the same as online & on the phone. He was clean cut, intelligent… and a nice guy, if not a little nerdy. But that’s ok…. nerds can rock! J As we talked, he started telling me about all of his ‘lists’… he said he made lists for everything he did, it’s how he functioned. I could deal with lists – to a point. But a few of the comments he made leaned a little more toward controlling everything around him… and I started having flashbacks to my marriage. But I pushed those thoughts away – it’s not fair to compare the two… and everyone has their little quirks.

But once we got past the initial ‘get to know you’ conversation, the man had NO personality. The nerdiness got the better of him & he seemed to have no sense of humor, and no need to fill the silence. It was  like he was just looking for someone to sit on the other side of the table, so people wouldn’t look at him funny for being alone… but I felt like I could’ve put up a cardboard cut out & he wouldn’t have noticed the difference!

But again, giving him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe… just maybe… he was having first date jitters or just needed to warm up some more, I agreed to a 2^nd date.

O M G – I would have preferred to walk across hot coals. I wanted to shake him & tell him to wake the hell up – he was just THAT boring. So I decided while on that date, that I wouldn’t go out with him again. There was just no reason to continue to endure this. I can’t even imagine HE was actually enjoying himself either.

And yet…. he asked for a 3^rd date. He was going out of town for business & just said we’d make plans when he got back. So I thought, “I’ll just tell him no when he gets back.” Only he calls me while on his trip & says he needs to tell me something. He said for obvious reasons he didn’t tell me before, but thinks he should now before we go any further. He thinks we’re going further??

So he proceeds to tell me he has Krohn’s disease… and has had surgery & has a colostomy bag. That, in itself, is not bad. I knew it must be difficult for him to even tell me… but honestly, the only thing I could think was:

Now I CAN’T tell him I don’t want to see him anymore – because he’s going to think it’s because of the bag!!!!

So I went out with him again. I felt bad… I couldn’t let him think that was the reason… but how do I say the real reason is ‘because I’m afraid I’m going to die of boredom’? Either way, I just couldn’t be that mean. So I went out that one last time… and conveniently, had plans the next few times he called… until he just didn’t call anymore.

This wasn’t a crazy story of another whack job I met… but a look on the other side … the side so slow, you’re sure it’s killing you. The side that makes you realize you should never settle… but makes you wonder if you’ll ever find that happy medium!

The Sax Man

So I’d been on match for a few months, I had a lot of great first dates, but never anything more. So I decided to let one of my work pals set me up w/someone. She said her best friend growing up had a brother that has the same effed up sense of humor as me. He’s only in town for the summer and will be heading back to his motherland late August. She showed me some pictures and this guy was the biggest dork face ever. Long musician hair and some weirdly patterned shirts lit up most of the pictures. He played the Sax and many other such instruments so I just chalked it up to musician brain. She got the okay from him to give out his name and number. I was nervous to reach out because so many dates have gone awry. But I grew a pair and facebook friended him… no response, it still said that my request was “pending.” I gave it a few days because he apparently had a gig. I reported to my friend, J, and let her know. She told me to grow another pair and text him. So I did! I was a brave little toaster (movie reference for you lame-os out there) and I texted him something to the effect of, “Hi this is —- I’m friends w/J. I just wanted to introduce myself since we’re facebook friends, how is your night going?” I sent it thinking, hey I have nothing to lose!

A day goes by – nothing.

Another day goes by – still nothing.

A third day goes by – nada.

WHAT THE EFF!

Why would you agree to give out your digits if you won’t even respond or say ANYTHING. I’m pretty sure that he saw my facebook page. It’s not scary and full of emo song lyrics or full of weird cat pictures. Now this isn’t just a random match.com guy — this is a real person that someone vouched for! I’ve had plenty of guys from match not text or call back. Whatever.

What is wrong with people? If you aren’t interested just say something. Most of my dates from match go (seemingly) well and then I never hear back. I only had one guy, I nick named him burrito guy because we went for burrito on our first date, message me that he didn’t think it was a good match. And it stung, yes. But it was good to know so I could move forward and onto a new guy.

There was one guy where I was like — what the — you are too crazy for me and I let him know (in a nice way) and ended things. It wasn’t hard, I wasn’t mean, it doesn’t have to be mean.

Why is it so hard to just say one thing

“I’m not interested”

“I didn’t feel a connection.”

“I had a good time with you but you aren’t what I’m looking for in a relationship.”

(The last one was from burrito boy)

Blerg.

Save a Horse. Ride an… ATV?

Being from the south, I’m used to unusual first dates: kayaking, floating down the river, shooting guns, fishing, hunting… etc. But never had I been asked out to go ATVing by moonlight through pastures.

I met this guy through mutual friends and he seemed nice. Granted, he took “country” to the next level – cowboy hat, big ole belt buckle and aggressively designed boots. But he was from Oklahoma. So rather than being campy, he kinda owned the whole “Howdy ma’am, how ya doing taday?” thing.

He text me and asked me out for a date by saying, “Hey, wanna ride through my pastures by moonlight?” I was confused and wondered, is that code for something dirty and I’m just that out of touch? I know I’m in my late thirties, but that’s one I hadn’t heard before. I asked for clarification and he said, “I can come pick you up, put you on the back of my ATV and show you my land.” Once again… am I missing something or is this cowboy for real? After a little back and forth I hesitantly agreed and was immediately nervous about what I was getting myself into.

As I was getting ready for the big night, I was faced with the decision of what to wear on a date where I’d be cruising through fields on the back of a possible death-mobile. I somehow figured that a pair embroidered shorts, a lil polo and some slip-ons would be super cute, yet appropriate. (Rookie mistake.)

So, Billy-Bob came to get me in his ridiculously big truck, opened the door, shoved my heiny into the passenger seat and we headed out into the cooouuuuuuuntry. BFE to be exact.

I’m thinking, “Uh-oh, am I being driven to my backwoods death?” I just knew I was gonna end up on Dateline NBC. I sent a text of the guy’s name to my bestie, just to let her know who to look for if I went missing.

We finally got to his farm. True to his word, there was a four-wheeler waiting for us. The night was as dark as could be. Unfortunately the infamous South Carolina crescent moon was taking a night off.

Only the stars and fireflies were around to shed some light on the situation. I just knew Hoda Kotb was going to be reporting on my disappearance within a few weeks. I remember hoping that Amber Alerts existed for 36 year olds.

Despite my hesitance, we got off to a good start. He began by going slowly on the ATV and we were heading to the barn. On the way there we came across a rattler on the path. HOLY MOLY!! I’m terrified of snakes. He assured me that I was safe, as long as I didn’t get off the ATV. Yeah, because that’s EXACTLY what I want to do… venture off into fields wearing really wimpy shoes!

We got to the stables and I met some horses. The date was looking kind of up. He broke out some beers and I settled into some kind of comfy.

We had a couple while we listened to Jason Aldean and watched the stars shimmer. He then brought a horse out to show me a lil trick he’d taught her… she “bowed down” on her front knees when he tipped his hat to her.

One beer later, he suggested we make our way back to the truck. Only this time, he didn’t take the “path.” He hauled some ass and yelled “yeeeeee-haaaaaw” like I thought only fools did in low-budget redneck movies.

I asked him to slow down, but he ignored me like a whore does a positive STD test.  The last thing I remember before losing my mind and one of my adorable kicks was him plowing through a humongous mud puddle… on purpose.

WTF??

As I wiped mud off of my face (which left me looking like a politically incorrect “blackface”) and cussed like I never knew I could, I pulled my muddy ass into his big ass truck and rubbed against every stainable surface I could find. I came to the realization that country boys CAN survive… and obviously without women.

He uncomfortably laughed and apologized on the way back to my place as I silently fumed.

He pulled up to my house and had enough nerve to ask this one-shoed, mud-covered, pissed-off woman if we could have a second date. I answered him with a cold stare.

From now on, the only thing I wanna ride by moonlight is a horse or a cowboy. NEVER an ATV.

Sexy Boxing

After dealing with boob man, I was left with cuddle boy (we’ll call him S) and this guy that I had talked to on OkCupid before dating M, J. Slim pickins’, let me tell you.

Hopefully it was evident by my last post that I was far from impressed with S and it only got worst from there. He asked me to hang out sometime and against my better judgement I said yes. We made vague plans for Friday night but nothing was ever set beyond that. He kept making statements like, “I wish I had the privilege to come to your house.” Like I was going to be, “why yes stranger, please come to my home, where I live alone for you to do whatever you wish.” His next idea was to take a walk on the beach, at night. Sure, let’s go some place secluded where you can mug/rape me. That sounds like my perfect first date with a dude. Anyway, one day before our “date” I (un)intentionally ignored his texts all day. Which made him a little butt hurt and then came the passive aggressive messages. I got several text messages asking if I know longer wanted to speak to him, I should have told him that I didn’t want to talk, why didn’t I want to speak to him, good luck finding whatever I was looking… DUDE CHILL THE FUCK OUT! You reek of desperateness! Another day of desperate messages I got a, “I guess I’ll delete your number since we don’t talk” Jokes on you buddy, I never even saved yours!

So that brings me to J. This guy was texting me a lot before M and I were dating. He’s only way of flirting was to challenge woman to a boxing match…apparently he had recently taken up boxing and thought this was the way to a woman’s heart. It was first it was playful and a little fun but then it just got sad. It was his go to thing. I once made a joke that I’d only box him if I had pink gloves. He then went out a bought a pair of pink gloves, before I had even met him. I ended up meeting him at Barnes and Noble for all of like 15 minutes. He was late and I had to go. He could never make time for a regular date. Then I met M and stopped talking to J. So after being back on OkCupid, J finds me and the texting starts again. Guess what? He still wants to box! He essentially invites himself over for a boxing match where if he wins we make out. Again, let’s break this down, I’m going to give you my address so you can come over, beat me up, and force yourself on me as your prize. Swoon. I’m fucking in love now. Once I squashed that plan, he decided the gym was the next best place to hang out. He couldn’t understand that when I actually make it to the gym, I’m not there to socialize. I want to get in and get out while shooting dirty looks at the skinny bitch running 58 MPH next to me. Then he started making these vague plans, “let’s get together Saturday night” but never any time/location set. I didn’t care enough to press it. Saturday would come and go and Sunday he would text me saying, “Quiet lately” or “Why didn’t I hear from you today?” This went on for a couple weeks. Dude wouldn’t catch a hint. And then this conversation happened…

Riiiiight. I must be depressed because I have nothing to say to you! I mean you are such a fascinating human being that I must have a mental disorder. That’s the only explanation you can come up. Not that you’re lame.

I’m happy to report I haven’t been asked to box since.

-K

CAN WE GET HIM FOR FORGERY?

So I was going through my divorce & living with a friend, with our kids. We worked opposite shifts, so I was home at night with both her kids & mine. I started surfing the net at night. (And you know this is where it all goes wrong LOL) I found a good friend from high school online, so she & I started going into chat rooms to just goof off. Pretty soon, we were hosting our own chat room. People would come & go, but it wasn’t long before we started to have ‘regulars’. One of those regulars was a guy I’ll call ‘BR’.

BR lived on the other side of the US from me, so it was relatively safe to open up & talk about everything & anything. He seemed like a really nice guy… he used to compete in those ‘Strongest Man in the Universe’ competitions, so he was a big, beefy kind of guy. Like a big ole teddy bear. He was a bit country – lived on a farm or something. You have the mental picture going on now, right? Lol  Big, beefy guy with a cowboy hat & a piece of straw between his teeth? That’s almost the picture he emailed. 😉

Pretty soon, we were IM’ing & emailing. About 3 or 4 months in, we were talking on the phone. I was having one of my first internet romances! We’d talk about meeting at some point, but we didn’t know when. I sent him a Christmas card (snail mail)… and signed it with my screen name – which happened to be my first & middle name. He LOVED my name – he always said so. He would say ‘I’d love to get a tattoo with your name’. I’d laugh him off & say that’s really for people who’ve been together at least 20 years!

After about 6 months of talking to BR, I come home from work & my phone is ringing off the hook. My friend from high school is calling, asking if I’d talked to him yet – and she sounded a little worried. I had to pry it out of her – but she said he’d sent her a message online that he had a surprise for me. This jackass had taken the Christmas card with my signature on it to a tattoo artist who photocopied it for a stencil & tattoo’d it across his damn chest!!!

So, I’m numb with shock – she couldn’t possibly be serious?? But oh yes! The next call was from BR, so proud of himself, as he told me what he’d done for me. FOR ME?? Seriously?? I’d told him not to do it – and he thought it was all ok? He was seriously shocked as I went off & cussed him out & told him what a nut job I thought he was. I told him I was freaked out & didn’t think I ever wanted to even talk to him again. So what’s he do? He buys a freakin’ plane ticket & is knocking on my door a week later!

So I agree to spend some time (trying really hard here to give him the benefit of the doubt). Besides being a whacko for the tattoo… he bored the living shit out of me… and everyone else he met while visiting. I sat him down, told him it wasn’t going to work – that it just wasn’t ‘there’ for us & then drove him to the airport. And he cried… the whole damn hour to the airport, he cried. 6’4, probably 260lbs… wet face, wet neck – the collar of his shirt soaked… like a baby, he cried. It was beyond pitiful. I don’t mind some sensitivity in a man – but this was downright ridiculous. I couldn’t get him out of my car fast enough. He got married about a year later – to some nice, country girl. Hopefully the hair on his chest covered my name well enough! LOL

Rock BOTTOM

So in December, I ended a five year relationship with someone…when he went away for Christmas and slept with someone else. It sounds bad, but this happened pretty much every time he wasn’t tied to a chair at home, so by year five I was pretty numb to it all. Anyway, this story isn’t about that. At the same time, in an attempt to make some extra cash, I decided selling porn online would be a good decision. It was through one of those affiliate sites. You posted explicit ads on adult sites, Craigslist, etc. and then lured guys into signing up for webcam shows (which, for the record, were done by another girl). It was actually a lot of fun. I got to talk dirty for hours on end. One night at about 10 PM, I lured in another innocent gentleman from Craigslist. We started chatting and actually got into a pretty interesting conversation. I had so much fun talking to him, I didn’t even try to sell him. Instead, being newly single, I gave him my phone number. We texted for hours that evening, and throughout the next week. We’ll call this guy FC. For Fire Crotch. Because he had Archie red hair (if you don’t know who Archie is, you’re too young to be reading this…go color). FC had just gotten divorced and was “looking for a best friend, someone he could spend his life with”. He seemed nice and, most importantly, normal. I should have learned by this time that my normalcy gauge is broken.

After talking for about two weeks, I finally met FC at a bar for a drink. We had a really good time and it seemed to be a successful connection. I have really high standards, so when I found out this dude had a job, a car, and his own place, I was beside myself. We continued to text a lot and went out for drinks a few more times before things started getting a little more serious. One night, over some light conversation and sushi, I asked what kinds of things he was into [in bed]. He listed off the typical male responses…blow jobs, lingerie, threesomes (they always have to try, right?). Then, as an afterthought, FC says “oh…and strap ons”. At first I just kind of laughed, not connecting the dots. Then, as I slowly became partially paralyzed, I said “meaning u like to get one in your butt?”. Yes. That is exactly what he meant. The conversation then went back to normal subjects like nothing had ever happened. And of course, ignoring all red flags, I continued to go out with him.

The next day, FC had to go on a retreat for work. On his drive there, he text me the whole way. He told me when he got back, he wanted to take me shopping. I thought it was really sweet that he wanted to buy me a gift. He then proceeded to tell me that he wanted to buy me something sexy and fuck me in the dressing room when I tried it on. Okay…I’m adventurous…I can roll with that. Clearly FC didn’t know when to stop…because he then told me why he wanted to fuck me at the mall. He said that he loves the mall because of all the teenage girls that walk around in slutty outfits. He said that sometimes he likes to go to the mall and jerk off in fitting rooms after seeing these girls. Oh…and here’s the best part! His ex-wife has a teenage daughter…who lived with them! Red flag #1: Straight guy who likes it in the rear. Red flag #2: Any guy who likes to jerk off at the mall to underage girls.

BUT WAIT! I wasn’t done! Clearly this guy was just very open sexually. I mean, it wasn’t like he was actually SLEEPING with teenagers…and there’s nothing wrong with fantasizing, right? Instead of peacing the eff out, I decided it was time for us to bring our relationship to the next level. That’s right…I slept with the pervert! For a few weeks. And actually things were pretty normal and satisfying. Just as I was starting to believe maybe FC really was just open about the dark side of his sexual mind and didn’t act on any of this stuff, he pulled the rug out from under me.

One night, we went out for a nice dinner and then went back to his place. After a few minutes of making out, he said he wanted to show me something special. Totally unsuspecting and excited, I said okay! Imagine my genuine surprise when he pulled out an 8 inch dildo. He proceeded to lube it up and lay at the foot of the bed with his feet over his head, all as I stood there motionless and unsure of whether to laugh or cry. I will let your imagination travel where it may at this point in the story, as words still kind of escape me on this. Fast forward to a few minutes later. All I can say is the ending involved a towel and his FACE. His aim was impeccable.

As, clearly, was my tolerance for idiots…because we went out a few times after that. But things are just never the same after you watch a guy give himself a facial. Our brief but passionate love affair ended shortly thereafter. Things ended mutually. Red flag #3 for me was him busting out anal sex…on himself. And I guess red flag #1 for him was that I didn’t help him out…

-Lily

Quirks

It’s the quirks…

I think we all have a Quirk Acceptance Level.  Mine was a little high until recently.

Getting through a first date without focusing on how a guy chews with his mouth open, texts incessantly while continually saying “No, keep going, I’m listening”, talks too much about his career, kids, dog, golf, politics, money, etc.… is impossible.

Too many quirky moments too fast equals no future.

I will now recap of a recent first date of mine:

So, “Louis” picked me up five minutes early (5:55) and opened the car door for me. Nice beginning.  We decided to go to a local watering hole.  All was well until I went to the tinkle room and came back to find Louis the Lover with his shirt pulled almost over his head showing a younger lady a tattoo of his children’s names in Chinese on his upper back.

Um…. What???

I had a nice local IPA and chilled for a minute before reacting.

His kids’ names are Robert, John and Emma-Lynn.  Do single Chinese characters actually exist for these names?  Bizarre. (Quirks #1 & 2: Random partial nudity in a public place and a very questionable tattoo.)

I tried to see past the de-shirting occurrence.  “Give him the benefit of the doubt” I thought… For the love of Pete.  I now know that doubt should never be benefitted.

We left the pub and headed for sushi.  But then, out of nowhere, Louis decided that we needed to stop for another libation before supper.  We walked into the bar and ran into a friend of his named Buffy.  Ughhh… I had to carry on a conversation with her and her cray cray boyfriend for longer than a nun should be punished for losing her virginity.

I ended up getting cornered in the bathroom by Buffy, who was somehow under the impression that I have an affinity for over-the-hill, platinum blonde, leather skinned, chain-smoking women.  The amount of kissy faces coming at me while I was trying to escape haunts me to this day.  It wasn’t okay… or pretty.  Oh lawdy, I had to duck and weave to get away.

I ran to the safety of a bar stool and immediately had a shot of Fireball.  Ah, the burn felt so good.

Not necessarily his fault… But, it happened under his watch.  Super duper awkward attempt at girl-on-girl action.  (Quirks #3 & 4: His need to stop for a 4^th cocktail before dinner and having sketchy, bi-curious, and HUNGRY cougars as friends.)

We got to the sushi bar and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t realized it before… but (….OMG….) I was on a date with the (self-proclaimed) Mayor of Charleston!  He was kissing faces, shaking hands, laughing way too loud, infringing upon others’ personal space and telling ridiculously long stories while listeners’ eyes wandered and silently pleaded with him to shut the hell up.  I was blushing for him, and for me too, because I was the one out on the date this bozo.  Guilty by association.

I finally ate some sushi and drank some apple sake.  The sake made him a teeny more tolerable… for a short time.

He’s a self-absorbed narcissist who needs to feel important at all costs.  He’s a time leech who also has the ability to suck the desire for a second date right out of a gal.  (Quirks 5, 6 & 7: Lives in his own bubble, needy and insecure.

We left the sushi bar.  On the way back he suggested one more stop.  I said that we should stop for ice cream or a dessert of sorts.  I guess I was a little too vague on the “of sorts” part.  He pulled into a strip club parking lot.

What????  There was no way I could have ever anticipated that.

I had to put my heel down at that point.

This creep already had 7 quirks in the bucket.  He added the 8^th and the bucket runneth over.

Drop da mic.

My new Quirk Acceptance Level = 2.

-Leslie

Sweethart

So I’ve recently ended a 6-7 month relationship with M, which as much as I hate to admit, should have ended probably around month 3-4 but that’s besides the point. M and I still talk and are usually a drunken phone call away from a hook up at any given point. I know, I know. That shit never ends well…but we all have those dumb girl moments and I’m claiming this as mine. In attempt to ween myself off M, I’ve been back on OkCupid the past month or so, looking for a distraction. Here’s a recap of my recent date with a dude.

Last week I went out with a rather boring dude. We went to dinner at a local pub. Strike 1: he sits on the same side of the booth with me. I hate that shit, I don’t want to have to awkwardly turn to see you or look inside of your ear. Plus, if you sit on the opposite side, I have the table to cover my stomach fat and let’s be honest, that shit is important. Strike 2: He takes a call from his neighbor and talked longer then, “Everything ok? Alright, let me talk to you later.” So we had our boring meal where he spent a good 15 minutes talking about all the repairs his truck needs, guns, and his, what sounds like a, shitty apartment without central air/heat. The check comes, I did the whole, let me pretend to be polite and offer to pay my half, and DUDE MAN FUCKING ALLOWS IT! Strike 3. I don’t know why (beer), but I agreed to go on a walk with him at a nearby park. We chatted some more and made out a bit. Strike 4: bad kisser. As I’m leaving, he pays me a compliment, great right? “It’s nice to meet an attractive and practical woman” Practical? Did I offer you financial planning advice? I don’t think so. Oh well, he did say attractive too.

So now that the date is over, here comes the texting.

1. Pet names…don’t fucking start with that shit after one date. AND if you are going, at least spell it correctly. Suddenly, my name was no longer K, but sweethart. See what’s missing? It wasn’t just a one time thing…over and over again, sweethart.
2. Because we’ve made out doesn’t mean you can ask me any personal question. A few days after we hung out and a day or two before I had agreed to see him again (yes, I’m asking myself why I agreed to do that too.) He asks me how big my boobs are. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? At the risk of sounding like I belong on Maury, YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME! I don’t know why he thought this would be acceptable. Also, what was he planning on doing with this information? Unless he was planning on buying me a new bra, my cup size is useless to him. I feel pretty comfortable saying, he doesn’t have a clue what bra sizes mean, besides A=little, D=big. And even then, he’s seen me in person. I would think that he’d be able to look at my chest and decide if it’s too small/large or just right for him.

That was it for me, we had planned a second “date” (his idea, walk around downtown Charleston when it’s 85 degrees, 95% humidity and show me his favorite shop. Cause woman really wanna sweat their balls off on a second date) prior to the boob question which I canceled because of a headache (oldie but a goodie!) and he hasn’t texted me since. Thank God.

Which this leads into my rant.

Is texting ruining dating? Part of me thinks yes. Dudes think they can get away with asking all kinds of shit they’d never asking in person, like how big are your tits. I gave my number to a guy last night from OkCupid and I’m already regretting it. Within 15- 30 minutes of texting he asks me if I like to cuddle. While that’s not nearly personal as boob man, still, what fucking difference does it make. I’m not sleeping with you anytime soon. Why don’t you wait until there’s been something to lead you to believe that cuddling may happen. He followed it up with a photo request. Can you imagine if you’re at the bar and the conversation goes like this:

T: Hey, I’m Tiffany, nice to meet you

B: I’m Bob, likewise.

T: So Bob, tell me about yourself, what do you do?

B: Blah blah blah

T: Wow, how interesting

B: So you like to cuddle? Can I take a picture of you?

(It’s clear I don’t pick up people in the bar, that’s a lame conversation.)

As I’m writing this, he just texted me and called me babe. FUCK YOU, I’M NOT YOUR BABE!

-K