I'm done whoring myself on online dating services
I first got involved with online dating about 2 years ago, on the recommendation of my cousin, who met his wife through such a service. I figured, if J can meet his wife, surely I can find someone to take out once or twice. Right?
WRONG
Contestant #1 was L. L was a good match, realistically. We were into similar things, held similar views on the world and politics. She loved the Yankees. We went on two dates, and then things went to shit. Apparently, L had a problem with blowing people off. Ok, ok, I had a problem with L blowing me off. We'd make plans, and she'd just no-show. Or, she'd never return phone calls. Or she'd just leave me hanging. When pressed, L was indignant, "We're not serious, you know."
Yeah, I know, sweet, but come on! All I'm asking for is a little courtesy. Is that too much to ask? Plans change? Just call me and let me know! I'm secure enough in myself and with myself to take a rain check, fer chrissake!
And then we have Contestant #4, A.
(Contestants #2 & #3 were just bad ideas....)
A contacted me because (a) she thought I was cute, and (b) because we're both living in Louisville, but originally from NJ. We got to talking, first via e-mail, and then on the phone. She seemed really cool. She seemed really nice. She said she looked like Taylor Dayne.
For those of you out there unfamiliar, Taylor Dayne looks good.
So, A and I decided to meet up at a local watering hole for drinks and pool. Another bonus point, since I love to shoot pool, and I don't mind drinking while I do it. I walk in, and there's this woman staring at me. She did not look like Taylor Dayne. She looked like she ate Taylor Dayne, and then stretched her face over her own like some Silence of the Lambs reject.
But, I was already there, and let's face it, there was nothing preventing me from having some beers, shooting some pool, and bowing out gracefully at the end of the night. You know, be a nice guy, try not to hurt her feelings? Good plan, but as we all know, execution is critical for the success of any plan.
Well, I didn't execute. No sir. I did not execute at all.
Instead of following my hastily laid plan, which would have been the intelligent maneuver, I proceeded to drink about 6 beers in the space of two hours. I was buzzed. Then, she asked me if I'd like to go get high.
It was, I believe, at this point that my brain took a vacation, leaving the controls in the less-than-capable hands of my cerebellum. Yep, the "lizard brain." My brain and I are still having problems as a result of this error in judgment.
So, we go back to her place, and smoke a bowl or two. Then, she's kissing me. Impromptu of nothing, she's kissing me. (Well, that's not fair, we were on a date.) The next thing I know, and I mean literally 45 seconds later, my pants are off, and she's singing karaoke on my personal microphone.
At this point, I'm completely flummoxed. Not that the experience was new to me, but the sheer rapidity with which I found myself in a denuded state was rather shocking. Still, I was not yet at the point of problems.
Perhaps 5-10 minutes later, she's asking me if I would like to watch some porn. WHAT!? You're telling me I can sit here, do NOTHING, recieve some fairly decent stimuli, and not even pay attention to you? Are you kidding? Are you serious? Did I win Powerball? So, being the slightly drunk and certainly stoned chap I was, I said, "Sure. Whatever you want."
Looking back, this was definitely where my brain should have kicked in and pointed out a few things. Like the fact that this woman was 6 years my senior. Like the fact that she was treating my like her own personal salt lick within moments of getting me into her apartment. Like the fact that she owned a library of erotic books. Like the fact that she was, perhaps, large enough to sustain her own moon. But no, my brain was not there; I got a postcard from him though. My brain was in Amsterdam at a sex show. That asshole's always getting me into trouble...
So, she flips on the TV, presses PLAY on the VCR, and I am immediately treated to a back-door entry sequence. My first reaction was something along the lines of, "Ok, so she likes it like that. Then, to my horror, the camera zoomed out, and the woman had a pair of testicles. A LARGE pair of testicles. Now, I'm thinking, "Why does this chick have balls?" In retrospect, I was fooling myself.
Then, the angle changed. As did the positions. Sure enough, I'm watching two men treating each other to a flesh enema.
You know, I have nothing against homosexuality. I believe that in this world it is hard enough to find someone who makes you feel complete. If that person ends up being the same sex? Fine. Have fun. Just don't ask me to watch, please. I like the ladies, some guys like guys. I've had plenty of friends in my life who were homosexual, or bi-sexual, or what-have-you. I think love and lust are wonderful things, and whatever gets the motor running is cool with me. Well, necrophilia and pedophilia are out of bounds, and I've never really gotten my head around the whole "shit on my chest, baby," thing, but I'm digressing.
Point is, I'd heard about two men in coitus. I've had some fairly graphic discussions with some of my friends about it. I'd even created a mental picture. But man! I ain't never seen it before then. To tell the truth, I'd prefer to never see that again. It looked really painful, and hairy, and...um...yeah.
So, of course, I turned the movie off. A's all in a tizzy. "Why'd you do that? I thought you said you wanted to watch a porno."
"You didn't tell me it was a gay porn."
"Oh, but if it was two girls, that'd be fine?"
"YES!"
"Well, that's gay porn."
"NO! That's PORN!"
I'd love to be able to say that the evening ended there. I'd love to be able to say that I gathered my scattered clothing and left. Really, that's a great way to end this story. But, then, I'd be lying if I said that. No, I spent the night with this woman.
Like I said, my brain was in Amsterdam at a sex show. What was I supposed to do?
And that, dear friends, is the last online love connection I'm planning on making. This shit's just too damn weird for me.
WRONG
Contestant #1 was L. L was a good match, realistically. We were into similar things, held similar views on the world and politics. She loved the Yankees. We went on two dates, and then things went to shit. Apparently, L had a problem with blowing people off. Ok, ok, I had a problem with L blowing me off. We'd make plans, and she'd just no-show. Or, she'd never return phone calls. Or she'd just leave me hanging. When pressed, L was indignant, "We're not serious, you know."
Yeah, I know, sweet, but come on! All I'm asking for is a little courtesy. Is that too much to ask? Plans change? Just call me and let me know! I'm secure enough in myself and with myself to take a rain check, fer chrissake!
And then we have Contestant #4, A.
(Contestants #2 & #3 were just bad ideas....)
A contacted me because (a) she thought I was cute, and (b) because we're both living in Louisville, but originally from NJ. We got to talking, first via e-mail, and then on the phone. She seemed really cool. She seemed really nice. She said she looked like Taylor Dayne.
For those of you out there unfamiliar, Taylor Dayne looks good.
So, A and I decided to meet up at a local watering hole for drinks and pool. Another bonus point, since I love to shoot pool, and I don't mind drinking while I do it. I walk in, and there's this woman staring at me. She did not look like Taylor Dayne. She looked like she ate Taylor Dayne, and then stretched her face over her own like some Silence of the Lambs reject.
But, I was already there, and let's face it, there was nothing preventing me from having some beers, shooting some pool, and bowing out gracefully at the end of the night. You know, be a nice guy, try not to hurt her feelings? Good plan, but as we all know, execution is critical for the success of any plan.
Well, I didn't execute. No sir. I did not execute at all.
Instead of following my hastily laid plan, which would have been the intelligent maneuver, I proceeded to drink about 6 beers in the space of two hours. I was buzzed. Then, she asked me if I'd like to go get high.
It was, I believe, at this point that my brain took a vacation, leaving the controls in the less-than-capable hands of my cerebellum. Yep, the "lizard brain." My brain and I are still having problems as a result of this error in judgment.
So, we go back to her place, and smoke a bowl or two. Then, she's kissing me. Impromptu of nothing, she's kissing me. (Well, that's not fair, we were on a date.) The next thing I know, and I mean literally 45 seconds later, my pants are off, and she's singing karaoke on my personal microphone.
At this point, I'm completely flummoxed. Not that the experience was new to me, but the sheer rapidity with which I found myself in a denuded state was rather shocking. Still, I was not yet at the point of problems.
Perhaps 5-10 minutes later, she's asking me if I would like to watch some porn. WHAT!? You're telling me I can sit here, do NOTHING, recieve some fairly decent stimuli, and not even pay attention to you? Are you kidding? Are you serious? Did I win Powerball? So, being the slightly drunk and certainly stoned chap I was, I said, "Sure. Whatever you want."
Looking back, this was definitely where my brain should have kicked in and pointed out a few things. Like the fact that this woman was 6 years my senior. Like the fact that she was treating my like her own personal salt lick within moments of getting me into her apartment. Like the fact that she owned a library of erotic books. Like the fact that she was, perhaps, large enough to sustain her own moon. But no, my brain was not there; I got a postcard from him though. My brain was in Amsterdam at a sex show. That asshole's always getting me into trouble...
So, she flips on the TV, presses PLAY on the VCR, and I am immediately treated to a back-door entry sequence. My first reaction was something along the lines of, "Ok, so she likes it like that. Then, to my horror, the camera zoomed out, and the woman had a pair of testicles. A LARGE pair of testicles. Now, I'm thinking, "Why does this chick have balls?" In retrospect, I was fooling myself.
Then, the angle changed. As did the positions. Sure enough, I'm watching two men treating each other to a flesh enema.
You know, I have nothing against homosexuality. I believe that in this world it is hard enough to find someone who makes you feel complete. If that person ends up being the same sex? Fine. Have fun. Just don't ask me to watch, please. I like the ladies, some guys like guys. I've had plenty of friends in my life who were homosexual, or bi-sexual, or what-have-you. I think love and lust are wonderful things, and whatever gets the motor running is cool with me. Well, necrophilia and pedophilia are out of bounds, and I've never really gotten my head around the whole "shit on my chest, baby," thing, but I'm digressing.
Point is, I'd heard about two men in coitus. I've had some fairly graphic discussions with some of my friends about it. I'd even created a mental picture. But man! I ain't never seen it before then. To tell the truth, I'd prefer to never see that again. It looked really painful, and hairy, and...um...yeah.
So, of course, I turned the movie off. A's all in a tizzy. "Why'd you do that? I thought you said you wanted to watch a porno."
"You didn't tell me it was a gay porn."
"Oh, but if it was two girls, that'd be fine?"
"YES!"
"Well, that's gay porn."
"NO! That's PORN!"
I'd love to be able to say that the evening ended there. I'd love to be able to say that I gathered my scattered clothing and left. Really, that's a great way to end this story. But, then, I'd be lying if I said that. No, I spent the night with this woman.
Like I said, my brain was in Amsterdam at a sex show. What was I supposed to do?
And that, dear friends, is the last online love connection I'm planning on making. This shit's just too damn weird for me.
posted by StofCircumstance at 2:40 PM
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