Java

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Of the three dates I tried to line up last week, only one came to fruition.  The first was supposed to be with The Talker.  This would have been my first second date and I was willing to give her a chance.  But she canceled at the last minute:

“I am so sorry…something came up and I can not do tomorrow. If you like we can reschedule. So so sorry.”

If she were really interested in rescheduling, she would have suggested an alternate date. At least that’s what I would have done.  But she didn’t.  Besides, I’ve been “rescheduled” enough times by now to know what that really means.  So I let her message languish in my inbox and figured that was that.  The next day I received another message from her:

“Still so sorry about yesterday. Hope you had a nice day and we can hopefully catch up soon.”

Um… okay?  I didn’t respond to this either. The next day I received yet another message:

“Hope we can figure something out.”

Sigh.  If she was keeping after me like this, then perhaps she sincerely wanted to reschedule. I took the bait and suggested Monday. Her answer finally came Sunday night:

“I am sorry it took so long to respond but it looks like Monday is not good. Hope you had a nice weekend.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.  I’m done with this chick.

***

Number Two was Crossfit Girl.  Crossfit… the latest fitness fad, and one that apparently employs lifting heavy weights, jumping up on boxes, and dragging things around parking lots.  Or some such shit.  I don’t know, I don’t really pay attention to these things.  But that’s her big interest.  She told me I was one of the cutest guys on the site – an assessment I agree with myself.  We messaged back and forth for about a week.  My last message to her went unanswered for two days, and when she finally got back to me all she had to say was “hey there.”

Hey there?  What the hell.  She didn’t respond to anything I’d written, but instead acted like she was messaging me for the very first time or something.  Weird.  I decided to pass on this one.

***

Number Three was Cake Girl.  She agreed to meet me after only a week of messaging back and forth.  Which is not usually an impressive feat, except that she was very new to the site and openly leery of online dating.  So, go me!  We wrote each other nice long emails, but after sitting and talking for over two hours I just didn’t feel the same spark we had in our messages.  Damn.  Afterwards we told each other “nice meeting you” and went our separate ways.  And that was that.  I’m not going to ask for a second date.

But I really need to move away from these coffee dates.  I’m a fun and goofy person, and it’s hard to display that side of me sitting in a Starbucks.  Well, I could start blowing straws, but people tend to look askance at that activity.  I need to come up with more activity dates to help things flow better.

***

You might be interested to know that I’ve signed up for A-List on OkCupid.  I did it more out of curiosity than anything else.  I really don’t believe that paying for online dating yields any better chance of success than doing it for free.  But I really wanted to know who my 95 Quickmatch likes were.  I also like the greatly expanded mailbox, because I was bumping up on my mailbox quota so often I was continually forced to delete messages.  Not to mention you can see whether people have read your message, which is really cool.  I paid for a three-month subscription, so that’ll give me plenty of time to explore the other features and additional search options.

There are a handful of girls I’m talking to at the moment, but only one that really interests me.  We’ve been sending each other messages of insane length, and she’s very interested in meeting me. She’s given me her number and everything.  All right.  Let’s see where this goes…

First dates:  7
Second dates:  0
Cancellations:  1

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PYT

“I want to show you my pussy…” PYT whispered to me.  I was so startled I nearly whacked myself in the head with the phone.  We’d spent the first two weeks talking and getting to know each other.  Once that stage was out of the way, we spent the next two weeks telling each other all the dirty things we wanted to do to each other.  She started sending me pictures of herself in various states of undress.  Thong a t-shirt.  Thong and a bra.  Thong and nothing else.

Finally we moved things to the phone, and I was greatly relieved to hear that she was a real live breathing girl, and not some balding 40yo fat-assed dude sitting in a front of his computer in his bathrobe jacking off on his keyboard.  And now she wanted to show me more.  Go for it, I said.

She did.  Now, I’ve seen pictures and videos of vaginas and many times I’ve found them grotesque and slightly scary.  I’d wager good money that most girls don’t even like looking at their own junk.  But she sent me a picture of hers and it was absolutely beautiful.  Rabbits held hands and danced in a circle in front of it. A unicorn looked out of it, winking as if to beckon me inside.

This seemed too good to be true.

It was.

The cracks didn’t take long to form.  For starters, she was a feminist.  One of *those* feminists.  Certain trigger words would set her off.  Like “friend zone.”  It never occurred to me that the phrase could be that much of a problem for anyone, but it certainly was for her.  I asked her why and she lost her shit.  Just because I asked a question… imagine if I’d unwittingly dropped the phrase into the conversation!  She was completely disgusted with me: “If you seriously don’t understand what’s wrong with it, then stop talking to me right now because I’m not dealing with any of that misogynistic bullshit.”

What the hell.

“You know, I’m able to have a conversation about things without losing my cool,” I told her.  “I’m starting to feel like I have to walk around eggshells around you, because I can only wonder what other trigger words might set you off.  I was only asking you to explain your point of view.  There’s no reason to bite my head off.”  Especially over something as silly as this, I thought to myself.  However, that only aggravated her further.

Another one of her pet peeves was “gender-biased remarks,” but then she’d turn around say things like, “men are assholes.”  Well, isn’t that a gender-biased remark?  I decided to ask her about it, and that was a mistake too.  Yet another mistake was the time I expressed a preference for women without tattoos, and she almost didn’t even want to talk to me because she thought I was making a “gender-specific remark.”  Good grief.  For the record, I don’t care for men or women with tattoos, but nor do I feel like I should have to qualify everything I say.

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She was quickly proving to be insufferable in conversation.  After years of dealing with my father, I need to be with someone with whom I can be myself without having to watch myself.  The more PYT and I talked, the more I started realizing what a hair-trigger temper she had.  No bueno.  And she hadn’t even heard any of my jokes yet!  Those would have really landed me in deep shit.  And the only thing feminists hate more than a sexist joke is having it explained to them by a man.

But as much as a deal-breaker as that was, there was an even bigger one that did me in.  I told her I wanted to meet her, and she told me it would be really hard to arrange because her parents were really controlling.

“Not for nothing, but you’re 21 years old.  Don’t think you’re old enough to make your own decisions now?”  That made her madder than anything else I’d said to her.

“What the fuck do you want me to do, sneak out of the house??  Tell them, ‘fuck you, I’ll do what I want’?  I’m not in high school anymore!” she fumed.

“Umm… yeah, that’s kind of my point actually.  You’re not in high school anymore.  You’re an adult now,” I said.

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t just explain the situation to you, but whatever.  God, what the hell do you want me to do?”

“Well, what are you doing on the site then?  You knew this was going to be an issue – didn’t you have any kind of plan on how to meet if you came across someone you really liked?”

“No.  I actually didn’t expect to meet anyone I really liked on here.  You were the only decent guy I talked to, but now I don’t even know what to think of you after this conversation… besides, I’ve met girls off here (she’s bisexual) and my parents didn’t think anything of it.  It’s only guys they have a problem with,” she explained.  Which brought us back to my original point that she was too old to have Mommy and Daddy tell her what do.  And that’s a point I’d like to extend to anyone reading this.  Never mind 21 – at 18 I wouldn’t let my parents try to run my life and tell me what to do.  There comes a point when you really need to start asserting yourself as an adult.

Finally I told her I was ending things.  “We can’t have calm rational discussions, we can’t meet, and I need someone with a little more independence.”  To top things off, I learned that not only was she going away for two months, but there was a good chance she’d be going away permanently by the end of the year.  “I’m looking for a relationship with potential, and there doesn’t seem to be any here.”  That really steamed her clams.

And that’s how it ended.  She deleted her OKC profile shortly afterwards.  I feel bad for any guy that tries to talk to her when she’s 30, because she has such a crappy attitude towards men already and that’s certainly not going to improve with age.

In other news, I reached out to Golf Girl again.  She responded with, “I had a fun time, but I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”  I was expecting this, but I was still really surprised considering that I thought we had gotten on so well.  And with that I was back to zero.  Nothing left to do but to get back on OKC and start sending out more messages.  I’m still on my winning streak!  As of this writing I have nine messages in my inbox that need replies.  I’m also working on lining up three more dates for this coming week.  One of them is with The Talker.  This will be my first second date – ought to be interesting!  Any tips will be greatly appreciated.

Honk

I was tucking into my Chicken Big King from Burger King at a red light this afternoon when the woman next to me started yelling and going bonkers with her horn. I rolled my window down to see what she wanted.

“Where’s mine?” she shouted.

Where’s what? I just gave her a blank look. Usually when people want something at a red light, it’s either directions or permission to cut in front when the light changes. “I said, where’s mine!?” she shouted louder. It took me a minute to realize she was referring to my sandwich. Yet I still couldn’t produce a witty response. I continued gaping at her instead. “Have a sense of humor!” she yelled and gave me the finger as the light turned green and she drove off.

So it was that kind of a day. Either that or people like Burger King more than I realized.

Anyway.

I landed three dates this week, a feat which lands me in the annals of history. That’s more dates than I’ve had in my first 28 years combined. All three were from OKC. This first one was on Monday with the Talker.

The second was last night with Golf Girl. We enjoyed an overly competitive game of mini-golf in lieu of the real thing, and talked for an hour and a half over drinks. I’d asked her out even though I didn’t think she was my type (the septum ring didn’t help). But we had a great conversation and I was surprised to find we had more in common than I thought. And she was hot.  Oh yeah.

We talked until she had to leave for work (she works overnights at the hospital). I told her I had a great time and would like to see her again, but she gave me a “meh” in response. That really surprised me, especially when I thought we’d hit it off so well. Then she said, “we’ll see.” Yeah, I know what that means. So that was a little disappointing.

Date number three was tonight with Brooklyn Girl. She’s a hardcore dancer, which is obviously what got my attention. I picked out a time and place, I took a train and two subways to get there, but when I finally got off at the right stop I realized I was running a few minutes late. Shit. I called her to tell her I was almost there and she said it was okay.

Fast forward ten minutes. I saw her standing outside the lounge as I crossed the street, but once she saw me coming she folded her arms and started walking down the sidewalk. I called out her name but she didn’t respond, so I jogged to catch up and touched her on the shoulder. She just made a face at me.

“I’m just going to go home actually,” she said.

“Wh- huh?? Just like that?” I asked.

“Yeah… I’m probably going to go out dancing tonight. I’ll see you later,” she said.

“All righty then. Have fun,” I called after her. She just shrugged her shoulders and kept walking without even looking back. Meanwhile, Fuck you too! is what I really would have liked to have said. But I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me angry.

I wasn’t particularly enthused about meeting her in the first place because I got the sense that she might be a flake, but I was definitely NOT expecting that. Seriously – who does that?? She left me standing there by myself like an idiot in the middle of the city. Since I was already that far in I toyed with the idea of going into Manhattan, but decided against it. At that point all I really felt like doing was going home.  So I did. That’s five hours of my life I’ll never get back.

But at least the night is ending on a positive note. PYT was bummed about not hearing from me all day, so she sent me some pictures of her naked breasts.

Mmm… yes?

 

First dates:  6
Second dates:  0