The Last Girlfriend (Part 1)

I thought I’d take a break from regular programming to give you a blast from the past. I don’t think I ever really delved into the story of my one and only long-term relationship (so far).  It was in high school and lasted nearly a year and a half.

Patti was my first real girlfriend.  I’d dated a girl before her, but she turned out to be a nutcase so that enterprise only lasted seven weeks (click here to read that story).  That experience nearly put me off girls altogether – so much so that Patti spent months trying and failing to get my attention.  I was hopelessly oblivious, and it didn’t help that I was very conservative at the time and turned off by her liberal views.

Eventually we had occasion to talk about other things and found that we were very much alike.  We even kept a notebook that we passed back and forth to document all the ways in which we were frighteningly similar.  After a couple months of friendship, I took the plunge and asked her to the homecoming dance.  She said yes and we were a pair of grinning idiots from that point on.   Everything went perfectly.  We danced.  We slow danced.  I walked her home.  She took my hand in hers.  I wanted to kiss her under the streetlight in front of her house, but chickened out.

We went to our school’s pancake breakfast the next morning, followed by the big game after that.  We had such a good time.  This time I took her hand on the way home, but I was still too scared to go in for the kiss.  Finally she got tired of waiting for me to make a move and went for it herself.  I was so shocked I forgot to close my eyes.  It was awkward but all kinds of wonderful, and just enough to break the ice.  It gave me the courage to go for the second kiss a half-hour later.

I floated home after that. Things went swimmingly over the next few weeks.  I walked her home each day after school, sat and talked for a bit, and kissed before parting ways.  With Mom’s help, I took her out for dinner and a movie.  Then I cooked up the greatest date yet.  And there we were on a cold November night, hand in hand on a blanket next to the old war memorial.  We gazed upon the heavens and the best meteor shower we’d ever seen in our lives.  Fireball after fireball erupted into sight as we oohed and ahhed.  We were at the  highest point of the island and had a fantastic view for miles around.

This time I got Dad to chaperone.  He was a couple hundred feet away, sitting in his car with the engine running.   He spent the next two hours listening to the radio to stave off boredom while Patti and I had the time of our lives.  I would have preferred being alone with her, but we were teenagers and had to deal with hovering parents.  Dad was parked facing us to make sure there was no hanky-panky.  I was too self-conscious to put my arms around her with him watching.

We finally called it a night (morning) as the shooting stars faded into the approaching sunrise.  Dad had dozed off by that point so we knocked on the window to wake him up.  The three of us went to the diner for breakfast.  Then he drove us back to her house.  He was gracious enough to head down the block a little ways to turn the car around, giving me a little time and a modicum of privacy to kiss her goodbye.  I wrapped my arms around her waist as she smiled at me.

“You know, I’m going to marry you someday,” she stood on her tiptoes and whispered into my ear.  I grinned in reply and gave her another kiss before Dad reappeared at the curb.

We drove in silence for a couple of minutes before he started the inquisition:  “So, uh, what religion is Patti?  Is she Catholic?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, what is she then?”

“She isn’t anything.  She doesn’t have religion,” I answered.  We drove in silence for another minute while Dad chewed his cud.

“You know, if you two ever get married then you have to raise the kids as Catholic,” he said.  I gaped at him.  It was almost as if he knew what she had said to me.

“Yeah, I know,” I replied.  Dad brightened up.

“Good!  I’m glad to see you’re thinking about these things.”

No, I’m NOT thinking about these things.  I’m fucking seventeen, Dad.  I only said “I know” simply to show that I knew what the Church taught.  I didn’t mean to infer that that’s what I intended to do.  And why the hell was he even bringing it up?

“Because when your sister got married, I had a talk with her and her husband,” Dad continued, pronouncing the last word with venom.  “And they agreed to raise their daughter as Catholic.  And now your sister is divorced, so I guess being Catholic and obeying the commandments doesn’t matter to some people,” he ranted.  Oh boy.  I had to listen to a treatise on the faith during the rest of the ride home.  Not only did his marriage fail and his family walk out, but now his daughter’s marriage failed as well.  Dad took that as yet another personal failing and a further step down the road to his eternal damnation.

Unfortunately for Dad, there was another commandment I was interested in violating.  It happened whenever I looked at Patti.  I was incredibly lucky to have her.  There were a lot of guys trying to get with her, but for some reason she wanted me and she didn’t give up until she got me.  We were the talk of the school when we started going out.  Guys and girls alike came up to me asking, “Is it true?  Are you and Patti really going out?”  They were agog when I answered in the affirmative.  Patti proudly wore my jacket around school, silencing any remaining doubters.

A few weeks after the meteor shower she invited me to the Christmas party at her karate school.  There was good music, good food, and of course good company.  Shortly after we arrived they turned the studio lights off and the black lights on.  Patti and I settled into a darkened corner.  I sat behind her and wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into me.  I brushed her hair aside and gently breathed on her neck while I ran my fingers along her stomach.  The effect was immediate.  She tilted back to give me greater access and I gave her a neck a few experimental nibbles.  Her breathing grew heavier and I could feel her pulse pounding in her wrist as she placed one of her hands over mine.

After the party we took advantage of the backseat of her mom’s car to continue our foreplay.  We sat side by side and I grabbed her hand and pulled it towards me so I could lightly trace my fingertips up and down her forearm.  She did the same to me and by the time we arrived at her house we were all breathless and flustered.  Her mom parked in the driveway and went into the house first, leaving the two of us outside to say good night.  Privacy – thank you!

“You have no idea how much I want to jump you right now,” she grinned up at me.

“That’s good,” I said.  Then I pushed her up against the garage door – out of view of the front windows of her house – and French kissed her.  She eagerly returned the favor and we made out for several minutes.  I ran my hand down her back and grabbed a handful of her nice round ass before we broke apart.  She gave me a mischievous smile before she reached behind me and squeezed my ass in return.  After two months that was the most physical we’d been yet.  Then she gave me one last peck before turning around and darting up the walkway and into the house, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did so.

I walked home.  No Dad around to spoil the mood this time.

I wanted her.  And I was going to get her.


(to be continued)

Girl #60

My latest go-round with Bumble is winding down, but I met another match over the weekend.  I ignored the rules and red flags with this one.  Not to mention her pictures were all from the head/shoulders up, which is almost always a warning sign.  We added each other on Instagram and her pictures on there were the same.  In fact there are quite a few girls from Bumble that I’ve stopped talking to but are still lurking on my Instagram.  I’m paying them no mind because I’m also a whore for followers.

Anyway, I met this one at a bar not too far from where she lived.  As soon she walked in she confirmed my suspicions.  I looked at her and was like… no.  Just no physical attraction.  She was nice enough, but nice is not enough.  And while our online chats were fire, in person our conversational styles and personalities clashed.  Not to mention it was hard to talk in a noisy bar.  “No bars” is another rule of mine, but it was a handy meeting spot plus I knew the band that was playing there. 

We stuck it out for an hour before parting ways.  Short and painless.  Afterwards I couldn’t help but wonder if I had gotten a glimpse at how dates view me when I walk through the door.  Some of them have certainly looked disappointed from the get-go.  In any event I’m trying my best to make myself fuckable.  I’ve been hitting the gym and the kitchen big time during my vacation and am very pleased with my progress.  Still have a ways to go yet…

In the meantime I’m thinking it’s time for another break from Bumble.  I also just realized that Valentine’s Day is upon us.  I don’t remember whether this is a good or bad time to be online dating.  All I do remember is that I haven’t had a Valentine since 2003.  Wow, has it really been that long?  Damn.  But we’ll see what happens.  I also have some stories to share that predate this blog, so look for those soon.

Six years of blogging

Happy six year anniversary to my blog!  I can’t believe it’s been that long, and I’ve certainly come a long way.  I seemed to have caught the tail end of the craze though, because it’s a lot harder to find dating blogs on here nowadays.  It’s a shame that many of the ones I started with are no longer around.  One by one my favorite bloggers fell by the wayside as they found significant others, or at least better things to do with their time.

I’ve considered shuttering this blog too.   The month after I lost my virginity, my views went down by half and have continued their decline.  At my peak I received 3,000 to 4,000 views a month and an inquiry from a Washington Post reporter.  A slow day would garner 100 views, a new post would bring 200+.  Now a new post won’t even crack 100, even though I have more followers than ever.  I guess my journey is not as interesting ever since the climax.  However, I do enjoy writing and interacting with my fellow WordPressers, so I’m sticking around.

Bumble is sticking around too.  I’m on the verge of deleting it for the 20th time, though.  I don’t know why I keep trying, but until I have more luck meeting people the old-fashioned way it’s better than nothing.  I received a shit ton of matches from my recent trips into the city, but I’ve been eliminating them left and right:  Minimal and mediocre conversation?  Shitty availability?  Using the app to promote their Instagram or music and bartending gigs?  Undercover single mothers?  Goodbye.

Then I had another one of those 1 in 100 conversations.  Finally someone else that matched me in goofiness and witty banter, whom I really seemed to click with.  And then it all went to shit.  Everything was fine until she added me on Instagram and I scrolled through her old posts.   All I did was swipe with my finger for a minute or two to get to the end and remarked, “I see you were into fitness coaching back in the day?”

“Whoa, you went through my old posts??” she said.  Uh, yeah.  So what?  Who doesn’t do that when they add someone?  It really weirded her out though.  I didn’t even like or comment on any posts, I simply asked a question.  What’s more, she had sent me a pic of her messy kitchen (due to party prep), and I had zoomed in on the background and pointed out that we had the same bottle of dish liquid with the duck on it.  That didn’t sit right with her either – that I was looking in the background of her photos.

Add to that me playing the piano and not eating seafood, and it was too many red flags for her.  And just like that I was back to square one.  Just as well – if that’s her bar for weirdness then we were in for a rough ride.  But it amazes me sometimes – I hear so many women airing laundry lists of serious grievances about their men, yet for some reason they hang in there.  Meanwhile, I’m put through the meat grinder for the silliest, nitpickiest little shit.  I’d list more examples but there are too many.

In some ways I feel like I’m still in the same spot as when I started this blog.  Yes, I’ve finally swiped the V-card.  However I’m still yearning to put at least one long-term adult relationship under my belt.   And I’m going be 35 this year.  Once again I wonder why it hasn’t happened yet and why it’s so frustratingly hard for me.  And I feel like I have a lot to offer the right person.

I have a job, a car, my own place.  I can cook and would love to do so for someone.  I’m cultivating hobbies and a social life.  I communicate and respond in a timely fashion.  I’m honest and open about my feelings.  I do my best to get to know the other person.  I’d be a supportive partner.  I’m not argumentative but I’m no pushover either.  When it comes to the bedroom not only do I have good stamina but I’m eager to please, ready to learn, and open to trying new things.  I know how to have a good time and plan fun activities.  I like to think I’m funny.  I even think I’m fairly good looking.

Of course there’s always room for self-improvement and I’m always looking for ways to do so.  But I feel like there’s more working in my favor than against.  I just don’t seem to have that elusive “it” factor yet.  I don’t know.  In the meantime I’m going to do my best to meet people and keep putting my best foot forward.  We’ll see what happens.