#92 Oh, What a Night

There was a Scorpio full moon last night, and what a wingwoman she was.

I had been wanting to check out this monthly dance party at a nearby bar, so I invited a slew of different friends to ensure I’d have someone to go with. But, reminiscent of many a birthday party, nobody showed. Still, the moon had me feeling some type of way, and I knew I was going regardless. I leisurely pregamed, primped, and showed up around midnight, where I waited in line behind a guy who was also alone; though I assumed he was meeting people inside, like a normal person with friends (NOT ME, THANKS GUYS). But actually, thank you—I ended up having the best time, and I’m now convinced you’re all cockblocks! (Please still hang out with me though :))))))

I paid the $5 cover and ordered a Tecate (#ad). As I tied my jacket around my waist, a stranger tapped me on the shoulder and said I dropped this. He was holding a crumpled $20 bill. I told him I didn’t think it was mine, but he gave it to me anyways. So, despite having zero friends and paying a cover charge, the night was already profitable.

The party was bumpin’ and it was dark and crowded enough that I didn’t look crazy for being there alone. But really, who needs friends when you’ve got beer, a vape pen, and some funky beats? I was having a great time, but definitely being a full-on Scorpio creeper as I lurked in the shadows watching everyone dance.

After a while, I noticed that the guy from the line was indeed there alone, fully focused on the dj’s and strictly there for the tunes. *swoon* It became my mission to eventually get close enough to strike up a conversation and/or dance-off. While I was boppin’ and schemin’, a cute guy started talking to me. He was cool, and we went outside to hear each other better. It came out that I was there by myself and he congratulated me on valuing my time enough to do what I wanted, with or without accompaniment. I agreed and said, “on that note, I’m actually gonna get back to the party, but I’ll see you around.”

I went back in and got to groovin’. (I think it was at this time that a girl got on stage and started dancing with her top off. #scorpiofullmoon!) I didn’t have to deal with creepers grabbing on, which was nice, and I politely declined one guy’s invitation to dance. I was on a mission, remember! At one point while I was off to the side, I could feel a guy near me working up the courage to make a move. He pointed out that we were both drinking Tecate and asked if I wanted another one. I said no thanks and he backed off. He was cute, but I actually didn’t want another drink (I had been intermittently refilling my can with water #stayintheblue). I felt a little bad about shutting him down so fast, and decided that if I ran into him again I would give him another chance. About 20 minutes later, he respectfully approached me while dancing. I really do not love dancing with guys, because they usually can’t keep up and/or just want to rub their dick on me, so it’s kind of a big deal when I allow a man to touch me on the dance floor. He wasn’t as bad as he could be (which I told him), and we were having a good time. Then we start making out, and my inner monologue just cackles away at how well my solo night out is going.

He lives on Long Island for his psychiatry residency (originally from LA), but was staying at an out-of-town friend’s apartment nearby. I hadn’t had a decent shtupping in almost a year (DCD), so I mentally prepared to see this ridiculous night through to its most Scorpionic conclusion. (I had even shaved my legs for the first time in many weeks thanks to the fresh spring weather.) We went outside for air and decided to go to “his” place for weed and Artichoke pizza. I made him promise not to murder me (doctors make the best killers after all), and texted a friend my whereabouts because safety first! He apologized in advance for how messy it was, and thank goodness he did. As we smoked and waited for the pizza to arrive, I told him I couldn’t have sex in that apartment—no woman could—and to relay my feedback to his friend. [While I clearly didn’t mind having sex with Diet Coke Dealer amongst pounds of cat hair and a sink full of dishes, this place was waaaaaay too messy, the couch was uncomfortable, and I wasn’t going anywhere near the unmade bed.] He was nice and said he wasn’t expecting anything (even though I had been, sigh), and we chilled for about an hour until I went home, virginity intact, at 3:40am.

Remember when I said I had to stop smoking weed with guys because I get too weird? I’ve recently changed my tune on that, and think guys kinda need to see the high me to know and appreciate the real me. Can’t decide if that’s tragic or not, but it definitely allows me to be more “authentic.”

In conclusion, if you really want to go do something but don’t have anyone to join you, go fucking do it anyways.

#86

Before the holidays, I had an odd date at a fancy bar in Manhattan. I had come from watching my friend’s amateur improv show, and was feeling especially quippy. Throughout the entire date, I couldn’t tell if the guy was being sarcastic or not, so I responded with the full force of my sass. But he asked thought-provoking questions, and I’d say it was an overall enjoyable experience. On the walk to the subway, we discovered that we both love pugs. Then he surprised me with an extremely fast and awkward kiss—he basically pecked my tooth—and asked if I’d want to hang out again. I said sure, but was kind of hoping he’d forget. We have a tentative date tomorrow.  

After 4 weeks of not seeing each other, I got dinner with Literal Blind Date (LBD) this past Friday. After 4 months of not having sex, I had cleaned my apartment beforehand just in case. He came over after dinner, and the sex was… very polite. I’m not sure if it was due to lack of chemistry, him holding back, or my dry af, free condoms, but I actually thought to myself, “is this what bad sex is?” It made me nostalgic for Diet Coke Dealer (the passion, not the moderate emotional torture), and it reminded me of the lesson I learned when things ended with Mr. Pineapple:

Because he knew about these emails, I never shared many details about the sex I had with Mr. Pineapple—but it was pretty lame. He wasn’t into foreplay (he actually said that), the sex was plain, and he never made me orgasm. Then, the last night we hung out (after our big DTR conversation), he revealed to me that he’s actually very kinky and keeps a box of BDSM toys under his bed. Shocked, I asked why he’d been forcing us to have such boring sex with each other, and he said he didn’t want to freak me out.

I was still fairly inexperienced back then and didn’t necessarily know what I wanted, but that experience really drove home the importance of bedroom communication. I’ll obviously give LBD another chance—at his place, with his condoms, and whatever box of secrets he might be hiding—but I’m also prepared to accept that we might just not be compatible.

**In the meantime, can anyone recommend a condom they like? Clean/non-toxic options are preferred—but before you suggest Sustain, please see my scathing review of those in email #59.

#83

I went approximately 6 months without going on a first date, which I believe is my longest streak since Tinder Tom popped my app cherry 5 years ago.

Last Monday, I went out with a Hinge guy (who knows the boyfriend of my coworker) on what I think might have been my most grownup date ever. I trekked all the way up to the UWS (I’m so nice!), where we got dinner and negronis at a lil Italian place, and then saw a jazz show even further uptown. I ordered an old fashioned and then a manhattan and was feeling fancy af. He walked me to the subway and we shared a delicate kiss goodbye. He seems nice and smart and funny, and he says he only wears red socks—quirky! He’s in China for two weeks, but maybe he’ll ask me out when he’s back.

I’m in no rush, and in the meantime am trying to figure out how to successfully slide into the DM of a very funny, very minor Instagram celebrity. Tips welcome!!!

P.S. Despite Venus Retrograde, I haven’t heard from Diet Coke Dealer, which I think is for the best.

P.P.S. How do you know if a couple you met at a dinner party is hitting on you for a possible threesome, or just genuinely wants to be friends? And if it’s the former, how do I successfully friendzone them?

#82

Diet Coke Dealer forgot that we had made plans to hang out on Labor Day, my saddest day of every year as I return from my San Diego vacation. I asked him to call me instead, and he said he would after dinner with his mom, but he never did. I didn’t hear from him at all that week. I called him that Friday night, and he didn’t answer that or the follow-up text I sent. On Sunday night, I texted: “If you insist on ignoring me, then I can only assume this is over.”

The next morning, as I was leaving barre class, he texted me. He said his uncle had a stroke and he went to Connecticut without his phone (I doubt the latter, but didn’t bring it up). He also said he hasn’t been doing well lately, and has been really sad and can’t seem to shake it. Having already experienced the Depression-Dumping on multiple occasions (see: Army Spy, Mr. Pineapple, Neighbor Boy), I thanked him for finally responding, wished him the best, and told him that I liked him a lot but understood this probably wouldn’t work out. He thanked me, told me he liked me a lot too, and said he hoped he could see me again. I told him I hoped for that too, but he’d have to be the one to reach out. He agreed. After a bit more texting and a lot more crying, I went to work. It was an awful day. On Tuesday, I couldn’t stop thinking about our 20-minute text conversation, how there might have been some miscommunication, and how I’d feel a lot better if we could talk on the phone. After work, I texted him (clarifying that this was not me reaching out, but requesting a continuation of the previous day’s chat) saying that I didn’t like having meaningful conversations over text and asked if he’d be open to a quick phone call sometime soon. It’s normal for him to take forever to respond—or sometimes, not respond at all—so I’m not getting my hopes up that he ever will. Either way, sending that text and asking for what I needed instantly made me feel so much better.

Diet Coke Dealer had the most red flags of anyone I’ve ever dated, and I know deep down we’re not supposed to end up together, so it’s probably best if he actually never reaches back out. Still, we had a lot of fun together, and I hope he can get a handle on figuring out his life. Also, I’ll miss his cats.

In the meantime, I don’t plan on re-downloading any apps until after I return from my solo trip to Finland in mid-October.

#81

Diet Coke Dealer and I have still been seeing each other, although not as frequently as I had once hoped. Mercury Retrograde was a doozy, and had me going back and forth on whether it was completely over or if I should woman up and have The Conversation. Knowing that I’d soon be gone for 10 days of family vacation, I decided on Sunday that I needed some answers in case my Grandma asked if I was ever getting married.

After a delightful Crazy Rich Asians date (my plan, obvi), we were walking down my block when we were greeted by some very loud, very danceable West African music (a DCD fave) [I also don’t know what the exact genre is called, so apologies for being culturally insensitive!]. We could see there was a party going on, and the guy hanging out at the side gate confirmed. DCD asked if there was dancing, the guy said yes, and suddenly we’re in a stranger’s backyard being offered food and drink at what we later discover is someone’s birthday party. We were there for about an hour, where we danced (after I more or less chugged a few cups of prosecco), mingled, and forced some delicious Nigerian rice into our already-full stomachs. In classic DCD fashion, he wowed everyone with his dance moves, to the point where people were recording videos and asking where he was from because he couldn’t possibly be American. LOL

But the best part of our party-crashing was how every woman we met (all two of them) immediately asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend, or married. We awkwardly responded “I don’t know,” and he asked if he was in trouble. I told him he wasn’t but that we’d obviously be discussing it later. Thank you, fairy godmothers!!!

When we got back to my place, I asked what all the Nigerian women were dying to know: “So, am I your girlfriend? Are you my boyfriend? What are we?” He said he didn’t know and that he’s hesitant to don those titles because he knows his level of communication is already poor, that being a boyfriend would raise those expectations even higher, and he doesn’t want to disappoint. Momentary disappointment aside, it was refreshing to hear him acknowledge his lack of reaching out, because it meant I wasn’t crazy. Once we moved past expectations and got into feelings, we both agreed that we like each other, we want to keep hanging out, and we’re somewhere in between full-fledged BFGF and sporadic-Hinge-dates. He said he refers to me monosyllabically as his “girl,” which is fine by me because I’d certainly rather be considered his “girl” than his “friend.” All in all, I’m pleased.

Finally, perhaps the most exciting update of all: on Wednesday, he washed his dishes.

#79

3 more weeks, 3 more sleepovers. Also, it turned out that neither of us are able to go to The Cape this week, so nevermind!

I presume everything is going fine, but sometimes he’ll go dark for days on end. I’m currently in a he-ignored-my-last-three-texts-so-i’m-gonna-remain-silent-indefinitely standoff. Last time, he texted after four days, and I felt extremely victorious for holding out. It also helps knowing that I am, objectively, the catch in this pairing. Or is that just what confidence feels like?

The thing is, he’s fairly irresponsible (occasionally forgets we have plans, or will ask to hang out day of), and I can’t tell if that’s due to a lack of interest or a lack of what I consider to be basic adult social skills. Not to mention the fact that every dish he owns has been sitting dirty in his sink for months. Nobody would ever consider me a clean freak, so the fact that I think he should toss the lot and give up on owning dishes altogether means something. At least he has cats to keep vermin at bay. And like, all boys are filthy and forgetful, right?

He said he wants to come to my student loans payoff party, but I’m not getting my hopes up because all of the above. Oh yea, I just paid off my last student loan. :D

TLDR: Per usual, I have no idea where I stand or “what we are” and there are enough red flags to keep me from asking, “am I your girlfriend?” So, limbo it is until further notice!

 

#78

Diet Coke Dealer and I have had two sleepovers since I’ve been back. I (hardly) helped him install his air conditioner, and he volunteered to fold and put away my jeans while I was last-minute tidying. I told my boss about him on Friday because he had recently told her dad about me, so I had to get in front of that. She was appropriately astonished, but not upset; I’m actually just one of many crazy coincidences between the two of them.

He’s mentioned a few times that I should come to his family’s Cape Cod house, so we’ll see if that ends up happening—I’ll be just a ferry ride away when I’m on Martha’s Vineyard for 4th of July. In the meantime, I’m waiting (pretty patiently, if I do say so myself) to see if he’s capable of reaching out to plan a date.

TTFN

 

#77

It’s been less than 2 weeks, and Diet Coke Dealer and I have been on 4 dates. On Saturday, we did an escape room with 6 strangers (all male nerds). We escaped with 3 minutes to go! Plus, it was kinda fun to show off my bossy genius side. We were already in Chinatown, so we got hot pot for dinner, and he did all the ordering. Did I mention he’s fluent in Mandarin??? Code cracking and Mandarin, are we a power intelligence couple? He very sweetly invited me to spend the night, even though I had secretly already assumed and packed a toothbrush—a Girl Scout is always prepared!

We saw each other again on Monday because on Sunday morning I told him I’d be gone over Memorial Day Weekend. But before you get so excited, I’ve definitely been the one initiating these dates. What can I say? I love to plan! God help me. On Monday, we got dinner in my neighborhood, and then we hung out at my apartment for a bit. He didn’t sleep over because school night, duh!

So anyways, I should probably mention that we had sex on the second date, and since I do have a magical IUD, we’ve been raw doggin’ it since (but only after I got chafed to bits by the condom the first couple of times). I obviously asked him if he had STDs and HIV before I let that happen, and he said no, and I basically had to believe him. But, because I’m a risk-averse health freak, I couldn’t let all this go on unregulated. On Monday, postcoitus, I requested that since we’re now freely sharing each other’s bodily fluids, maybe it would behoove us if we didn’t share them with anyone else. He got all cute and tried to get me to say that I was asking him to be exclusive, so I romantically reiterated the importance of safe sex with a designated partner, and he responded in kind by agreeing to not swap bodily fluids in an unprotected manner with other people. He added in the “unprotected” loophole, so I’m… still cautious.

It’s always been fun when we’ve spent time together, and I don’t actually have any reason to believe he’s not being sincere, but we don’t really text (haven’t heard from him since he left on Monday). I’m going on vacation tomorrow, and we’ll see if he reaches out to make plans when I’m back. Sigh, I like him.

P.S. I still haven’t mentioned anything to my boss, but I’ll definitely start considering it if I ever see him again.

 

#76 It’s a small world after all

Friday morning, I started talking to a new guy on Hinge. In the afternoon, he suggested I join him and his friends (along with his sister and cousin…) at a Brazilian dance bar that night. The other option would be to “be normal” and meet for coffee at some point (oh, he’s sober). But he doesn’t go out often because he usually works weekends, and I wanted to check out this bar, so I rounded up a willing wing woman and told him I’d be there. (As soon as we got to the bar, we randomly ran into another wonderful wing woman of mine, and I felt popular as ever :D)

The bar was super loud, which made it nearly impossible for me to hear anything anyone was saying. Not exactly ideal for a first date, but ideal for forcing two new people to dance together. He is white as can be, but has moves for days. He made me look like shit—which doesn’t happen that often in my white-washed bubble. Ever since I danced with that model in Cuba, I knew I could never go back to awkward, boring grinding; so could this be the rhythmic boy band member of my dreams? Perhaps. We danced and made out and I left on the early side, but we made plans to see each other the next day.

On Saturday, it was raining and I felt weird about asking him to color soberly, so I decided that we should see a movie and get dinner. The movie was about Hasidic Jewish lesbians, and we held hands for 70% of it, including the sex scene. We ate dinner (I had one glass of wine), and then he invited me to meet his cats. As we talked and kissed on his couch, we discovered a connection: his mother is married to the father of my boss. They’ve only met once or twice, so I doubt she’d consider him her stepbrother, but that is definitely what he is if we’re getting technical. Small. Fucking. World!! Plus, it made me feel more comfortable staying the night knowing that he wasn’t a completely random stranger.*

We had a lot of fun, and it was pretty nice not having to wonder if he was doing/saying stuff purely because of alcohol’s dubious influence. But of course, that does not necessarily preclude him from being a player/asshole, so my guard is still up. We talked about hanging out next weekend, and I can only hope he’s a man of his word.

Also, he’s comically addicted to Diet Coke, but at least it’s a better vice than the hard stuff!

*To all my coworkers: this absurd discovery is currently a secret, so please keep it to yourselves.