Date #4 (a first, and last, date)

August 22, 2008

I went on “Date #4” with Joe about two weeks ago.  The reason I’m counting my dates is because last time I made the effort to date, I probably dated a dozen or more guys over the course of a year with no significant relationships resulting from the effort.  This time around, I’m assuming I’ll date just as many (or more) guys to mentally prepare myself for the endurance required for dating.

So, date #4 was very casual.  We met at an event related to a common interest.  We met briefly beforehand, attended the event, and chatted for a bit afterwards.  I thought he was really nice, but opted not to go out with him again.  I know I’ve written about how I don’t lend a lot of credence to immediate sexual attraction.  I ultimately think it is superficial and lacks any inherent significant meaning.  At the same time, people can be strikingly unattractive. 

This may sound shallow, but I have a point here.  I’m talking about being unattractive in the way you present yourself.  Whether you like it or not, how you dress says a lot about you.  More often than not, if you put zero effort into your appearance, it shows.  If you haven’t updated your look in more than 10 years, it shows.  It’s not about being perfect or stepping out of the pages of GQ.  It’s about having, or finding, the ability to look at yourself through someone else’s eyes.

Immediate vs. Delayed Attraction

August 13, 2008

It seems like when it comes to dating, people most often rely on immediate sexual attraction as an indicator of whether they want to go out with someone.  I was talking to a friend the other day.  She is also in her mid-thirties.  She always relies on chemistry.  If she doesn’t feel attracted to someone, she simply won’t go out with them. 

I shared something with her that I have found to be true for myself.  The people I have been most wildly attracted to are people who I initially had *no* physical attraction to whatsoever.  For whatever reason, I became friends with or worked alongside people who, as I got to know better, I became intensely attracted to.  For me personally, this kind of attraction is ultimately what I’m looking for.  This is why I go on multiple dates with people I’m not attracted to; attraction may develop over time.

But, it seems like other people are operating under the other principle.  If I accept a first, second, or third date with someone, is it assumed that I must be attracted to them?  Is that what got me into trouble on Date #2?  I wonder how many people make dating decisions based on immediate attraction.

Why I’m Not Desperate for Sex

August 7, 2008

Reflecting back to Bob and the way that a bike ride, dinner, and half a glass of wine added up to unwanted sexual advances, this leads me to two more questions, which relate to each other. 


Question #2:  Don’t men know that we can have sex whenever we want? 


Right now, I’m sitting at home by myself, unshowered, and I bet you I could be having sex with a man in 30 minutes or less.  In other words, I could have sex with pretty much whoever I want, whenever I want.  Or I can masturbate.  Why should I want to have sex at all, let alone with you?


Why would I want to potentially expose myself to pregnancy and STDs (condom’s can break) in exchange for…20 minutes of feeling good, culminating in feeling frustrated (see Question #3)?  What kind of trade-off is that?  So, back to Bob.  Why didn’t I respond to Bob’s sexual advances?  First, because I didn’t want to.  Second, because I’d rather have sex with my vibrator, which is exactly what I did when I got home.  Thirty seconds of pleasure and a great orgasm with no chance of getting pregnant or acquiring an STD.  Fabulous!


Question #3:  Do men realize that male and female sexual organs are more alike than different? 


Do they not realize that the equivalent of their penis is our clitoris?  How would they like it if we played with their testicles for 10 minutes, managed to gratify ourselves, and rolled over and went to sleep?


I heard a term years ago.  It was something like ‘masturbatory sex.’  I didn’t quite get what it meant.  Then one day, it dawned on me.  It’s what I just described.  It’s selfish sex, using someone else’s body as a means of masturbation – without returning the favor!


One thing I won’t quantify on this blog is how many times I’ve had sex with men without having an orgasm.  Or how many times I’ve had sex with the same person, over and over, and haven’t had an orgasm.  Or how many times I’ve had one-night stands with men and didn’t have an orgasm.  Would you like to know why I didn’t have an orgasm on this multitude of occasions?  Because too many of men I’ve slept with didn’t bother, not once, to touch my clitoris.  One night, I had sex with this guy who was supposed to be the local Rico Suave.  We had sex three times in one night.  I initiated the sex the second and third time.  Why?  Because I wasn’t satisfied.  Nope, still not satisfied after the third time.  I NEVER had sex with him again.  He was probably perplexed, wondering why I was a sex maniac on one occasion and never slept with him again.  Duh. 

Date #3 (A First Date)

August 7, 2008

A day after Date #2, I went out on Date #3.  Matt and I have emailed each other through a few times.  I noticed an element of flirtation in the email exchange.  I wondered if this meant we would have ‘chemistry.’  The moment I met him, my first thought is that this guy is too nice for me.  He somehow looks too wholesome for me, whatever that means.  He’s definitely attractive, though. 


I’ve learned by now not to place an emphasis on immediate attraction.  Attraction is something that can develop over time and end up being way more intense than superficial, immediate attraction. 


We had a drink and had good conversation for a couple of hours.  Whatever concerns I had about this being a booty call (remember Date #2?), maybe because we only met for a drink, were unfounded.  If you haven’t noticed by now, I do a bit of ‘detail analysis’ in the process of getting to know someone, looking for red flags and other potential points of concern.  Sometimes that’s healthy and sometimes it’s neurotic.


At the end of the date, he said the fateful words, “I’ll call you”.  Or maybe it was the way he said it.  Or maybe I’m just plain psychic.  At that exact moment, I knew without a doubt I would never hear from him again.  Still, I had a grin on my face the whole way home.  I really had a nice time out (can you tell I don’t get out much?) and I was buzzed from the pomegranate margarita.  And, I go into these dates with low expectations.

Date #2 (A Second Date), Continued

August 7, 2008

I’m disappointed and a little ashamed to publicly admit I kissed him back.  I could have tolerated some light kissing, but now Bob is putting his tongue in my mouth.  Gross!  I am just not feeling it (i.e., any physical attraction)!  It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience – it was kind of neutral, kind of blah.  I maintain at least an ounce of personal respect and integrity and keep pulling away, but these subtle hints are lost on him.  Maybe he thinks I am trying to play coy.  I feel forsaken by the feminist movement.


He starts to touch my body with his hand.  Ugh!  This is so uncalled for.  I tell him I have to go.  He immediately backs off.  Relieved he still understands English, I relax for a moment and decide to go ahead and finish my glass of wine.  In an attempt to keep him at bay (i.e., his tongue out of my mouth), I suddenly find myself being Ms. Chatty.  For the first time on either of our dates, I am actually talking freely.  Not about anything important, but I am so uncomfortable (and determined to finish the glass of wine, because I could use it at this point!) I’m finally talking about whatever I feel like talking about to avoid having to make out with him. 


I make a point not to drink the rest of my wine like it’s a shot of liquor.  Once again, I’m trying to be reasonably polite.  I’m fighting my inborn ‘fight or flight’ instinct to run as fast as I possibly can and get the f^@% out of there.  I’m partially disgusted with myself for falling into the ‘polite’ crap because this is the kind of thing that women do.  And it takes a toll on your mental health. 

Date #2 (A Second Date)

August 7, 2008

Bob calls me two days later and asks me out again.  We agree to meet for dinner the following Friday night.  We have a nice dinner.  The food was good.  As we did on the bike ride, mostly we talked about his career and interests.  That’s okay, but it’s something I made a mental note of on the first date.  It’s okay if one person dominates the conversation on a date.  After all, people sometimes get nervous or are just naturally more talkative and a short-term imbalance results.  If this is something that becomes a pattern, it’s a problem. 


So, it’s date #2 and I’m still not overly concerned that we’re talking more about him than me.  He does make some effort to ask me questions, so I keep an open mind.  After we leave the restaurant, he invites me to his condo, which is two blocks down the street.  I remember from his profile he likes to drink wine, so I figure, what the hell, I’ll have a glass of wine.  I rarely drink these days, so I consider it a treat.  I already told him it would be an early night for me because I had to get up early the next morning to take my son to the airport.  I said I could come over for a bit.  We drank some good red wine and chatted some more.


By the time I’m halfway through my glass of wine, he starts moving in closer, physically.  He did this a couple times on the first date, but I just kind of ignored it.  I still try to ignore it, but he’s moving in for the kill.  He gives up on more subtle gestures, which I am trying to pretend aren’t happening, and grabs my hand.  I’m thinking, “oh, great, this is going to be really hard to ignore.”  I try to tune it out and continue with whatever conversation we were having.  Then he leans forward to kiss me.  I’m thinking, “okay, I really don’t feel like kissing this guy. 


I still haven’t gotten over the fact that he’s twenty years older than me.  I barely know him.  I’m not completely repulsed by him, which I guess is a perverse sort of relief.  Because, one of the stupid things women do is kiss men back because they don’t want to hurt their feelings.  The feminist in me is screaming, “don’t do this! Set boundaries for yourself!  Don’t do things you don’t want to do just to avoid hurting someone else’s feelings”. 


Question 1: Do men know we sometimes ‘romantically’ respond to them in order to avoid making them feel badly?  Or am I the only woman who does that?