Tuesday, October 24, 2006

To Review:

-One ridonculously great date with an awesome, cute, smart guy who played me Helen Reddy and went down on me better than most of the women I've been with. (Oh, right. You don't know about him yet. He masterfully took my re-virginity, but then abruptly disappeared in response to an ultimatum from another woman. Alas. We hope that he'll someday re-appear.)

-Two dates with a guy who is funny and interesting and smart and weird (and a trained chef!) and, while not truly handsome, is not homely to be sure. And was pretty fun in bed. But who plays Grand Theft Auto and subscribes to Playboy and apologizes for everything including kissing me.

-One date with a genuinely cute guy who is smart and politically engaged but seems to lack passion or nuance or personal drive (or a decent gender analysis), and might be, in fact, kinda boring. But the jury's still out. We're seeing him again soon, if we can manage to focus on how cute he is and not how uninspiring.

-One date with a guy about whom the only nice thing I can say is that he seemed benign.

At this rate, The Genuine Asshole is next. Buckle up, boys and girls.

The Dates Are Getting Worse

Just got back from the worst one yet. Boring and homely, couldn't hold up a conversation, just said "mmhm, mmhm, mmhm" to everything equally, however exciting or mundane. (No joke: he seemed equally interested in the logistics of using TiVo without cable as he was in the intricate vision I have for my next writing project.) He was much more interesting over email! A playwright with a slightly wicked sense of humor! And a flirty streak! All of which was completely absent throughout the whole of dinner! Seriously, I knew I was dead before we even ordered, but what do you do?

To make matters worse, I've already sorta invited him to A) a show I happen to have free tix to on Sunday and B) a show I'm IN on Friday night. A) happened because he's a playwright and we were talking about something that reminded me of the tickets and I just figured he was interesting enough that he'd be good company regardless of the attraction and I'M AN IDIOT. B) happened because I told him about the show I'm in in the context of scheduling issues and he asked for more info and, to review, I'M AN IDIOT.

Of course, the part I'm not talking about is the bad teeth and the balding hairline, because I want to pretend that looks don't matter. I even kind of expected him to be not that great looking because his photo on his profile was sort of... vague. But let me just say that once we met it came not as a shock to learn that he had once dressed as Dick Cheney.

Which brings me to ask: what's the deal with looks? Can we talk about them? I keep trying to tell myself not to be super-picky in the looks department, not only because most of the hot guys seem like jerks, not only because you can't really tell that much from a digital photo, but also because of how much I hate to be judged on looks myself. Aren't we all going to lose our looks in the end? I'm sure as hell never going to be better looking, physically, than I am right now. But what about chemistry? And who do the homely people date? Do they have different standards? So why should I think I'm so hot? I just can't square this circle quite yet...

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Condom Question

So, I've been thinking about something the Man/Child said to me after sex. He said he was glad I'd had condoms, since he hadn't brought any (bless his misguided honesty, really). I was pretty shocked. I'd been flirting with him mighty heavily and invited him up to my place as part of the date -- didn't he have some inkling he might get laid? He told me sure, he'd hoped so, but he didn't want to seem like he'd made any assumptions.

Now, here's the thing that's been bugging me -- how the hell would I know if he had a condom on him if we didn't do the deed? Is this something guys do for real? Or is it just a cover for the real hope that we'd find ourselves lacking a rubber and I'd just be like, oh, let's do it anyway! Do people really still have unprotected sex with people they hardly know?

He didn't complain when I handed him a condom, exactly, but he did let me know at a later point that he was having a harder time coming because he "wasn't used to" the condom. I took that at the time to mean nothing more than he hadn't had sex in a long time, which he had already told me directly. But it stands out to me that neither of the guys I've slept with so far even broached the idea of a condom until I whipped one out. Could be I'm overeager. Or could it be that men are, actually, pigs?

Sunday, October 08, 2006

The Man/Child

Had a date yesterday with a Man/Child. I had forgotten about the Man/Child, how he seems so grown-up on the surface. This one is getting a Ph.D. in computer science, has a background in English lit and some fluency in French, trained and worked as a professional chef with a direct disciple of Alice Waters, and was, as far as I could tell from our emails and our lovely first date over brunch, clever and funny and charming and smart and respectful. Added bonus: his very first girlfriend was a lesbian before and after him, so not only is he not freaked out by me, but he claims to have been very well trained.

Who could resist? Certainly not me. We arranged a Big Second Date, in which if the weather was good, we would go for a hike in a nearby wildlife sanctuary, and if it was poor, we'd go to a museum. (Both activities were his ideas.) Either way, afterward we'd adjourn to my place where he'd cook for me, and I'd make dessert. Ahem.

The weather looked good. I bought wine and condoms, gave myself a facial, caught up with my laundry so I could select just the right sweater. My roommate gamely agreed to amscray for the evening.

On the surface of it, the date was fun: we got caught in traffic but didn't run out of conversation, there was flirting, there was a first kiss sitting on a rock in the woods. Immediately after which he apologized just in case he was being too forward.

Sadly, that was not the first bad sign. There was also the part where he told me all about his love of playing Grand Theft Auto, and how it most certainly was not a gateway to misogyny and violence, just good innocent fun. And pimping hos isn't even a central part of the game -- you can skip it altogether if you want!

There was also the really fun bit where I made a joke about something or other being like reading Playboy for the articles, and he kinda laughed and confessed that he did, in fact, have a subscription to said fine publication, which of course he obtained in order to appreciate its literary merits.

He also ordered tuna tacos at dinner. I kid you not. And yes, it was largely so he could joke about it the whole time.

I slept with him anyway. Because I am sad and desperate and still terribly curious. It was pretty fun but I felt kinda gross afterward. I'm going to try only to sleep with people I actually like from here on out.