One night out with friends at the end of the summer I met B. A pool playing, beer drinking, sports jersey wearing average guy and I was a silly karaoke singer with the girls and being my ghetto-fabulous self. The place that we go is a dive but the people are nice and the guy that runs it is a teddy bear that you just want to squeeeeeeeze. He's a big biker dude with a ginormous mullet and he can sing. (you must pronounce it saaaaang) So anyway, I'm there, little Jewish girl in a sea of bikers and blue collar, Lake County dudes and I start my usual mouthing off to my friend who's talking to B. Long story short, he asks my girlfriend when I go to the ladies room what does he have to do to get close to me. "Be nice to her. Treat her like a lady." This is what she tells him. It was really that simple. I'd only been separated since March and I think this was September. B buys me a club soda (I know, big drinker that I am) and asks if he can take me out on a date.
I soon find out B is 11 years older than I am...okay. that's different for me. I've usually dated younger. He doesn't look older. So what. Age is a number. B rents a room in basically a grown-up fraternity house. Ugh, ok. And the house is supposedly like the show, "Hoarders." Gulp. And he plays some computer game online for hours on end with other people he's never met but they all know each other. Fucking, really? But, ya know? He's nice. He opens my car door for me. I practice my "finding the attractive feature in any man" tool. Cut to the date. B takes his shoes off at my apartment after lunch and reveals the holes in his socks. Girls, if a man has holes in his socks...do we want to imagine the condition of his underwear? NO! I'm trying not to stare. We hang out for a bit longer and then he goes home. The next day he calls and asks if he can start calling me his girlfriend and if we can be exclusive. Oh my sweet God in heaven, NO. After one date? With holes in your socks? So what should I do? Of course...I go out with him again. I know. I'm hitting myself in the head with the keyboard right now as I remember this story. The next date he comes over right after work and asks if he can take a shower before we go out at my place and I said fine. But the wierd thing...he brings the same outfit he wore last date, and it's not like a nice outfit...it's holy jeans and a t-shirt from an island. Like this is his, "Date Outfit," or something. He's taking a shower and I have Stevie Ray Vaughn playing. He comes out of the shower in his clothes (I don't even look at the socks) and I make mention of the guitar solo and he says something like, "Who's Stevie Ray Vaughn?"
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? WHO'S STEVIE RAY?" Get the fuck out of my house. I should've known he was a mental patient right there.
"Really? I don't know much music. I know sports."
I needed a nap after that one, but we went to go eat. After dinner we're watching, "Salt," back at my place and we kissed a little. I considered it a little but he looks at me and says,
"You know, this would be much more comfortable in your bedroom."
"Um, yeah, maybe, but we're not going in there."
"What, Robyn so you don't want to have sex with me?"
"NO"
"Why not?"
"Because I already told you that I don't do that with someone I don't have a monogomous relationship with. If I do it with you, who's to say I'm not doing it with 10 other guys, too. That's ok with you?"
"NO!"
"Alright then. Let's watch tv."
He's sitting on the couch pouting
"I don't get it. It's called Adult Dating."
"Well, this adult is not going to have sex with you tonight."
"Well, maybe I should go home then."
"Ok, I had a nice time. Thanks for dinner." He's totally shocked I didn't try to make him stay. He's laughing in disbelief that I'm letting him put his shoes on his ratty socks and letting him go without throwing myself in a crumpled heap on the floor. NOoooo, don't GOooooo.
He left and didn't call for three days. Then I get a text from him.
I miss our time together :( (Yeah, both times?)
I'm sorry, B, but any man who after the second date says, "You don't want to have sex with me?" is way too much drama for only knowing him for 6 days. Please don't call or text anymore.
And boy did he let me have it. Telling me my ex really fucked me up and I had too many issues and he was trying to apologize. "Alls I was doing..." Alls. is this really a word? The next guy I ended up dating was just what the doctor ordered. He was tall, broad shoulders, strong, sweet as could be, manly, handsome. B was the catalyst for him. The joke was W would come in the apartment, take off his shoes and say, "no holes in my socks," and when he'd ask, "What, Robyn, don't you want to have sex with me?" and before he'd even get the sentence out there'd be a trail of clothes to follow to my bed. I still have this laugh with my friends. "What, you don't want to have sex with me?" Just randomly it comes out. Oh, I'll write about W later. He deserves his own post.
Hmmm, tonight's dance break song...that's a toughy. Because I want to laugh with it. I think this one is going to be, "Sexual Healing," Marvin Gaye Featuring Shaggy.
I'm sending you all so much love and light on this cold, cold night. Thank you for reading. I am grateful for your support.
Feel free to leave in your comments today three things you are grateful for if you are in the mood. You know, unacknowledged good goes to waste. xxoo, R
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