I swear, finding suitable dick in the Bay Area is like trying to find dick in a haystack.
Dang near impossible.
Continuing with my lamenting of dating in the Bay Area, let’s talk about this next dude.
Some women have a 90 day rule. I barely have a 90 minute rule. It’s not even a rule, rather a preference. I like to get in bed as soon as possible to see if there is a connection. Yes, I know that goes everything ever heard about women and how we need to have a strong emotional connection before we have sex with a person. Not me. No sexual connection = no romantic connection. If I’m not a fan of you in bed, I can’t create romance with you. I’ve tried and it has never worked.
It’s a wee bit difficult to get into bed when a person moves slower than a turtle. Such was the case with dude now and forever known as “Turtle Man.”
lazy ass sleeping turtle
We met for breakfast (way too early in the morning, I know that now) in early July. I don’t know why I don’t ever listen to my first instinct. I was bored 20 minutes into breakfast, but determined to be open to the universe and not poo poo people from the jump. As we were leaving the restroom, for some reason we ended up exchanging numbers. Maybe ‘cause I never know how to end dates when I’m not interested. The exchange of numbers led to weeks of generic small talk texts. At one point, I even said “next time you have a weekend off, let’s see a movie.” I was trying to move it along, ya know. I got needs. He was a nice guy and I was open to going out with him again. Either dude never had a weekend off or he was waiting for me to bring it up again. The last text I received from him was in mid August; I didn’t bother to respond. I can only do small talk for so long.
Something I’ve noticed, with the dudes that approach me is they are either way too aggressive and have no home training or they’re not closers and don’t follow through. Turtle Man was not a closer. If someone says to you (and you agree) “next time you have a weekend off, let’s see a movie,” take that as a sign and let them know when you have the bloody weekend off.
I’m. Just. Saying.
I swear finding dick in the Bay Area is a full-time job. Finding SUITABLE dick in the bay area is full time job. I can find dick, I usually just don’t care for the personality attached to the dick. Once I turned 40, I committed myself to dating and getting laid on a regularly basis. After 2 years since getting divorce and not dating (except for that one clingy chick I dated for a few weeks in early 2014) I’m ready to actively date. Seriously, how difficult could it be? My new favorite hashtag is #dickinahaystack. That’s what it’s been like; it’s damn near impossible.
The summer started off with potential. I was receiving plenty of messages after updating my online profile and I was making myself open to the universe by not immediately dismissing folks who sent one word messages or had stupid photos in their profile. Pictures of folks wearing goofy hats or flipping the bird at the camera in general are turnoff. I was feeling popular. Now it’s the end of the summer and I’ve got enough unused, opened condoms to start a free clinic.
Photo courtesy of Jason Vance CC BY-ND 2.0
First up, the guy I like to call “Odd Virgin.”
This dude and I started chatting right before I left for my first international trip in mid-April. Once I got back to the states we made plans to meetup. Why the moniker “Odd Virgin?” Cause up until a year prior to our meeting dude was a virgin…and he was kinda odd. Not odd as in he got my spider senses tingly wondering if I’m going to wake up to find him standing over my bed; odd in the way that comes from lack of social skills and probably unpopularity in high school. Our times together went like this: pick him up from BART, my place, movie, fuck, drop him off at the BART, repeat. It was OK for a few weeks; I was getting sex so that was nice since it had been awhile. Then boredom kicked in. It went into high gear when dude complained about having sore gums after intense kissing before sex. Sore gums? I didn’t know that was a thing. Not only was it a thing, it was a wake up call. I’m not the most super kinky, wild sex having type of person, but I do enjoy a lot of passion when I’m getting hot and heavy. I admit to being a bit of an intense kisser. Don’t be kissing on me like I’m our grandma. Anyhoo, I realized then and there I wasn’t getting anything beneficial from hanging out with him and surely wouldn’t get the sex I wanted so I had to end that. It was the first time I’ve ever had to end it with someone I wasn’t angry with. I mulled it over for days; trying to craft most the concise text ever.
That’s right, a text. It was easiest. Like I mentioned, I’d pick him up from BART every time we hung out. I don’t know what it is, but driving and having regular access to a car doesn’t seem to be a deal for folks these days. So, yeah, dude got a text.
Tomorrow, the absolutely boring adventures of “Turtle Man.”