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.”
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.