“You’re too slow” “How can you be so cold?”
“You’re a tease” “You’re not who you said you were”
“You’re too prudish” “Loosen up”
“You’re not what I expected” “You’re still a virgin?!”
These are just a few things I’ve heard throughout my minuscule dating life. I’m not the typical attractive “chick” nor do I fit into the unachievable measurements of beauty shoved down my throat, but I like to think I have a “great personality”.
When I’m in the mood or sometimes just bored, I throw out the bait and wait to see what the ocean of ‘men’ has to offer. More times than not, my bait pulls in the slimy inedible fish that are immediately thrown back. I fall into despair and return to hating fish. To be fair, I rarely put out my premium bait.
I set myself up for failure and the occasional sad meal. One such meal took place not so long ago.
“Hey Babe, how you doin’?”
“Aah, I’m fine…you?”
“You know what it’s like yeah. Got that hot burn from the gym. I’m dying to get some munch in me”
Awkward smile… “Haha…yeah” Clearly he can’t tell I never even think about going to gyms and is it me or shouldn’t he have grown out of that form of speech years ago?
After ordering our meals…
“So you really like the gym I see.”
“Oh please someone get me out of here.”
“What did you say?”
“Oh! Just that your arms are fantastic – I’m sure Guinness World Records will be knocking on your door any day now.”
“Yeah? You think?”
Kill me now.
I wish he were the worst I’d met. Not long before Gym Dude…
“So…you read Fifty Shades of Grey?” Sleazy smirk.
Clear throat, jeez another one. “No, but I’ve noticed a lot of people have.”
“It’s real sexy. Clearly women are hiding a lot of kinky desires.”
“Really? I’ve been told otherwise. Most of the women I know who read it told me the content was beyond inaccurate, the form was childish and quite unimaginative.”
What now? This is new.
“You see, I partake myself. I like a woman who likes to dominate.”
Don’t freak out, don’t freak out. Keep calm.
“You do huh? How so?”
“Sit on me.”
Leaning over, “Smother me”
Phew. He was intense, just not in the good way. Sigh. Let’s not forget “Mr. I LOVE GERARD BUTLER!”
Mr. I LOVE GERARD BUTLER!
“Which male celebrities would you drop your undies for?” Glint in eye.
“Hmm… well I haven’t really thought much about it.”
“What about Gerard Butler?”
“Haha… hmmm well it would depend. I guess if he worked for it I might.”
“It’s Gerard Butler! I’d turn gay for him!”
“Yeah, sure he’s hot. Love him to bits, but I’m not so easy – even if it were him.”
“I’m not giving up my virginity that easily”
“Are you a lesbian?”
“You must be a lesbian. There’s no woman out there who could resist Gerard Butler. Maybe a little bi?”
Same guy a little later…
“You know virginity isn’t measured by the hymen”
“Oh? Then how is it measured?” Suddenly men are experts.
“A girl can keep her hymen but still be a slut.”
“I’m not a slut”
“Of course not, I mean that girls can still do everything and be anything but virgins. They’re virgins in name.”
“You shouldn’t hold on to your virginity just because society tells you”
“I don’t do it for society, I do so for myself. It’s precious to me.”
“It’s no longer a factor you know. Everyone’s having sex.”
“Clearly not. Same way a woman has a right to sleep with whichever idiot she likes, a woman also has the right to keep her chastity”
“Women have too many rights. You women complain about wanting to be equal to men, you already have more rights than you need.”
Oh you did not just go there!
Remembering that never fails to infuriate me. Okay, so tell me – how can a girl even think about taking dating seriously when we’re bombarded by idiots. When does the diamond in rough make an appearance? Short of somehow creating our own lifelike android to satisfy our sappy lonely moments, we’re forced to either dance the dance or fight off every snivelling shark munching its way to our doorsteps.
My recent conversation with “Mr. I’m so horny” was a reminder of the ordeal.
Mr. I’m So Horny
“So what’s up”
“Watching a movie. You?”
“Bored. Working on some translation.”
“So am I still banned from coming to your home? Why don’t you come over and we can watch a movie together. I’ll be finished by the time you get here.”
God, not this again.
“I already told you that 1. I’m not comfortable enough around you to let you into my home, or go to yours, 2. You only ever remember me when you’re bored or horny and 3. I don’t have a car, no way am I going to take a taxi in the middle of the night for you.”
“Oh come on, don’t make up such stiff rules. We’ve had some great conversations before”
“Seriously? You think the few times we spoke, that counted as great conversation? That was hardly 10% on my end.”
What does conversation have to do with this?
“I know, I was drunk that’s why it was interesting. I open up more when I drink.”
“Look, I would be open to friendship, but…”
“Friendship is good!”
“…it wouldn’t be friends with benefits. Just friends without benefits. You’ll have to change my impression of you first though.”
Because you’re pushy, arrogant and selfish.
“Don’t close the door completely.”
“Like when we hang, we can make out if we’re in the mood.”
Seriously? Am I like 16 or something?
“Don’t be so stiff.”
“I’m sorry but you want something I don’t. Maybe a few years ago, I would have been open to trying it your way, but it’s not what I want now. I want real intimacy – not a sad imitation of one.”
“Wow. Clearly we’re looking for different things. I don’t want a relationship… I think your way is sad too.”
Yeah? Trying to make me beg for your approval?
“I don’t necessarily want a serious relationship, but I want to have feelings for the person I’m with. I don’t want to waste my time with someone I don’t have any feelings for – I’m not desperate.”
“I want emotions, feelings and a connection. I don’t some random relationship that merely exists to satisfy a temporary desire. I want companionship, romance. I want someone who’ll think of me regardless of what they sexual state is – I want true intimacy…love.”
Basically I don’t want you.
“I don’t want the responsibility of a relationship.”
“I don’t want a relationship with you. I don’t feel anything towards you. Nothing.”
“Well, okay let’s do it your way, maybe you’ll change your mind later.”
“I probably won’t.”
Back to my movie.
All men seem to be looking for is sex. It shouldn’t be such a surprise really, it’s something the media and our mothers have been telling us our entire lives – but it still never ceases to amaze; the lengths they go to just to get their sad desires fulfilled – to hell with the consequences and to hell how I might feel about the whole thing.
Like I said, I sabotage myself – something inside me must know that I’m not entirely ready for something real – so I attract the weeds. The weeds that dig their roots right into a fertile land and don’t let up unless you gouge them out, severing their source of power. They’ll keep coming back otherwise. Time to get my gardening shears and trowel, I’ve got some weeding to do.