Guy 53 – Ethan – Rape van guy

I talked to Ethan via email for a few days and agreed to meet for dinner at my local bar.  We had to sit in the back garden seating area, because Ethan chain smoked through dinner.  Finished dinner and walked out together.  Ethan said he enjoyed dinner and asked if wanted a ride home – in his rape van.  OK, maybe the rape van thing is a stereotype, but I’d rather walk home than find out for sure.  I hugged Ethan goodbye and he rammed his tongue down my throat.  I had no intention of kissing the guy.  He wasn’t all that interesting at dinner and he smelled like a fucking ashtray.  I found out he tasted like one too.  I pulled away, said it was nice meeting him and walked home.  I had no desire to see Ethan again.

I got home and immediately emailed Ethan.  I said he was a nice guy (chose not to address him forcing his tongue down my throat), but I didn’t think we had much in common and shouldn’t meet again.  Imagine my surprise when he texted me a few days later and asked me to go to a “house party” with him in a pretty questionable neighborhood.   He said there would be lots of people there and be really fun.  I replied back that it really didn’t sound like my kind of thing, and thanked him for the invitation.  He had forcibly kissed me, and now he was ignoring me saying I didn’t want to see him again?  What the hell?  He texted me a few days later and said, I just saw your email, thanks.   The moral of this story – check your damn email after a date with someone you met online and don’t date chain smokers who drive rape vans.

 

Guy 54 – Christian – Not as smart as he thinks guy

I don’t know if I was stuck in a van rut or something, but the guy who followed rape van guy was a mover.  Christian had told me about his job and made it very clear that he was way overqualified and intelligent for the position, and it was just a stepping stone on the way to better things.  OK, dude, you just told me you’re a sensitive cry baby and I have to try not to hurt your feelings.

I met Christian at my house and we walked to my usual restaurant.  Walking distance from my house, and I really do like their food.  I should have started asking for a commission for each guy I brought there.  The first thing the waiter said to us was, their credit card machine was broken, so they were only taking cash that day.  He immediately followed this with, there’s an ATM at the bank across the street, most people have just been going over there.  I checked my wallet and I did have cash on me.  My general rule on dates was, I’m fine paying for my own meal, drinks, whatever.  There was no reason to expect the guy to pay, especially when I knew I was never going to see him again.  If a guy made a big deal about it, fine, I’d let him pay if it made him happy, but I never assumed he would.  Anyway, I said I had cash and Christian said he would go to the ATM across the street at some point.  Crisis averted.  The waiter led us to a table on the little outdoor deck area – another reason I like this restaurant.

We started talking and by talking I mean, he took over the conversation and I mostly listened, interjecting every now and then when the opportunity arose.  He wasn’t the first guy who liked to talk about himself, and he wouldn’t be the last.  I was OK with this until he said, you’re really gregarious.  I was surprised he would say that, given that his side was about 90% of the conversation.  I asked, am I talking a lot and being annoying or something?  He said no, that’s not what gregarious means.  I told him it was the meaning of the word (defined as sociable, amiable, genial, outgoing if you google it).  I had been none of those things, or even had the opportunity to speak most of the time.  I had mainly been sitting in silence.  No, Christian assured me, it means quirky.  I tried again to tell him that wasn’t what it meant and he had used the word incorrectly, but he cut me off, saying he was right and I didn’t know what I was talking about.  OK, this is where it starts, his need to look intelligent and superior to me.  I figured I would let it go and mostly listened to him talk about the books he had read for the rest of the meal.  He kept dropping long words into the conversation, and used another incorrectly.  I let it go.

The check finally arrived and I reached for my wallet.  Christian said, I’m going to get some cash from the ATM.  He took about 3 steps off the deck and said, I don’t see an ATM.  This is the neighborhood in which I live, so I’m pretty familiar with most of the buildings and landmarks.  I told him take a few more steps and look to his left directly across the street and there would be a bank.  Christian complied and said, I still don’t see a bank.  Do you have enough to cover dinner?  Seriously, dude?  It’s a stand alone branch/building with a large bank sign on it.  We aren’t talking about some lonely wayward ATM, off on its own in some obscure location where no one could find it.  Well, no one except ALL THE OTHER PATRONS who had walked across the street and used the invisible fucking ATM.  It wasn’t paying for the meal that pissed me off.  It was my frustration with a guy who acted like he knew my neighborhood better than me (as I sent him off looking for the large invisible bank), and the fact that he was clearly just being a cheap asshole.  Whatever.  I paid for dinner.

We walked back to my house where Christian followed me in as if it had been prearranged.  It had not.  Then he proceeded to tell me we were really good together and I should sleep with him.  Honest to God, he really thought I would have sex with him.  I decided to try my sister’s ultimatum; he could sleep with me now and never see me again, or wait and see me again and sleep with me at some later date.  I mean, c’mon, he said he really liked me and he was super smart, so of course I wanted to see the tool again, maybe under a car tire.

This decision made Christian furious.  I had no idea what I was talking about.  There was no reason I couldn’t have sex with him and see him again.  In fact, he argued, he would be more likely to want to see me again if I had sex with him tonight.

Despite Christian’s brilliant reasoning and desperate wheedling for sex, I stood my ground.  He had to choose.  He had gotten increasingly angry during the course of the argument and was now clearly pissed off at me.  Finally he said, forget it, I don’t want to do either now, and stormed out of my house.  Needless to say, that was the last I saw of Christian.

 

Guy 55 – Sebastian – Slut email guy

I met Sebastian for drinks.  We were considering a FWB situation and wanted to see if each found the other attractive and did we get along.  I had some reservations going into this one.  His emails had been pretty conservative and uptight.  And in the pictures he sent, Sebastian looked like a huge nerd.  I don’t mean the crazy tech guy who becomes a nerd through his job.  I mean the kid who got picked on in school nerdy, just all grown up.  He was older than me, which I’ve told you already, just wasn’t my thing.  I only agreed to meet him because in one pic where he was smiling (most were very serious shots), he looked like Stabler from Law and Order: SVU.  I mean, really, who doesn’t want Stabler?  And because he had joked about something that made me laugh, I thought it was worth a shot.  So, I held out hope, was the eternal optimist, and went to meet Sebastian.

He walked in the door wearing a sweater vest.  Seriously, a sweater vest on a date where you want to convince a woman to sleep with you on an ongoing basis.  Even Stabler himself can’t pull off a sweater vest.  Maybe it’s shallow and judgmental, but that was Strike 1 for me. We sat and talked for a while and he seemed like a nice enough guy.  Then he told me he was a cat person – Strike 2.  I am a major dog person and have fairly large dogs, while he was a guy with cats.  Plural, as in more than one.  Not only did he have cats of his own, he worked with a cat rescue group in his spare time.  I admire anyone who volunteers their free time to an altruistic activity.  I think that’s an honorable thing to do.  While I respect and admire those people, I didn’t want to sleep with the crazy cat guy – Strike 3.

We talked a little more, said goodnight, and went our separate ways.  I really didn’t see Sebastian as someone with whom I would enjoy spending any time, let alone have sex with the guy.  Sebastian emailed the next day and asked when I wanted to sleep with him.  Slow your roll there, buddy.  I haven’t even said I want to see you again yet.

Clearly I had some concerns about this, and Sebastian being overly aggressive didn’t help.  I emailed back and said I wanted to give it some thought, and not just jump into bed with him.  Apparently, this was not the answer he had expected.  He flipped his shit and immediately emailed me back.  He said I was a slut who’d fuck anyone and everyone knew it.  Thank God I hadn’t slept with this guy.  He was clearly a nutjob.

I considered just letting it go.  Then I remembered who I am.  I’m a bitch with a bad temper, and this guy just poked a stick at me.  Sure, the good adult would have walked away.  I am not a good adult when angry.  So I emailed Sebastian back and told him, yes, I am a slut who fucks EVERYONE, except YOU.  What does that tell you?  I have basically no standards, and yet he couldn’t even meet my low standards so I would fuck him.  I told him sweater vest wearing cat rescue guys seriously needed help in life and I had no interest in him.  Then I blocked the asshole before he could send me an even nastier email.  So long, Sebastian.  Seriously though – sweater vest AND cat rescue guy?  One might have been workable, but no one should have to put in enough work to deal with both.

 

Guys 56 and 57 – Jim and Milo

I have nothing.  There wasn’t anything special about either guy.  Keep moving.  Or reading, or whatever.

 

Guy 58 – Will – Fade guy

Will seemed like a good prospect.  He was around my age, lived kinda close by, we liked the same music.  We met for a drink.  I thought it went well.  Will seemed to think so at first and then gradually changed his mind, fading away.  I had gotten the fade.  I knew what it was because one of the younger guys had talked about it.  I knew there some benefit to seeing those young guys.  Anyway, what the fuck?  You can’t just tell me you aren’t into me?  I swear, I’m not gonna cry.  I’m not even going to care in a couple hours.

So, no more Will.  At least, that’s what you would think. We ended up talking again many months later, and I didn’t realize it was the fade guy.  He finally said, I’d suggest we get together, but you probably think I’m an asshole.  I was confused until he explained he was the fade guy.  I told him no, I don’t think you’re an asshole.  I KNOW you’re an asshole.  And that was the last of Will.