I would consider myself an equal opportunity dater. I was not always this way… but I have learned over the years that the most magical people I have met in my life are always the people I least expect. This includes people of a non-romantic inclination as well. So a few years ago I started to throw out the previously mentioned “expectations” in order to open myself to new experiences and new people.
Don’t misinterpret… I still have standards when it comes to dating. I don’t go around dating every hobo I run into on the way to the mall. But if you are clean, witty, over 5’7”, and don’t have heinously crooked teeth (because there are some things a person who had braces AND headgear just can’t compromise on)… I will go out on a date with you. What’s the worst that can happen?
This newfound stance on life has run me into some really interesting people. I met a pathological liar named Victoria who was on the US women’s hockey team, invented tin foil, and whose secret nickname among our friends is “Fakestoria.” But most recently it ran me into a very interesting gentleman. For the record, this does not mean interesting in a good way.
I live in an apartment complex that often throws silly little parties in the common building for holidays. These parties usually aren’t at all exciting (a funeral for a complete stranger would be more interesting), but for Valentine’s Day they went all out and had a cupcake bar. Have I mentioned that I LOVE cake? Even more exciting was that they were providing FREE WINE! They were giving away WINE! Not even boxed WINE!! So when my friend Cat (who lives a few buildings over) mentioned this, I of course said that we must attend. So we go get our drink on in the lobby of the main building with 75 other lame-os who are there for the FREE WINE and catered Italian food.
I met my fabulously gay neighbors who had actually Pattisserie’d the cupcake bar. I immediately complimented the “frosting” to which the super gay one replied (in a very stereotypical voice), “It isn’t frosting, it’s mousse.” Well excuuuuuuse me. Is that also how you got your bouffant hair so large this evening?
It was also at this party that I met a tall Indian gentleman who had just seen the same TED talk as me (our clear conversation piece). So we exchanged names so that he could presumably find me on facebook and stalk me to make sure I was not a total wacko before asking me out. Because, as I am learning, “The Facebook Stalk” is now the first negotiated step of modern dating (more into modern dating in the next blog).
Despite that he didn’t look exactly like the Indian guy who was on Heros (which is a bummer for him because I would climb Sendhil Mamamurthy like a tree), he was handsome in a Clark Gable kind of way, but rather taciturn like Mr. Darcy. My newly opened mind screamed out “color me intrigued India!” So we went out on three dates…
And it turned out he was less like Mr. Darcy and more like a Sigmeund Freud.
All he talked about was sex. Despite that he grew up in India he apparently had a very liberal upbringing where his parents left sex books lying around for him and his brother to “discover” (in their massive mansion library since his family is ex-Indian royalty… as a side note) So on our third date, I called him out on the heinous amount of sex chat during dinner: And while I can’t recall my exact phrasing of this conversation, I am sure it was something classy like this:
“Um… India, I think you are starting to make the other restaurant patrons uncomfortable because you keep mentioning dental dams.”
To which he said “Sex just seems to be the universal topic, everyone understands it.”
Which is true from an anthropological standpoint but the six year old twins in the booth next to us don’t really need to be introduced to safe oral sex techniques quite yet. I’ll leave that to their parents. Plus, I am now a Brunette who watches TED talks (and having brown hair + TED talks automatically gets me an extra 20 IQ points right?)… so we can talk about something other than the childhood book that introduced you to the idea of double sided dildos (I didn’t even know those existed in the 70’s… hell… I hadn’t even thought about the concept until he mentioned it. And now I can’t get the unflattering visual out of my head. Now it’s in your head too… you’re welcome). I flat out told him that he just needed to get laid (because I am of course the master of diplomacy) and then the sex chat would be less… abrasive…frequent… assaulting… unrelenting. However, I wasn’t going to volunteer myself to liberate his libido. I’d rather be torn apart by wild boars. I started to waver on whether or not I wanted to hang out with him because he just wasn’t that interesting. So at one point he sent me a movie clip to watch because he thought it paralleled my indecision to be involved with him/sleep with him (this will come back to haunt me). I was supremely offended that he wanted to sleep me while using the guise of being a civilized human being (who is supposed to be refined and cultured dammit)!
And he was all over the place with what he wanted. For a while he said wanted to girlfriend, but couldn’t be bothered to have a relationship with their family. Then he seemed to think that married people shouldn’t live together because separate space is good.
So clearly, it is time to jump ship. I don’t even need a life raft. I will risk it.
So I back out gently and start to decline his invites. I bail on one event specifically and give him the, “I just want to be friends speech.” But apparently I didn’t give him enough notice to cancel and he in turn gave me a very angry speech of:
“I don’t want to be friends with someone who disrespects my time.”
Yeah… I’m really sorry to disrespect your masturbation time.
However, I figure this anger will dissuade him from contacting me again. I thank my lucky stars that this weirdo is out of my life.
How mistaken I was. Apparently he couldn’t get it through his head that I didn’t want to sleep with him. And he told me so… via facebook message (which is subsequently the last step of modern dating as well).
I now present to you the facebook messages that started the day after I bailed on his date and told him that I didn’t feel the same “spark” he did. Keep in mind these took place over about 24 hours. This is a direct transcript, I can’t even write shit this good:
India: And FYI, I don’t feel any spark. You can hookup drunk and regret it the next day as you walk home disheveled, or hookup sober and go home with breakfast, a smile, and your dignity intact. I’m after, and am offering, the latter. Or you can continue to drink alone with your dog.
Me: No thank you. But thanks for the offer. Have a nice evening.
India: Did you watch that scene from Summertime I sent you back in February? You’re like Jane Hudson, a hungry child who is offered ravioli but demands steak. You’re hungry, eat the ravioli. Not that hungry? We’re all that hungry. You’re almost 30, rather old to be an ingenue.
Me: So I took the high road last night and responded with tact. However, your insistence at contacting me with the intent to insult me is really rather rude so here are my real thoughts.
A. I am not hungry… I am clearly not as hungry as you. I can get sex from people who are not heinously boring anytime I want.
B. You claim to want many different things. But the reality is that you want a whore you don’t have to pay. Or a whore you can pay with baked goods. I will not be that for anyone.
But thank you for calling me old and sexually respressed. Turns out I was right to be offended all along. Now leave me the fuck alone.
Turns out that even ex-royalty will try to guilt you into having sex with them (by comparing themselves and sex to food…and for the record… not sexy… Ravioli has never been sexy).
But at least I haven’t heard from him. I hope he moves out because otherwise this Labor Day party is going to be REEEEEEEAAAAALLLY awkward.