As usual, I am loving all the other posts that I am coming across on WordPress. It’s something I’ve missed doing lately, especially with One Ball being here and my blog getting suspended and all.
I came across a brilliant post by Life of a Lover Girl called “Pressure on Dates – Ugghhh” I had a read, of course; her blog is brilliantly fabulous and always makes me smile, and I feel like I have a lot to say to her about this topic.
I HATE online dating but recently it seems to be the only way that I can meet men. I meet a lot of people in my job but it’s not exactly the perfect setting to be able to swap over phone numbers. I don’t really go out drinking much these days; preferring to smoke a joint and relax at home instead. Since my return back from the other side of the world, and even while I was over there, I have frequented one particular online dating website – POF.
The first guy I met on POF was the weirdo that I mention in “Questions, Questions, Questions” where the wonderful Life of a Lover Girl nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award! It was my first date on the other side of the world. My first date, in fact, for many years with The Big Love and The Hubby consuming the majority of my time without much of a gap in between.
We met on POF and he seemed okay-looking in the photos, but not really the type of guy I go for at all. He was bald and very short but there was one photo of him in what looked like a big city, with a grey beanie-style hat on, looking pretty damn cool. I decided, as he had messaged me while I was in the bath, that I should shave my legs, put on my cutest outfit and go out on this impromptu date that he had suggested for just two hours later. Fuck it, I thought – let’s do it.
I was feeling rebellious against my break-up/make-up situation with The Big Love and was determined to prove that I still had “it!”
I don’t think I did.
The date was awkward and uncomfortable, and as you can see from my story in the previous post, it didn’t exactly go according to plan. Or very well. At all. It was uncomfortable, he was cheap (made me pay for my own hot chocolate at Tim Horton’s) and he mumbled the entire time so I didn’t actually have a clue what he was saying. He kept talking bullshit about the area we both lived like he owned the damn place. And he kept boasting about his job which still, to this day, I still don’t understand. It was a horrible date and we both made it pretty clear that we weren’t interested at the end of the night. It was easy, cut and dry, right down the middle, rejection. We both knew where we stood.
My pride may have been dented by the fact that this guy didn’t want to date me but when I realized that the feeling had been very mutual, I soon got over myself. He messaged me briefly a while later basically asking me for sex and I just ignored it.
The second guy I met on the online dating site was again, another baldy. I think I was going through a phase. This was the most uncomfortable sex of my life, despite the fact that the date went rather well. We met maybe three or four times, and on the last two of those times we slept together. This was when I realized I wasn’t interested – I wasn’t even attracted to him. He wasn’t bad looking; just not what I was looking for.
He waddled towards me with his cheesy silk boxer shorts around his ankles, cock pointing at me, condom on. Ugh. It wasn’t a pretty sight. It was awful. Then when he climbed on top of me on the couch, I realized I had a problem – he was CONSIDERABLY taller than I was and when we were lying down on the couch, his chest was basically smothering my face, and he was so heavy I couldn’t even breathe. The bad jack-rabbit shagging thing wasn’t doing it for me either. Or the sloppy kisses where I’m pretty sure at one point, his tongue was in my nostril.
The second time we hooked up, we had decided to smoke a joint beforehand. We thought it might relax us both as again; the date had gone well just as before. It was another night of bad sex and I’m pretty sure he didn’t even cum. He seemed to lose interest after that – it was a few weeks before he messaged me after the second time. We still chat every now and again, but I’m pretty sure if I had stayed, I wouldn’t have seen him again.
After my return to this side of the world, I went back to the world of POF to find something to get me though the lonely and frustrated nights. I met Number 33 from What’s Your Number?
Number 33 was older, single, lived on his own, had a fairly decent job, and owned his own car with all wheels and windows intact. I actually thought I had made progress. He was also half white and half brown – something I seem to like in my men these days, and had a great smile that made me go all giggly. Our first date came and my sister dropped me off. We went into his local pub for a drink or two and then he was going to take me back to his house for a dinner that he had prepared. Things were going well! I laughed a lot, we kissed a lot and he held my hand as we played pool. It was a pretty damn good evening!
We got back to his house and things became a bit of a blur. I had gotten very drunk in the pub and hadn’t eaten anything as we had expected to have dinner at his, and then stayed in the bar until closing time. I was a mess. I don’t remember much but I DO remember having a fight in his kitchen because I didn’t want to put out on the first night, a lot of me trying to get him to stay hard as we had pretty poor sex for hours, and trying to stop myself from barfing every time the room span around me. It was a recipe for disaster and within the first two minutes of sleeping with him I knew I was never going to see him again. Yes I still slept with him. No I wasn’t interested.
The next morning he dropped me back at mine and I avoided all communication attempts. I felt like a bitch but I knew he was going to turn into a crazy stalker if I led him on. That night, however, he went a bit dip-shit on my ass and things turn a dramatic turn for the worse. I bit him during our sexual escapades and he referred to me as a “wild dog”. He must have noticed the scars on my legs too as he made a rather nasty comment about me being a crazy self-harmer and a fucking nut job. What an asshole. This is why girls feel compelled to sleep with someone on the first date, sex site or not – MEN ARE FUCKING CRAZY.
Then I met The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of. Hmmmm. He was FUCKING LOOPY too! He lied about so much, got possessive, needy and jealous very quickly, and even told me he loved me. This guy was a nut job – you’ll know the story if you’ve been following this blog as that where it all began. Another batshit crazy guy.
Then POF presented me with One Ball and well… you can see where that is going if you keep reading 😉
If things with OB don’t work out, I don’t think I will be returning to the world of internet dating. Those guys on those websites are mental in the face. They are obsessive, stupid, only after sex or just plain ugly. And by ugly I mean REALLY ugly. And with no personality. There are just too many assholes out there and I’ve fallen for too many well-timed profile pictures. If this one doesn’t work, I’m going back to basics – trawling the bars with my knickers in my purse, a spare condom in a wallet and a cheeky smile on my face. It worked for me before so dammit I may as well give it another shot. At least you know what kind of seedy scum bag you are getting from a bar – the internet guys are cubic zirconium wrapped up in fake diamonds. The bastards.