The Stats

If you're wondering what I've been up to dating-wise since I last posted, here is the answer...  I've been having sex- lots of great sex with a man who, in every aspect outside the bedroom, I feel like I have no chemistry with.  But inside the bedroom (or the living room or the kitchen or the shower or the car...), things are amazing.  I am finally feeling fulfilled- in 30 minute increments.

While my dating life gets boring for a bit, I have some statistics:

35- the number of first dates I've had in the last fifteen months, since I moved to Seattle

25- the number of men who asked me out on a second date

8- the number of men I accepted a second date with

4- the number of men who I declined a second date with who I later ran into awkwardly

3- the number of third dates

3- the number of fourth dates

2- the number of men who made it to the fifth date and beyond

1- the number of men who became a boyfriend

1- the number of men who I did not technically go on a date with, but did have sex with after knowing them for 3 hours while they were high on alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine

1- the number of men who almost moved from New York to date me, after sleeping with me when they were high on alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine

Interestingly, statistics show that if we go on a first date, there is a greater chance that we will randomly run into each other in Seattle than we will go on a third date





 

This Blog Post is Brought to You by the Number Ten

On Friday night, during our third date, I was fucked into double digits. 

What makes this most recent partner numerically significant for me goes beyond the ten notches on my bedpost.  It is that, in the last year, the number of people I've had sex with is equal to the number I had sex with in the previous 29. 

How did I get here?  I put some blame on my exboyfriend and my disillusionment in love and trust that happened when that relationship ended.  I became less vulnerable, more open to sex because I can take it emotionally.  If I sleep with someone who never calls me again, I'm not hurt because I was never invested to begin with.  I can take sexual opportunities without emotional risk.

This change, though, is more than the consequence of a bad breakup.  In talking with my numerous single female friends in Seattle and around America, I think it reflects our desire for genuine connections with men yet also our fierce independence that we've acquired.  We are smart and successful.  We make our own money, have our own apartments and cars.  We have active social lives.  We want boyfriends and later husbands and children, but we do not want to have to sacrifice the lives for ourselves that we have worked hard to build to be with a man who doesn't meet our standards.  We can have casual sex with men because we are making our own futures; we do not need to attach meaning to encounters that have none.  With #10 and the four other men I've been with in the last twelve months, I have rolled the emotional dice without much to lose on the table.

Or, as my 86 year old grandmother more concisely put it while giving sage advice to her single granddaughters:  "Why marry the pig when all you want is a little sausage?"

I was talking with my friend and her boyfriend about this man, and they could tell I was ambivalent.

"I think you've said 'I don't know' about fifteen times in the last five minutes," my friend's boyfriend noted.

"Well," I replied, "I guess that sums it up."

Pat on the Back

Guess who did NOT sleep with her most recent guy on the second date! 

We were making out on my couch when the cab driver called his phone to say he'd arrived.  He kept kissing me, intensity building, and as his hands wandered I broke away, reminding him that the taxi was waiting.

"You are so hard to read!" he joked. 

I didn't know what was so hard to read.  We were making out on a second date.  His ride was here.  It was midnight on a Tuesday.  I was tired...  The pussy was closed. It was the most- possibly the only- rational decision I have made about sex this year.

I woke up today to the text message "I could kiss you for a hundred years," which, admittingly, is a pretty sweet text message to start your dark November morning.





 

Worst Game Ever

How NOT to hit on a woman at a party:

1) When the woman's friend mentions she had a Fulbright fellowship, say "Isn't that not as good as a Rhodes?"

2) When the woman tells you she's running a half marathon, say "You seem more like a 5K type of girl."

You are an idiot and no, I don't want to be in your kickball league.

I'm interested. Maybe.

I went out with him last week and will sum up the encounter with the following:

1) I was more attracted to him after realizing he is, just like my friends advised, a really cool person.

2) I could understand his accent once we were in a quieter bar.

3) I have not seen his penis.

He immediately won points with me when he showed up clean-shaven and wearing a sport jacket.  He won more points when he told me he was a social worker.  More points still when he said he did freelance writing and was in a band.  And him being African does not hurt one bit.

I am still struggling with the chemistry question, but what really made me interested happened the day after our date and hardly involved him at all.

I was doing tequila shots on Thursday night with a friend before going to a porn festival.  Yes, you read that correctly (and HOW am I single again???).  I told her about him and when I said his name she looked at me funny.  "What did you say his name was?"  I repeated it.  "That's my best friend's husband."

They broke up, she explained, several years ago, but have stayed married for immigration purposes.  They remained friends and it sounds like the breakup, while heartwrenching as breakups often are, was amicable.

I am, as I have said before, a steadfast believer in being on good terms with past partners.  Having gone through a horrible breakup myself, I learned how much you can tell about a person from the way a relationship ends.  It shows how they handle stress and conflict when they are at a most vulnerable point- breaking a loved one's heart or having their own heart broken.  Do they lie to you repeatedly about being with another woman with the excuse that they did not want to hurt you?  Or do they take a deep breath and say they're sorry, they are interested in someone else, and they want to move on?

My friend reassured me, "He's a good guy.  I approve."  So while I still am on the fence, my interest did increase.  If his ex-wife's best friend thinks he's a good guy, then he must have done a lot of things right during that breakup.  That is the type of guy I would want to date.
 

My Time Limit

Three months, I'm realizing, is my breaking point at which I need some sort of physical contact with the opposite sex.  Back in July, when I had sex with two men in the same week who I never talked to again, I resolved that the next time would be different.  I'm gonna wait until it feels right.  We're gonna talk about it first and hold off until deciding to see each other exclusively. We'll be responsible and get tested.  It'll be with someone I care about.

And then mid-October hit, and I was ready to jump anything that moved.  I had been to a party a few months earlier and briefly met a man who expressed interest in me to my friend.  I wasn't feeling it then, but last week, when I met up with friends for drinks, they reminded me that he was an option.  Feeling desperate, I forced my mind to open to other prospects and against all instincts, I gave in a little: "Tell him to come out tonight."

He did come out, and we spent the rest of the stormy Seattle night talking in a bar.  I tried and tried, but I could not muster up an attraction to him,  Moreover, I could barely understand him; growing up in Africa and spending years of his life in a UK boarding school had left him with a thick accent.

My friends told me later that he was sprung.  I explained that I flat out am not attracted to him and cannot hold a meaningful conversation with him when I understand a fraction of what he says.  They tried to convince me, told me stories about how nice/smart/funny/creative he was.  I sighed, trying to find another reason to be interested.  "Does he have a big penis?"

"Ehhhh, it's average," a friend responded.

This man who I'm not attracted to, who I don't understand, with an average-sized dick asked me to get a drink with him this week, and I accepted.  Why?  It's that three month mark.  I know because the following thought actually came into my head:  Maybe if we have sex from behind, I won't notice that I'm not attracted to him, we won't have to talk, and his dick will seem bigger.

Seriously, this is my life?!?