Monthly Archives: May 2014

The Most Awkward Hello

Over the past few years, I have spoken and written all about my horrendous dating life. Sure, there were a few dates that didn’t leave me crying on the E train, but those aren’t that fun to tell, right? No one asks “How was your date last night?” in hopes that you say, “Fantastic! I think I found the one!” No. They want to hear about the uncomfortable small talk, the crazy stories, and the awkward hello.

Through my dating experiences, I have entertained numerous friends and some employees at 16 Handles with some of the wildest stories from my past, but no story quite got the reaction like the one I am about to share.

This “encounter” as I will refer to it, happened almost six months ago and I am just now ready to publically put it out there, on the internet, forever.

I am no stranger to self-deprecation or embarrassment for a laugh (I shit my pants and wrote about it, remember?) so there should be no reason why this particular encounter should be any different. But it was. And is. This is by far one of the most uncomfortable and awkward moments of my life, but I think I am finally ready to share it with all of you.

January 2014 was horrible. The cold, the snow, and the disappearance of Christmas cookies from my pantry. Saying I was depressed is an understatement.

Luckily, I had that Grindr app running all day, every day, desperate for someone to chat with, and maybe – just maybe –  someone to cuddle with my through the night. (Side note: There is no cool way of asking a total stranger to come to your apartment to sleep next to each other like you’re old buddies from college.) But I digress.

One chilly January evening I was scrolling through the nearby men when I received a message from a profile located 200 feet away. Now, in New York City, 200 feet is nothing, but in Jersey where I live, 200 feet is exciting and unheard of. He didn’t have a picture, but I took the chance and responded.

I responded to his “Wut up?” with a “Nothin’ much, you?” which of course led to “Horny” as many Grindr conversations do. Now, I was in a conundrum. Do I take the bait and say “Me too” or do I simply ignore his chivalrous gesture and keep looking for my next cuddle buddy. I decided that since I did have the apartment to myself that night, and hell, I could be horny if I wanted to be, I wrote back, “Same. Into?” just to get a glimpse of the activities I could be partaking in that evening. I had a heavy dinner and was not in the mood for anything wild or crazy, just a simple and easy hook-up.

Four minutes later he responded with “Just jacking off.”

Ok, I could handle that. I do it alone, why not do it in the company of a stranger. At this point in conversation, I had still yet to see a photo of him, and that’s rule number one of online hookups. I asked if he could share a few pictures and that I would do the same. He sent me two mirror-selfies where he was wearing jeans, a sweater with a gold chain and a fitted Yankee hat. I don’t even need to tell you that, yes, he was Puerto Rican.

I obliged his request to mutually masturbate and sent him my location. Not a minute later, I heard my apartment buzzer ring, signaling my visitor had arrived. I went downstairs to greet him, thinking that was the polite thing to do.

I opened the door and, to my surprise, he looked nothing like his pictures. We’ve all been there, right? Meeting someone on-line, you need to prepare yourself that they may not look exactly like the pictures they sent you. Because in real life, there is no air brushing effect, Instagram filters or flattering angles to make you look skinny.

Saying he was fat would be extremely mean and hurtful. But saying he was thin would be extremely untruthful and deceitful. He was wearing scrubs, so I asked if he worked at the medical building across the street, because that would explain his proximity of 200 feet away and his wardrobe. But he just shook his head no and said he worked in another town and was just passing through.

He was already beginning this relationship with a lie.

We walked up to my apartment, went into my bedroom, and sat on my bed. I wish I could be one of those guys who takes charge the minute we enter the love lounge (this is what I nicknamed my bedroom). Possibly the worst part of a hookup, other than the minutes after fruition, are the minutes prior to foreplay. You want to get naked and they want to get naked, but at the same time, we have to act like normal adults with parents who loved us and treated us well. I never want to just attack them in fear that I may make them uncomfortable.So we sat. And talked.

I heard stories about his childhood, his recent trip to Puerto Rico, and how he dislikes his sister’s new fiancé. I told him about my food blog and how I rarely ever hook up with someone. “I never do this,” I lied as he inched his way closer, rubbing my feet.

Once someone makes the first move, that’s when I go in for the kill. I took off my shirt, got on top of him, and pressed my lips to his, to which he pulled away and said, “I don’t kiss, bro.”

Apparently that’s a thing.

I accommodated his request and started undressing him, throwing his XXL hoodie onto my bedroom floor. Once the clothes were off and the jerking off began, I started to get bored. No kissing and basically no touching. We were just jerking off next to each other, not a sound to be heard.

“Want me to turn on Pandora?” I asked, reaching for my laptop.

“No, but get on top of me.”

I shut the lid to my Macbook and climbed on top of him, successfully mounting myself on the third try. We were now face to face so I leaned in, forgetting his ‘no kissing’ rule. He didn’t forget though, and instructed me to turn around so he could see my ass.

“My ass?” I thought. I wasn’t prepared for that. Showing someone my ass, and in that position, is a treat I save for special people in my life: a boyfriend, someone who buys me dinner, and my pediatrician. Not some random guy! But, remembering my New Year’s Resolution of saying “yes” that I made just a few weeks ago, I turned around so that my ass was inches from his face.

Continuing to jerk off both him and I at the same time – an extremely difficult feat – I could feel both of his hands grab my ass and this is when the spanking began. Not once. Not twice. Not even three times. He just started smacking my ass with his right hand for about 2 minutes straight.

“Ya got it?” I asked as I turned around. He kindly got the hint that I did not to be hit repeatedly, so he tried of one his other techniques. Still with both hands firm on my ass, he leaned in, placed his nose between my cheeks, and inhaled.

Sorry if I lost anybody after that last sentence. I know some of you are reading this on your lunch break or morning commute and I do apologize.

Upon hearing the sound of his exaggerated breath, I shot straight up like Scooby Doo. “Huuuuuhhhh?!”

Maybe it was an accident, I assured myself. This can’t be a thing guys do. It’s fine. It was a mistake. It won’t happen ag—SNIIIIIFF. This time, an even longer inhale from the first. This was no fluke. This guy was literally and figuratively smelling my asshole. After about another 7 or 8 deep breaths, he came up for air, turned me around, and decided NOW he was in the mood to make out.

“I don’t think so, pal” I said, as I pulled my head back as far away from his nostrils.

“What’s the matter? You wanted to kiss before man.”

“Yes, but that was before you stuck your nose into the crevice of my ass and sniffed around like a police dog.”

Needless to say, I laid back down and we jerked off, side by side until he was finished. For some reason, though, I just couldn’t get off.

I handed him a towel and threw him his scrubs and sweatshirt and said I had an early meeting the next day.

“But it’s a Saturday…” he said, confused.

Once he finally dressed, I walked him to the front door, held out my hand and said, “’Twas nice to meet you.” He gave me a handshake that resembled something from the movie “Friday After Next” and walked down the stairs. Feeling disgusting and violated, I ran to my bathroom, turned on the shower to the most scalding water temperature, and got in. I sat there, on the floor of the shower, cradling my knees and rocking back and forth. I felt used, I felt desecrated, and I felt like a container of Vix Vapor Rub.

After thirty minutes of sobbing in the shower, I got out, threw away my sheets, and went to bed.

The following week, some friends and I went out for Happy Hour and the subject of “weird sex” came up. For the first time ever, I stayed quiet and let the other people at the table share their most unusual story. Because we took an oath that night, I am forbidden of re-telling their stories, but after each one went, I felt comfortable enough to open about my recent encounter, hoping that once I told it, they would assure me it has happened to them. Or at least someone they knew.

Nope. This was the first time they had ever heard of this fetish, and now I was mortified, humiliated, and thirsty for another cosmopolitan. I tried to laugh it off, saying I was just kidding and that I made it up so they wouldn’t feel so bad about theirs, but they weren’t buying it.

Five months later, the brutal New York weather had finally subsided and the climate was warm and sunny. I was no longer gloomy or depressed and spent most of my afternoons out with friends or walking around my neighborhood.

One evening, I was coming back from the gym and passed a Dunkin’ Donuts. Deciding to treat myself for having the courage of canceling my membership, I stopped in to grab a few Boston Creams and a Hazelnut Coffee Coolata. Standing in line, I started perusing the other seasonal donuts on display when the person in front of me turned around and locked eyes with me. It was him: The Sniffer.

He looked at me for a few seconds; I suppose trying to remember how he knew me. But I knew. I remembered. I never forget a nose.

I simply smiled and uttered the most awkward hello possible. He nodded his head and turned back around, hopefully just as embarrassed as I was.  Too uncomfortable to stay, I silently backed up and walked out of the Dunkin Donuts, empty handed, with a growling stomach and the smell of regret.

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10 First Date Rules

Now, I know you are thinking: “Why in the hell would I take dating advice from this guy? He can’t even get a second date!” Well, while that may be true, I have some advice to offer regarding first date etiquette that will be sure to land you a second and a third. Basically,  it’s the exact opposite of what I normally do. And maybe, by writing this post, I will teach myself a thing or two as well.

 

  1. Play it cool. No matter how you met them, online, through a friend, or even at a bar, once the phone numbers have been exchanged, do not make the first move. (Unless they only gave you their phone number. Then, yeah. I guess you can send the first text.) But that is the only exception. You need to make them feel like you have a million other possibilities out there – even if your Friday night consists of Netflix and Pizza Hut.

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  1. Always dress for the date. The dating dress code is one of the most important things. Know the location or activity you and your date will be participating in. If it’s a nice dinner, don’t wear cowboy boots (trust me). If you are just meeting up for drinks, be a mix of classy and casual. Don’t dress up too much by wearing a tie or cuff-links, but also don’t dress too casual by wearing cargo shorts and flip flops. But most importantly, wear what you feel comfortable in. If you aren’t comfortable, other people will see that.

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  1. Don’t assume your date is going to pay. This is a complicated matter in the world of gay dating. Usually for heterosexual couples, the man usually picks up the tab, and for lesbians, whoever has the shortest hair pays. But for gay men, it’s a toss up. Some people say whoever asked the other out should pay. Others say the top should pay. And definitely whoever is the uglier of the two should pay. Just don’t assume that if you are a hot bottom your date will pay for you. Order in the bracket you can afford. There is nothing more embarrassing than going out to eat at the Red Lobster, ordering like a king, and then being stuck with your half of the bill. (There is also nothing more embarrassing than going to the Red Lobster on a date).

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  1. Always show up ten minutes late. I am a “premature arriver.” No matter what time I leave my apartment, I will always get to the meeting place at least twenty minutes early. Even if I leave three minutes until the set time. It’s always a good idea to have your date waiting for you, sitting at the bar sweating, hoping you will show up. It will make you less nervous. If you do show up early, take a walk around the block, drive around, or play a game of words with friends.

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  1. Be you…but just a little. I always encourage people to be themselves no matter what the occasion, but there is “being yourself” and being YOURself. Always stay true to you, but leave much to the imagination. One of my biggest dating mistakes is that I reveal too much too soon. Do not tell your date that you have irritable bowel syndrome. Do not tell your date you watched the entire series of Desperate Housewives in eight days. And do not tell them that you are losing your hair at a rapid pace. Never give out more information than they asked. If they say, “What’s your family like?” respond with, “Loving, funny, quirky….” Do not say, “My mom has multiple personality disorder, and I never met my father because he’s in jail for bestiality.”

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  1. Flirt with your eyes, not with your hands. Or feet. Keep the physical contact of the date to a minimum. Use your eyes to show them that you are listening and interested. You can maybe use an arm touch once in the night, but only if they say something extremely funny. Just do not overuse the arm touch. You just met this person, so don’t invade their personal space. I once was on a date and put my hand on the guys kneecap for the entire screening of “Avatar”. He left the theater before I could take off my 3-D glasses.

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  1. Do not go home with him. Unless you didn’t like him. Then, yeah. Go home with him.

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  1. After the date, do not text them. No matter what. I know that after a great date, we want to text them saying “I had so much fun” or “Tonight was great”. Don’t. I once got a text message from a guy thanking me for a great night before I was even in my car. Wait until at least the next day to start communication.

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  1. When establishing communication after the date, do not be needy. Do not ask them if they had fun. Do not ask them if you look like your pictures. And do not pressure them for a second date. Remember that old saying, “If they want to see you, they will make it happen.” Feel it out. If after the date, you see communication has dwindled, (i.e. lengthy text messages have now gone to one or two words) let it go and do not contact them. Maybe they just weren’t that into you.

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10. Don’t give up. Keep on dating. If you go out with someone and you never hear from them again, you have to remember it is their loss. Trust in yourself that you are an amazing catch and if they don’t see that, then the hell with them. Do not focus on every minute of the date, thinking, “I shouldn’t have said that” or “Maybe I could’ve done this”. It wont matter. You said it. You didn’t do it. It’s too late. On to the next one. Just take everything you should have done or could’ve said better, and implement it into your next date.

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