Month: July 2012

Ivy Dates #1: No, I Don’t Think I Want to Occupy This

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So, tumblr, I mentioned I made an okcupid account. I’ve decided to chronicle the experience on here because whatever I want to and it’s my blog wah wah I promise I’ll post porn, too.

I had my first date on Saturday. He looked great “on paper”. We met in a fairly large city that he works in and I live pretty close to. It left a lot to be desired.

The date. Not the city.

Among the issues were:

  • He works in finance in a really yucky job where he does favors for horrible people. He is completely and totally unashamed of this.
  • Although he said he had picked out a place for us to eat that he liked, he promptly decided upon my arrival that he “wasn’t in the mood for it” and made me pick a place. When I couldn’t decide right away, he became pretty frustrated.
  • Two seconds into lunch and he tries to booze me up.
  • He smells terrible. Awful. But it’s the kind of terrible that you keep sniffing (1) to make sure it’s him and (2) because you’re almost intrigued by how bad it is.
  • He assumed I went to a state school (nothing against public education!!!!!) and started describing his previous academic/current career endeavors to me in an incredibly patronizing tone with vocabulary that was intentionally dumbed down. When it was revealed I go to Ivy University, he sort of just looked at his plate and went, “oh…okay.”
  • When the bill came, he grabbed it right away and made a big show of putting his hand up and being the wealthy hero buying lunch for his poor, pretty starving artist date. If he wasn’t such a dick about it, maybe I would’ve vaguely considered agreeing to let him pay. Instead, I told him I’d like to pay my half and joked it was because I was a third wave feminist. He responded, with a completely serious face, “what the hell’s a feminist?" 
  • He took me to a gallery and then proceeded to demonstrate he has no appreciation at all whatsoever for the arts. 
  • He made weird jokes about my height.
  • Whenever I would talk about my interpretation of a piece of art we were looking at, he’d get all patronizing and say stuff like, "how cute, but I think it’s this…” We’d then consult the description. I was always correct. Always. This irritated him beyond belief.
  • At one point, I was explaining a movement of art to him and he rolled his eyes and declared that “maybe he should have brought a notebook to take notes”.
  • Anytime I even vaguely wandered off-course, he would start criticizing me for it.
  • Before he knew I went to Ivy University, he half-joked that he wanted a trophy wife and then gave me a couple of “any takers?” eyebrow wags.
  • When I told him he was the first okcupid date I had been on, he told me how fortunate I was. (Should’ve kissed his huge fucking feet right there.)

So, no, tumblr, I will not be taking out Mr. Finance for another date. He hasn’t called, I have no desire to reach out to him, and frankly I’m fine with that. I weathered the day while maintaining my politeness and staying pleasant (I didn’t even drop a single f-bomb), so I think I deserve a gold star for showing up, being lovely and getting to see an awesome art installation for my troubles.

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“I want you to know that it is not always easy to love me. That sometimes my chest is a field full of landmines, and where you went last night, you can’t go tomorrow. There is no manual, there is no road map, no help line you can call; my body does not come with instructions, and sometimes even I don’t know what to do with it. This cannot be easy. But still, you touch me anyway.” – Ivan E. Coyote, Hats Off.

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It’s strange that I can look at an image like this and actually feel longing. Because I’ve been taken fairly close to there before, and when the person with me knew how to handle it, it was incredibly satisfying. It’s hard to describe without sounding needy or fucked up or dependent or a lot of the other critiques of people who identify as submissive.

But, it’s just in the way he holds her, the way she leans on him, how the chain doesn’t come off. He’ll assure her of how good she was and how proud she made him. She’ll have the opportunity to just let it out. There’s an arrangement there. There’s intimacy. 

does she know youre bi?

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Yep. She knew I was bisexual before I knew I was bisexual. As in she’d catch me staring at a woman and point it out and I’d tell her she was being gross. So, by the time the fascination developed into a full-on sexual preference, she wasn’t shocked and had already sort of asked whether or not I liked women.

does your mom know about your lifestyle in any way?

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Well, the thing she said on the phone to her friend was totally in jest. 

I’ve mentioned on here before that, yeah, my mom knows I’m kinky. Is she entirely comfortable with it? Nope. When she figured it out when I was younger, stuff was pretty awkward for a while. However, she’s since learned to trust that I (sometimes) know what I’m doing and that what I’m engaging in is (usually) healthy. She also trusts that I’ll know when to cut off the stuff that isn’t.

And, naturally, neither of us want to get into the specifics with each other. So, we don’t.

Apparently, I’m a five-guy kind of girl.

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While I was about to leave for the gym this evening, I walked past my mother who was on the phone with one of her best guy friends from her 30s. He’s a riot and a wonderful person and lately he’s been trying to fix me up with his son, who is a year older than me. The kid’s pretty attractive and has a really supreme job (mostly because of his father’s connections, but I’ve never actually spoken to him.

My mom handed me the phone and I said hello. Quickly, her friend said, “my son’s alone this weekend. You should come over.”

I laughed, “I have plans.”

“Put your mother on,” he replied.

I handed the phone off. Sometime, soon, yeah, maybe I’d let his son take me out. It’s a little awkward and it feels kind of dynastic, though. Also, they’re pretty conservative 1%ers and I don’t know if I’m quite ready to dive into another foray into messing around with the 1%. Sure, my mom’s friend is totally open and wonderful, but eh. He once made a comment to my mother that I was “perfect but we’ll fix the liberal thing” that sort of turned me off.

“He’s got his friend over,” I could hear my mom’s friend say through the phone.

My mom chuckled, “Ivy’s not really a two-guy kind of girl.” I winked at her and turned to go. “She’s more of a five-guy girl.”

Thanks, Mom.

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It was because he claimed bows brought out her innocence. Which he swore, promised, was buried beneath her incessant brattiness. 

“What do these bring out, Daddy?” she asked.

He looked over her shoulder, shook his head at the holes, and reached down. “My cock. Now open your mouth.”

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Just leaving this here for my queue to eventually spit out. 

I know it doesn’t fit with the theme of this tumblr, but I think it’s relevant for any conversation.

canadiancharm:

lol guys are usually standing next to their dates or holding their hand, or even their hip

but then there’s Will Smith

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I had a text exchange with the Southern Gentleman, who likes to pretend our little fiasco didn’t happen and tries to talk to me normally. Which, ugh, I don’t know. Maybe that’s a good thing. He tried to uncomfortably sext me about three weeks ago and I was literally disgusted.

Recently, I made an okcupid account since there isn’t much else to do around here and I have what should be a really great date coming up with what seems like an awesome, smart, sane guy. But, when SG asked me if I was seeing anyone while he was texting me today, I responded with: “no, the only relationship I’m in is with my numerous vices.”

“I hope to be one of those vices,” he texted right back.

I rolled my eyes and texted: “I bet you do.”

SG replied with: “Look at you, all coy.”

It’s funny how guys can sometimes confuse coyness and ambivalence.

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cabinetofdesire:

You didn’t think I was pretending when I told you I would own you, did you? That somehow we were playing? We are grown-ups, dear. Children play; we commit. And you and I have committed. 

In your case, to sleeping in this cage, chained to the bars, until you have developed a more positive attitude to your new situation. If you are good perhaps you will in time deserve a mattress, maybe even a blanket.

Mmmm. Damn.