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

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.

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.

The Holiday Party, Part 6

“Wait, you’re smoking with my neighbor?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry…”

“No, no,” Ren said, “it’s awesome. I’ll be up in a few!”

Of course, who came busting through the door instead but Noodlegirl’s boyfriend. According to Ren later on that night, he had freaked out and claimed that I might be off performing some “crazy lesbian ritual” with her. What. The. Hell.

Seriously? One, she’s not his girlfriend. Two, she barely likes him. And, three, lesbian rituals? Really? Because every lesbian is a witch suddenly. It just sucks that there’s two ways to handle a bisexual girl at a party, she’s either trying to steal your girl or she’s there for you to watch and drool over. Ugh.

The Winter Formal, Part 3

I started talking to a guy I didn’t recognize who approached me. He seemed nice enough and was certainly good-looking enough. His family was from where I had been abroad the previous summer and so we were speaking in the language, making jokes, and getting to know each other. He was impressed that I knew a thing or two about motorcycles, but I was starting to see something vaguely sketchy about him showing me tons of pictures on his phone and his increasing efforts to pull me away from my friends.

We were all dancing and I felt my phone vibrate in my clutch in my hand, but I ignored it as I felt him move against me. He was all right, but I felt him push my hair aside and then…

It was just this long tongue lapping up and down my neck and collar bone. It’s wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t enticing. It was slobbery and strange. I looked around and my friends were gone. I reached down to open my phone to text them and ask where they were, to find a message from my friend saying, “just warning you, he doesn’t go here and he’s really creepy. I hooked up with him once.”

Ugh. I made an excuse, saying my friend was having a meltdown and ran upstairs to find someone.

Seriously. What a freaking turnoff.

humandynamo:

Good luck getting anyone else to.

This would probably be one of my favorite things ever if it wasn’t for that menace known as clear heels. Blegh.