All About That Dating Life

So my previous post raised the question if people, particularly young gay men, still date. It also made me wonder if we don’t date because promiscuity is just so great, or if it’s because the dating pool is shallow at best.

These two things probably aren’t mutually exclusive. I’ve met quite a few guys that I wouldn’t mind dating, but many of them seem to prefer just getting it on and then moving right along. I can’t say that I haven’t been guilty of this. Just last week a boy told me that he loved me and my response was to keep making out, and taking a quick pause to tell him that he must be mistaken.

This particular fellow lives in a different country and is heading back there today actually. I’m avoiding the whole situation until I know he’s safely out of my hood. Does that make me a terrible person?

I’m conflicted. On the one hand I really want to be in the type of successful relationship I see on campus every day. But on the other hand, I like keeping it casual and not giving someone the opportunity to screw me emotionally.

Does it all come down to some form of fear? A fear of commitment, a fear of catching the feels in a real way, a fear of rejection? What about when it becomes boring, which it inevitably has to? Is it all worth the effort and the self-esteem blows?

I haven’t been in a relationship in just about 18 months. I’ve had my fair share of flings and dates, but not one that seemed like it could be a potential life changer – maybe Ben from the last two posts but look how that panned out.

I just joined Tinder for  the one millionth time. I’m telling myself it’s for research – you know, so that I have something to write about on here. Maybe it is to an extent, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the matches and the messages and just the general ego boost when you realize that there are some people out there, albeit not that many, that want to talk to me because they find my Facebook pictures attractive.

That brings me to the next dilemma that us would-be daters have to face. Narcissism.

In a world of TV, Grindr, Tinder, Facebook, Pinterest, the internet in general and even blog sites like Tumblr and Twitter, society is constantly told to look at things. We don’t read like we used to, we don’t talk like we used to. Our interactions are so driven by visual stimulation that we expect nothing but the most beautiful and most stunning. I’m complaining about it yeah, but just like I enjoy a casual fling when I secretly want to date, I also judge on appearances, and way too harshly. I physically struggle to watch movies made before the dawn of CGI, and I hate when lead roles are portrayed by anyone less attractive than Keira Knightly or Matt Bomer.

Dating sites are so bad in this regard. You simply swipe left, ignore a friend request, block, unfollow if someone isn’t as aesthetically pleasing as your dream partner is in your mind’s eye. Imagine we did the same in real life. Imagine for a second someone did the same to you – try approach someone in your class, place of work or in a bar and they simply ignore you or ‘swipe’ you out of their way. It all seems so messed up, and yet we thrive on it. We check our likes on Instagram and our retweets and favourites on Twitter and bask in the glow of having the best follows to following ratios. I’m completely immersed in the culture myself, there is no turning back.

But what does everything I’ve said so far mean? What does it mean for the future of dating, particularly for my future in terms of dating? Well, I guess I don’t know. Do I suck it up and stay single forever, hooking up randomly for as long as possible, or should I go to gym, be on a perpetual diet, be tanned as all hell all the time and hope that someone swipes right?

This is where I’ll end off, no closer to an answer than when I began.

When You Meet Someone New Part 2 

Right. Where was I? 

So I saw Ben at a hipster music festival. He never came to the after party and took at least 12 hours to send me a message after I gave him my number (three day rule for who). 

Let me mention right now that he pretty much led with “I’m not looking for a relationship right now” when we started chatting. I heard him, I told him I’m not keen on a casual hookup. I don’t recall him responding to that though. And let me be honest – I didn’t care that he said that, he was smart and attractive, so I convinced myself on the spot that I could change his mind if given the chance. 

So he eventually texts me and I, being as cool and collected as I am, reply minutes, no seconds later. I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not ashamed. So we chat. And it’s pretty damn great. For a whole Sunday we ‘talk’ crap and admit to doing the compulsory social media stalking on one another’s accounts. 

But, somehow, I feel like that Sunday, a week or so after meeting him for the first time, my thing with Ben had come to an end. 

For the next week, he texts me back intermittently at best, sometimes with 48 hours between responses. I know, people are busy, we all have things to do. But not being able to reply to a text message … To me that means your phone got stolen, you’re dead or you’re just not interested. 

I knew his phone wasn’t stolen – he replied to my friend. That also rules out being dead I guess. So that left one option, one option that I was hell bent on ignoring. 

Have I mentioned that playing it cool is not my strong point? It really isn’t – wow. So I tried my best to only reply hours after this boy sends me a message and sometimes succeeded. But I also wanted to be on his mind, so now and then I would send what I thought was a cute text – just a “Have a nice day” type of message with an emoji or two, you  know. Of course, no response to these little gestures of kindness and potential brain washing. 

So I play this game for week or so, wanting to give up but also wanting to keep trying. Friday night plans come out of nowhere and guess who happens to be included in said plans? 

So by the time I get to the bar, Ben is wasted and dancing with a bunch of girls – heaven forbid a guy comes near him in public. 

I take the hint and sit with with a gaggle of gays waiting for a drink. I hit it off with these guys and Ben notices. He asks me to take a walk with him and I pretend to think about it – who am I kidding, I said yes almost immediately, only pausing long enough to try and contain my joy. I sound like a typical highschool girl right now, don’t I? Oh well. 

So we took a walk, and we made out. It was fantastic. It felt like he knew me. You know how generally a first kiss is akward and uncertain? This was anything but that. It was the stuff of movies and novels and other luckier people’s blogs. And then he ruined it by telling me that he knew how great it was, because he’s well aware that he’s awesome and a great kisser. I’m all about cocky assholes, but let’s calm down. 

This is turning out to be a very  long story, I’m sorry. 

That was it for that night, he went off back to his friends and I went back to the gaggle. I left soon after and didn’t speak to him again until I saw him again the next day. 

Saturday. I go to a birthday picnic, basically the pre game for a swing party (Jazzy type vibe) later that night. Ben’s there. We say hi and that’s it. 

At the Jazz party we don’t really talk, he tells me I look good and we take a bunch of photos with the gang. The rest of the night he speaks to my best friend more than he speaks to me but I figure that’s not too odd. She’s pretty cool after all. 

We both end up staying at a mutual friend after the party, in the same bed. Unfortunately there are no juicy details to share. We kissed for 5 minutes. He fell asleep. He woke up and we cuddled. That’s it. At this point I’m sure you can imagine how self conscious I feel – I’ve never had someone fall alseep that quickly, no matter how wasted. 

Next morning. Sunday. He wakes up a few minutes after me, gets right out bed, takes all his things and goes and chills with the friend whose house we’re at. I think my ego died there and then. I get dressed. I have some much needed water, brush my teeth and we all go to breakfast. 

Later we text. He says his quick escape was to avoid being awkward, because he’s weird and doesn’t know how to deal with such things. 

This was two weeks ago and I believe it was our last conversation. I’ve seen him since and bummed a cigarette off him. Oh he also poked my abdominal region cause he knew I had to pee and clearly likes to see me squirm. 

I know. What a long ass story and what an anticlimax. Now imagine how I feel. This made me wonder – do people, specifically young gay guys, still date? Are there any potentials out there?  Or are we all destined to an eternity of Grindr and meeting pretty boys with zero social graces? 

When You Meet Someone New

Okay, here we go. It’s been months and now I’m rusty. I meant months since I’ve written anything, but now it occurs to me that it’s also been months since I’ve been on a real date and not just a booty call or some event with a group of friends and that one attractive guy with whom I’ve inadvertently been playing games. But that isn’t really the topic that’s on my mind.

This post was meant to be some cynical and scathing essay about a guy I met recently after eyeing him on and off for a while, but now that I’m here I don’t know what to say about him. It might just be because our fling lasted for about 2 weeks, and I’m using the word fling loosely –  I’m sure even flings are more intimate than this bullshit.

It all started when I went out with friends to some guy’s birthday drinks at a local watering hole. I was having a really good chat with a good girl friend, when everyone decided it was time to leave the confines of the chilled, golden oldie playing bar in affluent suburbia and move on to a grimy drum and bass event happening miles away in the middle of town. For some stupid reason I agreed and also offered to give some people a ride. I was ready to leave and edged away from my friends, trying to get them to follow me to the car-park. Instead, they took their time finishing drinks and saying goodbye to those who were not planning on joining us.

While standing by myself a boy approached me. I recognized this boy, because I don’t forget seeing someone this pretty. Imagine a younger Ben Affleck , but also taller, much taller, and skinnier and actually just all round better looking. So anyway he comes up to me and calls me by name, which immediately throws me off what little natural game I actually posses. He asks for a lighter and obviously I would never refuse. And that’s kind of it – we met on a Thursday for literally less than a minute. I went to the Drum and Bass party and forgot about this man until the next day.

The next morning I woke up to an Instagram follow request. Yes, I am one of those annoying people that decided my uploads are a matter of national security and should not be accessible to all. I accepted his request and then followed him back as well.

This was all pretty exciting so I told two of my friends about the newest developments in my otherwise pretty boring dating/sex/actually meeting people life. One was totally on board as she always is, but the other said she knew him very well and he was unfortunately straight, but the nicest guy ever. I must admit that I didn’t really give a shit if he was the nicest guy ever if he was completely straight.

So this all happened on Friday, the day after I gave him a light.

A week later. Saturday. I’m heading to pre’s at a friend’s, before making our way into town once more for some hipster music festival. Guess who just happens to be at the festival? Ben, as I’ll call him from now on, himself, in the flesh. Of course, now I’m not nervous to talk him to him at all, since he’s straight. I feel like we hit it off and we could probably be good friends, but that’s not what I came here for. I came for a party, I came to get drunk and dance my face off. So I move toward one of the stages and go have a jam. My friends join me and it’s a great time.

A few songs in, Ben joins us near the stage and decides to stand next to me, which is obviously fine. He speaks to me quite a bit but all I really want to do is, once again dance my face off.

So now he’s saying some odd stuff. Asking me about my type, telling me we’ll be spending time together later but there will be very little talking. Confused.

Anyway, to cut this already super long post short, he’s gay. We chat all night, we dance, we drink, we touch only just a little – we’re in public and he’s not out.

He’s smart, he’s doing an Honours degree in some BSc. He is, as previously stated, tall and gorgeous. He’s Jewish, and for some reason I’ve always liked that a lot, probably because my parents have a very pointed dislike of Jewish attorneys. He’s charming, maybe a bit too cocky and definitely an asshole, but again, this is one of my odd odd odd turn-ons.

Anyway, I give him my number and he tells me to add him on Facebook. I’m wasted and we’re leaving to an after party, at that same Drum and Bass venue, and I’m only realizing how odd that is now. He says he’ll see me there in an hour or 

We head to this party and of course he doesn’t show. He also doesn’t text me until a good 12 hours later, which isn’t all that long but I’m used to people who are interested replying a little bit quicker.

Well that’s how we met, next post will be about how it progressed and I guess how it ended, since there’s only a 2 week span to cover.