After my recent dabble into domestication I was determined to start actually dating again. And I don’t mean the kind of dating that happens from a gentlemen’s socializing network - you know the ones where you are lucky if you get their first names. Don’t get me wrong, I had enjoyed those for quite some time, but I am just looking for something real now. I am looking for those 1950’s inspired kind of dates. So I dusted off my OkCupid account and took a gander at who is out there.
I saw the name and I was drawn in like some classic literary reference. Then I saw the pictures. Wait can this be true; smart and sexy? I started with a small note telling him that I enjoyed his profile. Low and behold, he responded. We chatted back and forth for about a month. We tried to get together various times, but first his schedule did not cooperate, and then my schedule did not cooperate.
One night I was stuck at the office till 4:30am finishing up a project, and he even offered to bring me coffee so we could finally meet. I was so tempted… it was so romantic that I didn’t care that I hadn’t slept or brushed my teeth quite some time. But even that didn’t manage to work out.
Then he went home to Vermont for three weeks. Three weeks? We exchanged a couple emails but then the emails stopped. I was afraid that he was loosing interest. Then one night, out of the blue, he called me at 10pm.
You know how sometimes peoples voices can be such a turn off? Like they sound the complete opposite of what you have been envisioning... This was not the case with him. Actually his voice was even sexier then his profile and pictures. His voice was so amazing, we ended up chatting for six hours. Yes, you read that correctly: six hours.
We talked about everything you could imagine. First we just made random chitchat, like holiday plans, music, tv, theatre, and literature. But then it delved to what we want out of relationships, then to a deep discussion on how we each had a parent who had passed away and how that has affected us.
You know how sometimes talking to someone on the phone for ten minutes can seem like three hours? Well, talking to him for six hours felt like ten minutes. We couldn’t get enough of each other. And no our conversation did not get sexual. Ok, it did get a little sexual, but not in the way you perverts are thinking. It was the best conversation I have had in, well I can’t remember when. Yet, I didn’t get up the courage to tell him that I was HIV positive.
The next day, still partly exhausted from staying up way past my bedtime chatting with him and part reeling from the amazingness of our pseudo first date, I knew I had to tell him. I was already falling way too hard for him. I know it was an impractical feeling to have after never actually meeting him, but that’s how I roll.
He was grateful for my honesty but he made it clear that he could never date me. He pretty much said that he would not be able to kiss me deeply, blow me, or have me cum on him. I am paraphrasing a bit, but that is the overall gist.
I became incredibly upset. I felt unworthy and somewhat not human. And if I wanted to touch him I need to be in a hazmat suit or a plastic bubble. I know it was stupid. I hadn’t even met him yet to give him that kind of power, but that is exactly how I felt. I look back on the situation and I know it wasn’t him that I was upset about. It was the prospect – the idea – of him. Just the very idea of being in a real relationship with someone who I had hit it off with on so many levels was something that had my heart singing. It so rarely happens in this city and the only thing I could think of was that he shit on my dreams.
So what did I do about it? I locked myself in my apartment for the next couple days feeling completely sorry for myself - completely drowning my sorrows in take out and Jane Austen. Then someone who I had met from one of those gentlemen’s socializing networks texted me. He said he was in my neighborhood and asked if I wanted company. It didn’t take much arm-twisting for me to say yes. I used to live by the saying “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone.” I don’t think I actually wanted to have sex – I just didn’t want to be alone.
I knew something was wrong from the beginning, but my determination to get rid of my sadness made me push on. And push on I did. Big mistake. Huge. Because when he left, I noticed that he had left me a present - he left shit on my white sheets!
I put myself out there twice – and got shit on both times! Ever determined, I brushed off my sadness and then bleached my sheets so I can start with a clean slate.