(With any stroke of luck, that last sentence might come true!)
After like a week of staying in bed and cutting school (again, whoops), I decided to capitalize on the fact that my parents were leaving me home alone for a weekend to meet someone, have tons of scandalous sex with a stranger, and feel much better about myself. The internet would help me, because as a guy who doesn't have a neck beard or permanent Cheetos breath, I felt like I had an inside track on meeting the few cute girls who stooped low enough to try out online dating.
SPOILER ALERT: It didn't happen that way. My parents came home four days later; in their absence I'd stayed home and drank a bunch of beers or something. No one wanted to have scandalous sex with me.
What did happen that weekend, was that I made my first online dating account on PlentyOfFish.com. I decorated my profile with pictures of me playing guitar, facts about how much music I play and listen to and also the fact that I'm in a band. And I can play guitar. Oh and I can sing. But also guitar. It's around this time I got accepted to business school, so I had that going for me; a business student with an artistic side? Hell, even I'd sleep with me!
That weekend started my now 30 month long roller coaster of online meet ups ranging from very mediocre to sloppy, to pleasant, to excellent. At the present time, here are some statistics:
11 GIRLS
1: POF
5: OkCupid
5: Tinder
7: Makeouts
2: times reaching 3rd base
4: full hookups
1: long term girlfriend
2: lost connections
1: rejection
1: good friend made
11: really significant stories
Since you know how much I love music, here's a playlist for you to listen to while you read about the first time I met up with a girl online. All these songs were songs I was listening to at that point, or remind me of the time. Listen!
Coincidentally, the first girl I messaged was also the first girl I met, and the girl to whom this blog post is dedicated to. Meet Sandra. Sandra isn't her real name, but I thinks he's totally a Sandra. Sandra is a middle aged name, and I think this Sandra was born in her 30s. When we met, she drove the same car as my parents; one she bought with money she saved up. She paid her rent alone, and when she couldn't find a new place when her lease was up, she moved back to the townships to save up for the next semester. She was a self-described partier, yet didn't party once in the six weeks we knew each other. To her, a date was playing Call Of Duty in your brother's second hand XXL t-shirt. Physically, there was something... comfortable about her. From far, she was pretty enough to take notice, but not pretty to the point where you had to worry about other guys giving her too much attention, if that's something you worry about. Unfortunately the same couldn't be said about her when she was up close and personal. But that's about as far as I'll go in judging her physique.
Through our first few messages, I found out she was a photographer who had just gotten accepted in some photog program at a local university. To me that meant she was artistic, which was a good thing, I guess. Looking back, I don't think she even took pictures. Her Facebook banner was an "artsy" picture of her oven or something.
No, really.
She also really liked tumblr. I sorta got into tumblr at the time. I mostly went on to see what she'd post, and assume all of the quotes and pictures were about me. They might've been. They were pretty steamy.
When we added each other on Facebook, we found out we had mutual acquaintances. At the time, I thought this was a good thing, and a sort of stamp of approval that meeting up wouldn't end with my body getting chopped up into little cubes. Or worse. I think she felt the same, because she agreed to meet me the day after we began to talk. We met at a Tim Hortons on St. Denis. I had an Earl Gray tea, and she had nothing. I think. We spoke for a bit, and then went back to her apartment to watch movies with her roommate and boyfriend, both who I had met beforehand (and who strangely enough ended up living above another date's duplex two years later!). We watched Are You Afraid of the Dark, that old YTV show. It was lame. They felt otherwise. We didn't even sit that close. I was nervous, and being pushy with physical contact reminds me of my one friend who tries to frisk up girls and almost always makes the girls feel way too uncomfortable. Or maybe it's from growing up in sports; being in her apartment, I was the visiting team and therefore it was her duty to make a move first. I don't know.
We ended up talking until like 2AM, long past the time I'd have to leave her Longeuil apartment to catch a bus home. She offered to drive me home, roughly a 40 minute ride which is just a little too nice of a gesture for someone you just met, you know?
We made plans to hang out the next week, same day but this time we'd meet at her apartment to play video games. Or something. I ended up leaving early, and we made out in the apartment complex's garage. It was OK.
Actually no. It was not okay. she was too aggressive. She had a lip piercing which made things awkward. She kissed for too long. Who kisses for 7 minutes (precisely, I checked.) straight?! Anyways, when you're reeling from a shitty breakup, you'll take all of the bad kisses you can get.
At this point, I feel like it's necessary to mention that she has a septum piercing. Who does that? Especially at 23?
The next day, she invited me over. We hooked up. For an apt description of what happened, please read two paragraphs above this one and extrapolate it to sex.
No, really.
To be honest, it was kinda cool to sleep with someone who showed genuine interest in... well, sleeping with you. I specifically remember feeling really good about the fact that she found me attractive. In a way, I found the fact that she found me attractive, attractive, and that validated the entire experience. If you think about it, I was literally turning myself on because of how attractive I thought I was. Weird, huh?
The next couple weeks, we'd meet up, sleep together or watch movies. Whatever we decided to do, she'd insist on driving me home and parking in a vacant lot at the end of my street. We'd make out for nearly an hour at a time, I feeling too guilty to stop it (what kind of guy pushes away a girl?). Once we made out for an hour and twenty minutes, I counted.
At one point, I tried connecting with her on a personal level. So I brought her to a show. It was a really good show, except I caught up with a few friends who decided to get in front of the stage and really get into the music. Since I was "on a date" I had to hang back and watch from afar. Oh well. Here's one of the bands we saw: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JBSutJ_1m0o
SPOILER ALERT #2: One of the Sandras was The Ex Girlfriend™, and the other ended the night tell me to "Go Fuck Myself" mid-vomit for reasons still unexplained (sorta).
Once Sandra #1 (it's her blog post, she can be #1) found out I was organizing a party and she wasn't invited, because Facebook makes things easy like that she confronted me, and asked if I wanted a relationship. I told her the truth; I didn't see things advancing any further. To be fair, we hadn't seen each other in three weeks at that point, and we were texting considerably less.
"That's Ok. Best of luck with ur life."
And with that, Sandra was no more. As in, we never spoke again. That fall, I'd walk past her at the campus bar. A year later, I was at a bar with our mutual friends who informed be that she despised me and I was horrible for not dating her. But I should still text her because we'd be so great together. I disagree.
And with that, my first meet up comes to an end. This one is a little darker, but I assure you, it gets better. Join us next time, when I go over the time I met up with someone who was five inches taller than me! To this day we're friends. I introduced her to her current boyfriend. It's a good story.
Ciao!
