Wash Me, OK Stupid Date #7
On my dating profile I listed bread and olive oil as two things I like. This pedestrian interest attracted one woman who agreed to go out with me. I met her at a wine bar. I’ve been told that within seconds a woman knows whether or not she’ll have sex with a guy. Within seconds I knew I should have memorized my emergency contact number. Through online dating I’ve learned that I cannot date women in their 20′s – we don’t speak the same language. I’m 35. I can speak with women in their 30′s. Sadly, the single ones, the ones that are left, are broken. They’ve been damaged by years of dating closeted homosexuals (in New York City this is a frequent complaint), losers and deadbeats. I think there is more to it than that. Simply put single women in their 30′s cannot kiss.
One left her mouth open and stationary like a blowup doll. Another smashed her teeth into mine while trying to taste my esophagus. These were pleasant experiences compared to this date.
Perhaps I am not as worldly as I believe but normally a kiss involves lip on lip contact. Open mouth, closed mouth a kiss involves mouths. After a bottle of wine and strained conversations it was time for a kiss. Mere millimeters from this woman’s mouth she jammed her tongue forward and proceeded to imitate a lizard. Violently she stabbed it back and forth and side to side. What the hell was she trying to accomplish? Was there a camera filming us? Lesson 1 – do not learn to kiss from watching bad lesbian porn.
I went along for the ride because I might get laid. As a man we are willing to withstand anything because of the possibility, no matter how repugnant, that we might get laid.
And I did. Fully clothed, at the bar of a nice restaurant she straddled my knee and humped away. This was not comfortable for my knee, nor for the other patrons. I suggested we leave and go to her apartment and she told me I was out of line.
“I’m not like that”, she said. Her humping accelerated, she grabbed my hand, and placed it on her tit.
The whole time I was worried. I wasn’t worried about what strangers in the restaurant would think, my future dry cleaning bill or if this woman would stab me when she climaxed. I worried about being sober enough to have the strength to write this story down.
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