A Friend Zone Sub-Chapter: The Inappropriate Segue

Dating is one of those rituals in life we have to endure, and like anything else in life it can be painstaking, nerve-racking, and downright unpleasant at times. When you’re on a date, you have hopes and expectations that never quite pan out. Oh, we’re supposed to say things like ‘no expectations’, and ‘no pressure’, but c’mon? You want some sex. Why else would we put ourselves through all the pressure of the first date? It’s not like we’re thinking ‘I hope this turns into a long term relationship and we eventually have kids and get married’. THAT’s just an unfortunate bi-product of a date gone well. What we’re really thinking is ‘I hope she mentions at some point in the evening how lovely my asshole is, because getting it bleached cost me a small fortune.’

Look, I’m certainly not Dr. Phil, or Oprah, or the ‘Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus’ guy, but surely I’ve been on enough dates to know some shit. First rule? It’s all a game. You’re trying to bring the puck to the net, and she’s the goalie (hopefully she’s not BUILT like a goalie). You have to do some ‘high sticking, knock out some teeth, some wall slamming, and if you fuck up? You’re going to end up in the penalty box (or the ‘no pussy box’ for purposes of this particular metaphor) What MEN have to realize is that SHE came out to get laid as well, she just might not end up wanting to get laid by YOU.

Everybody has ‘dos and don’ts’ for dating. The comments I received on my recent face book thread,  where I asked for worst dating experiences, ranged from ‘he cried while telling me about his ex’ to ‘he farted and blamed it on the dog’ (ok, that last one was me, but to be fair it was like 5 am, and it was total slippage. PLUS I had taken her out for sushi the night before and that made the inside of my colon look like Bourbon Street at 12:01 A.M. on Fat Tuesday).

Also, you ladies seem to think that it’s a HUGE date ‘no-no’ for us to ask you back to our place on a first date. Here’s what you need to consider. It’s not ALWAYS because we wanna get ‘rapey’ with you. SOMETIMES, and we’re not allowed to tell you this, especially on a date, but sometimes we just don’t have a lot of money to take you to The Signature room and then out for clubbing at Vision or whatever. Ok, Princess Entitlement? Sure we want to get laid, but we’s gots billz to pay too.

You know that nice car he picked you up in? 300 bucks a month, PLUS a hundred for insurance. Apartment? 700-1000 bucks a month, electricity, gas, water, property taxes, groceries, cigarettes, video games, comic books, blu ray discs; porn…it costs a lot to be a guy. And in THIS economy, we have to limit ourselves to the soft core skin-a-max bullshit.

In order for us to HAVE the kind of money you expect us to have so we can treat you to carriage rides and hot air balloon trips, we’d have to still be living at home with our mother’s, and that’s where VAGINAS go to die. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

To be honest with you, between rent, electric, gas, and the money I’ve spent on booze and ITunes songs…my apartment is a MUCH better place to hang out than some drippy nightclub filled with hooker looking broads that are JUST gonna piss you off any damned way. Hell, I even got a strobe light and a wet bar if that’s your thing. I’ll get all James Bond on yo ass with my apartment.

How the fuck are we supposed to get to know each other when the base line for ‘Baby Got Back’ that some douche bag fraternity jag off requested is so loud that our drinks are vibrating like when the T-Rex attacked in ‘Jurassic Park’ and my ears are bleeding?

Dinner? The only thing you’re gonna learn about me at dinner is that I like food, and I’m a tad racist against Hispanic waiters. Not only that, but by the time we DO get back to my place and start fucking around, I’m gonna be gassier than Kelsey Grammer’s wife after a bean burrito latte. Dinner’s not going to help me at all.

Movies? I’m more opinionated about movies than The Pope is about abortion. Most chicks like horror flicks, and then cover their eyes when the scary shit happens. That just pisses ME off cause I paid 20 dollars to see this mother fucker, you better WATCH it. Not to mention the sticky floor, the screaming infant (there’s always one), the 7 dollar small coke, and the black guy who won’t keep his fucking mouth shut (again, always one. How can it be a ‘stereotype’ when it’s SO fucking true?). Hell, going to a theatre now can be more expensive than going on a safari to Africa. Last time I went to the theatre was after I got my bonus check, so I was flush with cash. I donned my top hat and ‘monopoly guy’ monocle and took the car service down to the theatre. I figured I may as well go the whole nine if I’m going to go see ‘The Bounty Hunter’. I bought a large popcorn and it was so expensive that after the film, I had it bronzed and now display it proudly in my apartment. The BRONZING cost less than the damned popcorn.

It’s hard to know what a woman wants too. Some of you want US to choose where to take you, and some of you want to choose yourself. The problem with this is, you’ll NEVER say it. We have to ‘mind read’. The game is afoot!

Then you get the ‘specialty’ cases. Women who are allergic to things you never heard of, but YOU have to decide where to take them. What the fuck? How can you be allergic to carbon? EVERYTHING has fucking carbon in it! It’s a basic building block of life! Or: ‘I’m allergic to food’…’really? Then why do you weigh more than Oprah in the intensified gravity of Jupiter?’ GET the fuck outta here.

WE have to make concessions, YOU make some fucking concessions.

Lying is another common practice on the first date. Sometimes I’ll sit across from a woman at dinner slapping the lies out of my face like mosquitoes during the rainy season in fucking Peru. It Gets so THICK with bullshit, I’m afraid that I’m gonna get malaria. And DON’T sit there all innocent and act like you don’t lie on a date. You’re wearing high heels: You ain’t that tall. You have a push up bra on: You’re titties ain’t that big. You dyed your hair: You ain’t a blond. Sure you look beautiful now, but when the sun comes up in the morning, you’re gonna look like one of the blind hags from ‘Clash of the Titans’ (the original, not the remake for you youngsters).

Sure if you go back to a guys apartment you’ll get the occasional serial killer, but you don’t think he’ll ‘serial kill’ you behind a dumpster in an alley by the club? At least if he does it at an apartment it’ll be clean. And yeah, there IS a demographic of guys out there who JUST want to get laid. But sweet zombie Jesus? Whatever happened to ‘women’s intuition’? If you get a ‘creepy’ vibe off a guy…DON’T go out with him. I know a lot of you women can’t help yourself because the guy is ‘cute’, but don’t bitch about him being an asshole after he stomps a mud hole in that pussy and then never calls you again. You should know better.

Guys like me? When it comes to ‘first time’ pussy, I’m more skittish than a dog around a vacuum cleaner. I’m more self conscious about my body than ‘Precious’ at a Hustler photo shoot. My problem is that I think too much that first time. I don’t know why, but that’s just how I’m wired. Is the mood set correctly, is SHE having a good time, did I slip her too many roofies, do people get moles on their ass or is that an std? SOMETHING is always clouding my mind, and to be honest? Sometimes I’m so fucking neurotic that I can’t get an ‘optimal’ hard on.

Then the wonders of the male brain kick in with excuses so intricate they could make Herman Cain blush  “Oh, I had whiskey 4 months ago, that’s what did it”. Or “its winter time and he’s just hibernating still”, or “my mother had that same tribal tattoo on her lower back”. It’s become so common place that I don’t even get embarrassed by it anymore, and I get embarrassed about EVERY thing.

I know it’s not a plumbing problem or an ‘age’ issue, because if she touches it? If she fiddles with it like a drunk woman fumbling for her keys in her purse? It’s just fine. (Sometimes it’s SUCH a pain in the ass having one of these things). The IRONY of my fucked up life is that I like an attractive woman, and I’ve been extremely lucky in that field. However, I get so goddamned intimidated by her beauty that my dick gets ‘stage fright’ for a while. Call it ‘performance anxiety’, what the fuck ever. I have to call a mulligan on the first fucking hole.

The irony CONITNUES the next day. When I should be racked with guilt? I’m harder than Michael Jackson at a cub scout meeting (too gross? Or too soon?). So if I get a second chance? I’m going to bring the fucking ruckus to that ass. But if I DO get that ‘green light’ on a second go around? Expect to fuck at LEAST once a day. I will break that ass in two and bring the bottom half of that ass home with me. If that leads to a long term relationship? Great. I prefer ‘repeat business’ over a ‘fuck-n-go’ any day. Just like in the business world: ‘You make 10 times more keeping the SAME customer, than you do getting a new one’. (or something like that.)

Sometimes you get lucky and find yourself more comfortable with one particular woman than Archie Bunker in HIS chair watching midget wrestling. Then you find yourself going from dating to ‘being in a relationship’. There are a lot of nuances to being in a ‘successful’ relationship, but I think that you’re ability to laugh at ridiculous situations has to play a key role. And not in an ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ kind of way. I prefer a ‘True Romance’ type of relationship.

One of the funny things about being in a relationship is that sometimes? Your clocks are ALL the fuck off. You could be sitting at home, getting high, eating s’mores and listening to Dylan albums when it hits you: ‘I really want to call him up and tell him just how special I think he is, then he’ll come over here and make sweet lovins on me’. Meanwhile, across town, he’s driving home from the adult book store with a bag full of furry handcuffs and ball-gags that NO woman will ever see, head banging’ to ‘American Girl’ by Tom Petty while eating a Big Mac (my fantasy). His phone rings

You: Hey baby (all seductive and innocent sounding)

Him: WHAT? WHO IS THIS? (Shouting over the music with a mouth full of special sauce)

You:  Turn the music down (speaking up, but still trying to sound seductive)

Him: OH, HANG ON A SEC (turns music down) Hey baby, what’s up?

You: I was just thinking about you

Him: Oh, yeah, me too…I was just driving home from my mom’s house and I was going to call you (bold faced lie)

You: You were? (You say sounding pleased with a big smile) I really want to see you.

Him: yeah, I wanna see you too. You ok?

You: yeah, I just heard a song that made me think about you…

Him: WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE, THE FUCKING LANE IS WIDE THE FUCK OPEN!

You: what?

Him: Sorry hon, these people don’t know how to fucking drive. Now, what were you saying? You heard a sound and got scared?

You: *click*

One of my favorite comedians once said: “there are all these songs about ‘meeting someone’ and ‘breaking up’ with someone. Where are the songs about the middle times? About being with someone hour after hour, year after year. Songs like “Hey! How Long Does It Take To Pick Out a Shoe Bitch” or “Whaddaya Mean You ‘Kinda Sorta’ Fucked ‘Im?”.”

But regardless of the pitfalls that every one of us come across (uhhhhh…heh-heh….uhhhhh… heh-heh-heh) in a relationship, it has to start somewhere. There is a point where dating…becomes DATING.

Now, the opinions very as to exactly when this transition takes place. Is it after sex? Sometimes. Is it after you meet family? Maybe. I like to just fucking ask. Again, I’m a blunt dude, I don’t like games, and I don’t like flapping in the breeze. So I just flat out ask like I’m in a 50’s high school movie. ‘Will you wear my letter’?

I recently asked a woman this. Not because I’m just looking to be in a relationship, to be honest, I was quite enjoying my bachelor hood. No one to answer too, I was able to save a little money, and even spend some on myself (a rare occurrence while IN a relationship. I once had a woman tell me that the ‘last straw’ was that I bought myself a new TV with my tax return).

I asked her if she would like to be my girlfriend WHILE we were in an…intimate situation. I won’t go into details here, but let’s just say I was in the midst of probably the most gratifying sexual experience of my life which lasted, on and off, for about 5 hours. Was I wrong to ask this question AT ALL, much less at THIS particular moment? Probably. Maybe. Ok, defiantly. I put the pussy on a pedestal so high that Russian Astronauts were calling me to tell me to calm the fuck down.

But fuck…I dig this woman. Her response? “I’ll have to think about it. But you can see other people”. Oh my god, if I was thinking too much before, now that two cycle weed wacker engine of a brain I have was in danger of blowing a fucking gasket. Did she just break up with me DURING sex? Oofa. Did I call that one wrong. If I was a ref I would have had drunken fans storming the field to beat the shit out of me.

3 possibilities immediately arise: 1.) women only say ‘YOU can see other people’ because THEY want to see other people. 2.) She wants validation. Women will say that because they WANT you to say ‘I don’t want to see other people’. 3.) Given the timing…I’m not ‘bringing’ it sexually. I’m not ‘doing my dizzle’ on her, as the rappers say.

Now I’m right where I don’t want to be…flapping in the fucking breeze. So I turned to a few lady friends for advice. Every one of them had the same thing to say: ‘calm down, and DON’T talk to her for a few days, maybe even a week’. One female friend went on to explain to me that what’s happening is that SHE’S used to being with asshole’s and I’ve been TOO nice (really?). What I need to do is ignore her texts, and DON’T contact her for a few days. This will make her curious as to what I’m up to and…..on and on and on. That was three days ago, the chick is STILL talking. I had to smash my phone and bulldoze all the cell towers around my apartment.

Look, I know all this. I KNOW that’s what I’m supposed to do, but FUCK, why is it so re-goddamned-diculous? Is this really what goes on out there? It must be, because 3 women said the same fucking thing. Try getting to get THREE women to agree on ANYTHING. It’s like trying to get an elephant to fuck a turtle…not going to happen. THIS is exactly why I WANT to be in a relationship so I don’t have to play these mind fuck games. How about if next time she comes over, I just punch her in the eye? Or fuck someone else right in front of her? If we’re going to play a game, let’s take it to the extreme.

Whatever happened to ‘mutual respect’? Or simply ‘telling someone how you feel’? Why do I have to ‘pretend’ I’m an asshole to get a woman to like me? What happens when the jig is up? She finds out that I’m NOT an asshole? Is there a ‘nice guy’ restraining order? “Hello police? My boyfriend DIDN’T cheat on me, and then (sobbing), he treated me with dignity and respect, and worst of all!? (Hysterical crying) He spooned me and whispered sweet words of beauty in my ear after I willingly fucked him…OH HO HO HO HO!” Sometimes I just want to take the first bus off this fucking planet.

Meeting someone you like is about as rare an occurrence in life as catching the pope in that Marylyn Monroe pose over the air vent. Robes all lifted up by the rising heat and him half trying to hold them down with a playful look on his face. I’m not asking anyone to fucking marry me. I’m not asking anyone to have a fucking kid with me or co-sign a loan. I’m simply asking her to wear my letter because at the end of the day she makes me want to be a better person.

Isn’t that what it’s all about? You go through life living a jag off existence, cutting people off in traffic, laughing to yourself when you happen upon a ‘kid fight’, and having strange urges to steal a police boat while drunkenly wandering about Grant Park at 2 in the morning. Well, since I’ve been seeing this girl? I LET people go in front of me, I broke up that kid fight, and I DIDN’T steal that police boat (Or I should say: I wasn’t CONVICTED of stealing that police boat. Thanks to my attorney on that one. Worth every penny)

I’m also resisting my urge to call her. I’ve responded to HER texts, but I haven’t initiated any ‘text threads’. That’s a lie, I kinda maybe sorta asked her last night why she’s not in my bed right now contributing to us BOTH being happy, Look, I thought about that for about 3 fucking hours before I sent it, but after all…I’m ONLY a man. The sexual Jeanie is out of the bottle, and my FIRST wish? A thousand more wishes.

That’s the worst thing about flapping in the breeze. Not knowing what the fuck to say next. Do I wait as advised? Well, what if I do? She thinks I’m just another ass who only wanted one thing. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Can I be sexually explicit now? Some women LIKE to be talked to in a dirty way, and some will think you’re creepy. So what’s the move? “I want to fuck you”? Or “Come over here and make love to me”. (Personally, I’m a dirty talkin’ mother fucker, but I’ve gotten bitched at for making EITHER comment). So, in this instance, I tried something in between. I didn’t ask her to come over, and I didn’t tell her I want to fuck her. I made a playful gesture. 

The question NOW is will THIS ‘short story’ hurt me. I’ve probably shot myself in the foot where she’s concerned and if she was ‘thinking’ about dating me before, she’s probably changing her phone number now. But if I can’t be honest here, where can I be honest?

I’ll probably just follow the advice of my hole-istic female friends and let it lie for a bit. I have to create that perfect balance of ‘not saying too much’ while ‘saying just enough’. Hell, god knows SHE’s good at that. I’ve never had a woman say SO much, while at the same time saying nothing at all. I get it, she’s closed off, a bit guarded, guys have treated her shittier than the Emmy’s have treated Susan Lucci. (Jesus, me with the old references tonight.) I don’t mind waiting, I don’t mind the ‘not knowing’, I don’t even mind the game. What I do mind is her thinking I’m just another asshole. Because I CAN be, I have that ‘inner asshole’ that all guys have, but in this instance…I don’t FEEL like an asshole.

Look, romance is a hard turbulent river to navigate. It forks, it has sharp bends, and sometimes you’re going to have to get out and walk the shallows. But I’d SO much rather have ‘She doesn’t cook breakfast anymore’ problems, than ‘she just put picture’s of herself blowing an ex navy seal at Papa John’s up on her face book page’ problems. (Unfortunately…another true story.)

Sure I’ve only known this girl for 2 weeks. I fucking get it. And it’s not like I met her LOOKING to fuck someone, or LOOKING to be in a relationship. When she tells me ‘you can see other people’, the truth is that I don’t WANT to see other people. Not just because I want to see where this might go with her, but because the dating world kinda sucks. I’m much better at navigating a relationship, than I am at playing mind games at ‘Date’s R Us’. To be sure, relationships can be just as hard as dating, if not more so. But the perks outweigh the jabs every time.

Bottom Line? I get the feeling that I’m getting the ‘brush off’, but for all I know that’s just my inner dementia. Sometimes life throws someone in your path that you weren’t expecting, and although YOU might be ready for more, THEY may not be. I have boundaries to respect and I’ll do my best to respect them. My problem now is that I want to see her again, but I DON’T want to ask her to see me. I feel creepy now because I’m flapping over here. Sometimes you NEED to define something, and I think that’s what she did when she told me to see other people. That’s a boundary I won’t cross, but I will respect.

I don’t feel like I’ve been able to get her to ‘open up’ with me yet, but maybe in time she’ll trust me enough to know she can talk to me about how she ‘feels’. Any way it goes, all I ask for is the same honesty by which I try to live my life. If she wants me to fuck off? Then fuck off I shall. It’s that simple. I’m nobody’s stalker. Hopefully there’s more ‘fucking’ in this future than ‘fucking off’, but is that EVER the guys call? Not in this solar system.

The dating world can be tough, wear a cup. What else can I say? What I will do now, is give you MY list of dating rules. These are rules that I’ve gathered through experience over the years. Some you might not agree with, some you might adopt, and you may have SOME of your own that I haven’t thought of, if so, feel free to share them with me. Here goes (and they ARE in order of importance):

Rule 1: NEVER sleep with someone that a friend has slept with…EVER, no matter how much time has passed.

Addendum to Rule 1: EVEN if they tell you that it’s ok.

This never turns out well. As evolved as we all like to think we are, we aren’t. I had a friend who fucked a girl, that he didn’t even like. He fucked her ONE time, and she basically stalked him. He ASKED me to take her off his hands. I did and ended up dating her for 2 years. I didn’t hear from my friend for the entire 2 years. He eventually told me that even though he ASKED me to, it stung like a slap in the face. On the FLIP side of that reason, I also don’t want to hear any ‘how does my dick taste’ jokes.

Rule 2: Never date a girl who drives a pickup truck.

SUV’s are fine, but a straight up Sanford and Son pickup truck? Not a good idea. These are the female equivalent of the men who walk around carrying ‘Aldi’ bags everywhere.

Rule 3: Never date a girl between the ages of 20 and 22.

We call this ‘The Relationship Countdown Clock’. As soon as a girl turns 20, the clock starts ticking. When it counts down to 21? You’re boned. Once a 21 year old discovers ‘bar dick’? It’s all over. There’s a whole plethora of douche bags that go to bars that SHE hasn’t met yet. Let the mistakes begin! Don’t ever think you’re above ‘The Relationship Countdown Clock’. Sure, sometimes the minute hand is off by a few months, but she WILL cheat on you at some point OR flat out break up with you WHILE she’s 21.

Rule 4: NOBODY is above the relationship countdown clock!

Rule 5: Never DATE a woman who slept with you on the first night you met her….at a campground.

Now, this is specific for a reason. Dating women who sleep with you after the first date is fine. Believe it or not, we actually don’t think that you’re a slut, nor do we have less respect for you. Why? Because you’re focus was on US that night. You made plans with ME, you went out with ME, and you slept with ME. IF a girl fucks me after just having met me at a campground? Miles away from BOTH of our comfort zones? Chances are I could have just as well been anybody. SOMEONE was gonna fuck her, and I just happened to have the closest dick handy. NOT a ‘trusty’ way to start a romance.

Rule 6: Never date a girl who lives in a trailer park.

Ok, this is a NEW rule, and was placed in the number 5 rank after I dated my ex. The three time cheater. She is ALSO the one who I refer to in ‘Rule 1’. ‘Nuff said.

Rule 7: Never date a woman who can ‘comfortably’ fit into MY pants.

I don’t claim to be George Clooney over here, but frankly…I’m just not attracted to bigger ladies. You can say ‘Oh, but it’s a woman’s personality that matters dickhead’ all you want. But before you crucify me Kim Kardashian, when’s the last time you fucked the fat kid with coke bottle glasses wearing a Babylon 5 T-shirt? BBW’s are awesome ladies, my friend Martha is so big that asteroids sometimes crash into her. That being said, we’re into what we’re into. And I stopped feeling bad for NOT being into BBW’S when I realized that they get laid by guys A LOT hotter than me all the time. Hell, David Duchovny got caught jerking off to a bbw website by his hot wife. And I’m not gay, but I’D fuck David Duchovny.

Be a douchebag!

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