“Dating is a risk. The success rate is very low and I don’t like 90% of people, so it’s scary”
– Dorothy Wang –
These days, deciphering a secret message from a series of meticulously calculated emojis and punctuation is a popular pastime among the 21st century lovers who simply lack the proper knowledge to convey their thoughts in person. We have all seen and experienced it firsthand; every time I’m texting a new guy, my friends often tell me, “don’t put an emoji at the end of that sentence or else he’d think you want to bang him!” I mean… who would’ve thought that the absence of a wink emoji could dictate the course of a relationship? Gone are the days when two people underwent a breakup over a dramatic shouting competition on their flip phones. Instead, the modern way to distance yourself from your overly clingy boyfriend is to gradually stop sending kiss emojis and reducing the y’s in your “heyyyyy” until he stops bothering you with his 2AM “u up?” texts. And to that I say – what the fuck is wrong with us?!
Back in my college days, I was somewhat obsessed with the idea of having a college boyfriend because it seemed like the thing to do and I had missed out on any romantic narratives in high school. I would like to think that I’m not a delusional bitch; when this guy who went to the same school as I did messaged me on Grindr and asked me out on a movie date, I assumed he wanted something more than the usual late night booty call. Within thirty seconds of scanning his bland profile, his adorable smile and semi-precious personality convinced my dumb ass to accept his proposition. But here’s the thing: to say that I was nervous about the movie date is a major understatement since most of my encounters with the male specimens occurred in the bedroom. With that said, I went into this date knowing that I could always refer back to talking about school subjects to impress the boy so I could sound more intelligent than I was. I know what you might be thinking: “gurl, don’t be naive. It’s Grindr after all and he probably only wants to boink you”. You might be right… but hey, at least I got a free movie ticket and that was way more than what the other headless torsos on Grindr had to offer (#cheapslut).
To be honest, I can’t even remember the movie we watched as I had been working relentlessly trying to block all of my memories pertaining to him. However, I can recall that I was having a good time. We were walking around the shopping mall with his arm around me. It was around Christmas time and the outdoor shopping mall was decorated with Christmas ornaments. The ambiance was out-of-this-world romantic and I felt like I was living in a chick flick fantasy world. I was completely smitten by this guy. By the grace of a higher power, I found out that we lived only a block away from each other so after our date ended, I offered to drive him home. And this is when things got interesting *wink emoji*.
Have you ever been in one of those situations where you’re near the end of a date and you’re thirsty for the D but you want to avoid coming on too strong, so you bring up the most random excuses to bring your man to your bed? And just when your date parks his car, you say shit like, “wanna come upstairs to check out my ultra-kawaii Pokémon plush collection? it’s the best in town!” That was our situation as we were reaching closer to his apartment complex. I could sense the
thirstiness uneasiness in the air as we both sat in silence, not knowing how to initiate the sex we both discreetly desired. Finally, my date had the courage to vaguely verbalize his dirty thoughts and asked me:
“Do you want to go upstairs for some drinks? My roommate is out of town tonight”.
And without a second thought, I said yes.
His bedroom looked like a typical bedroom that most LA college students occupy: a slightly messy room adorned by two clashing personalities with *at least* two twin-sized mattresses (I could write an entire chapter on California’s housing crisis but I know y’all don’t give a damn about it). However, I wasn’t the sixth member of the Fab 5 so I didn’t walk into his room to criticize his creativity and spatial awareness. Being a fake ass bitch that I was, I made sure that I didn’t seem bothered by the lack of finesse in his bedroom and went straight to business. We started the night by some light cuddling actions and when the lights went off, things got exponentially heated. From his gentle touches to the size of his manhood, everything was right on the money (he’s got what I would call a boyfriend penis, a penis that won’t destroy your rectal muscles should you decide to ride it on a day-to-day basis). In fact, I got way too comfortable that I decided to sleep over at his place. We ended the night by exchanging good night kisses, and he positioned his body behind mine as I drifted off to sleep in his arms. I’d say it was a successful first date.
We continued seeing each other after that fateful movie date; he occasionally stayed the night at my place and we inevitably did the dirty deed. We also went out a couple times to explore the finest Asian cuisines Los Angeles could offer and he gave me some of solid bubble tea recommendations. The dinner dates were often followed by us exploring each other’s body and trying new things on each other, which included things like blindfolds and the one I surprisingly enjoyed the most, peppermint fatty. To this day, I still don’t understand the science behind it, but the hot and cold sensation (cue Katy Perry’s “Hot N Cold”) from putting a mint in your mouth before performing oral sex is something I never thought I needed in life. I guess you can substitute the mint with cold water or ice cube because they essentially yield the same result (you can thank me later for the tip). I guess what I’m trying to say is things moved pretty fast between us and I was READY to take this relationship to the next level.
Somehow, one day he decided to become slightly unresponsive to my texts. I assumed he was having a bad day so I didn’t think too much of it. I had kept waiting until I heard back from him for three days yet he still didn’t text me back. And that’s when it hit me: I had been ghosted. The next thing I knew, he went private on Instagram, making sure that I couldn’t get any trace of him. Oh, did I mention he also unfriended me on Facebook? What a fucking bitch! I guess the only thing that stopped me from going to his house to confront this loser was the fear of getting a restraining order. In retrospect, I truly didn’t understand what went wrong, and I still don’t. I genuinely thought we had a connection, albeit it wasn’t the most romantic connection. But hey, could we at least be cordial about it? And if he did truly feel like not seeing this beautiful face of mine for the rest of his life, he could at least tell that to my face.
For him to completely walk away from my life with no explanation was extremely upsetting to me. It’s one thing to just run away after the first time we had sex; he might have an issue with one of my orifices and although I would be disheartened by his hostile reaction, it would be a bitter pill I had to swallow and eventually I would be at peace with it. But after we had had sex multiple times? After we had the fucking Taiwanese hot pot date?! That shit ain’t cool with me. If he was clear with his intention of wanting a fuck buddy from the beginning, I wouldn’t be this angry and spent countless nights questioning my own personality. It’s like him saying, “I thoroughly enjoy the warmth of your hole but your personality is shit, so… bye bitch!” Like… what the fuck was it? Was it because of my excessively aggressive texts? Did he figure out that I had been stalking the boys he followed on Instagram? Can someone please tell me what I did wrong?! Am I truly a damaged good?! This whole thing is preposterous! Alright, I don’t want to belittle myself anymore and I’mma take some time off to meditate because Lord knows I need it. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale….
P.S. Did I tell you his younger brother was in town and messaged me on Grindr a month ago? I was so ready to go off and berate him for all the shitty things his brother had done to me. Plus, he’s one of those guys on Grindr who wrote dumb shit like “no fems” on their profiles. My petty ass would have thrown a G&T on his face, but I decided he’s not worth my time so I just blocked him on Grindr. I guess bigotry truly runs in their family?