I mostly use Tinder to pass the time on the subway. But about three weeks ago, I matched with The Marathoner. Given the information provided in one’s Tinder profile, all I knew was she enjoyed running and was highly attractive. She sent me a message asking about the Charles Dickens’ quote I had in my profile; the next thing you know we had our first date planned. We decided on going to a local brewery that was having a bacon party.
We shared a few flights and enjoyed lots of bacon. We talked about the usual first date topics: our likes dislikes, what we do for a living, etc. I’d said it went very well, as far as first dates go. We had good chemistry and she seemed like the type of woman I was looking for; fun, intelligent, athletic, and attractive. When it came time to part ways at the subway, I asked her out on a second date and she said yes. Keep reading »
This week has been an absolute shitstorm. It was one of those “when it rains, it pours” weeks that makes you want to crawl under your covers and not come out until life is back to normal. My grandmother is still dying, withering away and scared to close her eyes, while my heartbroken grandpa watches on with the slightest bit of hope that she’ll pull through. She won’t. On top of that, I’ve been going through other family drama, a job shakeup and heath concerns to remind me of life’s oh-so impeccable timing. All in a week’s work, right? During this time of complete instability and emotional exhaustion, dating has been the last thing on my mind. Keep reading »
When I was younger, when it came to my relationships I was mostly concerned with sex. (I assume this is shocking to no one.) I definitely had meaningful relationships, but at the time sex that was the crux of what I wanted.
But as I grew older, sex became relatively less important while other qualities increased in importance. I wanted something more out of relationships than a strictly physical one can provide. Now that I’m in my late-20s, one of the most important qualities I look for is someone who is just fun. Keep reading »
The first man I ever fell in love with was eight years older than me. He was on probation for stealing a video game, and his fingertips smelled like cigarettes and shellfish, having spent most evenings washing dishes at a seafood restaurant. At one point, he kept going to work even though his boss had stopped paying him. “Why don’t you start looking for a new job?” I asked.
“Cuz it’s fun just chillin’ with the boys, smoking cigarettes in the back,” he told me.
Jeff wouldn’t find another job for nine months, mostly because his unemployment allowed him to sit in front his PlayStation all afternoon. At age 26, he still lived with his dad, but couldn’t be bothered to sleep in the spare bedroom because all of his crap — a graveyard of sporting equipment he lost interest in and old surf tees — was piled so high, he couldn’t find the bed.
Instead, he slept on a makeshift bed-couch in the living room. It was here, with his father bumbling in to ask, “What’s going on?” that I lost my virginity. Keep reading »
I once had a first date where the guy made a joke about putting a roofie in my drink before we even met, made loud, nasty comments about everyone else at the bar, negged me, talked about pooping and went on a lengthy rant about hating fat people. I consider this the very, very worst first date I’ve had the misfortune to go on.
But really, that’s nothing compared to the first date Leon Shaw went on with an as-yet-unidentified woman in Gig Harbor, Washington. Because he ended up dead. According to The Pierce County Sheriff’s Office, the date started like many others — with the newly introduced couple throwing back a few drinks at a bar. Shaw’s date suggested they amble on over to the home of a tattoo artist friend, where more drinks were consumed before the woman asked the tattooist to ink her chest. Apparently Shaw became pissed when his date and her friend “became intimate” and a fight ensued. The woman stormed out of the house in just a T-shirt, hopped in Shaw’s truck and started the engine. When he followed her out into the driveway, she allegedly ran him over, and by the time the tattoo artist came out, she and the truck were gone and Shaw was dead. The woman crashed Shaw’s truck about one-quarter mile away and was trapped inside the vehicle when police arrived. She’s currently in the hospital in critical condition and has not yet been charged with a crime, as police still need to interview her. Let this be yet another lesson not to drink and drive — on a first date or otherwise — and to take a pal, not a romantic interest, along for support when getting spontaneous chest tattoos. [Crimefeed]
Click through to hear about some of the other horrendous first dates that will make you feel so, so much better about all the bad ones you’ve been on.
I’ve had a high sex drive since I was a teenager. Over the last 14 years, whether single or coupled up, I’ve been fortunate enough to never really go ‘sexless.’ In relationships— whether they last three months or three years— my libido generally maintains the momentum of that of the Energizer Bunny. I certainly don’t have a sex addiction, but it’s safe to say I am, and always have been, a pleasure enthusiast. So, when I’m single, that desire remains the same, but I tend to get my O’s from the sex toys that reside in a toolbox under my bed, as opposed to an actual human being. I think it might be time to change that. Keep reading »