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 »
It has been a few weeks since I called things off with The Teacher. Things just weren’t going in the direction I wanted, so I began my search again. Since then, I’ve been on a several dates with a couple of different women.
I define dating is the time before two individuals make their relationship exclusive. That time period is usually five or six dates for me; for other people, it may be a lot more. Since I go out with some women only one or two times, this means I end up dating several ladies simultaneously. Recently, I’ve started to wonder how many women is too many to date at the same time. Keep reading »
I answered the phone at 10:45 p.m., worried about why my father was calling so late. It was highly unusual for a man who never calls after 8 o’clock, especially since he finally chucked his old cell phone which frequently allowed him to “butt dial” everyone on his recent calls list.
“Hi. What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.
“I planned on going to brunch with some girlfriends, but that’s it. Why? Is everything okay?” Silence from the other end of the receiver confirmed my concern.
“It’s Grandmom,” he said. “I think you should come home.” Keep reading »
Here is a confession — though I write a dating column, and have for quite some time, I’m not currently dating anyone right now. The last relationship I was in was about two years ago, and in the time between then and now, there have been plenty of dates, but nothing has stuck. Dating in general isn’t hard, but it takes work, energy, time that could be used doing hundreds of other things, like learning how to weave or baking all the bread you eat yourself, or creating a rooftop garden out of two sad planters and a handful of seeds. The way we choose to spend our time is our choice alone, not something to be judged, and not something that we should feel ashamed of. I know this. As a person who willfully chooses to spend many nights trawling beauty blogs on the internet and conducting deep, vast research on the best pink lipstick for my exact skin tone and coloring, I know that the way I spend my time could be spent better, but I know that the choice to spend time on really anything is mine alone. That’s why I’m perfectly comfortable coming out and saying it — right now, I’m choosing to focus on my career instead of finding a partner. Keep reading »