Bumble (4)

Random Sidenote: I am slowly realizing that the most entertaining parts of these stories are in the pre/post-date interactions, and not necessarily on the date itself. I mean, dates are fun, but don’t we all just want to know how it went wrong? I mean, obviously something went wrong if I’m writing it here, right?

PROLOGUE
We started talking and pretty unexpectedly I found that I like-liked this guy in a way that reminded me of what it feels like to be captivated by somebody. More often than not I’ll come up with some witty icebreaker, the dude bores the shit out of me, and I unmatch them five minutes later. If I wanted to talk about the weather, I’d call my father.

ME: So, if we dated, could we agree that only one of us (me) can wear a beanie at a time?
HIM: What, you think that we’ll be the most annoyingly cutest couple if we both wore beanies? Or is that where your superpowers come from too?

Yes. YES!

Within an hour, this guy charmed the shit out of me and I fucking charmed the shit out of him too.

A few days later, I was driving to Mt. Shasta for the annual Molatore Camping trip, and as we were texting he was recording a Podcast. I jokingly dared him to work the word “Armadillo” into the conversation, and didn’t think much of it until I was on my way back home and decided to put it on. Nah, he wouldn’t. Would he? You can imagine my surprise when he mentioned his “Holiday Armadillo T-shirt”. Truly, I think I yelled “NO FUCKING WAY!” about a dozen times. Honestly, it was one of the most charming and romantic gestures I can ever recall and I’m still stupid smiling thinking about it.

Everything leading up to the first date seemed to suggest that we were on the same page. Everything. He led with his heart, and I uncharacteristically followed suit.

(Cue Music: Ray LaMontagne – You are the Best Thing)

Fuck, dude.
Swoon.
I liked this guy.
I still want to say that I like this guy, but saying so makes me wrinkle my nose for reasons that will be made pretty clear shortly; stupid girl.

May 27, 2019
THE DATE
Heretic Brewing Company – Fairfield, CA
Initially we had planned that he would come to Sacramento on Sunday evening, but we pushed it to Monday and decided to just meet in the middle. Super sexy Fairfield for the win. Of course, this wasn’t ideal for many reasons, but the desire to meet him trumped all limitations. I was nervous. Like, real nervous. I consulted a panel of my closest confidants (Michelle), opted to keep the lips naked and the boobs covered, and headed toward Fairfield – the land of the beige.

I knew I would get there first, despite trying to take my time. I sat in my car for a few minutes before he texted me. I thought he was running late? Now!? Shit. Inhale. Exhale. I checked my teeth, adjusted the lady lumps, and began walking toward the entrance of the brewery when he stepped out of his truck.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS:
Tall. Cute. Sweet.  
Fuck, I don’t know.

Truthfully, I don’t think I actually looked at him for the first five minutes. We ordered beers and claimed a seat on the patio where we proceeded to talk for a few hours. Perhaps this is the least interesting part of the story. Conversation was effortless, but I have little expectations for overt chemistry on the first date, especially without a little mood lighting, something. In general, if you’re attracted to them, not bored, you laugh, and you’re not checking your phone, I would consider it a win. The second date really seems to be the place where deal breakers and fireworks happen, not that I seem to be having many of those. As I sat there looking at him, my smile never went away, and when he would reach over and touch me, I wanted him to come closer. While I tried to stay in the present and enjoy his company, I couldn’t help but feel like something was off. I don’t know what I was hoping for, but this was not the way our RomCom was suppose to work. In the end, he walked me to my car, asked me to text when I got home, kissed me on the cheek, and left.

(Cue music:  Lorde – Supercut)

OVERALL: 7/10

THE PATHETIC AFTERMATH
As I drove home, my intuition told me that he was disappointed, and the lil’ asshole in my head was not going to let that go. Maybe I wasn’t pretty enough. Maybe he thought I didn’t look like my photos. Am I just too…Me? Since when did I get so fucking insecure? Gross. I texted him briefly on my way home, but couldn’t shake the feeling that it was over. I was really hoping I was wrong, but his texts over the next few days pretty much confirmed what I suspected, and I knew it was time to just let it go.

Things were obviously different now.

A few more days went by and I really thought that was the end, that somehow I blew it, and that maybe I wore my heart just a little too low on my sleeve this time. Since fucking when, Mija. If you learn anything from these long musings, it is NEVER the end, especially once you’ve decided to raise the white flag in defeat. The truth is, they can say that they’re busy, not “ready”, or working on themselves, but let’s be real honest here…

If you’re confused, they don’t like you.

THE FINAL RECKONING
(I just want to preface this by saying I am open-minded, and 100% GGG. As far as I’m concerned, just about everything is negotiable, until it isn’t.)

My music was blaring, it was a zillion degrees out, and I was dancing around my house in practically nothing refusing to admit that it is officially AC season.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
His name was on my phone.
Da fuk?? Really?

Pretty quickly our casual conversation turned to flirting, and flirting turned into something…more. Ok, maybe he is attracted to me. Maybe he is interested in seeing me again. Maybe I just mind-fucked myself and it really has nothing to do with me. Neat. Swoon.

“I want to be your pet.”

The first time he said it, I didn’t put much thought into it.

“For sure applying to be your slave/pet”

¿Que? Maybe? Not sure how I feel about that just yet. Can we kiss first? Have a second date? As our conversation turned more risqué, he started calling me his Queen and it escalated from there. Can armadillo be our safe word? I played along, breaking character here and there to try to get a better understanding of what exactly this Dom/Sub dynamic would look like. Frankly, I was on board with exploring this as an option and enjoyed playing along, but when I suggested that we go on another date to see what kind of chemistry we have:

He went on to say that he goes back and forth between wanting love, and wanting new sexual experiences, but does not want those to be with the same person.

Uhhhhh…Ok?

Waaaaait. Hold up Mr. 92 percent. In 9 days he went from talking about whether we were going to fall in love, to telling me that he wanted to be my pet and to not catch feelings. GTFO!

Newsflash Hoagie boy, if you wanted someone to peg you and feel nothing, I might have been your girl, but you should probably have skipped all of the love, eh? Seems a bit shitty.

And for the record, I love my pets.