Twitter Guy: Should You Date Someone From Social Media
So, the summer had started out wonderfully with some much needed casual sex with Intelligence Officer and though it seemed there were a few men in the mix, things hadn't been materializing quite as I had hoped.
I lamented this disappointing turn of events on my Twitter (where I am currently still tweeting anonymously and everyone on my Twitter is there because of the blog and/or my personality but aren't people I know in real life...yet).
And that's when Twitter Guy started to DM me (this was long before kids were saying slide in her DMs but arguably that is what he did). His messages were mostly of the:
well you shouldn't date boys then, you should date men (like me) variety.
I think he actually said at one point:
In light of the fact that you're looking for a man, I would suggest we meet for coffee.
I liked his confidence if not so much his exact wording. In his messages, he went on to joke about finding my dating profil on plenty of fish. If I was less of an internet geek I might have found that a little creepy (which is how my friend responded when I told her) but I am of the internet generation and I enjoy both his effort and intelligence/ingenuity in being able to locate it.
So, he knows what I look like and I guess I know what he looks like because he has a picture up on his Twitter but I'll be honest in that it's not a good picture (or I don't find him attractive, something it's often hard to tell from just one photo). And then, before I could even really decide if I could potentially be interested, he changed his profile pic and I really started to consider him a possibility. I have no idea how it would work to date someone who knows about my blog (this is the first time it's been a possible issue) but we start emailing anyway (I can always figure things out down the road, right?). We start emailing and I ask for more pictures. He sends 3, 2 of which are not good and 1 is fantastic so I truly don't know what to do.
Up until now, I've had a pretty strong no-facebook rule (it just feels like inviting drama into your life, ya know?) But given my indecision over his pics and my potential attraction, we're at an impasse. I convey my hesitation and suggest that we facebook each other, that way I can see some other photos and decide if he's closer to the terrible pictures or the fantastic one but sadly he declines and gives a reason (that I don't particularly find that warranted). We continue to chat but my interest isn't particularly fervent.
Some of the things I like about him: he's got a grown up job, he seems smart, there's that one good photo, he's witty and obviously gets my jokes, and obviously thinks I'm pretty cool.
Some fo the things I don't like about him: he seems kind of pretentious and even obnoxious at times. What I talk about my hesitations regarding dating someone who knows about my blog, he says:
It may surprise you but I have been blogged about before (favourably I might add) in a very famous local sex and relationship blog"
which is like barf! Who talks like that?
I follow up by asking if he reads my blog to which he responds:
I have read most of your blog but I skip over some stuff. I don't really need to read through your critiques of other people's profiles (since that doesn't really apply to me) and I don't get the meaty reference
Now, I don't know about you guys but I can't ever forget the meaty reference, but I guess it's entirely possible he started reading later on. He goes on to say this:
My rule's pretty simple: No names, no pictures, nothing that should in any way point back to me. I don't really care what people say about me except a blog is not a place for any of your relationships to find out about what you REALLY think of them. In other words, just tell the people what you think and then your blog is always just backing up what they already know... no surprises, right? That's the key (in my opinion) to avoid running into trouble with your blog and your dates. Posting pictures (even if they ARE doctored) is probably not a great idea, you could get yourself into trouble if some of the people you write about find out they're shown on the Interwebz. That's just my advice to you, do what you want with it..."
His entire response really irks me because again, I feel like it kind of indicates that he doesn't really read the blog (I've only ever posted one photo of someone from a dating site and that person had themselves drawn crazy devil horns on himself lol men are a joke!). And I know I'm being super judgemental here but the whole thing just reeks of I'm-so-above-blogging and I'm-such-a-dating-pro and you-have-so-much-to-learn-little-one.
But the one thing really keeping him in the race is that he's a man of action--he's asked for my phone number, he's trying to make the date happen, he's initiating things and pursuing me, and he's basically being all of the go-get-em of a real man that I've been looking for.
Still though, I can't let go of the weirdness that would be him reading about other guys in my blog or reading about himself in my blog. I don't really like to censor myself (*gestures at entire blog up to this point*). After another day or so of thought, I decide I just don't have a good feeling about it and tell him that I can't do it. I said something like, "I hope it doesn't tear you apart inside" or "I'll hope you can withstand the tragedy of it" or something equally dramatic and 100 percent being facetious. He doesn't get it at all and replies:
I'm not broken up at all
Which honestly just reinfornces that I 100 percent made the right decision.
A week goes by and he messages me again, this time asking for advice on his dating issues, which is absolutely fine given that I've already told him I couldn't go out with him and so that his TMI isn't really a problem (but still something I need ya'll to see like how fucking messy is he?!?!)
So he tells me all kinds of wild stuff that can be summed up by saying that the dude HAS BAGGAGE. He's got ex-wives and ex-girlfriends and baby mamma drama and honestly with every new bit of information that dude just sounds like a real corny ass cheeseball. I give him my advice (which is basically like maybe clean up some of your drama and just jerk off for awhile until you get your shit in order because of all people this dude should ABSOLUTELY not be fucking anyone new until he can sort his stuff out).
A week later, I tweet that I'm in need of a serious pep talk. He DMs almost immediately, calling me cupcake, which i find endearing for some strange reason. Because he'd been so sloppy with oversharing and TMI-ing all over the place, I figure it was my turn to unload so I don't shy away from details. I tell him all about my dating drama, the general stupidity of boys, and my recent lack of good date options.
He responds with advice and sympathy, and adds:
*I* want to go out with you, blog or no....let's go for coffee or something and see where it goes.
And in that moment of weakness, he sneaks in and I agree to go out with him.
Everyone has a selling point--something that makes them extra special and something that attracts you or motivates you to date them. I assume that my selling point is my winning personality and this dope ass bod located beneath my pretty fucking face but honestly, your guess is as good as mine.
MMA Guy (who I never ended up meeting) had a selling point of overt masculinity. But then he couldn't stop complaining about his broken foot and how hard it was for him to get around the house and honestly that was just too much whining for me.
Intelligence Officer was a man of action, which he had until it turned out that his action was directly linked to his living in the barracks and as soon as he moved out it was gone--as was his selling point.
Twitter Guy's selling point is that he's "a man not a boy" and is different from all the other "somethings" I've been dating. When I gave him my phone number, he promptly let me know that he'd be out of town that weekend (which I appreciated as someone who likes having plans). When he returns, he makes a plan for our date. Unfortunately, his first suggestion is to meet close to my home and at 3:30 in the afternoon which I guess is A for Effort but since I live in a small town and drive a car, I'd just as soon meet somewhere else to avoid running into anyone I know, plus I don't meet during the daytime (there's nothing sexy about daytime).
Plus, give the decidedly sexual overtones of some of our conversations, not to mention the obvious assumptions he must have had after reading all about my dalliance with Intelligence Officer, my expectations were that this (pending chemistry, laughs, success) was going to be something akin to friends with benefits.
Unfortunately, he says that later doesn't work for him that day and then adds that the rest of the week is swamped with blah and blah and busy yadayada yawn. The weekend is filled with more yada yada and some busy blah blah blah. If he didn't then suggest Friday night, I'd think he was blowing me off, which he then almost does because he adds that he wouldn't be free until 10pm, and I've already had enough dating experience to know that people are terribly unreliable and I wasn't about to waste a good friday night on a maybe date.
He suggested we meet the following week, but I'll be honest my thoughts about this were very much the same as in my final communications with Garbage Man which were like Why. The. Fuck. Are. You. Trying. To. Date. If. You. Are. So. Goddamn. BUSY?!?!?!
And HERE is where we come back to the selling point. Twitter Guy's selling point was that he was a "man" and somehow very different from the boys I had previously dating but we were off to a very SLOW start. The upside to this was it allowed for more communication in the meantime allowing me to find out that apparently my hair is "hottest" when worn curly and that he's completely okay with the notion that I might be dating other guys because:
Fuck 'em. Life's a competition I thoroughly enjoy winning
Which, honestly is kind of hot, thinking I'm a prize to be won and/or just even being confident enough to try.
We made plans for the coming Friday but then on Tuesday, courtesy of Vancouver weather, we had an opportunity to meet sooner. He emails:
Hey is your game gonna be canceled tonight?
And it was, and I appreciated him remembering my schedule so I agreed to meet that night.
He arrives at the bar before me and finds us a booth. I'm wearing my "magic jeans" which he later mocks me for (given that they're what I wore the night of my date with Intelligence Officer). I recognize him right away and find that he's about halfway between his awful and his great pictures. He is an excellent conversationalist (which is incredibly nice to not have to be the one carrying the whole conversation and also just a blessing in disguise because I'm bizarrely nervous for the date).
In all honestly, I'm not entirely sure how to act on this date (is it a date? a preamble for a hookup? a friends with benefits situation? it's all very unclear). This uncertainty though causes me to say fuck and not worry so much about which topics are okay to talk about, which stories to tell etc. I think I tell a few too many stories about my past, perhaps coming off as a bit random, a bit tawdry, a bit ridiculous. But he doesn't seem bothered by it at all and the conversation is good (a little heavy with innuendo and sexy topics but nature of the beast I think). Either way, I'm having a good time with lots of laughter. I like that he's geeky and techy. I like that I could talk about Google Analytics and he would know what I'm talking about. You'd be shocked how difficult it is to talk about anything even remotely related to this blog with my real life people.
Everything is going great, and then suddenly it gets weird.
I was recently at dinner with some friends and one of them was regaling us with her current dating situation. She's been on two dates with a guy and they've only just held hands, he hasn't even tried for a first kiss yet. When she tells me this, all I can thin is what the actual fuck. I'm lucky if I can get the guys to wait till we leave location one of the date before they're puckering up. Do I give off the vibe that says, I'd like you to kiss me in public? Is it that I'm just so damn sexy they can't control themselves? Are they concerned that I'll be a horrible kisser and before they risk it going any further they better damn well make sure I pass? Seriously. This isn't rhetorical, I'm asking you blog readers.
So there we were, having a lovely date and suddenly he just looked at me and then kissed me. And it's not like I minded the kiss but I don't really enjoy PDA and we were in a pretty well lit bar and honestly it was just too early in the night lol. I pull back and mention something about my love of shooting pool (even though I'm not very good) and he immediately suggests we go play, which was a relief on all accounts. Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't not into the kiss. While I still wasn't actually sure if I was attracted to Twitter Guy, in an unconventional turn of events, we seem to have pretty palpable chemistry.
Inside the sports bar we've driven to in order to shoot some pool, I quickly go to the bathroom. When I come back, he's already gotten the table setup and (as low as this reveals the bar for considerate behaviour is) he has already gotten me a diet coke. At first, when we shoot pool, we're evenly matched. Then, as can sometimes happen when I play pool, I suddenly get rather good/lucky. I win 3 out of the 4 games.
Remember how I said previously that he was competitive? Yes, well unfortunately that becomes pretty obvious and not in a good sportsmanship type way like he genuinely seems upset that I've been him. I tried to not let it bother me, but honestly I don't like competitive people who let their competitiveness outshine the fun. Fun is always paramount, always the most important; fun is always number one.
Things get fun again (or, I lose the next few games and he feels like a man again, whatever). We leave the bar and go back to his place. He's still moving in, which explains the boxes everywhere which didn't bother me much except that it mean there was no background noise, no sexy playlist, not even a TV on in the background. We still makeout though (I mean, that IS what I was there to do after all!).
And then things head to the bedroom and it's time to get slutterfic, slutastic, slutsational, you get the idea. Unfortunately, things do not go well---spoiler alert: the sex is fucking terrible and he has a goddamn micropenis.
And if this above description of the sex and micro peen has left you wanting (because you know me and you know there's no way that that's all that happened because even in its disastrousness that there has to be more to the story--and you would be absolutely right) then make sure you pic up a copy of my debut collection of non-fiction (that means true) short stories called Love Poems For Butchers and you can find the truth of this disastrous date in the story called "A Date, Gynecologically speaking"