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Vancouver Dating Blog: Taking The Pressure And Your Clothes Off

"What if things work out with Trucker Joe, at least for a little while I mean, and I don't go on any more bad dates (ie. things become serious and boring rather than hilarious and awesome saucy?)"

Those ominous words above are clearly not necessary, I mean who am I kidding?! And so, I present to you a new "something" in the mix, whom I'm dubbing Lindsay because of his gender-ambiguous name as well as the clear alliteration (which you know I love) that will come once I explain the new Law being enacted on his behalf. But I digress, let's get right into the tale of Lindsay's Law.

Lindsay messages me on plenty of fish (obviously) and we message back and forth pretty quickly. He's local (like legit 15 minutes if that from my house), 6'0 tall and some of his pics are super cute (some are just alright). He apologizes if it's too forward and asks for my number. I love forward, I tell him, give him my digits and we make plans for Friday night. I'm thrilled because he seems cool enough and cute enough and honestly, it'll take the pressure off my upcoming date (date number 4 for those keeping score) with Trucker Joe.

So we meet for coffee in the small town he's just moved to and honestly I'm already a bit uncomfortable (this being my area and all and I don't want to run into someone I know). Or worse yet, that he'll turn out to be someone I already know but he's two years younger than me so that seems unlikely. I park my car in the parking lot outside of the Starbucks and see a guy walking to his truck only that can't be him because that guy doesn't look like he's 6 feet tall.

Don't be him...don't be him...don't be him. 

My cell starts ringing and I pick it up and I can see the guy in the truck is on his phone.

Hello? Hey It's Lindsay. 

Shit. Yeah I know...I can see you. 

I wave and get out of my car. He does the same. I can't help but be genuinely disappointed that he's lied about his height, maybe only a few inches but still, it's a real punch to the gut. Plus, it's just irritating as hell when men lie like you didn't think I'd notice?!?

But here we are, in person, about to have a first date, and what's a woman who's been lied to to do amirite?! We press on and go get coffee but the coffee shop is really small and surprisingly packed so we take our coffees to go and head out for a walk on the dyke. Aside from the persistent bugs being everywhere, conversation flows well and though it's just talking about mundane average shit, it's enjoyable enough.

Except he walks too fast which is annoying as hell on a first date and honestly tells you a lot about a person.

We decide to ditch the bugs and the dyke to go play pool at his house. So far, I like his truck, the fact that he paid for my coffee, that he had dates ideas and good convo, and that he has a pool table. I'm not a fan of the fact that he lied about his height, I don't like his jeans (very 90s), and I hate people who speed walk if they're not doing cardio and instead are in fact on a first date.

Once at his house things get a little bit more fun. He lets me cheat at pool, he's being a lot more fun and sociable, and I mean we're playing pool which I love. On the downside, he's drinking which is fine I guess but given that I'm sober it seems a bit excessive for a first date. Actually, his level of drinking seems a bit excessive for any number of dates so it's definitely a bit of a red flag.

After 4 or 5 games of pool, we decide to watch a movie. He pulls out a joint, which again is like fine but it's starting to feel like a bit of an insult that this dude needs to be super fucked up to be enjoying this date with me.

And I know what you're all thinking--why the fuck am I still on this date like he's clearly...kind of a...loser.

But that's because we have the clarity of hindsight here as I'm writing things. At the time, in the moment, I was still actually having fun. Plus we were going to watch wedding crashers and I may have partaken in the weed too (if you can't beat em, join em or something). Plus, if I'm being really real with all of ya'll, the whole thing was a bit of a relief as it was taking all the pressure off of things with Trucker Joe.

Before long, we're making out (le terrible! I know). So we're making out and it's not great like he seems like he's trying to swallow my face. Occasionally there's redemption and I feel like we might be getting a good rhythm and then again he'll fuck it up by changing the pace, the motion, the pressure. Honestly, I just keep thinking maybe he'll pay attention to my kissing and adapt and get good.

But he doesn't.

He really just never does.

And yet, somehow this absolute magician, this goddamn genius, gets me into this bedroom (which no joke had a stuffed South Park character on the bed and lacrosse medals from his youth on his dresser). And I swear he really did have some kind of magical powers because at some point, before you know it, I was thinking...sex? sure why not?!?!

And that's when it hits me...his penis is small as fuck. Like, Twitter Guy small. And if that wasn't bad enough (trust me that should absolutely have been bad enough), his penis never gets like rock hard, it's just like mostly hard or hard enough I guess and I'm thinking like does he need some help to get it excited, is the problem me, like maybe he's not attracted to me?

And before I can finish wondering if his tiny baby penis can even get hard, he's cumming like a fucking teenager. So I guess the problem wasn't me *eye roll so hard I pull a muscle*

While getting redressed, he spouts all kind of bullshit about being so relaxed...and how great [I am] at sucking dick and blah blah blah. The irony is that it wasn't even my best work, not by a long shot but here we were. And if you needed one more weird moment of disappointment, I'm certainly not the one to keep it from you. So yeah, we all know I like a bit of hair-pulling and aggression and I shit you not, when I kind of slid his hand to my head, instead of doing anything sexy he just starting rubbing the top of my head. Like, now not only are you turning me off but you're fucking up my curls and just making me frizzy like what the fuck is wrong with you.

He says something about watching the rest of the movie and how we'll do it again (or, for those paying attention for the first time for me) after a quick rest. I know this is bullshit but I can't think of an excuse without saying bullshit! so I just watch the rest of the movie with him. At some point earlier during the movie (pre-sex-fiasco), he had ashed the joint and then thrown the whole roach into his drink. And then at another point during the movie (post-sex-fiasco), I watched in horror as he drank every last drop of that drink and then either didn't notice? (that seemed impossible) or pretended not to notice as to avoid embarrassment, that he had just drank a roach on a first date. I'd have pissed myself laughing if not for th pink balls I was experiencing.

After the movie ends, he says what he must think are disappointing but are in fact magic words to my ears--So uh...would you be upset...if we just called it a night...blah blah blah...I'm so relaxed...and long day...and blah blah blah noise noise noise.

No biggie I say already grabbing my purse and keys.

I'd love to see you again he said.

I'm sure you would, ass wipe, but I'm thinking not only was this a shit date but you are absolutely the worst fucking hookup in the world.

I don't know is what I actually said because I really didn't know what else to say. Maybe this was just a case of a kid getting carried away, I mean I did have fun earlier on in the date, but then again he lied about his height and honestly he kissed for shit and had a small weenie. He was clearly a little upset and said, okay well I guess just call me...and then I cut him off uh no...you can call me I said, and I'll let you know if you've earned a second chance, I thought. I threw up the deuces and left (and to think I'd put on cute undies for this dipshit).

And I could've just chalked it all up to a bad experience, but hadn't that also been what had happened with Garbage Man and then again with Twitter Guy. There had to be a takeaway from this (for the love of god, I had to have learned something, hadn't I?) And thus, I came up with Lindsay's Law--to help prevent this kind of tomfoolery from happening in the future. Hopefully.

Lindsay's Law.A law prohibiting any action (by SSDated and complicit "Something's") beyond kissing and some harmless over the bra action on the first date. [Additional Information]  This law will act in preventing future nakedness with boys who turn out to be undeserving. This law is to be recognized in dating situations and is not subject to the "One Night Stand aka Intelligence Officers of the World" carrying's on, as though fall under the total slutdamonium addendum. 

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