The truth is that sex, for me, does not depend on love. Some of the best sex I ever had was emotionless, and some of the worst was with someone I loved deeply. There is no great mystery to this, it’s simply biology. The reason why the sex I had with Carol was better than with Bernice was because Carol was prettier. And she knew Yoga.
Before I continue with the story of Michael, the hair-fondling MRA, let us be clear about at least one thing: You cannot diagnose yourself with Asperger’s. Not even if you have a BA in psychology.
However, every explorer, no matter how adventurous, has a place that even they dare not go. A cave so dark and menacing that they are certain it will eat them alive. For me, that place is pasta.
Suddenly it became abundantly clear why she was both on Tinder and agreed to go on a date with me. The evening went slowly, as more and more horrid information about her life was unceremoniously and without prodding or request forced down my throat.
Five minutes after meeting him, I wanted to break every one of his fingers and his stupid face and send him packing, out of my apartment, my life, and my mind, but the motherfucker still reaches out to me even to this day. God only knows why.
Breaking up should be clean. When one person is in near-total control of the situation it falls to them to make it quick. There’s no benefit to dragging out the process or slowly ramping-down the relationship over the course of a last few dreadful dates. Primarily, though, it should be obvious.
Attraction is not subjective. There are objective guidelines of what is sexy… or at the very least I know that waking up feeling bloated surrounded by empty beef jerky bags (yes PLURAL) is not considered remotely arousing.
Last night, I survived my nightmare. After years of living in the city, two of them being completely alone, I came home from yoga to find I had a visitor.
I once told a guy that I was late to our date because I had stopped at home to eat a pickle. I really liked that guy, and I really liked those pickles.
When I look at my reflection- hunched over with a beer gut and no pants- I can’t help but wonder what kind of creature would want to date this mess?