Saturday, July 19, 2014

This isn't the prom.

"What kind of music do I like?
"Let me tell you something: I never imagined myself doing anything like this. I guess I always thought I'd be in a bookshop and a stranger with devastating brown eyes would bump into me in the poetry aisle. Something like that, you know?
"But this; I never thought I'd be here. Honestly, I've been on six first dates this week and if one more person asks me what kind of music I like, I swear I'm going to lose my shit. It's so disingenuous. In all the time I've been alive, nothing good has ever come of someone asking me that question. No one's ever ended a date early because I named a band they hate; and no one's ever invited me on a second date to a concert for a band we both like. It's such a bullshit question.
"And then what? At the end of the night we walk back to our cars together and we'll hug goodbye and one of us will lean in for a kiss and our teeth will knock together and we'll feel too embarrassed to try again. Or maybe it'll be a perfectly pleasant kiss and you'll convince me to 'go for a ride' with you, but really we'll end up in a poorly lit parking lot and you'll ask me for a blow job. Like I didn't just meet you; like it wasn't a rude suggestion. And I'll seem surprised and you'll tell me not to be offended because you just had to check since my face is 'so pretty you wanted to put your dick in it.' And somehow, still, I'll feel bad for putting myself in this situation because I should know better. Because I'm 27 and by now know that there's no such thing as a free ride. And even though this isn't the prom, somehow I'll still end up giving you a reluctant handy. And you'll ask me to spit on my hand but I won't because I'm trying to retain a shred, just a tiny shred, of dignity. And afterwards, you'll drop me off at my car and all the way home I'll wonder what became of the girl I thought I was.
"'What happened to her?' as I wash my hands in my bathroom sink.
"Or better still, maybe you'll charm me and we'll end up at your place so you can 'show me the view' from your balcony. And things will get hot and I'll ask you to put a condom on and you'll oblige but then lose your erection beneath the suffocating chubbiness of the latex and I'll pretend not to notice as you shove your flaccid penis into my inner thigh. And you'll apologize as I get dressed in the dark and I'll say it's not a big deal but my inflection will betray me.
"And on the way home, all the way home, I'll still wonder if I gave up on the girl who believed in meet cutes and the real fucking thing or if she's still in there and it's just that I'm impatient or if I finally just know better."
--the soliloquy, while I was online dating, that was likely the reason I didn't get booked for many second dates. 

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