Sock Puppet Theatre

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

Names have been changed to protect the typical.

Name of Date: Doctor Man

Date #: 3

Title of Last Date: Pinch Me I Must Be Dreaming

Amount of Time Between Dates: 2 weeks

What Happened: I know it's been like over a year since I wrote about my first date with Doctor Man so if you need to go re-familiarize yourself with what happened, be my guest.

Done?

Are you leaking with anticipation to know how things worked out? Well change your square-cut 2-xist trunks with pouch enhancement and continue reading...

Our second date was pretty standard, so I skipped a boring description of walking through the art museum and milkshakes despite it being a highly adorable date. Onto date 3!

Doctor Man informed me he'd found a movie in the $5 bin at Wal-Mart that sounded good so I should come over and watch it. I told him that sounded lovely as long as we could play scrabble first. This was at the beginning of my scrabble renaissance aided by the ability to play scrabulous on facebook. Remember that? Then Hasbro had to be a dick and ruin our fun. I was also excited because the $5 bin of movies at Wal-Mart was a college tradition. Find the lamest awfulest worstest sounding movie and then buy it and get drunk while watching it and making fun of it. I was pleased he had the same taste in judgmental fun.

When I get to his GORGEOUS house I am a bit taken aback when a 40 year old woman with a really bad face lift opens the door. Housekeeper? Is my first thought. Patient suing for malpractice over botched cosmetic surgery come to strangle him? Is my second. Seriously... it was. And that option would have been more acceptable than the truth; Mother. Um... you're a doctor and you live with your mom? I cannot even. Why? His explanation was something to do with her divorce and money and other shit that didn't really make sense. Plus his assurance that "the whole upstairs was his" didn't really make this situation sound temporary... or impressive. I half expected a "No Girl's Allowed" sign on his door. Or a pillow fort.

We begin by playing scrabble. I seriously love this game because I rule at it. I never expect to win, but I enjoy dominating the other player and making them feel the sad sorrow of loss. However, Doctor Man, didn't even put up a fight. There was no effort it was all CAT and HOME and excitement over landing on the lame-ass double letter score with a vowel. SERIOUSLY?! You are a DOCTOR! Or are you? I am beginning to doubt your credentials since you live with your mom and cannot put more than 3 tiles down at a time on this board. I slaughter him, obvi. But he is not phased. Just excited to watch the movie.

He pops it in and let me just give you a rundown of the premise:

Satan has taken control of purgatory so God his sending his Arch Angels to defeat him and restore order there. Except all the angels are dying because they get depressed and can't overcome the despair there? It's very Blade Runner is purgatory apparently. Also there are guns. Heaven guns. That are used to kill demons? God has sent Gabriel as his last hope to defeat Satan and Gabriel is this ripped no-shirt wearing bad-ass who fucks a LOT of fallen girl angels along the way. In the end of the movie we realize Michael (another arch angel) is actually Satan (what?) and Gabriel defeats him with God Guns because plausible. I wish I could remember the name of this abomination.

Sounds HILARIOUS right? Like give me a bottle of wine and I will laugh my ass off through this thing. But Doctor Man is taking this shit seriously. He wants to cuddle and is actually drawn in by the story. THIS. THIS!? He struggled through an episode of It's Always Sunny... with me and didn't laugh once! We clearly have very different ideas about what is entertaining and his ideas are clearly wrong and bad.

We make it through the whole movie without him laughing once and me trying so hard to contain my guffaws over the bad dialogue/gratuitous ab shots. No Angel-Homo. But at least it's over and we can get to the main attraction. 3rd date first time sex with mom in the house.... yes. Arguably the 83rd best type of sex EVER.

Our makeouts bring us to the bedroom where we fall on the bed and clothes begin to methodically come off. I forget if I mentioned in the last post but this guy has seriously phenomenal abs. And the insanely mouth-watering sex v. All hangups about his mother and the bad taste in cinema are overshadowed by his body and the fact THAT HE IS A DOCTOR. Much can be forgiven for a hot guy with money plus fire crotch. This euphoria lasts only a moment though when he neglects to remove his socks.

Now I know this isn't a big deal, but it is an indication of something larger. You make think the removal of socks isn't necessary for sex, and that fixating on it is stupid and picky, but let me teach you something right now. The choice to not remove socks during sex is a huge insult. It says, you are not worth the time for me to fully undress. It says, I'm kind of tired and lazy so you're going to be doing most of the work right now. It says, I know I look ridiculous, but I don't care, I'm only in this to get off. By not removing socks a person is essentially telling you that your encounter doesn't mean much to them. Think about it. It's true and you know it.

And I was right. He lay there for most of it expecting me to do all the work. It was brief and didn't last long. I found it incredibly disappointing. The only time he rose up off the bed was his moment of climax (and sorry if this is too personal/gross) so that it could land on me. A clearly demeaning action. I don't want to get all feminist and preachy on you guys, but his subtle actions spoke volumes about how he really felt about me.

I left feeling pretty gross and unsatisfied. But I was polite enough to not mention that to his mother who offered me a beverage before I walked out the door.

Gained Points for: His Body

Lost Points for: His misogynist actions

Mistakes I Made: Castrating him in scrabble? But he didn't even really mind that!

Chances for Another Date: I'm not sure. We need to have a serious talk about what and what isn't good sex first.

Overall Grade: D

One More Sleep 'til Christmas... in Hell.

Sometimes I date really terrible people.

Names have been changed to protect the narcissistic assholes who we only truly recognize through the lens of hindsight.

Name of Date: The Worst

Date #: 3

Looks Like: Short with a weak chin. This is srsly like the 17th guy i've dated with a weak chin. Get some face-bones, dude(s).

Age: 25

Occupation: Grad Student

Where We Met: Connexion

What Happened: So our first two dates were relatively uneventful. They went well although they would bore the pants off of you unless you knew our whole history. which you don't. not yet. And we wouldn't want you reading this without pants on would we? (or would we?)

So remove your hand from your nether region and keep reading. Or don't. I don't care. If this gets you off keep your hand there for all I care. Maybe I've started the art of erotic-blogging.

Anyway it was going to be our third date. Because of our prospective jobs and recent life circumstances neither of us could fly home to be with mom for Christmas. He called me one night and said I should come over on Christmas Eve, we'd watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and then go to bed and wake up with each other on Christmas morning and could open presents from the fams together. Adorbs right?

I'm all happy and giddy because this is the 3rd date and things have been going super well with him and I no longer avert my eyes at his weird facial structure and he's super affectionate and caring and does stuff like drive over to my place just to say goodnight before I go to bed. I was like head over heels for this homo.

PLUS we hadn't had sex yet. We both mentioned on our last date that we wanted it to happen, but that we shouldn't force it. (Although sometimes you have to, the guys with big packages know what I'm talking about). So I felt that this would be a wonderful Christmas gift to each other. I mean if Santa is coming, why can't I? At this point in my life the only real thing on my Christmas list anyway is cock.

So I go over to his place and we snuggle in to watch the movie. He so excited and completely precious (based on the novel PUSH by sapphire). He even sings along to the songs. Now he doesn't have a great voice but his eagerness warms my heart. And riffing through muppet movies is something to do while drunk with a fierce beltress.

When the movie ends we head to the bedroom to get ready for bed. We even foolishly go through the motions of brushing teeth, putting pajamas on, etc. PRETENSE! When we get into bed I think we last maybe 10 seconds before furiously making out. I had made sure to choose my sexiest sleep gear to ensure this. (Tip: No matter what your body looks like, a tight wife-beater will always make it look better.)

Also The Worst is The Best kisser I've ever been with. Sorry other guys I've dated it is just the truth. Hands down the best. So every time we got to make out I was like putty in his cunty hands.

Clothes begin to be removed and I get to see him naked for the first time and he has... and incredibly perfect body. Its insanely good from the tip of his toes to the tip of his neck, he has it going ON! I feel I've hit the jackpot here.

The touching/rubbing continues... but... he never gets worked "up" if you catch my drift. I mean my amazing (and yes, they are amazing) mouthular skills get him there for a minute, but then it goes away. He promises it isn't me (um. i'm pretty sure its ALWAYS the other person if you can't stay hard) and then proceeds to work on me. I finish. He doesn't. and we go to sleep.

I HATE THAT. I hate it sooo much. Not that "finishing" is the goal to be achieved but it is so lame to

a. not tell me what I can to do help

b. get me off so that I feel guilty about you not being able to

I literally obsess about this all night. This is the first time I've ever been in a situation where one of us didn't achieve happy town.

The next morning it is like Dr. Gay-Jekyl and Mr. Gay-Hyde. He wakes up in this terrible mood. "Oh. I guess we should open presents now." We begin to open presents and he is distant, cold and completely uninterested. He doesn't even care that I was thoughtful and listened and bought something special and meaningful for him. He didn't even get me a present! Not that I care. (ok who am i kidding, I totes cared. I LIKE THINGS!)

I asked him what was wrong and he gave me some flippant answer about hating not being with family today. Which would have been plausible if this mood went away the next time I saw him. But spoiler alert: HE STAYED DISTANT AND MOODY FOR THE NEXT FIVE MONTHS WE DATED. I hate to mention future dates in a post, but this moment was literally the turning point in our relationship. I had 2.5 awesome dates with him and then scores of terrible ones which I am sure I will write about later. This was also the ONLY time he allowed me to spend the night with him. Jerk-off. Oh wait. he can't even do that!

I left that morning feeling ugly, unwanted, under-appreciated and un-good at sexing. Which is something I really hate. Merry Christmas to me.

Gained Points for: An amazing date idea.

Lost Points for: Becoming the most selfish narcissistic douche-y guy i've ever dated LITERALLY overnight.

Mistakes I Made: Farting in the bed? Ewwww. no I didn't do that. Not at the first sleepover. I was a lady and went to the bathroom.

Chances for Another Date: Well apparently I'm into guys who make me feel terrible. Yay low self-esteem and fulfilling stereotypes. So yes.

Overall Grade: D -

This post brought to you buy a recent awkward run-in with The Worst that made me want to rip his face off.

Porn-u-copia!

Sometimes guys are really tricky.

Names have been changed to protect the devious.

Name of Date: Baby Face
Date #: 3
Title of Last Date: If At First You Don't Succeed...
Amount of Time Between Last Date: 2 weeks.
What Happened: Ok so our second date was relatively boring and not much happened. He took me to a movie. It was about as non-descript as you could get so I'm skipping right ahead to date tres.

I happened to be in NYC one afternoon so he said he would pick me up, we'd grab dinner and then I could crash at his place before I headed back home the next morning. I thought this sounded like a lovely idea. We also plainly addressed the fact that this was the third date and he was expecting sex. However he didn't do it in the "am i going to get laid?" way he was simply like "so this is the third date, will we be having sex?" i am such a sucker for direct questions that I said "yes" a bit too hastily and probably came of sounding like a desperate hooker.

While I was waiting for him to come meet me (I had just had some starbucks with a college friend) I went over in my head whether or not I'd actually go through with it. I mean this was a decent guy. We talked on the phone every night. Been dating for about a month. Whats wrong with it? My conservative upbringing wouldn't let go though. So I decided to leave it up to fate. If he had good hair and wasn't wearing ugly tennis shoes... I'd do it. You think I'm kidding, but I am serious. He had great hair on our first date, and the second it was weird and non-sexy. I figured that would be the best way to discern if I'd even be able to get a boner that night.

When he rounded the corner I saw a fantastic head of hair and gave myself a mental high five. Unfortch, I looked at his shoes. 1992 Foot Locker ad. Ugh. What is a girl to do? How am I supposed to know if I want to sleep with someone if they don't present a coherent package?

Anyway we got on the subway to brooklyn and had dinner at a cute little bistro around the corner from where he lived. He held my hand and was all romantic and midway through dinner Slim Fast called (see his dates) and I had to pretend I wasn't with someone. Its always awkward when dates interfere with one another. Unless its intended. And in a bedroom. Bada bing!

After dinner we go back to his place and he picks up the mail. I notice a manilla envelope without a return address on it and I think "oh wouldn't be hilarious if that was his porn magazine?" 10 seconds later he exclaims "awesome! I was waiting for this. its the next issue of 'freshmen'." Now... for you non-gays... 'freshmen' is a gay porn magazine featuring young guys. very twink. very abercrombie and fitch with full boners. very no body hair. I was a little disturbed that he was so open about admitting what it was.... until I got to his apartment.

It was almost like walking into an adult book store. He had oodles and oodles and oodles of porn. Literally shelves filled with magazines and dvds. And he had NO PROBLEM pointing them out to me on the tour of his place. Ok it is one thing to have porn. It is another to have hoards of porn. IT IS ANOTHER TO DISPLAY IT AND BE PROUD OF IT. Now I'm not a prude. I've seen porn and it has come in "handy" many times... but I think i maybe have one movie on my hard drive and that's it. I cannot imagine how this guy does anything but masturbate. Also WHY KEEP THIS MUCH? is it sentimental. did this particular blow-job touch your heart? I was legit confused.

So I know I should have addressed this and been all "hey creeper. holy crap this is too much porn." but i was polite and didn't say anything. i just kept averting my eyes everytime a rogue erection came into view. Also this should have been the sign from God NOT to jump into bed with him... but there were penises everywhere. I then realized this is allllll intentional. Its all part of the arousal process so that I'm all horny so that its impossible to say no. well played, baby face, well played.

Make outs occur. Obvi. Clothes come off. Obvi: The Sequel. And.... he is wearing a jock strap. LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, WE HAVE HOT SEXY UNDERWEAR. I am such a sucker for that. Its a HUGE turn on for me. From that moment I was done. There was no stopping. I boarded the train for whore-ville. Fare: my dignity. We ended up going at it twice that night and let me give credit where credit it due.... to this day... it is still... some of the best sexin' i have ever had. I will not lie. Maybe all that porn taught him a thing or two.

The next morning I am feeling pretty good. I have slept with him and we have great sexual chemistry. He's a really good guy and I like him. Things aren't actually that bad. Until he rolls over and says. "So I don't think this is gonna work out. I live here. You live there. Its just too much." The fucking prick tricked me again! SHAMYLAN-ED! (anybody watch "sunny in philly?" anyone?) He just wanted to screw me before ending it. I left that morning so pissed. I felt used and terrible.

Gained Points for: One of the best orgasms of my life. Damn, brother.

Lost Points for: TOSSING ME ASIDE WHEN YOU WERE DONE!

Mistakes I Made: Believing it would last beyond those 4 hours of fun.

Chances for Another Date: Zero. I may no longer have any dignity... but I'll refuse to be a repeat offender.

Overall Grade: D+

Seriously!? Are you F***ing Kidding Me?

Sometimes guys are complete assholes.

Names have been changed to protect the oblivious.

Name of Date: Captain Fucktard
Date #: 3
Looks Like: Sean Astin.. a little bit? kinda.
Age: 31
Occupation: Private Contractor (whatever the hell that is)
Where We Met: Myspace. (never ever again!)
What Happened: Our first two dates were uneventful. Date number one was the old coffee standby which ended with a hand shake. Date two was chilling at his place while we chatted for 3 hours. Ended with a hug. I was hoping date three might end with a kiss. I'd feel like a real lady, for once.

We had plans to grab dinner. I call him when I get off work and he says that he has a friend who "dropped by, out of the blue." Disappointed, but playing it cool so I don't seem like the clingy mess I am, I tell him to have fun with him and gimme a call when they're done. He says "no. no. no. come to dinner with us. we can hang out afterward." I insist that this would be awkward since we aren't at the meeting the friends stage yet.

A digression. I hate the meeting the friends stage. This, for me, is worse than meeting the parents. I could care less what your dick-ish parents think, but your friend's opinion means the most. If a guy's friends don't like you, you can pretty much kiss that relationship goodbye. If his friend thinks you laugh weird; you are going to get one (maybe two if you're lucky) more dates. Without sex. And thats it. I ususally avoid this stage at all costs. I once dated a guy for five months, and he didn't mean a single one of my friends. That takes effort.

Anyway. I hesitantly agree and head over to his place, hoping this "friend" is cool and won't ruin my chances at getting to first base. Oh first base!!! Lip on Lip ACTION!

When I show up the "friend" is in his bedroom. Captain Fucktard calls out "hey, timmy is here. come meet him!"

I find it weird that a "friend" would be in the bedroom. I should always listen to my gut. That first warning sign that something isn't right and you need to leave with your dignity and hair intact. Unfortunately, I'm all "oh hey, voice of reason could you shut up, i'm trying to look pretty." When said "friend" emerges, I know exactly who it is. Its his ex. I recognizes him from the picture I was shown. His ex whom he spent 90 minutes talking to me about on our last date. The ex whom he lived with. The ex whom they have been together for years. The ex who was still in the closet... and the ex who he hadn't spoken to in months. He says they have "reconciled."

I should have picked up my jaw off the floor and walked out the door without saying a word. But I was in shock. How do you respond to that? What do you do?

Answer: You numbly get in the car with both of them and ride to the olive garden. obvi.

The whole car ride they gabbed about old times, old memories, old crap. I was so uncomfortable. The only comments I made were "uh hu" and "nu uh."

We arrive at the olive garden and are seated. The "friend," excuse me, the "ex," decides he doesn't want to eat there and we should leave. Zombie me, gets up, pushes my chair in and follows them outside. We get back in the car. Captain Fucktatd suggests we all rent a movie.

At this point, something snaps inside me. I have been on a date with while his ex-boyfriend tagged along. I've been made to feel uncomfortable, stupid, and ridiculous. Its that moment that siblings of celebrities have when they realize "hey! i can whore myself out too! get me a record deal, daddy!" clarity.

Captain Fucktard sees me with a look on my face and says "are you ok?"

i continue to stare, wondering if i'll speak

the ex pipes up "yeah? you've been quiet. are you upset?"

that does it. don't fucking play compassion, you date-wrecker.

I let it rip. "I am not ok. Not in the least. You bring me out with your ex?! You think thats a good idea? I thought this was a date. I thought WE were dating. Apparently not. I want to go home. Drive me back to my car. Now."

says. "i'm sorry.. i thought..."

"No." I shout back. "No more. JUST DRIVE."

He drives me back to my car in silence, and I never hear from him again.

Gained Points for: he didn't. no point gaining. none.

Lost points for: EVERYTHING. annnnnd! I didn't even get so much as an apology myspace message the next day. ass.

Mistakes I Made: Getting in the car. Idiot.

Chances for Another Date: When I turn straight. Which, I guess, it wouldn't matter then anyway.

Overall Score: F for FAIL