I was four months shy of turning 27. I was also the perpetually single, hopeless cynic, never-been-kissed, devil-may-care virgin woman who had neither any tangible experience in relationships nor in the bedchambers of intimacy and romance.
I’ve been in love before; a couple of times with both guys breaking my heart in ways different from the other but more or less equal in pain. It was at this point that I thought that maybe being single is what I was destined for; that somehow, none of the millions of men residing on this planet is ever meant to cross paths with me and eventually stay. Naturally, my friends started panicking because I was so convinced that I will live out the rest of my days as my friends’ kids’ spinster aunt.
Alas, a friend took it upon herself to create my first ever social dating site account. I swore I’d never create one because I knew that it would come back to bite me in the ass, that all I would find there are sex-crazed lunatics and even fraudsters. I know; I judged them all before I even met one.
But still, I tried wading into uncharted waters. After all, I promised myself that I would do things that scare the living wits out of me this year, and talking with a complete stranger a thousand miles away certainly makes the cut.
It was fun and exciting. It was also enlightening and I treated it as a research experiment, as if the procedures are clear-cut and the results are measurable. I learned about different cultures from the men I talked with. I learned certain words from various languages. I learned how they want their coffee, their ideal woman, their dreams (or lack thereof), and even their pasts. I thoroughly enjoyed the amount of knowledge and information, both factual and personal, that I was provided with during my conversations with these men. I enjoyed them because I remained emotionally unattached. And from these conversations, I came up with one conclusion: Most of the men I talked with, at some point, became so libidinous beyond control that they had to send me a “dick pic” without my consent and ask for a lewd picture of me in exchange. In less than four months, I was able to amass a considerable number of portraits of the male genitalia of all shapes, sizes, and colors! At first, I was adamant to believe that men had such an incredible sexual drive. Now, I am exhaustively and irrevocably convinced. Of course, I refused sending them a sensual, hard-on-stimulating picture. I told them that I’m not that kind of girl and I would never do that.
Then I met George. I was about to sleep one Saturday night when he chatted me up. Since I was tired he let me head for bed and nicely asked if we could resume talking when I woke up. I said yes. When I woke up at around noon the following day I checked his profile. He was wearing a Superman shirt and glasses in his photo. He was attractive, but not the kind of guy I’m usually into. But I chatted him up anyway and we clicked almost instantly. We were both into sci-fi. We both liked pets, with him having a cute brown puppy and me an orange tabby cat. We both played computer and video games. We both love having pancakes for breakfast. And we are also both rooting for the White Walkers to win (yeah, sue us). We had quite a lot of interests in common.
But there were also a hefty number of dissimilarities. Because we lived 6,000 miles apart with the Pacific Ocean in the middle, it is only natural that we had cultural differences and variances in viewpoints. He likes the cold, whereas I love the sun. I liked my burgers with pickles, but he doesn’t care for them. But the most startling is how he loves sweets too much and I, on the other hand, cannot finish half a bar of milk chocolate. We even got into a tiff when he finished an entire pack and told me it was his dinner. But he is at least accepting my pleas for him to cut back so he could be healthy. Or so I was led to believe.
Then one day while we were texting, he started sending raunchy text messages. Since I was pretty comfortable already with him at the time, I quipped right back, thinking it wouldn’t go beyond sexual overtones. However, before I could process everything, I was texting him how much I love feeling his palms on my breasts as he plunges his entire length into the tight wetness in between my legs. He told me how he would kiss me hard and long while holding my ass in place with each thrust. He told me how I made him so hard and wanting every morning when he wakes up and how he strokes himself thinking of me. He said he couldn’t concentrate at work after I texted him one morning how much I want to be under his office desk sucking him off. He returned the favor by describing how he’d lap up my juices while I’m in my tight office skirt. I was squirming the entire morning. We told each other of our fantasies: how my hands are roaming wild while we’re watching a television show on the couch, how I want him to take me while we’re stuck on the elevator and how he’d want me to straddle him while we’re alone on the last train home, among other unspeakable things. These exchanges happened every day for weeks.
We also had purely chaste conversations. We’d talk about the challenges at work, views on certain issues, and even ask the other for meal suggestions. Then one day, it all changed. It was right after he was considering that he’d come visit me if not for the cost and the crazy timing. I told him that there is no hurry and even joked that maybe we can meet in between—like in Hawaii or on a romantic submarine cruise in the Pacific. I thought it was all good.
But there was no good morning the following day. He suddenly no longer called me darling. His morning calls on his way to work ceased. I had to be the first one to message to hear anything from him. And then he started logging into the dating site again. I started asking myself why all these things, these changes are affecting me. I think that by this time it is safe to say that I had become quite attached to the man. For some reason, it felt like he was about to ghost me and it hurt unlike when the previous random internet guys did.
I decided to stop being always the first one to message just to see if he’d message me first. So far, I have not heard from him in a month. So I guess I have my answer. I kept asking myself how anyone you’ve been talking to for a couple of months almost nonstop every day could drop all communication. I kept asking myself how easy it is for an individual to forget. My friends told me that I was silly for being attached to a guy I’ve never physically met. But they were not the ones who heard him moaning my name, almost feeling his heat on my skin, sensing the spilling of his imaginary seed and the innermost thoughts that came along with it.
I was right the first time. Online dating bit me in the ass, quite harder than I can handle. I now give the world the license to call me stupid because I strongly feel that I am the Queen of Stupid for falling for a guy I knew firsthand would never fall right back.