Last weekend I went on a date that I organized with a new and popular dating website that a lot of young people are using these days. I came across Lola’s profile by chance and I liked it because she had cute short hair. I like girls with cute short hair who might be gay, but probably aren’t. I don’t mind if they are gay, but I usually don’t go after the gay ones because I encounter too many difficulties. I also liked her profile because it said that she was a feminist but she still thought guys were so sweeeeet. I think the misspelling of “sweet” was intentional. I told her that I thought this was funny. She got back to me, saying something about not being a good feminist lately.
This new, popular dating website has a rating feature. Users can rate other users. I haven’t really gotten the hang of how it works, and I’m not sure really what the etiquette is around that. I rated her five-stars and sent her a message saying that I rated her five stars but that I realized the rating system was surely against her feminist principles. She got back to me and she was flattered that I had rated her five stars, even though in principle it was problematic. She suggested in the same message that we just get a beer and cut the senseless internet banter.
God damn, I thought, this girl is really awesome. In my experience a minimum of one week of internet message banter is necessary to actually score a date. We agreed to meet at a small bar in Williamsburg.
She showed up at the bar, exuding a kind of easy-going confidence. I was feeling a little sick and tired from all of my hard living, but I still enjoyed our conversation a great deal. Are we gonna bone? I wondered. She made a comment about wanting to pound some beers, but that she wasn’t going to because I was sick and wasn’t drinking very fast. There’s a good chance we’re going to bone, I thought. Then she asked if I wanted to get blunted with her. I said sure, and that we could go to my apartment, which was nearby. We’re definitely going to bone, I thought.
She came back with me. Things were still going well. She talked about sex quite a bit and about dudes she had boned. At first I didn’t know what to make of her openness about this subject, but then I started to think it was pretty cool. At my apartment my roommate was there and the three of us got along. We got blunted and retired to my bedroom. We were looking at some blogs and things on my computer and then I pulled a move. When we were about half naked she suddenly said, “We have to pause for a second this is weird.” I wasn’t sure what to do but I used this opportunity to take a pee. When I got back she explained that she was just so surprised that I had made a move, because I hadn’t seemed interested, and that was why she had to stop for a few moments. I get this a lot from girls – they don’t think I’m interested. Girls, I am interested. Then we started going at it again.
She made several trips downstairs, so to speak, and told me that she really loved giving blow jays. In fact, as a feminist she made a point of taking as much pleasure as possible in giving blow jays. I was a little confused about the logic of a feminist enjoying giving blow jays, but since I was getting a blow jay at that moment I didn’t think about it very much.
After our act of love was finished, I thought, as I often do, oh shit what am I doing here with this naked girl I don’t know in my bed? I inquired about the whole blow jay thing. From what I understand she was so into them because it was a form of empowerment for her. I still don’t fully understand the logic behind it but I wasn’t going to argue. Then she went downstairs again, so to speak.
After another round, feeling very open about sexuality and questions related to that, I decided I would speak freely with her. I wondered aloud about how she felt about bonin’ on the first date. She explained to me that the assumption that girls want to wait to have sex is incredibly problematic because it characterizes women as being less interested in sex and incapable of asserting their own desires. It puts them in the usual position as desired objects, rather than desiring subjects – or something like that.
I am not unfamiliar with feminism and I encountered a lot of it in college, but bonin’ this girl was worth more than all of the reading I had done! Suddenly, a weight was lifted from me and I no longer felt strange about having this relative stranger with me in my bed who was all over my Johnson. My neurotic and, so I learned, problematic feelings of guilt thus assuaged, I was able to enjoy being with her in a way that normally isn’t possible on a first date hook-up. We even began to talk about the other people we had been dating recently, and different sexual hang-ups we had encountered, and that made me feel all the more at ease. And when she mentioned that I was one of the few guys she had encountered without any sexual hang-ups in Brooklyn, my ego was boosted.
I haven’t seen Lola again since this last encounter, but I’m hoping to see her again soon because she’s pretty awesome. In the meantime, I’ve been enjoying my other first date booty calls far more than I ever would have before. Thank you, Lola. I hope you’re getting laid a lot and I hope it’s good.