Empirical Evidence

29 Jun

After about 9 months back on the dating field it’s safe to say I’ve come a sort of anthropologist. I’m not quite Carrie Bradshaw level but I’d put myself in a close second place for that level in the small city I live in.

Ok so with that said, I’ve discovered something odd. A weird quirk in a subsection of the white hetero late 20’s early 30’s male population. There is a kind of man that has a sense for comedy, enjoys performing it in a group of people that has a very particular sexual preference.

Where is this going you ask? It’s not nearly as risqué as you may hope but I’ve discovered a weird quirk.

About 9 months ago actually when I was fresh on the dating scene I met up with an old friend at a brewery in town, it was already kind of late so we had all been drinking. I crashed a boys session and they were talking about relationships, women and sex. Naturally I saddled right up, got up to speed and without missing a beat started interjecting my two cents because that’s what I do.

They were mid conversation about what they do during sex, not anything crass or crazy or that would make grandma blush, just how they liked to connect with another human being physically. Honestly, pretty tame in comparison to the way I’ve talked about men with girlfriends over the years. They’re talking about holding hands during sex, is it sweet, does it help make the moment even more of a moment. Two of the men there, my friend and soon-to-be friend (I’ve since developed a friendship with this other dude as well), think holding hands during sex can be nice. It makes it special, shows the connection it shows that I care and am there.

I’m staring, dead pan, back at them. “Are you kidding me? The last thing I want to do with a guy during sex is hold his hand. Unless it’s the only way that I’m keeping myself supported or we’re having sex at the edge of a cliff and I risk falling to my death if I don’t hold onto his hand, those are the two options for hand holding during sex.” You’ll note that those two options require the need for me to be in some element of danger.

Why the hell do these guys want to fucking hold hands during sex? We go back and forth a few times. Honestly, I can’t remember if I said it in so many words but I’m pretty sure I insinuated it. (I am pretty blunt after all.) In so many words I basically said that’s a wuss move and it would do more to turn me off than on.

Lets give you a bit more backstory, these two friends of mine know each other through a local comedy troupe that puts on improv shows. They’re both funny, nice enough guys who have dated a decent amount. I throw the dating note out there to show you that this is not some conversation where someone would be trying to describe breasts as sand bags.  So, that’s the connection there. Note that with this connection I start developing a theory. Mom always encouraged us to develop theories about what we experience and see in the world and I enjoy jumping to conclusions on weird things and this is the perfect weird thing to jump to a conclusion on. Here’s my theory:

Heterosexual guys who do improv comedy hold hands during sex.

Flash forward nine months. Date after date has happened, I’m in a haze of numbers and tinder profiles. I’m having fun, I’ve all but forgotten about this odd conversation I had a few months back.

I start dating this guy who’s sweet and funny and happens to do improv. I actually find out that he knows my two friends. We go on several dates, after date 4 or so we have sex, note this is not my MO but this relationship took some weird turns here and there.

Anyway, yes we’re still dating. No I don’t really know where it stands, but I’m ok with that. So a week or two ago we’re having sex and it’s all well and good then out of nowhere he grabs my hands! And not in the way it sounds, which I’m sure first brought to mind some hot scene out of 50 Shades or something. No it was not a grab of my hands and pull me closer or grab my hands while he’s making himself really dominant. No this was like “I wanna hold your hand” level sweet hand holding.

My head exploded, almost literally. I immediately flash back to my conversation that night last fall. I want to bust out laughing, call these guys and tell them what is happening. The rest of that sexual encounter was my best acting to date. I should win a god damn Oscar, seriously. I went from wanting to laugh to over thinking and realizing I finally had the empirical evidence that I needed to prove my theory correct! Flash to after sex and what’s typically a sweet private time where nice conversation is had turns into me trying to find a way to talk about anything while secretly thinking about how I finally had developed and tested a theory for the first time in my life and have proven with my sample size of three that: WHITE STRAIGHT GUYS WHO DO IMPROVISATIONAL COMEDY HOLD HANDS DURING SEX.

You’re welcome, I’m doing this for you. Because if you’re a girl who, like me, is not a big fan of hand holding during sex I just saved you a bunch of time.

On to the next theory….


Three’s Company

29 Aug

Not too long ago I went back to my little college town to visit friends. I rode up with an old college friend and one of her friends that she went to nursing school with. He was also a nurse. Not one of those sweet sensitive nice  male nurses, one that is full of himself and stories that NO one else could have and lifts like nine time a week. ie. Not really my kind of guy. So I have to listen to his stories and make jokes about him, directed at him, for the 8 hour car ride. He picks up on maybe 2 of the 200. Luckily I didn’t have to drive this kid back…

So I’m out one night with old friends and decide to turn in a bit early (rare instance) so I’m wandering back home enjoying my college town and bump into -guess who, the male nurse and friend. I happen to know his friend from when I took Muay Thai classes up there, he was one of the fighters. So we’re catching up and he mentions that they were going back to his house for a drink and to hang out with a few more friends and asked if I wanted to join. Sure, it was on my way to where I was crashing for the evening, why not.

We get to his house and we’re the only three there, it was early so I assumed other were coming. Popped open a Natty Light and flopped on the couch to chat with the guys. We start talking really heady stuff, religion, philosophy, life blah blah blah. Then out of no where the male nurse asks “Have you ever had a threesome?”

“Uh what? No” I replied

“Would you be interested?” He glanced over at my ex-muay thai partner and he just smiled.

This was happening. I was being propositioned to have a three some with two, absolutely stupid, but pretty damn good looking guys. I asses the situation for a millisecond, take a big swig of beer and politely decline with a “um hell no, but thanks.” and excuse myself to wander the last few blocks home asking “Did that just happen?”

Yes, yes it did…and this is only the most recent time I’ve found myself in that situation. WTF about me screams “yeah she’d be game for a threesome?” I don’t know. Propositioned three times in my life, turned all three down. Maybe third time is the charm?

You Reap What You Sow

27 Aug

Flash four years forward from Freshman year of college. Yes I was still in college, but worlds wiser than four years prior.

I was on Match.com – yes, I was at the time a wee babe of 22 and on Match.com. My little state university was fun and all but it was pretty much in BFE and the men there had lost their charms.

Just before the winter holiday break I received a note from a guy named Mitch on Match, who claimed to know me…this was gonna be fun. So we send notes back and forth and he said “No seriously, I’m pretty sure we hung out together a few times when I was still going to school there. You know X, Y and Z well..blah blah blah.”

Turns out we did know each other, I only vaguely remembered him. (I can’t keep all the men I’ve met over the years straight. There’s roughly a six month max you’ll stay in my “Dudes that I haven’t had a fucking ridiculous romantic experience with” list before I have to delete you to make room for the ever growing “Dudes you HAVE had a fucking ridiculous romantic experience with” list.)

So anyway, we decide to meet up in Chicago the day after Christmas. Why Chicago, because I love it, and we both lived 3 hours away from it – in the same direction. So why not both drive three hours out of the way? Because Chicago kicks ass, there’s nothing to do in my home town in the winter and I love Chicago…did I mention Chicago kicks ass?

OK so we meet up, we’re hanging out in all our favorite neighborhoods, went to the History museum. Finally the day is winding down. We’re at Pint – in Wicker Park, probably one of my favorite bars of all time. When he says:

“Wait, you used to live down the hall from Danni right?”

“I sure did, she’s a blast!”

“And you dated that guy, that Catholic guy uh..”

“Yup, Luke. I didn’t know you knew him?”

“I don’t know him, are you the girl that ran into Danni’s room that one night and yelled something about him and your boobs?”

“Yes, yes I am.” I say deadpan…are you fucking kidding me?!

What are the odds of not only finding someone you knew on Match.com but then having that person be one of EIGHT people in college dorm room in middle America who watched you have one of your first mental breakdowns about men in college? Apparently if you’re me – the odds are pretty damn high.

The date was half decent, we fell out of touch. Apparently he didn’t want to touch my fucking boobs either.

(Incase you missed the original boobs post)

“I Don’t Know If I Can Handle This, Let Me Process and Get Back to You.”

22 Aug

Last winter I had a handful of pretty entertaining dates. I was recently back on the market and actively shopping online. Online dating is one of the BEST ways to entertain yourself, or find true love, take your pick.

This story starts off with date two. Date one was your average half decent first date that gets you excited enough for date two. Date two came later that same week, hell this could really go somewhere! The guy was sweet, worked at the local newspaper, had a degree in English was pretty funny and sweet – although I could tell a bit neurotic.

So date number two goes well, and we head back to his place for another drink after dinner. Drinks and chatting naturally lead to making out and things are going well. Then, out of no where, comes a hand, on my throat, pressure is being applied. While this is happening I realize my hair is being pulled. I immediately push him away and slide to the other side of the couch.

“What was that?” I ask

“What was what?” he replies

“Where you choking me?!”

“Uh, yeah…I thought all girls liked that.” he says in an ass hole-ish tone (which is totally uncalled for (UM hello..))

“No, all girls do not like that, and even if I did not on date #2!”

“Well uh, I don’t know how to take this. I don’t think I can handle someone who doesn’t find me attractive.”


The conversation went on from there, mostly me trying to figure out what was going through his freaking head. Then him taking offense and making it seem like I was attacking him.

I went home that night and he said he “Needed to process what happened and get back to me.”

The following evening he sent me a text that said he didn’t think we could see each other for a while and that it’s probably best if we not even chat or text. (I hadn’t texted him all day, and never did again.)

It’s ok though folks, happy ending…. I RUN INTO HIM EVERYWHERE. Normally when I’m out on a date with another guy. So ya know, that’s fun.

I once ran into him at my local haunt when out for drinks with the girls. He was on what seemed like a first date. When his date went into the bathroom I was tempted to follow her and inform her of his style. Turns out I’ve seen them on several dates since.

It’s an S&M fairytale, with a happy ending.

Textual Relations

20 Aug

Picture: My own – from a lifetime ago, way out west.

Not so long ago, ie. in the past few months. I was out at a local country themed bar. Which in my current location is a “novelty.” I of course, actually love it.

(A bit of backstory, I have lived on and off way out west, in cowboy country. So I appreciate a good dive bar, country western band, and you bet your sweet ass I  can two-step.)

Anyway I’m at said bar enjoying my evening of dancing and cheap whisky and met a tall drink of water. He’s in the army, from Kentucky, has 2 kids and is 10 years older than me. Now the first three things should be, and are, red flags. The last one, as you get to know me, will shock you less and less. I like ’em older.

We hit it off, well as much as one can in a sleezey faux country-western bar. We chat about rodeoin’, points west and all that good stuff. (I used to barrel race so I know just enough about the art of Rodeo to get myself in trouble.)  Then he drives me back to my car in his LIFTED 1960-something Ford pick-up truck, did I mention this guy was tall? I mean like 6’9″ kind of tall…like real tall.

So we exchange numbers and a brief kiss, I hop my little wanna-be-cowgirl butt outta his truck (which is parked in the middle of a downtown street) and saunter to my car. Having thoroughly enjoyed myself.

The next day he texts me and says he had a great time and wants to take me out to dinner, I had plans to be out of town all weekend so I said how about next week. He said how about today, lunch?

Hmm, I “seriously” debated for a half a second and declined. Because I don’t take lunches, seriously. (I love my job, I show up first thing and am the last one to leave and I only order lunch in or pack it in my adorable little Vera Bradley lunch tote.) I don’t know much but I do know that this guy is not worth breaking my work-a-holic streak.

I say thanks but no thanks, working on a big project. He’s bummed then sends me THIS!

A FUCKING “SELF PORTRAIT” OF HIM IN HIS ARMY UNIFORM, INCLUDING HAT, SANS SHIRT (also, of course, taken in a bathroom…because what better way to set the scene.)  With a caption that reads;  “Just a little something to distract ya’. lol”

Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been in a handful of long term serious relationships and I have never sent any sort of photos, or asked for them for that matter. I know this is some people’s thing  (to each his/her own) but this is NOT my thing. HELLO I haven’t even gone on a proper date with this guy and he’s doing this?!

So I don’t text him and a few hours later he texts me saying “I guess not distracting enough…” then another half hour later “Lol?” …no there’s no “lol” here.

Then he has the balls to text me the next day and try to set up a date, the day after that to ask how my weekend was and the day after that asking, “Are you agnoring me?” Somebody’s quick on the uptake and a damn fine speller as well. Yes I was ignoring him and after a few more inquiries, he got the hint.

Yeah, so that happened. Watch out girls, the desperate pic sending male is out there, and he has his pictures locked and loaded. (If this does happen to be your thing shoot me a note, I’ll give you his number – enjoy the show.)

Jesus Loves Me…But Not You

18 Aug

Let’s put on the way back machine. Remember that religious guy I mentioned in my first post? Well here it is, the story.

It really wasn’t all that funny, until the end. I was in love, we used to meet up at a local park before school started to make out in the back of his parent’s minivan. He would leave flowers on my car for me, we went to different schools so the whole thing was very exotic.

There will be more installments of bits n’ pieces of this story, as a first real relationship it has it’s moments, often.

This installment is the break up, we’re “Tarantino’ing” this story.

I had just gotten back from Europe, this was the summer before my Senior year of high school. I was feeling all sorts of wordly and loving life. One thing I had realized while on a trip with 20 other high school aged students, who had been in public school all their lives. (I went to a private, religious school until freshman year of high school.) They were all talk, and some action, about all sorts of fun activities I had yet to partake in, namely with significant others.

Well after five weeks away from my one-and-only I thought, hmm it might be time to amp this up a notch or two. Hints were dropped, and not picked up. Ben, that was his name, went off to an all boys youth group retreat (he was very religious – his parents thought I was the devil incarnate) and came back with a decision made.

We were driving back from town to my house, I was driving. We were going to meet a bunch of friends and go to the beach – I lived on the beach. (Think Capeside, but midwest.) Ben had been acting odd all day, wouldn’t hold my hand was often wandering off. (We were at the summer carnival – sweet God, I grew up in a freaking Bruce Springsteen song.) So naturally, being Liz, I confronted him on the drive to my place. He wouldn’t say and wouldn’t say and finally about half way to my place (I lived 20 minutes outside of town) he finally said it. “Well, during my retreat I was praying a lot. And God told me I shouldn’t be with you.” So I slammed on my breaks and kicked him out of the car on the side of a country road. ….in my fantasy. Instead I tried to figure it out, to see if there was some sort of “forgiveness” loop hole with Jesus, or God the Father, or the Holy Ghost…there was no room at the inn. He continued to explain that it wasn’t only God, but his Pastor, parents, brother and everyone else on his AOL Instant Messenger chat list.

So he broke up with me, and we spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with our friends. I took my best friend aside and told her about it. It’s ok, I found out the next day she called him that night and started flirting with him.

I should have started writing this blog years ago…

“It’s like a scene out of Can’t Hardly Wait”

17 Aug

So like any dramatic 18 year-old college student that knows everything about life I went home for a weekend after I broke up with Luke. Not to lick my wounds or to take a break from dating, but to tell the love of my young life that it was him I wanted to be with. Yup, good choice Liz.

Let me give you a little back-story on this one. My best friend Elsie has an older brother, Aiden. Now I had a crush on Aiden all through high school, and was positive the summer after my senior year of high school he would realize I was the one. Write me a CD full of love songs, because he was a musician you see, and then we would walk off into the sunset like the true emo kids we were.  This did not happen.
Any-who I was home for a weekend and the whole time I’m trying to figure out when I’m going to confess my undying love to Aiden. Obviously my tortured soul can’t tell Elsie this because god-forbid I confide in my best friend that I love her older brother.

I didn’t have the opportunity all weekend. So, on my drive out of town I decide to stop by the grocery store where he works at the deli counter. I stroll into our small town grocery store and pace the aisle’s for a solid 20 minutes while on the phone with a friend from college. She’s telling me to just do it, I need to tell him how I feel and of course he’ll say what I need him to say. I hang up the phone and strut down the aisle toward the deli counter. I yell over the counter “Hey meat boy!” Aiden turns and smiles says hi. I immediately launch into my diatribe, which went something like this.

“So I have to tell you something, to just get it off my chest.  For the past three years I’ve liked you, the whole time I was with Luke I still liked you. I just had to tell you incase you felt the same way. I can’t go on hiding it.” Now I’m pretty sure I reiterated those same statements roughly five more times, sufficiently beating a dead horse while turning red in the face and saying all of that in one long run on sentence a la Kerouac.

Aiden stares back at me blinking a couple times in a state of shock. He politely lets me down, as I have visions similar to Looney Tunes – when Wil E. Coyote gets smashed in the head by a safe. He mentions that he has just started dating this girl and doesn’t want to mess it up. But can’t believe I had the balls to come in and say that to him “It’s like something out of Can’t Hardly Wait” he says shaking his head and smiling.
I leave dejected and proceed to play every chick rock CD I have in my possession for my 8 hour ride back to school. That doesn’t stop me though, I continue to have feelings for him on and off for the next two years. He turned into my go to guy for any issues I had in other relationships. Justification: “This just isn’t working with X because I’m destined to be with Aiden.” Yes I may have watched one, or maybe six seasons too many, of Dawson’s Creek. We all have our weakness. Mine are; bad haircuts, ‘90’s alt rock and love triangles. Dawson’s Creek wraps all of those up in one nice package.

To date, nothing has happened with Aiden aka Dawson. He is the great friend who motivated me to start writing these stories down several years ago.