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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….


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 – yes, I was at the time a wee babe of 22 and on 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 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)