The Bad Date Chronicles – 15 Second Man Edition

Gentleman...start your...oh..

Yes, the title means exactly what you think it does.  15 Second Man was the catalyst for this post.  Here is the rest of the sad, sad story.

15 Second Man was my 2nd (but sadly, not last) foray into the wilds of Craigslist.  There  was no picture attached but the ad was so charming I was willing to take a chance.  It was a send-up of the old Dr. Seuss One Fish, Two Fish book and consisted of about 20 really funny, thought-provoking questions.  Of course, possessed of a strong wit and a love of answering questions about myself (I have answered absolutely every question on OKCupid) I had to respond.  He seemed to really dig my answers and we exchanged numbers after some really entertaining emails.

Don't tell me you wouldn't hit that

Due to scheduling conflicts, we weren’t able to get that first date on the calendar for almost two weeks.  In the meantime, we had frequent communication, texting every day and talking on the phone almost every other day.  We sent photos of each other back and forth and to my surprise, he was attractive!  Definitely on the larger side but in a very cute, Man vs. Food kind of way.  Things got hot and heavy pretty fast.  The back-and-forth quickly devolved into full-on sexting and even phone sex, all before we had even met!  One day, we clocked in at almost 600 text messages sent back and forth.  Needless to say my productivity level at work plummeted. We were both almost drunk on anticipation of meeting each other, finally, in person.  Would the chemistry be there?

The night of the date finally arrived, and to this day, I can’t recall every being this nervous about a first date.  It felt like so much was riding on it, that I would be beyond embarrassed if this person, whom I’d already been pretty intimate with, would turn out to have no interest in me or vice versa once we actually shared the same space.  I was beyond relieved when I first caught a glimpse of him at the door of the restaurant.  He was adorable. And he seemed to think exactly the same of  me.  The butterflies and nerves quickly departed as we settled in at the table for some drinks and dinner, to be followed by a trip to the bowling alley.  The date couldn’t have been more perfect.  We were clearly digging each other, and having a great time.  When, a few hours later, he pulled me in for a kiss in the elevator of his building, I though I had died and gone to wherever it is that all good sluts go to when they die.

Despite the undeniable sexual chemistry, we actually “negotiated” what was allowed and not allowed once we got down to business.  We both agreed that we didn’t want to rush into sex, that we wanted to give it time for something to really develop before we took that step.  It was perfect!  All too perfect!  And then…I understood why he took the nuclear option off the table.

Cut to his bedroom.  We’re kissing.  Passionately.  Like in the movies.  And I don’t mean the kind you can get from Netflix.  Being the surgeon that he was, he was very, very, VERY good with his hands.  Being the feminist I am, I decided that he deserved some reciprocity.  The equipment was impressive.  Far from the smallest but not too far off from the biggest I’ve encountered and of a perfect girth.  I was literally chomping at the bit to get to work on this thing.

I’m no surgeon, but I’m pretty good with my hands as well.  I didn’t realize I was THAT good.  A mere 30 seconds after first contact, Old Faithful erupted unexpectedly and way ahead of schedule.  I was stunned – this had actually NEVER happened to me before, although I told him otherwise.  My years of high school theater served me exceedingly well that night.  I was kind and reassuring and all of those things you need to be in order to preserve the fragile male ego after is has suffered such a…blow.  Took my time saying goodbye and departed for the night with a very nice goodbye kiss.

The next morning, I was greeted by my usual text in addition to a few apologizing for the other night.  After sleeping on it, I decided I wasn’t really all that bothered by it.  He was so exceedingly skilled in other ways that I could actually see myself going without penis for a while.  Besides, this was the perfect excuse to fill out my Good Vibrations punch card.

We quickly set up another date for two days later.  I met him at his friends’ place where he had spent the night.  They were a lovely couple, and we had a great time hanging out on the roof of their building for a while on an uncommonly sunny day before heading out for lunch.  Imagine my surprise when we walked up to MY super secret dim-sum place, the place I had been bragging to him about ever since we discovered our mutual love of Chinese dumplings. Turns out we had been talking about the same exact place all along without even realizing it.   The other night seemed to be all but forgotten, and I was actually beginning to think this was going somewhere!  Until date three that is.

After a delicious home-made cocktail (that he invented just for me) and a rather snuggly trip to the movies and his hot tub, we once again found ourselves in the bedroom.  Again, he was  awesome with his hands and things were progressing very, very nicely.  I decided that one of my world-famous blow jobs was in order, and he seemed inclined to agree.  I’m not even sure it made it all the way in before I got the warning that the inevitable was about to occur.  Surprised and caught off-guard (after all, I thought I had at least 15 more seconds judging from our last encounter) I stopped and narrowly missed getting shot right in the eye.  (Take it from me, that stings.  Real bad.  I wouldn’t recommend it.)

Right after this happened, he started talking about how “late” it was (it was only 11:00.  We had stayed out far later on our other date) and how he had a big surgery in the morning.  His tone became clipped, and he just seemed like he couldn’t get me out of there fast enough.  No offer of a drink, no walking me to the car, no mention of getting together again.  By noon the next day, when no text message from him appeared on my phone, I knew it was all over.

A week later, I sent him a short text to see what was going on, to which he responded only “Shitty Week.”  That’s the last I heard from him.  I was truly disappointed.  Despite his quick trigger, he was a really fun guy and we had what I thought was a genuine connection starting.  I did email him to see if there was anything I did wrong, to see if he would be willing to explain why he stopped seeing me so abruptly, but no answer came.  Just his old Dr. Seuss ad back up on Craiglist.

5 responses to “The Bad Date Chronicles – 15 Second Man Edition

  • Miss Melisa Mae

    Clearly, he wasn’t used to “lasting” three dates 😉

  • regina

    Girl, i so wouldn’t hit that.. you are to much! 😉

  • ChristyHerself

    Okay, I have to tell you – the last pity party post on my blog is so close to this; however, you did better than I did as you got a couple of more dates. 🙂 From the great phone calls, the texting, sexting, phone sex…all of it. There is a slight difference in what happened during the sex, but for him it was frustrating. A male friend told me there was nothing I did wrong and that it sounds like there was an attraction to me but once something happened that in my date’s eye made him seem less “manly” to me, that my date was done. “There was and is nothing that can be done to fix it,” were my friend’s exact words. Which is really silly & heartbreaking for both parties involved when they genuinely like each other.

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