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"I'm going on 50 dates and I'm taking you with me"

Flirt-a-go-go: A Journal of My Adventures



July 28, 2004
A friend of mine was telling me that her ex-boyfriend's favorite sexual position is the plough. It looks like this, but obviously with another person:

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"Is it any wonder he still calls me three years after the breakup? There aren't many women out there as dumb as I am."

"No, no, you're fun and adventurous!" I say, thinking there's no way I'd let someone do that with me.

For the past month a man I've been dating, has been putting me into a different kind of unnatural position. The position of not getting my own way, the position of not having the upper hand, the position of caring more than he does. While he views me utterly casually, I view him as a combination of Brad Pitt and Jimmy Stewart. Although objectively he is clearly neither, chemicals have flooded my brain and I cannot see or think clearly.

Apparently a secondary effect of these chemicals is that they attract a whole lot of other men. I was at a big party at a bar near my house. He was there too. I had just made a date with the fifth guy who had asked me out that night when I thought I would go over and say hello. He was surrounded by a group of women. When I say I'm crazy about him, unfortunately I mean it literally.

"Do you want me to get a chair so you can sit down?" he asked.
"No. I won't bother you while you're holding court," I said and stormed off.

It's like science fiction. An entity has taken over my body. The words come out of my mouth, but I don't recognize them as anything I would say. Ever.

We've had three dates, two make-out sessions and several fights. The problem, ironically given my career path, is that I want us to date exclusively and he doesn't. I couldn't be more uncomfortable if my neck was at a 90 degree angle to my mattress.

He caught up with me at the bar.

"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine. You seem like you're pissed because I'm socializing. At a party."

I was armed with mixed metaphors and questionable statistics.

"Well you're over there with a fucking harem. Like a king. Don't you know that the ratio in Seattle is supposed to favor women not men? Am I supposed to be some sort of harem jester?"

"Sorry, but this is really flattering. I'm a computer science major. We don't have women react to us like this."

We argued about our three-date-old relationship for almost an hour. I learned that he was still upset because I didn't say more than five words to him at dinner on our second date. I learned that doesn't think we don't have a future. I learned that if you talk about wanting to kiss the hidden tattoos of the beautiful Asian woman tending bar you can get a guy to forget all about harems and walk you home.

There aren't many women out there are as dumb as I am.



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