Is it an age thing? A regional thing? A race and culture thing?
Has the pandemic erased all social skills, if they were even there to begin with?
I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m tired of it.
My dating life happens entirely as a result of dating apps. It sucks. I hate it. The last time I met someone in real life that I felt a spark of something with, he was already involved with a (much too young) woman who was clearly using him to confirm she preferred to date women. I had a friend do some recon and dude was not feeling me beyond the jolt we shared that first night, and I haven’t felt anything similar since. That was about 3-4 years ago. This zing wasn’t a One True Love kind of sizzle. He wasn’t a soul mate. I’m not pining for him (plus the way he was about his girlfriend was a little scuzzy, to be honest), but I miss making eye contact with someone new and thinking “oh you could be fun,” and knowing they’re thinking the same thing.
So… the apps.
I match with a guy. We talk for a few days to a week. We go out for dinner or drinks. It’s all a formality. We already know we’re gonna bone. Going out in public is a way for me to make sure at least one public camera catches his face in case he’s a serial killer.
If I disappear: Check my cell phone tower pings. Hack into my Swarm app-- yes, I still use that. I always put the name of my date and our meet-up spot in my calendar, mostly so I don’t double-book but also in case Mother Nature decides to skip a month, I can open my calendar and see that X is the culprit.
If we go out and then to my place (always my place first because I know where all my knives are), I don’t expect a house gift, especially if he pays for everything at our primary location. HOWEVER, sometimes when I’m ovulating, I skip the formalities and tell dude to come directly over. I date guys anywhere from ages 28-55 at this point in my life, and 75% of them show up to my apartment for the first time with nothing but themselves. All he has to do is ask “Anything I can bring?” Even if you’re a broke graduate student, thinking you’re about to rock this cougar’s world, the least you could ask is “do you have a preference on condoms?” Actually, young pup, I do. Thanks for asking!
Hook-ups are casual with low expectations, but we’re all still human beings, and as anyone who has sex with men knows, sometimes their dicks don’t work or they come quick or it’s just bad. Then they leave, and what do you have to show for it? Wasted cooch. At least, if he brings over a bottle, you can have a drink after you’ve kicked him out and maybe that’s what will put you to sleep since he couldn’t.
Where I’m from, you don’t go over someone’s house empty-handed, unless explicitly told not to bring anything. It’s considered a token of appreciation: thank you for opening your home to us. You cleaned/ cooked/ gave us space to gather when you’d rather be naked and alone. Here are some snacks, a bouquet of flowers, a nugget of weed…
I think that’s a large part of what bothers me when guys don’t even think to ask if they should bring something. They don’t recognize what it means for me to risk the safety of my home. They take it for granted that they’re being invited over and that what they have (their sex) is worth any fear or discomfort I may have.
Also… where is my offering? You don’t go to the temple of a goddess without a gift. Do you want your prayers for WAP answered? Bring some fruit, supplicant.
I’ve focused on men who show up empty-handed, but here are a few other ways to be a good guest and act like you’ve been raised with some sense:
Wash your hands immediately upon arrival. I would suggest this before the pandemic. Don’t touch me with your subway hands.
Don’t come into my kitchen unless I ask you. This is probably just a me thing, but it feels overly familiar. I also don’t want you to think you’re going to get any food. I do not feed hook-ups, unless they’ve been around for a while and have earned food. That’s your gold star from me. Were you a good boy? Here’s a granola bar.
Don’t get in my bed while still wearing your outside clothes. I will help you take them off before we fall into a heap on my bed. You may think I’m rushing things, but I don’t want your nasty jeans rubbing on my clean sheets.
Dispose of your trash yourself, especially any post-nut trash like kleenexes and condoms. There is no maid service here. You don’t have to do it immediately after you bust, but definitely before you leave.
Don’t smoke up all my weed. If you bring weed to share and roll it up but we don’t smoke all of it, don’t try to take it with you.
Don’t try to sit on my couch naked. I don’t even do that.
Don’t take pictures of my art without asking me. I have lots of silly and naughty prints and embroidery in my place, and too many dudes have left my apartment and texted me “love that art in your bathroom. I had to take a picture of it haha.” Creeps.
Never expect you’re going to spend the night and never expect day-time hook-ups as our first interaction. It’s just like the food thing— you have to prove yourself to be worthy of this daytime body.
I often push back against men’s entitlement. So many of them think all they have to do is show up, and they can have the world. Earn it.
Look. We’re both trying to answer the call of our bodies, and maybe we don’t necessarily have to be headed down the aisle to do that, but when you come into my space, you should respect it. You should honor the significance of the risk I’m taking because even the slightest recognition of that goes a long way.
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Feel free to share this post with any hot thing who keeps showing up with no bubble gum. Maybe it’ll teach them some manners.