Pocketful of Peens

Just when I think my luck is changing, I receive the gift of another peen. Wouldn’t I be used to it by now? Ladies and gents, this one is fresh and I’m still scratching my head. A week ago, I was crushing hard on a new guy. Now, he is basically a dickish little ghost because his ass is as good as gone.

I must start out with the positive attributes of this boy. He got my digits from our mutual friend and called me almost immediately after. I appreciated him calling and not starting with that texting crap. He left a very grown-up voice mail. In fact, it almost sounded dad-ish. He seemed eager but not in a desperate way, so I was digging it. We decided to engage in a weekday date and he would pick me up. From the one photo I’d seen of him, he wasn’t necessarily Hottie McBody, but was bookish instead. I adore the bookish ones, so my fingers were crossed he’d be a keeper.


From the initial day of correspondence leading up to our date, he texted me every day. We got tangled up in the wittiest banter. I knew I had this lover boy wrapped around my finger and thought, “wait ‘til he says me in action in my five inch heels.” Eat your heart out bookish boy! I also liked that he rang my doorbell and didn‘t text me from the curb when he arrived. He had reservations scheduled and offered my roommate a firm handshake with strong eye contact. I told him I didn’t know if I should shake his hand or hug him so he grabbed me and offered up a big squeeze. A man with a plan! Plus, he was much more handsome and impressive than the photo where he kind of reminded me of a snake.


Through out dinner, we are laughing and I’m definitely feeling the chemistry. I think to myself, “There are no red flags with this one. Maybe he will be the guy who breaks my streak of 545 days without sex.” Yes it’s been that long, but completely by choice I’ll have you know. Plus he complimented me on my figure, eyes and face. Thank you good sir- I accept.


We concluded our date and he dropped me off and got out of the car to hug me. He told me to text him any time and I inform him I prefer to let the guy initiate post-date correspondence. He whipped out his phone then and there and texted me the word “initiated.” Ten minutes later, he texted me again, thanking me for such a fun night. Yep, this boy is smitten.


A week passes and he’s blowing up my phone every single day. Even when he was out of town on vacation, he was faithfully texting. We plan for a second date and my feelings for him are definitely progressing. If I may be vulnerable for a moment, I have to admit I was sincerely excited about this guy. I described him as the kind of guy I’d been hoping for, but didn’t think really existed. In fact, out of all the guys I’ve dated the past year, he made my heart flutter the most. That was before he decided to be a real piece of work.


Our second date went wonderfully. When he picked me up, I gave him a plate of cookies I made in honor of a friend’s visit to town. I was a little hesitant to put them on a plate I knew I wanted returned, just in case the date went horribly. However, I knew we were both into each other so I assumed there’d be a third date followed by many more.


As the night progressed, he put his hand on the small of my back, was a little more touchy-feely and got me a little bit drunk. Oh! And I accidentally told him I rarely wear underwear. I promise it came up organically in the conversation, I wasn’t being a little cock tease. But between getting me liquored up and my commando comment, I bet he was thinking I was a sure thing.


It’s the end of the date and we arrive in front of my house. He doesn’t budge. I linger for a second just in case he wants to offer up a tiny smooch. Nope. He’s not even going to get out of his car and walk my panty-free ass up to the stoop. I’m a little thrown off, but shake it off, flashing him one more smile and scurry up to my door.


As I brushed my teeth, I anticipated a slumber that most likely involved him starring in a sex dream. And then I heard my phone ding the sweetest little sound…a text message from him! It was the standard, “Thanks for a fun night…blah blah blah. Get some sleep Ms. Earlybird.” I was slightly concerned about the Earlybird comment and realized I was yawning on the way home in the car. Was it possible he was wanting me to invite him in? Surely not since he didn’t even walk me to the door. I brushed it off, as I recalled him saying he wanted to take me out again and he’d text me the next day. At this point, he had never done anything to disappoint me. So naively, I let my guard down and thought his word was oak. More like rotten, beat to shit oak.


The next day passed and no texts. And then came another day with no texts. I was starting to freak out. Was it the underwear comment? Surely not. Wouldn’t that be every guy’s dream? By the third day, I was a wreck, drizzling self-doubt all over myself. I was definitely offended and pretty sad. How could someone be borderline obsessed with you, blow up your phone every day and then suddenly stop? My friend encouraged me to make the first move and send him a text to let him know I was thinking of him. She thought perhaps he thinks I’m not into him since I was yawning on the way home. I gritted my teeth as I typed out the text message, because I feared he would not respond. Luckily, he texted back an hour later and mentioned the cookies I gave him. I thought, “You better return my plate you little gypsy thief!” He kept the convo going that day, but I haven’t heard from him since.


So, I am still very baffled. That’s totally cool if you’re not into me and don’t want to pursue me. But even if he despised my personality, wouldn’t he try to get in my pants first? He invested time and money into pursuing me so wouldn’t he want to yield a strong ROI? Perhaps I was such a drag that he can’t muster up the energy to seal the deal in the sack.  However, I do feel that I’m owed some form of an explanation. And I sure as hell want my plate back. That’s the last time I let a potential lover enjoy my Betty Crocker skills and my dinnerware. Good riddance to you and your cowardly, bookish ass. You don’t have the decency to say it to my face so piss on you and mail me the damn plate.