I promised myself when I started dating again I would always be honest about my intentions. Deception is no fun for anyone, barring psychopathic types. The policy seemed easy enough at first. Then I realized that's only because people rarely ask difficult questions early on. It is officially past that point with C.
It's been almost a month since I first hooked up with C, and though I hadn't seen her in a week prior to last Friday, we talk fairly regularly. That night, she came into the city from her apartment in Westchester. She texted me from the train to tell me she was excited to see me. We went to an improv show at the UCB Theater then had sushi at the Japanese restaurant in the Maritime Hotel. We smiled a lot at one another and shared small talk about family and work. It became more and more obvious as the night went on that our connection is serviceable. It's just ... fine.
Midway through the meal, I realized I probably had enough sake and Sapporo that I should have some backup. I excused myself, went to the bathroom, and discreetly took the last Mexican Cialis my friend had given me. When I came back, C insisted on picking up the check. We then headed back to my apartment.
C is getting more comfortable in bed. It still isn't something I'd use the word "hot" to describe. C is laid back, polite -- almost submissive. The sex reflects her demeanor. It is generally wholesome.
After I finished on Friday night, she held me close and told me she missed me. I told her I missed her as well. We both took turns cleaning up and returned to bed. She asked if I could leave the light on so she could read Inc. magazine.
The next morning, we had sex again. It was equally OK. I made eggs and bacon. We walked around Gramercy discussing the architecture and she showed me where she lived after college. She asked me a few times about why I love New York so much. I explained it in roundabout ways. My answer to that question always ends up essentially being the same,"Because it's more interesting than anywhere else."
Right before C left my apartment to catch the Metro North on Saturday, she asked me if I was seeing anyone else. Besides the premature conversation with Crazy D, it was my first opportunity to exercise the honesty policy. I told her about my dates with B that hadn't gone anywhere sexual. I told her I would probably not be seeing B again. She saw my answer as a sidestep.
"So besides her, are you dating?" C asked again. I told her, yes, I have been going on dates. She told me she wasn't -- that she was a one-guy woman. I told her the best I could do is be honest with her. I am not ready to commit to anyone.
C couldn't hide her disappointment. There was a piece of joy that suddenly disappeared. It was there inside her. I could see it when we held hands at the UCB show and we'd look over at one another. I could see it when our eyes met across the table at the Japanese restaurant. I could feel it as she held me close after sex. Telling her I wasn't ready for commitment, that flicker of joy immediately flagged.
We agreed to see each other the following Sunday. I hope things won't change, but something has fundamentally changed. It will inevitably continue to nag at her unless I commit.
Later that day, I headed to my friend Craig's apartment. He and I had purchased tickets to see the singer and blues guitarist Gary Clark, Jr. We got stoned at his apartment then made our way to the show. On the way, we stopped at a Bodega. Craig bought a pack of cigarettes. He pointed out that the shop had a considerable selection of Bodega Boner Juice.
I purchased an iced tea, a Power X, and a Trio Power Zen. The latter two items promised "increased sexual energy." Trio Power Zen said it would give its user "long lasting sex time" and that it stayed in your system for five days. That's right, five days.
Craig and I queued outside the show for about 20 minutes before they let us in. Behind us in line were a group of three girls. I made eye contact with one and she smiled back. She was petite and pretty with dark skin and hair. Soon Craig and I were inside, drinking whiskey as one does at a blues show, and mingling with the crowd in front of the stage.
Gary Clark, Jr. came on not long after and we were soon nodding and swaying to the music. Two songs in, I realized the petite dark-haired girl was standing next to us with her group. We made eye contact again. Two songs later, she and I had moved to the bar in the back of the venue.
We traded shots over getting-to-know-you conversation. She was a child therapist who recently got her masters from NYU. She possessed a sarcastic, self-effacing sense of humor that made me laugh more than a few times. It seemed to be clicking as we headed back into the crowd for the last few songs of the set and the encore.
The show ended and we bid adieu to Craig, who was making friends with one of the women from the petite girl's group. I then led her to a nearby bar to continue our conversation. Halfway into our first drink, we locked eyes during a pause in the conversation and kissed. I pulled back and told her I didn't really need to finish my drink -- that we should go back to my place. She smiled and agreed.
When we got back to my apartment, I went into the bathroom and popped the Power X. I worried that the whiskey and weed might hamper my ability to be "rock powerful" -- an erectile quality this Bodega Boner Juice wants you to believe it can provide. I hoped I could delay the proceedings for 15-20 minutes so the capsule could get into my bloodstream.
It worked. Kind of. We kissed and undressed slowly. I went down on her for as long as I could. She eventually pulled me up forcefully and said she wanted me inside her. Either naturally or through some Power X assistance, I was able to maintain enough to put on the condom and fuck.
The next morning we woke up groggy. We went to the diner near my apartment. There we pieced together the evening. We were both pretty wasted. That was clear. We recalled the sex as sloppy and fun, and neither of us seemed to be hung up with any kind of regrets. We decided to have a proper date the following Tuesday night. And like that, E is in the picture.
However, I'm not sure how long that's going to last.
I'm writing this on Wednesday morning. Last night, I met E in her Upper East Side neighborhood. We had dinner, drinks and a great conversation. We picked up cookies from the new, trendy bakery and brought them back to her apartment. We nibbled at them while talking over "Wall-E." I love "Wall-E" and the cookie was good, though not great. The issue came when we started to make out on her couch. Something was off about her smell.
It's hard to put into words. The smell wasn't objectionable body odor from lack of hygiene. It wasn't bad breath from acid reflux or not flossing. It wasn't her perfume or her clothing detergent or anything like that. Was it phermones? I don't know, but I don't like it. I tried to not think about it as we had sex.
I left around midnight. We agreed to see each other again. All I can think about is that smell. It's off.
This morning I woke up with a raging erection. I was worried it might be from the Trio Zen Power I popped before heading up to the date with E. I was sweating. It dawned on me that I have no idea what exactly is in these things.
On the walk to work, still engorged, I envisioned the embarrassment of having to go to the emergency room with a case of priapism -- of having to explain that I consumed something called "Trio Zen Power" simply because the packaging told me I could "grow length" and "gain intense orgasms."
I sat down at my desk with a cup of coffee and checked my email. A few minutes later, the blood began draining from my dick. Bodega Boner Juice is no joke.
Single Guy is a newly unattached 30-something living in New York City. These are his real journal entries, which he'll be sharing here on a weekly basis.