It’s Not Me, It’s You

When Dominic picked me up, he asked what I wanted to do for dinner. I used to say “you!”

Instead I directed him to my favorite greasy Chinese take-out place. We watched a movie and drank cheap red wine. He kept scooting closer to me on the couch. I silently cursed my stomach for not delivering the silent-but-deadly flatulence it normally produced after a double helping of deep-fried orange chicken because then maybe he wouldn’t have kept trying to sit closer to me on the couch.

Dominic’s hand found its way to my knee. Better my knee than my hand, like he attempted earlier. He kept trying to hold my hand, to interlace our fingers in that affectionate way that real couples have with each other. It might have helped if his hands didn’t look as thin and delicate as a girl’s.

His fingers traced a path up and down my calve. He found one of the many patches of hair I had missed during my hasty shave in the shower earlier. He chuckled at the stubble. I offered him a half-smile, but really, I resented him for keeping me from watching Sex and the City in my pajamas with the bottle of wine to myself.

Think of the sex think of the sex think of the sex, I told myself. It was the only reason I hadn’t canceled our weekly meet-up that night, why I had bothered shaving at all. History shows that if I don’t get laid regularly I lose the ability to do simple arithmetic.

Dominic laughed at what a lightweight he was and reached for more wine. I smiled weakly at him. Even though I drank less than I usually do, it was still enough to nearly forget him. An easy task when the guy has no stories, no opinions, no anything to make him remotely remarkable. He doesn’t even have hobbies! How can a person not have hobbies? What does he do with his free time, stare at the wall? His BLANK wall?

I didn’t realize the extents of how uninteresting Dominic was until he couldn’t provide a single answer to any of my questions in the Desert Island game: what five movies would you bring? five books? five songs?! In anticipation of this, I had given him a six-hour head start to think about his answers via email earlier that day.

He has a big dick he has a big dick he has a big dick he has a big dick

I wanted to like Dominic, really I did. It would have made everything so easy. What a pair, the power couple!–both of us with good jobs and newly purchased real estate; a couple years of courtship and riding that big cock, marriage, travel, maybe babies. It would have been nice. Nice in that pleasant and wholly ordinary meh kind of way.

He would have been just like Ex-BF, except with glasses and a different accent. No need to revisit the life I almost had and never wanted. I walked away for a reason. I needed to save my personality before it faded away entirely.

Toward the end of the movie, I started dozing off. Dominic asked me if I was ready for bed. Normally, i.e. if I was horny, I would shake it off and nuzzle up to his neck, my hand pulling up his shirt. But this time, I thought fuck it. I want to go to bed. To sleep.

In bed, just as I was about to drift off into fitful sleep, Dominic turned to me.

“What is it you don’t like about me enough to make me yourrr boyfrriend?” he asked.

Was I already dreaming? Or did Dominic just ask me the biggest dumbfuck question of my dating existence?

I didn’t move, a pillow secured over my head. “I’m trying to sleep,” I mumbled.

“No, rrreally,” he said. “I want to know what you don’t like about me.” I felt him reposition himself on the bed. Presumably to make it easier to talk. Fuck.

“Are you serious? I WAS ALMOST ASLEEP,” I told Dominic.

“No, I want to know, rrreally. Why can’t you be serious with me?” he asked. He leaned in closer and grinned. “Come on, I’m so nice! And I think you arrre ah-mazing.”

“You sound like a fucking girl. Leave me alone,” I mumbled louder.

“Come on. Answerrr me, please!”

“YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A GIRL. STOP IT,” I nearly shouted at him. Now I was sitting up in bed, outraged that he was trying to have this talk–again–AND that I had nearly been asleep.

“Please? Tell me. I want to know.” He smiled extra big.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to give you a list of reasons I don’t want you as a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“YOU ARE SO WEIRD OH MY GOD.” I fell back in bed and tried to suffocate myself with a pillow.

“I know. I’m sorrry. I am tipsy. Now tell me.” He scooted closer to me on the bed, perhaps to hear me better from where I was under the pillow.

“I’m not doing that! I’m not telling you all the reasons I don’t like you! That’s so fucked up!” I said from underneath my pillow.

“Viiiix, you tell me now! Please! I can take it. Go ahead.” He lifted the pillow off my face.

“FINE. Um…. You wear too much cologne.”

“No, that is not a rrreal rrreason!”

Fuck. I was trying to get out of this nicely. So much for that. I put the pillow back over my head.

“Do I rrreally wearrr too much cologne?”

“Yes, WAY too much. How many times do you spritz? You should only do one, maybe two.”

“Okay, what else?”

“You’re not funny. Like, AT ALL. That’s a big deal for me.”

My friends were mortified when I told them that Dominic wasn’t funny. Duchess said the multiple orgasms didn’t make up for it, especially since it took me three times to explain to him the meaning behind “that’s what she said.” Eep. What if I told Handsome Twosome, one of the most hilarious people I know? I could imagine him finding Dominic buried between my legs, then dragging him away by his feet while screaming YOU’RE NOT WORTHY! HER PUBIC HAIR IS FUNNIER THAN YOU ARE, MAN!

“Hmm… I can’t do anything about that. I’m not funny. I was born that way,” said Dominic.

Hmph. I wasn’t born funny either, but I actively tried to be funny and after fifteen years it started kicking in. But no need to encourage the guy.

“What else?” he asked.

I looked at him sideways from under the pillow. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE MAKING ME TALK ABOUT THIS. YOU ARE BEING SUCH A GIRL.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Now tell me!”

I studied him. I hated that he was making me do this, but if the bastard asked for it, I would be honest.

“You’re boring. Like, REALLY boring.”

He seemed surprised. Oh. I guess boring people are so boring that they can’t see how boring they are? Well then they should stick together! Join a dating website like www.boringmatch.com and leave entertaining people like me alone. GOD.

“Borring? Yes… I see.” His face fell. I softened. No more talking in all-caps.

“I mean, you have no opinions, no favorite anything, no stories, no jokes, no hobbies, no ANYTHING. How is that even possible?! How can you be in your mid-twenties and have nothing to say about anything? IT’S NOT NORMAL.” So much for no more talking in all-caps.

“Oh. Yes. I can’t help it. I’m borring I guess.”

“I’m sorry… but you asked, and I wanted to be honest,” I said quietly. I felt horrible. But then again, someone should tell the guy he’s boring. Maybe he’ll be motivated to be more interesting, like speak in a French accent every other day or start using hand puppets named Clive and Junior and have them talk to each other in a high falsetto. Even strange or possibly possessed is better than boring.

There was another reason, something I would never say to anyone as nice as Dominic: it really weirds me out that he weighs twenty pounds less than me even though he’s several inches taller. My shoulders are as broad as his (granted, guys at the gym have told me they envy my shoulders, which just makes me giggle because I think of them wearing one of my sexy little tube tops). His arms are as thin as mine. If anyone tried to mug us in a parking lot, I feel like I would have to protect him. It’s annoying. I don’t want to be the guy all the time.

When I thought the conversation was over, Dominic started speaking again. I groaned. If he’s going to use his mouth so much it should be for getting me off, not for pissing me off.

“When you get tirred of me, do me a favorrr? Will you still be my frriend even if we no longer have “fun” togetherrr? I get so lonely herre since I moved from the Dominican Rrrepublic.” He looked so sad. It hurt to look at him just then.

Memories of the year I lived in New York City reminded me how incredibly lonely I felt. It pains me to remember.

“Yes. Of course,” I told Dominic. I reached over and placed my palm on his chest. Warmth. I would do for him what little I could, even though it falls far short of what he wants.

“Thank you.” He smiled. His eyes looked wet. I rubbed my hand up and down his chest.

After Dominic left the next morning (without sex or breakfast), I realized that neither of us were good for each other. He was nice. So nice. Too nice for a girl like me. I saw it from the beginning. He saw it too, but he thought he could change me. Get me to come around. Hah. It takes a helluva lot more than wishful thinking to change a girl like me.

What was so bad about Dominic that I couldn’t overlook it for the sake of multiple orgasms?

He couldn’t keep me interested. So much of the attraction for someone is personality. Sure, you can sustain a fuck buddy relationship with someone based solely (you think) on how hot he is, but there is more to it.

My favorite fuck buddy from college was actually kind of an asshole–he openly admitted it–but he was hysterical. Way funnier than I was. When we weren’t rolling around in the sheets or falling off his tiny dorm-sized bed, I turned my smartassness up a notch. Over that semester in college, I rose to his level of funny.

It was with him that I realized humor has its place in the bedroom. Since then, many of the people I’ve had sex with have told me afterward “you’re fun in bed.” It is often said in a way that makes me think it’s a first for the other person. How? SEX IS FUN. Not always obviously, because there are different kinds of sex: sexy sex, angry sex, hot sex, easy sex, weird sex, sympathy sex, lonely sex, silly sex, loving sex, closure sex, revenge sex.

I think sex is supposed to be fun. It sure as fuck can be funny, so you might as well embrace the funny.

Tex’s sense of humor was my favorite thing about him. He was so goddamn witty that it was a constant challenge to one-up him in who could make the other laugh harder. Not only did he keep me at the top of my game, he raised the standards substantially. That’s what made it so hard to get over Tex, because no one else had ever challenged me to such a high level.

I like someone who challenges me in both brains and in humor. Wit. That’s what makes someone so undeniably sexy to me; otherwise my interest disappears, as it did with Dominic. I felt no reason to be sexy or interesting around Dominic anymore because my desire to jump his uninteresting bones dissolved.

He was slight in body, quiet, someone who easily faded into the background. A very nice guy, but nice alone won’t make my panties drop. I need someone intriguing who can seduce with words alone.

Dominic was a whisper of a person. I’m sure he would be an excellent match for many, but not for me. I TALK LIKE THIS TOO MUCH.