Part 1: “Can I put my finger in….”
The CULPRIT: Dave, the Firefighter.
The ISSUE: Going from Pg-13 to XXX during “getting to know each other sex talk.”
So I meet a firefighter, Dave, on Tinder. We “fire up” (cheesy pun alert!) the typical “online introduction talk” — “Hey, how are you? Are you a local? What do you do for work/fun?”
For the 90’s AOL kids out there this is the modern version of “A/S/L”…which for the NON-90’s kids is “Age, Sex, Location.” (I really miss the 90’s btw…the magical era where some imagination actually came into play when trying to score a hook up!)
But I digress…So, Dave and I exchange pleasantries through text over the course of several days, building up to an in-person meeting. As usual, I’m finding the conversation to be extremely dull and boring — I mean mind-numbing “How was leg day at the gym? What did you have for breakfast?” type of banter. Ugh.
So I keep with the theme of “mindless questioning” and ask the cliché: What’s your type? Dave responds with: “Girls in the coffee shop.” Uhhhh, what? I’m guessing Dave was going for the whole “Girl next door thing” but tried to put his own little spin on the classic adage. Not to be confused with: “Girls in Target, Girls in Pilates class, Girls in the nail salon. I guess Dave didn’t realize with such ambiguity, the list really is endless.
So I decide to shake things up by slipping in a little sex talk into a not so riveting round of 20 questions.
Okay, So before I get into it, I know everyone is thinking “What did you expect the guy to do, you met on freakin Tinder!” But hear me out here. For all of the innocent Tinder Virgins out there, most of the “I’m only here for a hook up” guys will let you know this at a rapid fire pace. Because, god forbid they lose that precious millisecond of moving onto the next swipe: “Oh hold up, so you’re not DTF? Cool. Thanks. See ya bye,” and Whoosh! They’ve disappeared, forever, back into the cavernous black hole of cyber space.
But Dave actually laid out the whole “I’m here to genuinely meet someone” spiel. So I felt justified in my (cough) “classy” approach to sex talk. And yes there should be a decorum to it in the initial conversation stages of exciting, getting to know each other, thinking we are both “special snowflakes” kind of talk…until reality hits.
So I start things out with the good old “million dollar sex question.” The gold standard: What’s your favorite position? Of course he gets excited that I’m “taking it there.” And now it’s a test to see if he can put the brakes on the testosterone and show he is more man than horny teenage frat boy.
I’m intrigued to see if he can actually treat the sex talk as he should: with Style! Imagination! Cadence! A Crescendo to a climax!…Ok yeeaahhhhh what the fuck am I talking about right? How many men in the world can actually treat sex talk like the plot of an Oscar caliber flick? The guy was dumb as a box of rocks and literally blew it (pun intended) after one question.
And for your reading pleasure….Here’s Firefighter Dave taking the sex talk from residential/school zone to Nascar/Talladega nights…in 2.5 seconds.
My text: What’s your favorite position?
His text: Wow great question! I knew I really liked you (smiley face emoji).
The three dots emerge…
His text: Scissors or Doggy.
Time out – I’m thinking, um, What are scissors for hetero people again? Beats me. So I just pretend like I know to keep the conversation going.
My text: Oh cool. Yes, Scissors and Doggy. Definitely fan favorites over here as well.
His text: Yeah For sure! (Thumbs up emoji) Ok your turn.
So now I take a deep breath and go for it. I’m basically dropping him into the driver’s seat, while the car is already moving fast, hoping he can steer the convo enough so we both don’t crash and burn. Boom!
My text: Reverse Cowgirl. With a Mirror.
His text: Now THAT is hot!!! (Fire emoji)
(The 3 dots emerge again…I’m taking a deep breath…)
His text: I Love that as well.
I’m thinking, hmm ok so far so good, maybe he can actually handle the sex talk. But then…
The 3 dots come up again…Oh no, wait…I have a bad feeling this time…
His text: CAN I STICK MY FINGER IN YOUR _ _ _ WHILE YOU RIDE?!!!
(Btw the fill in the blank rhymes with “class” for all you innocent angels out there.)
O.M.G. Really? What’s your favorite position to…Finger in your ___ while you ride! WHILE YOU RIDE?? That makes it sound so nonchalant too, like “Yeah, no biggie, since you’re already up there doing your thing I might as well just slip it in! You know, for good measure.”
I couldn’t help myself. My inner “Comical Cupid” kicked in and I had to interject some emergency humor to diffuse this now painfully awkward “Fiery Car crash” of a sexual convo.
My text: Oh yeah totally. Cool, so is this how you hit on the “girls in the coffee shop” – Hey you’re pretty, what’s your name? Where are you from? Oh btw, can I put my finger in your ass?” (crying laughing emoji)
His text: Haha. Geez. Wow I feel like you’re judging me. Ok I will stop.
My text: Well then, glad 20 questions led you to the conclusion that I’m a “judge-y person.” (eye roll emoji)
His text: Soo….let’s change the subject. What did you have for dinner tonight?
My text: A big heaping plate of FUCK OFF AND LOSE MY NUMBER. (middle finger emoji).
What he should’ve said/done: After I revealed my fav position, the correct course of action would’ve been for him to ask an open-ended question as a reply: “What about that turns you on?” That would have put me back in the driver’s seat, inspired me to actually use my mind, and would have possibly built up to some stimulating, sexy mental foreplay. Instead, like most men of this generation, he went full on “Pornhub mode” and killed the moment in an epic, sleazy, blaze of glory. So guys, remember open-ended questions are your gateway to keeping the sex talk flowing. Not to say women don’t like a little kinky fun, but save it for a later conversation, a MUCH later conversation. Not 3 texts in. I’m sure the “girls in the coffee shop” (wherever they are…um Starbucks I’m guessing?) would agree.