Today’s post is in ode to Fifty Shades of Grey, which comes out this week. I’m probably not going to go see it, even though I’ll admit to having read all the books. (I will not admit to having enjoyed them, but I really just read them for the “shock” value and to keep up with the “cool kids.”)
Let’s go waaaay back to this summer when I was dating men like it was going out of style. In fact, this guy was one of the first guys that I started talking to. I called him Captain Planet because he’s an environmental technician. Saving the world one oil spill at a time!
It wasn’t until we’d been talking for a couple weeks that things got weird. The sex topic came up, as it always does. I mean, I wasn’t meeting guys on tinder, but it’s basically just the next step up from there. I don’t know what it is about me, but it seems that I tend to attract freaks. We’re talking “things I didn’t even know where fetishes” freaks. I know this because there’s a question you can answer to get matched with someone:
In a relationship, do you like your partner to be more of a freak than you?
The answer I chose was “I am a virgin.” The vast majority of my matches chose “Not possible.” Excuse me? What? Not possible?!?!?!?! That should have been the first sign that I should run. Did I? Well, if I had, I wouldn’t be writing this post right now.
I don’t really remember how it started, but we were chatting when I jokingly called him a “freak.” Ladies and gentlemen, I beg you to be careful of what you joke about, because you really don’t know what might have a kernel of truth to it. And that is the lesson I learned when moments later he casually revealed to me that he likes to be strangled during sex.
After getting over the initial shock, I’ve got to admit that I was kind of curious. I mean, basically we’re polar opposites. I am about as vanilla as you can get and he’s all Boom Chocolatta with whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles and a cherry. So after a couple minutes of sitting in shock and letting that sink in, I decided to follow up my “Ummmmm…..” text with a “So, do you have a sex dungeon?”
Alas, he did not, which made him significantly less interesting. I mean, come on, anyone can be strangled during sex; there are more than enough Law and Order episodes out there to prove it. Not just anyone has a sex dungeon, though. But even without one, he was still a Boom Chocolatta sundae minus the rainbow sprinkles. After all, he’d BEEN to a sex dungeon, and more than once at that.
Being the responsible dater that I am, I thought I should prepare for our date by rereading 50 Shades. So I picked it up again under the guise of “research.” (It really is horribly written…) After repeatedly asking him questions based off what I had read in the book, I learned that basically nothing that E.L. James wrote was accurate in any way whatsoever. So much for my research.
Anyway, I went on a date with Captain Planet (yeah… I’m cool, 90’s kids. Be jealous). He was totally normal during our round of mini golf (I was my normal totally awkward self). He was even a gentleman and attempted to let me win, but I’m actually THAT bad at mini golf that it’s basically impossible to lose to me. Dinner was pretty normal too… until he started telling me about his “toys.” I’m not sure that I have ever blushed so much in my whole life. But really, what’s the proper reaction when someone starts telling you what flogs are?
It was pretty obvious to both of us that we weren’t at all compatible together as a couple, but I think we both enjoyed talking and learning from each other. It’s always interesting to see lifestyles so vastly different from your own. So after the date, we amicably parted and went our separate ways: him to an adult toy store, and me to buy some rainbow sprinkles.