I Went On A Date With A Male Version Of Myself

It took me a while to realize why it felt weird.

I used to tell myself that I didn’t need to get married again or have sex with loads of guys. I just want to get dressed up pretty and go out on a fancy date.

Might need to reconsider that wishlist.

I’ve barely dated and I’m already tired. You have to give a shit about what a stranger is telling you. I heavily dislike other humans and being a Covid social recluse, it’s a hardcore flex for me to see someone else and feign interest in their stories.

Last night, I was genuinely excited about this date. Rob and I texted for over a week and he was on the ball with every sarcastic, asshole wisecrack I made. Color me impressed. We met for drinks and dinner last night.

I wore a new dress and shoes that sadly sat idle in my closet courtesy of social distancing. Rob was tall, so I could wear my new 4" heeled stilettos, which I paired with a grey wrap dress. Forgot a safety pin to make sure I didn’t accidentally flash anyone but it looked sexy enough being low cut and slightly loose.

It’s the first time I’ve had a dinner date indoors, I looked pretty good and I was excited.

My first impression: he’s big. Like linebacker big. And loud. I didn’t expect such a deep Barry White level of voice.

It was martini night at the restaurant. I never drink martinis. I had three. I also rarely drink (again, courtesy of a pandemic), so my new rule is a max of 2 drinks on a date. My body can’t recover like before. Plus, I need to stick with drinking one less glass than any guy I’m with.

Rob owns a pub, which gave plenty of fodder for conversation since my job is Pretend-to-Work-a-Desk-Job-From-Home-While-Juggling-Children-and-a-Home. He was shocked that it was my first time eating indoors anywhere since last March (patios excluded).

Talking about our separations, I mentioned that one goal was to live a life of authenticity. Rob had told his ex the same thing. Every time a subject changed, I’d say something and then realize, I probably overshared. But I told him, “I have nothing to hide and so I don’t care if you ask me anything”. The story of using a fetish site came to light, I was positive he’d cringe. Nope; he ate it up and begged for stories.

Initially, I didn’t realize I was on a date with the male version of me. This guy was a man’s man. Loud voice, tall, massive hands, business owner; on the outside, he’s the complete opposite of me. But he was equally sassy and had comebacks for everything.

Rob was shocked that I could school him on Mandalorian, Star Wars, and all things Marvel (guys love chicks who can talk nerdy to them and I’ve got the receipts to back up my street cred). We discussed that despite Hitler being a dick, he had great taste in military fashion apparel. He agreed sweet potato fries are garbage. I’ve never met anyone who thinks regular fries are better.

The tip-off was that he kept correcting my “to my defense” sentences with “in my defense”. Totally obnoxious. Totally something I would do as well.

Meeting at 6 pm, we stayed until after close. Rob wasn’t subtle in checking out my chest (the fabric was thin, low cut, and my poking nipples were on full display). I knew this dude was going to make out with me after our date. At this point, I hadn’t clued in that he was the male version of me.

We meander the parking lot and Rob kept babbling. It was late, my head was spinning, and my patience was wearing out. I feigned being cold and leaned against him, which was his cue to dive in for the kiss.

I’m going to write a book telling guys how to kiss. Not that I’m an expert, but I know what not to do. Do not ram your tongue down and only do that move. It reminded me of my first boyfriend. I tried to control the pace but getting a partner to retract their tongue isn’t my area of expertise. Eventually, I gave up and just went along with it for the rest of the night.

Somehow we ended up in the backseat of Rob’s SUV. It was cramped and he was too tall. I didn’t intend to do more than kissing. Weakly telling him that conventional wisdom says that guys wouldn’t like a girl if they did too much on the first date, he brushed it off as any horny guy would.

Logic told me all of this was acceptable because I was done being surprised with what was between a guy’s legs. Also, as he discovered when he pushed my thong aside, I was dripping like a faucet. “In my defense”, I’ve barely had any sex since my relationship with Jon ended last year. Homegirl’s got needs.

After a super quick, in-the-moment STD chat, I straddled him. My hands blindly grabbed for the headrest to use as leverage, and my brain flashed back to all the times I had sex with Jon in my car. I’d use the metal prongs that attach to my headrest as my hand grips. My hands were looking for the same things in his car. I hate that every time I’ve had sex since last year, I still flash to thoughts of Jon. His ghost haunts me everywhere. Kind of a female boner killer, but I’m forcing myself to persevere.

I’m grasping that as guys get older, it takes them longer to finish. I don’t know if I’ll get used to that. You reach a point where you don’t know if the guy will ever finish, and if he isn’t going to (because of alcohol or other reason) then effing tell me so that I’m not dying like I’m in a triathlon. I’ve learned with my husband to never ask a guy if he thinks he’s going to be able to finish or not. It’s a roll of the dice.

Performing Olympic feats, I finish him off with my mouth. My TMJ jaw will curse me later. I try to not think how the only cum I’ve tasted the past five years was Jon’s.

Driving home, it dawns on me: this guy is me. I’m inappropriate, sarcastic, moderately funny, and oftentimes obnoxious. I’m the worst. Do I want to date someone who is like me? Shouldn’t I date someone more zen, peaceful, and an all-around good person to offset my shitty personality?

That’s the thing with dating after marriage. You’re learning who you are outside of the marriage and that includes determining who makes a good match. I’m vowing to follow the advice that I shouldn’t form my judgment on only one date.

Will I see Rob again? Sure, he’s fun. Is he long-term? I’m on the fence. Kissing wasn’t pleasant. I can’t picture him integrating into my life; my friends are the closest thing I have to family here so it’s important to me that I’m with someone who meshes well. But that’s still far down the road. And I’m learning how to juggle dating multiple guys while watching children, working, and being in a pandemic (I broke my own rules with my risky, non-Covid behaviors).

Reminding myself that I’m not in a rush, I’ve decided to take today to focus on my hangover and badly-bruised body caused by a cramped backseat.