A Tale of Two Indians


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Good evening, People of the Internet!  Did you miss me?  Have you been waiting for updates with bated breath?  I knew you were.  Forgive my tardiness.  I’ve been a busy girl!Insert Offensive Image of Native American on Horse

Last we left off I had eliminated a few men from my long list of suitors, leaving me with four beaus to choose from.  The first week of The Bachelorette Life consisted of two dinner-and-a-movie dates – one with the Taciturn Indian, and the other with the Native American Nerd.

The Taciturn Indian, who actually lived in India until he was eight years old, was almost crossed off the list due to the fact that he wasn’t the most prolific communicator.  But he’s a nice, attractive guy with a good job, so we met for dinner.  I was left with conflicting feelings.  On the one hand I was a little thrown off by the lulls in the conversation, but on the other hand… pheromones.  From the moment we met I could feel the chemistry.  Clearly I wasn’t the only one, because when we got into the theatre TI made his move.  The couple in the back row got the awkward pleasure of watching their fellow patrons make out.  I was slightly perturbed that he got a little handsy, but he didn’t go too far.  I’m thinking it must have been awhile since he got laid.  I was completely upfront with him about my current dating situation.  He said he wasn’t surprised since I’m “so pretty.”  (Aww!)  At the end of the night we made plans for a second date over the holiday weekend.  I had a feeling he’d be the kind of guy who would only be a good time if we were engaged in an activity, but you never know.  He might get chattier as time went by.

A few days later I met the Native American Nerd for dinner.  He showed up looking about 50 lbs heavier than his photo.  A bee sting perhaps?  (Must have been a big bee.)  I instantly knew there was no chemistry.  We had a great dinner though.  He has a wonderful personality.  We laughed, told stories, geeked out together… it was fun!  Then we headed out to see Mad Max.  I really liked this guy, so I was hoping that the initial shock of his appearance was just throwing me off.  Unfortunately he also failed the Dark Theatre Test.  I brushed up against him in the dark and kept my body quite near, but still felt nothing.  No pheromones this time.  He got a quick hug at the end of the night and an explanation that I just can’t date a man who works 60 to 100 hours every week.  He said for a woman who is “interesting, funny, intelligent, beautiful, and kind” (when did I become so wonderful??) he would change his work schedule.  Insert pangs of guilt here.  Why couldn’t THIS be the guy I’m attracted to?!  I tried to break things off, suggesting we be friends, but he rejected my rejection.  He said if there was even an inkling of a possibility that I could like him more than that, he couldn’t let it go.  I just… I can’t…  man!  Life is so unfair.  I couldn’t bear to crush him, so I said we could give it some time and see.  One week later he told me he was buying a house and switching to a regular Monday through Friday 8am – 5pm position.  I told him I had met someone else.  He wished me the best of luck.  Poor chap.

When the weekend rolled around, my folks took my daughter out camping for the holiday.  This left me with two solid days of Freedom.  FREEDOM.  I met TI in the city at the hotel he has been living in since he moved here.  And damn is that one swanky hotel!  We walked around, saw the city, got drinks, went up an incline to see the skyline from the top of the mountain, took pictures together, and had a generally pleasant day.  Lots of exercise and fresh air.  He spent a lot of time holding my hand and petting my hair as he kissed my forehead.  It was very sweet.  Early in the afternoon we went to his room to chill before heading out somewhere else.  We made out and he started taking off my bra, but I stopped him.  Said I wasn’t ready.  He asked, “Why not?” which threw me for a second, but I just told him it was only our second date.  He accepted that easily and settled for kisses.

Can I just stop for a second here?  Fellas.  Ladies.  When you are kissing another human being, do not put your entire tongue in their mouth.  That is weird, awkward, and slightly gross.  If that person keeps their teeth close together, take the hint!  Do not shove them apart with your tongue and stick it in anyway!  Tongues are made to touch lightly, not reach for the uvula.  Save that shit for the lower half of a woman’s body.  How do you make it to your mid-30s without knowing this??!  Ahem.  Anyway…

After I told him to stop sticking his tongue down my throat, we headed out.  A few hours later we were back at the hotel so I could change into eveningwear.  He had instructed me to bring a dress so we could go out in style after all our sightseeing.  At this point I was having the following conversation with myself:

What is stopping you from having sex right now?

It’s only our second date.

So?  Don’t buy into the slut-shaming, you silly girl!  What will happen if you don’t have sex?

We will get a few drinks and I will go home feeling slightly disappointed.

What will happen if you stop being so uptight and go for it?

I will get drunk, come back to the room, have more sex, stay the night, and spend the day with him tomorrow.

Which one sounds like more fun to you?

Sex was had.  It wasn’t bad sex.  Actually, it was quite good.  However it was very… utilitarian.  As far as that man was concerned, I had a mouth for kissing and a vagina for fucking, and there wasn’t much in between.  (Oh and apparently also an ass for fucking, but psh, keep dreaming buddy!)  The experience was sorely lacking in sensuality.  Perhaps he was affected by my initial question.

“Will you be okay with it if this never happens again?  I am still seeing other people.  I’m not sleeping with anyone else, but I am seeing them.”

“Might I still be one of the guys to get a rose?”


“Then that’s okay with me.”

I like to live honestly.

Downtown we went to a Thai place and then headed over to a bar where a wedding party was getting smashed and dancing to some live music.  TI ordered a birthday cake martini (I like a man secure enough in his masculinity to order girly drinks) and we proceeded to get drunk enough to dance and sing right along with the wedding revelers.  I was glad to see him loosening up since we still hadn’t done much talking that day.  We went back to the hotel and had wonderful, dizzy, drunk sex, after which I immediately fell asleep.  It was so nice to lie in bed with a man’s warm skin against me.  His soft, dark skin is lovely.  I swear the man is made of silk.  Is that a weird compliment?  ‘Cause he looked at me like I had three heads when I said it.

The next morning we got lunch and went to the science center.  Turns out he was a robotics major at MIT before he became a healthcare executive.  I took him to the robotrobots floor to watch him geek out.  I could tell he was embarrassed, but I wholly embrace my inner nerd so I ran around playing with the machines, taking photos with R2D2, and beating the robot at air hockey until he finally loosened up and joined me.  Then we headed back to the hotel for some more monkey business.  By this point I was kicking myself for not buying lube.  My poor lady bits!  And just when I was thanking my lucky stars it was finally over, we realized the condom broke.  That shit shredded like tissue paper.  Thanks a LOT Trojan.  Is there anything sexier than watching your man jump up and run into the shower in the hopes that he won’t catch HPV?  I had to provide a medical talk afterward.  So romantic.

In the end, it felt like we’d had a little honeymoon.  Just a couple of people meandering about the city in faux love.  It was worth it to spend those days overdosing on oxytocin.  I needed that in my life.

We talked some more via text in the following weeks.  I asked him to send me the pictures we took on the mountain.  He said he would.  I asked again.  He said he would.  Weeks later I asked if there was a reason he wasn’t sending them.  “Yes.  I look fat.”  At first I laughed, joked that our grandkids would never get to see photos of our first dates because Grandpa is a big turd, but then I told him I was disappointed that he lied to me.  He could have just said upfront that he wouldn’t send them.  He replied, “Just because you don’t get something you want doesn’t mean someone lied to you or was ‘dishonest’.”  I wanted to slap his face, but I kept my cool.  I explained that it was the very definition of a lie to make a promise you don’t intend to keep, and I still don’t know him well, so I’m trying to understand his character and figure out what kind of man he is.  He got pissed off, flippant, and said he wouldn’t acknowledge my imaginative conclusions.  The next day we continued on as though it never happened.  NOPE.  No grandkids for you!  I considered keeping him around for a good time, but the fact is, he pissed me off.  Disappointed me.  Showed me what sort of man he really is.  I’ve had enough liars in my life.  I don’t need to add another to the list.  The sex wasn’t THAT good.  Doo doo doo.  Another one bites the dust.

Until next time, my friends!

Eternally yours,

The Silly Girl


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