My rap sheet - April 6, 2007

Turning thirty was very exciting. Mostly because I wanted to shut my twenties down and say, there, that's fucking it. We're done with all that drama. But with thirty also came a rundown on the drama, the messes I got myself into with the people I'd really like to forget...like, every guy I've ever dated.

If I had to venture a guess, I'd say I've been serious with two men, both of whom were douchebags. Good guys, douchebag boyfriends, more like. Of the men I've casually dated, and I'd say there are about sixty, two of those have been nice guys who I forced myself to go out with. Six of them were drug dealers. One was an ex-con. Thirty were codependents with emasculating moms. Twenty were narcissists with no father figure, and one was a rapist.

That's my love life. Depressing.

Oh sure I've had some great sex, hippie sex, boat sex, rubber sex, toy sex, zoo sex, church sex, girl sex, girl church sex, girl girl sex, girl girl girl sex...I can't complain. And the hot tubs. I've defiled so very many hot tubs. The memories are good, but the mind can't linger forever on one thing, and eventually--much like the sex--the moment ends and I end up being forced to recall the relationship part of relationships, the stuff that happens between the sex.

Another day, another bunch of yin/yang bullshit going on in my thoughts:
Sex/relationships
Orgasms/Fights
Fucking/Head fucking
Aaaaah/Ewww
Don't stop!/I'm not your mother!
Harder!/Die in hell you cocksucker!

I look back, and I cringe. Then I dig some more, and there's retching. When I get to Troy, who had big brown eyes and a nice penis, and also told me that David Koresh was the great genius of our times, I never want to mate again. That's sort of what I've resolved to do as of late, not necessarily abstain from future mating like I'm some nun or something, but temporarily abstain from the kinds of lures that get me into trouble, and the bad relationships I'm recounting. The big brown eyes. The sex. The physical and frivolous things I've based crap unions on.

At thirty, I have decided to stop thinking with my dick.

Now, like most things I decide to do, I'm totally hot on them for about two weeks and then I find them difficult to maintain and I drop them, saying something to myself like, "Well, Bunny, that's just not you. It doesn't feel natural because it's not." But this particular leaf turning meant a lot to me. There were all those bad memories, a rap sheet with the names of 59 douchebags and a rapist. And the fights...Jesus H. Christ, the yelling and screaming has been enough for two lifetimes. Two Puerto Rican lifetimes, which is like three white lifetimes. In short, I wanted to stick with the program. No thinking with my dick. No getting all crazy about the wrong guy. No douchebags.

JUST SAY NO

* * *

I live at night. I work in various places, but mostly on the Lower East Side, from 3am to noon. You'll meet some interesting people in a café at those hours, and two nights ago was no different than any other night. My favorite place on the LES was nearly empty, save for three characters. They were higher than shit. Two of them were gay, and one was wearing plaid hipster pants. I asked if he minded me sitting next to him, not for any other reason than to be close to the one plug in the room. I plugged in my computer, looked him straight in the eye and said, "Thanks."
"Oh no problem."

Whoa.

Hot. Brown eyes. Amazing, fucking brown eyes, and the rest of his face was naughty in that way I love that puts me smack in the middle of some fun trouble again, some "meet me in the bathroom so I can cheat on my wife with you while we play with sharp pointy objects or satanic paraphernalia" trouble. Let's conjure demons trouble. He had a crooked smile. He flirted with me.

"You like that Macintosh?"
"Yep."
"You like that coffee?"
"Yep."
"You like to say 'Yep?'"
"Uh huh."

He had a good laugh, too. It was a throaty, deep laugh. It was confident, booming even. If you could say that laughter is ever booming.

Ayiyi, it was hard. I kept to myself, answering his flirtations with monosyllabic retorts, and trying hard not to smile while I did it, but finding myself unable to. He noticed this too. His buddies fell asleep after sampling the twenty plates of pastries they'd ordered, and he had nothing better to do than tease me.

"You can talk to me if you want. I'm not trying anything funny with you. I've got a wife and a kid."

What a relief. Look at me overanalyzing the situation yet again. He was a nice married guy, who not only owned up to having a child, but a wife, willingly. It was unsolicited, but he said it anyway. How nice.

So I opened up to him. We talked about a whole bunch of things, and it was nice, conversing with this great-looking guy who had no alternative plans, nothing evil in mind or anything like that. He just wanted to talk. How about that? Were there other men like him the world, ones who wanted to do what they said they wanted to do? Ones with honest intentions? How long had I been messing with the others, and in messing with a few bad ones, had I developed the wrong idea about the whole gender? I mean, could there be decent yet naughty guys out there? If so, were any of them single?

His buddies came to around sunup, and the lot of them left. He said, "It was nice meeting you," and went to pay the check and my check. So nice. What a pleasant experience. What a gentleman. Perhaps I didn't need my new, leaf-turn, I just needed to hang out with a more quality rake.

I went back to my work, and thought little of the encounter, until twenty minutes later, when he came back asking for my number, "to get together some time," twenty minutes later because he had to "drop off [his] brother in-law" before he could get it.

NO MEN! GAAAAHHH!

Posted by The Bunny at 1:39 PM

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Comments

aw bunny he just wants to take you out for some coffee.

let us know when he uses the "I like a little sugar in my coffee, if you know what I mean" line, then you know he's in.

Posted by: harry at April 6, 2007 03:02 PM

Yep, there really ARE decent, yet very naughty, men out there. I know one. Just...one. And all I have to say is, thank God he's single and thank God he's interested in me. He is so very naughty.

Posted by: Danielle at April 6, 2007 03:45 PM

Bunny I can be whatever you want so long as we can play with satanic paraphanelia and my point thing.

Posted by: Dylan at April 6, 2007 04:32 PM

Dear Bunny,

Could you please post more about the girl sex, the girl church sex, and especially the girl girl girl sex. Thank you very much.

Sincerely,
Your readers

Posted by: A Fan at April 6, 2007 09:03 PM

You're such a great essayist, Bunny. Such a brilliant essayist, and you make it seem so effortless; if only I could write like that... god but you're gifted, bella.

Posted by: Snowblood at April 6, 2007 09:51 PM

If you gaze for long into a Macintosh, Macintosh gazes also into you. Sorry you had a bad experience babe.

Posted by: Friedrich Nietzsche, bitches at April 6, 2007 10:37 PM

I should have kept your damn Macintosh when [bunnysis] left it in my car! You and [bunnysis] still owe me a Indy visit.

Posted by: Lou at April 7, 2007 11:25 AM

Some post just really stimulate me to write back. You are not alone. I decided in my 31st to stick to myself and be more selective. After all, some people are not meant to stick to one person forever or have to cope with depending what or who. Most importantly you have your friends, you grow as an individual and if someone comes your way it will show. No worries. Just met with a friend to celebrate being single at last. It can be easier than being in a relationship and sex... Well, it comes to a time it is about quality, and you know what I'm talking about. Stray cat in Eastern? Think about comin'round next time. No other intentions... Or phone numbers

Posted by: Toegh at April 7, 2007 01:58 PM

So after all of that... did you surrender the digits?

*duck*

Posted by: Argent at April 7, 2007 10:01 PM

> it was nice, conversing with this great looking guy who had no alternative plans, nothing evil in mind or anything like that. He just wanted to talk.

As I hit my early 30's and stop giving a damn about women so much, I find it increasingly hilarious as I continually observe how hopelessly conflicted women are about their own sexuality.

Even as you eye this guy like a hunk of meat with pretty eyes, and thoughts of a rendevous in the bathroom fill your mind, you're simultaniously thinking that he'd be a horrible, evil, awful person if he was having similiar thoughts.

It's ye old feminist saw: "All male sexual desire is black, and evil, and wrong." Truly, a quintessentially female moment.

Bunny edit: What the hell do his desires have to do with the fact that the guy took his brother in law home so he could come back and get my number without his wife finding out? Confused here.

Posted by: ModernRonin at April 8, 2007 12:45 AM

You could always go for an arranged marriage . Nothing says i just turned thirty like getting married to a perfect stranger! I mean who doesn't love the movie "Fools Rush In"... At least, much like Salem Hayek, you are bangin'.

Posted by: Afghan at April 8, 2007 03:31 PM

I take issue with the "quintessentially female moment" comment. It seems that ModernRonin wants people (specifically, women) to be completely single-minded in their wants and desires. Why must everything be black and white? In some areas of life there is bound to be a lot of freaking grey. If our lives were so easily reduced to yes or no answers, there would be no...spark, no conflict, nothing. Granted, those same conflicts keep us up at night, asking wrenching questions to which we rarely have answers. Not to sound trite, but it's the conflict, the questions we don't always have answers to, that keep things interesting...otherwise every intriguing female would be reduced to a generic Stepford Wife. It may be frustrating (to the men, sure; but as the person who sits up at night asking the questions, battling with the fundamentally contradictory yet undeniable parts of my own nature, it's frustrating in the extreeeeeeme) but I think I prefer it that way.

Posted by: JanetteDuParis at April 8, 2007 09:31 PM

awesome!

Posted by: Eddie at April 9, 2007 08:57 AM

It's true; men suck. They really, really do. They are born with the ability use mystifying algebraic theorums to justify each and every single one of their decpetive, morally bankrupt and revolting antics. And any man who starts a conversation with , "Hey, you don't have to worry about me, I'm a nice guy, blah blah blah" is always, always, ALWAYS full of shit.

Yep, they do indeed suck. And it's up to them to disprove that theory, one man at at a time. It's just a matter of stumbling upon that one man who can redeem the entire species in your eyes.

My advice: give up. It worked for me. I was perfectly happy to spend the rest of my life alone. Just me and my Rabbit. That's when I met him. He didn't promise to be a nice guy; he just WAS. He didn't talk about how he'd never hurt me, he just DOESN'T.

But get this: behind the bedroom door, with the lights off, he is a very bad boy. BINGO! He's so hired.

I couldn't agree more about thinking with your dick. Thirty was about the time I decided to keep it in my pants.

And BBE's are my Achilles heel as well.

Posted by: M at April 9, 2007 11:24 AM

my philosophy on dating: "i would never want to belong to a club that would have someone like me as a member."

Posted by: warren at April 19, 2007 12:00 PM