Eddie, I Hate You: Blow Jobs For Big Dicks

 

Are you with him because you’re bored?

 

Eddie’s profile picture was only useful to Eddie.  Shadowy, cut off, just his cheek and his nose, some hair….

At this point, I am swiping “Yes” to everyone, sending them a message stating “you’re cute”, accumulating chat windows, collecting Eddies.

In an entire evening only Eddie replies to me.

I do not find him interesting.  The only interesting thing about him is that he did not bother to make much of a profile.  His conversation is as useless as his digital presence.  We speak two days in a row.

I tell him, I kinda wanna meet you

He agrees with an  exclamation mark.

I guess I have to go

He chooses the subway station where we will meet.

I stand outside the station waiting for him. I figure he will becoming from the train.

There is a guy there, alone, and I wonder if that’s Eddie.

He’s on his phone.

He sees me staring at him.

He walks away while looking at me.

I decide that he’s Eddie.

I decide that he just rejected me.

I am trying to decide whether or not to leave.

I should have left

If you feel like leaving, just fucking leave

I stare at my phone, thinking about leaving.

I hear a man speaking.  A tall, curly haired guy is walking towards me.

He speaks with arrogance to the air.

He isn’t engaged with me. He doesn’t use my name. He hasn’t really made an attempt to reach me. He’s just speaking.

I look at him, I say, Eddie?

He says, would you like to get a shot of espresso with me?

It’s 9 PM.

I say, Really?

He says, You don’t want to?

I say, no it’s just very strange.

Eddie says, why.

I do not like him

I do not like contrarians.

Something about him is off.

It could be the late night espresso.

It could be that he met me at a subway station but then came, seemingly, out of the bushes to greet me.

It could be his height, which I just didn’t expect.

It could be that he’s a stranger I met online.

I feel uncomfortable but I do not end the date

I go with him because I know the area very well, I used to live down the street. Something about familiarity with space kept me from backing away.

He takes me to a Starbucks. There are a number of smaller places nearby that, at the very least, have way better espresso.  Starbucks is an annoying destination.

I am witnessing a man who is confused about exoticism.

He thinks Starbucks is the best coffee.

He is also from, what he calls, “The Bush”.  He grew up hunting (but, did he?).  He grew up “basically knowing the animals by name” (sure).

He orders the espresso.

We wait for a while.

Eddie tells me that he used to manage this store location.

I say, oh nice and then…sorry, what do you do?

I realize with every fucking inhale I take that I don’t care about this person and that I have no idea why I came here.

He says, I’m a service technician.

I say, Yep. What.

He says, I fix coffee machines.

I say, what.

He says, I’ll explain later.

Eddie then interrupts our desperately interesting conversation to tell the barista that we haven’t gotten our espresso yet.

He then says something like: “It’s ok, you can just make them doubles.”

And the barista does it. He gives us free coffee.

Fuck.

I am on a date with a straight white male and he’s proud of it

…what other free shit are we going to get?

I feel my eyes widen. I feel my embodiment of discomfort.

We leave, drinking the coffee. I don’t finish mine because I don’t want two shots of espresso at 9 PM. He takes my cup and throws it out for me before we go into the worst bar ever.

He says, follow me.

I wonder if I’m about to get chained to a bathroom sink so this man I met on the internet can call me mommy and flush the toilet with his erection while he commands that I touch myself because “don’t (I) want to touch myself”.

I wonder if I will remember to scream.
I wonder if I am about to become a media headline.

I repeat the sentence “Scream if he hurts you” to myself as I watch Eddie climbing the stairs in front of me, staring at his ass hoping to spot the distinguished outline of a knife or a baseball bat.

I am hoping for a reason to leave.

Empty pockets.

Of course.  I forgot how uninteresting he is.

He says, no one ever goes up here.

I follow him upstairs, nodding my head, contemplating my escape.

I could just turn around, run down the stairs and go home , never see him again, block his number.

I keep thinking, hey, Rachel, emergencies are usually only emergencies because THEY WEREN’T PREVENTED IN TIME WHEN THEY COULD HAVE BEEN

I find myself sitting in a red, plush booth. I find myself staring at Eddie. I find myself thinking that he is really…not for me.  His face is really…not for me.

We drink a lot, mostly because he keeps leaving the table with no explanation and coming back with two pints.

It’s this bizarre dance he’s invented for himself:  Hands on the table, ease himself up, no smile just a swift exit and a sudden return with beer.  I like the free beer.  I drink it.

Can I just admit something right now so that I can use the rest of the essay to get over it:

He called me pretty once. And, that’s why I stayed

Original Eddie was so certain about my beauty.

When he would call me pretty (when he was around) it would feel so factual.

It was a statement, a declaration of something he didn’t know could happen: You’re just a pretty girl, you’re just really really beautiful.

I always believed him.

I wouldn’t regularly agree that I’m beautiful but I always believed him.

So, maybe I missed that little bit of my day.

For the first time in months, I hear it again.

“Pretty”:  A little echo of the man I would rather be with

I stay.

I get drunk.

He begins doing this thing with my hands.

This has happened to me before on dates and it feels WEIRD.

I always wonder if this is a normal mating call: we sit at the table across from one another and he traces my palms with his fingers, he interlaces his fingers between mine and we do this weird fucking hand dance, I hate it but I do it with the energy level of someone who just got home after driving across the country, who was told that, if they dance with an annoying person using only their hands, a sandwich will appear and then a bed and then sleep: Provisions will come if you do this thing so I just keep doing it because I want it to end.

I want it to end but I don’t end it

I hate it.

He grips my hands suddenly and adjusts the way he’s sitting.

I laugh a bit.

He says, what.

I say, I’m so sorry, no, I, no…I thought. You were going. To kiss me.

He says, Oh.

At this point, the conversations we have had have all been led by his assertion that he knows everything.

He has told me that he can read into people, he’s very good at reading people.

I ask him, how do I “Read”?

He tells me he can tell that I’m not yet that open to him.

I don’t say anything.

He says, but you didn’t run away when you saw me so that’s a start.

I should have run away is it too late to run away.

I say, cool.

That is most of the night. Most of the night is about him and his ability to do a bunch of shit I don’t care about.

He tells me about his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him eight months previous to his very date.  He is clearly very very very very very very angry.

I nod my head.

He says, I’m having a really good time.

I say, nice.

I learn through dates like this that I am very charming.

I don’t mean to be.

As a usual social strategy, I force myself to be in the moment with people to calm anxiety.

Effectively, I make a lot of people feel special.

Once in a while I will truly think that someone is special, I can think of four people, five including Original Eddie, who I really think are just amazing.

This Eddie is not special.

I mean, he might be “special”. But, it’s not the kind of special I want to keep gripping onto.

We’ve gone silent now, during this hand dance because I have nothing to say and he’s really focused on my face.

So, I say, I thought. You were going to kiss me.

He says, Oh.

And he smiles a smile I have etched into my head, it won’t go away: his lips fold a bit inward and press together, inflating his chin, he leans his head downwards, he narrows his eyes (pervert move), and that’s it. That’s his statement. This FUCKING SMILE that I hate.

I look at him with furrowed brows and a tight frown.

He kisses me

What the fuck.

He kisses me and it’s not great. He bites a lot, which is sometimes ok, but the texture of his teeth, maybe, maybe they need to be filed, I have no idea, his mouth and my mouth are a no but he keeps going and I do too.

He stops kissing me.

He gets up.

He brings back two beers.

Oh god.

I say, I can’t drink this.

He says, if you don’t I will.

I say, that’s dumb.

He says, it’s not dumb, it’s a waste if we don’t drink it.

I’m so drunk already, I just put my forehead in my the palms of my hands and let out a IT’S SO DUMB, directed at the table but also at my soul.

He laughs.

He drives me home.

I am in a van.

I am being driven home by a drunk man in downtown Toronto.

I am staring at the glove compartment.

I am wondering if maybe there might be a gun in the glove compartment I can borrow for no particular reason, of course, because how did I get here and what am I doing.

Nobody died.

I did yell at him in the car but it was probably a mumble and it was probably a “youuuuuummmm careful”

We arrive at my place.

I put one hand on the door handle and I basically yell IT’S TIME TO WALK MY DOG BYE

He says, I’m not going to let you walk your dog alone at night in Parkdale.

I say, I do it every fucking night, I do it EVERY fucking night, I do it night, I do it FUCKING NIGHT.

He says, well whatever, I would love to meet your dog.

I say, I guess.

He says, Bring him down, I’ll wait here. No, I don’t want you walking him alone in this neighbourhood.

I kiss him? Yep. I kiss him.

I get my dog.

We walk the dog.

He kisses me goodnight.

I go inside.

I laugh a lot and then I tell my dog “NO ONE CAN KNOW THAT HAPPENED, OK?” and I chase him, insisting he promise not to tell anyone while we play with a toy shaped like a dildo.

 

Eddie keeps talking to me.

I have no idea what to do.

I keep engaged for lack of anything interesting in my life.

Of course, Eddie isn’t interesting.

My hatred for him keeps me interested

I don’t remember wanting to talk to him but, throughout the week, I start to forget exactly who he is. Throughout the week, I forget what he looks like, I forget what he sounds like (his voice becomes a totally annoying trigger eventually), I just like that someone is texting me. All the time. Aaaaallll the time.

We go on another date.

Friday night.

I ask him where we are meeting.

He says, I was planning on picking you up.

I say, that’s weird.

He says, why, I want to take you somewhere.

He picks me up in his white van. I look and feel really good.

In hindsight, I prepared for someone else that night. I completely forgot that I am meeting up with someone who I am (I hate to say it like this) but basically repulsed by.

He see me.

He says, you look nice. Can I get a kiss

And I kiss him hello

And he says, in a very creepy, very creepy tone, Nice.

I HATE IT, TURN AROUND, GO HOME

But I don’t.  I get in his van.

We stand in traffic for forty minutes.

He won’t tell me where we are going which I think is really unkind.

He listens to hits on the radio

He takes me to a plaza in the middle of nowhere, off the highway.

What was in the plaza?

So glad you asked: A square stand alone building he calls a “club”, a wings place, a Milestones, an indoor mini putt, an arcade….WE LEFT TORONTO FOR THIS.

We drink.

I do not think about the driving.

I’ll admit that we have a decent conversation but Eddie nearly sabotages it with his voice.

He performs character voices.  He imitates entire ethnicities WITH HIS VOICE.

His own voice is annoying enough never mind his baby voice or his Jewish voice.

I am only tolerating this person because I want to know exactly what this quality is:  What drives a person to speak to a Jewish woman in a mock Jewish voice?  What the fuck is that quality?

In any case, I can’t leave.  We are in the middle of nowhere.

We play mini putt and I tell him, my dad pretty much trained me in Golf from a young age and I rule at mini putt.

He doesn’t believe me.

I kill him in mini putt.

He says he’s never ever seen anyone play mini putt this way.

I win and when we leave, he starts making fun of me.

Eddie uses this opportunity to start making fun me and he continues to make fun of me until the day I break up with him.

He grabs my hand and makes little jokes about my success at “a game meant for high school couples” (yeah but you fucking brought me here, Eddie and also WHY DO YOU SUCK AT ADOLESCENT ACTIVITIES, EDDIE?).  The jabs will get more personal but, for tonight, he makes fun of my success.  I don’t call him a loser.  I don’t joke about his disastrous athletic fail.  I just continue.

We have another drink in another bar.

 

We leave. He makes out with me half way to the car.

Something happens to me when he’s kissing me.

I don’t like this Eddie and I don’t care about him but he seems to want to touch me all the time.  I begin to take advantage of the opportunity to improve my sex game.

When we start getting physical, I start taking chances.

I gain confidence every time I sleep with Eddie.

His penis is huge

The first couple times we have sex, I don’t actually know how to handle him.

I ask him, do you think the sex is good?

Eddie laughs at me.   He tells me it’s a stupid question.  I was genuinely wondering if he was having a good time.  I didn’t really care about Eddie’s experience for his sake.  I just wanted to know if I was improving.

Eddie always sleeps over and he always stays in the morning.

He also always wants to come back.

I tell him I have to go up to North York for the Jewish New Year.  He offers me a ride.  We have sex before he drives me home.

He takes me to the beaches for drinks and a “romantic walk”.  He leads me to some park where high school students were blowing up balloons and then popping them for fun. He takes his dick out and asks for a blow job.  I do it.

Eddie talks during sex and his Sex Voice (whole new character) is really really good.  I really like it so when I can’t see his face (blow job circumstances) and all I hear is his incessant babbling in the tone of an African American sex god from some dream I had while on sedatives ten years ago, I’m into it.

Eddie takes a while to finish I feel like I’m doing something weak.

I research “blow jobs for big dicks” on the internet

The next time I see Eddie, he has a full body sun burn from a weekend he spent topless on a beach with his friends (sure).

He tells me, “your services are needed”.

I tell him, “That’s the wrong thing to say.”

He comes over.

Eddie tells me I have given him the best blow job he’s ever gotten in his life.

He says, I mean you were FINE before but what the fuck….

I tell him I researched it and I get up to brush my teeth.

I look in the mirror and I am fascinated with myself.

“You’re inspiring me to be a better lover” He told me in the kitchen one morning while I looked up at him, smiling.  I was not smiling for Eddie.  I was just fascinated with myself.

 

This was only fine for two weeks.

I couldn’t date Eddie any longer because he annoyed and upset me beyond a reasonable level. He was outrageously invasive. Once he was in, he was in.   He was everywhere. He was offering me rides places. He was offering to bring me over take out. He was offering to just: be with me. And I couldn’t have that. He was too annoying. He would often mock me in a Jewish Woman’s voice, some kindo f imitation of me. It was demeaning and I told him to stop. He wouldn’t stop. He insisted it was just a joke.

He would make too many comments about my looks for my comfort.

He would never leave. He would sleep with me and then stay the night without asking. I asked him to leave once and he mocked me, laughed at me, stayed over. I didn’t sleep that night. I left the house at 5 AM to walk my dog and didn’t come back until 7. I showered. I sat on the bed putting lotion on and he starts coming on to me. I tell him I don’t want to have sex with him.

He says, but when I wake up I really like to have sex.

I say, yeah I get that

He tries harder, rubbing my shoulders. I get out of the bed and he makes fun of me again, “you’re in a bad mood” and he rolls over, remaining in the bed.

I tell him I don’t feel well which is true but unnecessary to say.

I’m in the kitchen making coffee. He tries again. He doesn’t have his clothing on and he’s touching me and I don’t like it.

It may seem sudden to him but we’ve only known each other a few weeks, I have already said no and I didn’t want him here to begin with so, to me, that’s enough violations to warrant a bit of apprehension when he’s in my kitchen, dick out, “trying” me.

He gets dressed, drinks coffee, eventually leaves.

I am very upset. Shaken.

It’s Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, our most sacred day of the year.

I go to my parent’s house.

At night, I still don’t feel well.

He messages me, hey hows it going

I say, I still don’t feel well, just a lot of nausea

He says, that’s what happens when you don’t put out

I say, that’s really rude

He says, I’m joking, Rachel, I’m joking

Later that night I break up with him

I say, Eddie, I have a lot going on and I’m sorry but I just don’t think I can date anyone too seriously right now…you’ll find another girl. Tell her to google “blow jobs for big dicks”. She’ll figure it out lol 😉

It is a lying, manipulated text. I lie in bed, send it, and watch it sit on the screen.

Twenty minutes later he writes, “no worries, Rachel, see you later”

I slide my hands down my sweatpants, feel around for my vagina and silently apologize

 

 

Dear reader,

Thank you so much for being here.

If you can relate to this post, please share via social media.  So many artists struggle with alienation.  It is my aim to craft an inclusive community of individuals who can relate to one another’s pain.  If you are struggling or if you have struggled, am so sorry for your anguish but it may help (as it helps me) to spread these articles as far and wide as possible. 

Try sharing?  If it doesn’t help, delete the post (we’ve all done that).

Again, thank you so much and please come back.  Feel free to contact me with thoughts via the Contact page.

Love and Hope—

-Rachel