How do you get close to someone?
I met Eddie early on in my dating app days, moments after some other guy introduced me to the art of Chatroom Sex.
I am lying on my bed, bored.
A message from Bumble pops up on my phone
I recognize the name.
The message reads, “lol, you naked”
I perform a short exhale as I stare intently at the screen.
I don’t know what it means.
I say, I don’t know
He says, lol, I know
I say, I don’t….know…what
He says, You know what?
I say, naked?
He says, get naked
I say, lol I’m naked
He says, what else
And then I say, Staring at your dick
And from there we dive.
Whether or not I managed to facilitate my own orgasm, isn’t this story.
This story is: A man appeared, he babbled his way to nudity, I babbled my way to his dick and then we never spoke again.
The gift of the conversation is not a bond. The gift of the conversation is learning the potential of “bond”, the potential to bond, without recourse, without anything at all, seemingly.
The gift of the conversation is a lesson in provoked limitlessness: I can touch your dick from here, I can see you naked from here, I can peek at you without seeing you because space is limitless. I am limitless.
I immediately message ten different men.
Eddie messages me.
I say, you’re cute.
He says, thanks you too
I wonder about all the things I can say next and then I say, you should see me naked
He says, lol
I say, I’ll be honest, it’s been a long day and I’m pretty horny
He says, so what do we do about that
I say, I’m touching myself
And on we go.
Again, was I actually touching myself? Not the point.
The point is, Eddie and I spoke in terms of what we were doing sexually.
Excitement came from mystery.
The sleaziness is exciting.
The open invitation to be foul and fantastic, the creation of a virtual space where semen can be anywhere, breasts can be everywhere and people say things like “lol, you naked” without risk, all of it is exciting.
Did I finish? I don’t even remember.
I only remember laughing at Eddie.
He was uniquely gifted at being a dirty weirdo via text.
In my experience, most people stick to describing their physical actions, as in: I am undressing you, I am pinching your nipples I am doing (insert the thing you most like done to you) but Eddie played counter to that action by commanding me to do things.
The things he wanted done to him were inspired:
- Wrap your breast around my ankle so I can stomp on your nipple
- Squeeze your legs together and moan like a warrior
- Tug on my dick and say my name (that one was my favourite because I could picture myself doing it and not being able to control my laughter)
- Massage me while licking my neck
- Do you have any milk? I want it
- Take a candle and pour the wax on my dick (This one is good too because WHAT CANDLE, EDDIE)
Orgasms were impossible with Eddie but his ingenuity made me really want to meet him.
He was a gross weirdo. I’m kind of a gross weirdo. Why wouldn’t we meet?
After our third encounter, Eddie asks me if we can do this in person.
I say, yes.
We make a plan for the end of the week and I never hear from him again.
I feel a bit humiliated.
When I first started having sexual chats with him, I truly didn’t care whether or not we would meet but when he asked me to meet, I believed something was going to happen.
His absence is unfair and annoying.
I was never emotional about it but I remember deciding that he was a dick.
Four or five months later, I’m on bumble again, getting over a different Eddie and I see this Eddie’s profile.
I laugh and I LIKE him.
I want to talk to him.
I write, you’re kidding
He writes, HEY
I write, nope
He writes, I’m so sorry
I write, it makes sense, whatever, but why the fuck would you need to match with me again
He writes, I deleted the app last time and I didn’t have your number and then I felt so stupid
I write, that IS stupid
He writes, I’m so sorry, I really do want to meet you, I came back on the app just to find you again
I write, ok
He says, how are you
I say, I’m staring at the screen and I don’t want to answer you
He says, I’m sorry
I say, I don’t care if you’re sorry, that’s fine that you’re sorry, I’m trying to figure out if I should talk to a guy who has already ghosted on me once because, frankly, some other guy just ghosted on me and it keeps happening and I’m truly fucking sick of it
He says, I’m so sorry that happened to you, guys can be dicks, it’s terrible, that shouldn’t have happened to you
I say, YOU DID THAT TOO, YOU DID THE SAME THING, EDDIE!
He says, I didn’t, I meant to meet you and then I didn’t have your number
I say, BUT YOUR EXPERIENCE ISN’T LIMITED TO JUST YOU AND YOU SHOULD HAVE FIXED IT
He says, I’m so sorry
I say, I don’t care. Take my number. I don’t care. I don’t care.
All I can think is “I don’t care” and I don’t.
- I don’t care if he meets me or not
- I don’t care that we have already had humiliating sex, which doesn’t seem to matter anymore, it’s as if never happened, we’re never going to mention it again, we aren’t going back to that, I don’t care
- I don’t care about Eddie’s potential
I don’t care about anything because none of it is here.
This is a limitless un-reality
All the men I have met on this app seem to live in this un-reality, this dream-like fucking gross place where they can throw around sentences like “Oh yeah my cum is gonna poison your dreams” and then disappear.
I don’t care about Eddie. I can’t. Maybe eventually I will. If he becomes real. If he materializes. But, listening to him apologize over and over again on a dating app? Who even has time for this?
He texts me.
The following pattern happens three times with Eddie: We make a plan, he bails on the plan, three weeks go by and I hear from him again.
He makes a habit of erasing himself.
Stupid, Eddie. Selfish.
None of us are entitled to create expectations.
He couldn’t make it, ever.
Factually, I didn’t care. I didn’t really want to meet him. I didn’t care that he is very attractive and probably decently interesting, considering his sexual intrigue. I’m not interested anymore.
He messages me one night.
I am lying in bed, crying.
I am recovering from a threatening date.
I’ve just had a very bad night where a different Eddie forcefully tried to keep me in his home while his dick was out.
Eddie messages me
He says, I’m here, I haven’t forgotten about you
I say, you can forget about me
He says, no, I don’t want to forget about you
I say, I want you to forget about me
He says (SOMETHING)
And I nearly call him to tell him, I DON’T TRUST YOU AND I DON’T WANT TO MEET YOU AND I’M ALREADY TRIGGERED BECAUSE SOMEONE ASSAULTED ME TONIGHT but instead I write, Don’t worry about it, I had a really bad date and I don’t think I’ll be going out for a while
He says, what happened
I say, I was with a guy, on a date, he took me home and then he wouldn’t let me leave and I haven’t told anyone other than my best friend and I don’t want to talk about it but it seems appropriate to point out to you that I’m entitled to feel safe when I’m out with someone and your back and forth makes me feel fucking stupid so I’m going to stop talking to you, ok
He says, are you ok, I’m so sorry that happened to you
I block his number.
I instantly forget about him.
I only remember him when I sit to write this story.