Turn Me Up

Many, if not all, of you are likely familiar with my first foray into the world of online dating (see Glory, Talons of) and how awkwardly, hilariously, potentially scarringly awful it was.  Not one to be swayed by a little digit-challenged dating adversity I remained open-minded about the idea of meeting women on Myspace, which leads me to the story at hand (pun partially intended).

A month or so after the debacle that was the date with the three fingered girl, I received an e-mail on Myspace from a relatively cute girl.  For the sake of this story, let’s call her “Crystal” (mostly because that is her actual name).  Crystal sent me one of those e-mails wherein a woman tries to run game, fails, but is cute enough that it doesn’t really matter.  So I responded.  We started talking over AIM, the phone, etc.  I studied her pictures with the intensity of a conspiracy theorist trying to prove that UFOs were real.  I wasn’t going to be fooled again.

After a week or so of this she suggested we could chat via her webcam.  EXCELLENT IDEA.  I got an actual preview of her walking and talking and acting like a normal human being.  This was like test driving a car from my living room.  I had put in the work.  I had done my research.  I was sold on the idea of going on a date with her.  However, I was still sans car so she suggested she pick me up after I was done with law school for the day.  She gave me her cell number (since we had been talking on her house line – yes it was THAT long ago that she had a house line) and said she’d give me a call when she was on her way.

The day came and I was half studying, half playing poker online (read: 10%/90%) in the law school library when I got a call from her cell.

Me: Hello?

Her: Hi, Clint?

*This was not Crystal’s voice*

Me: Um…yes?

Her: Hey, this is Crystal’s friend Jennifer, we’re on our way to pick you up, should be there in 5 minutes, see you soon!

Me: Huh?

Her: Yeah, come on down to the bus turnaround, we’ll be right there!

*click*

Who in the blue fuckity blazes was this Jennifer chick and why was she coming along on our date?  More importantly, why didn’t Crystal call me?  Most importantly, why wasn’t I given a heads up about our three person date?  I chalked it up to the whole Internet-dating-is-new-and-scary-especially-for-a-girl-so-it’s-smart-for-her-to-be-cautious-because-for-all-she-knows-I-could-be-a-serial-killer-but-fortunately-for-her-I’m-awesome-and-humble-so-she’s-in-for-a-treat theory.  I walked down to the bus turnaround and got there right as Crystal and her friend pulled up.  Jennifer hopped out of the car, gave me a hug and jumped in the backseat.  I sat in the passenger seat, said hi to Crystal and was expecting one of those awkward car-hugs but she kept both hands on the wheel and instead offered me a blank stare and a smile.  We drove off.

I asked where we were headed and Jennifer piped up to tell me that we were going to In-N-Out….in Encino.  She explained that we were going to meet some of her friends there and hang out and eat.  Ooooookay?  I didn’t know Westwood (where UCLA sits) that well at the time, but this trek to Encino was particularly frustrating in hindsight considering I later learned that there’s an In-N-Out half a mile from campus.  In the hour or so that it took us to get to get there, we talked and laughed quite a bit.  And by “we” I mean Jennifer and I.  Crystal was nothing like the girl I had gotten to know over the phone/AIM/webcam.  I figured it was either that she was very shy and awkward since we had just met, or that she drives with the intensity of Jeff Gordon.  I found out later it was option C.

We get to the restaurant, get our food, sit down (with Crystal right across from me and Jennifer at a table with her friends) and now things are great again.  She’s talking and laughing and having a good time.  So halfway through my second double-double I decide to ask her about the shyness in the car.

Me: So, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but what was up with you in the car?  You seemed so shy and quiet, were you embarrassed or something?

Her: Oh no not at all!  I guess I forgot to tell you…

Me: Tell me what?

Her: When I was about 7 years old I went deaf.

Me: ….ah

Her: I got a cochlear implant put in my ears so that I can hear most things but it’s hard for me to catch everything unless I’m looking the person in the face, since I learned how to read lips.

Me: ….ok

Her: And I can talk fine on land lines but for whatever reason I really struggle hearing things on my cell phone.

Me: Thus, Jennifer.  I got it.

Her: Yeah, so I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way, I just couldn’t hear everything you guys were saying and I didn’t want to seem stupid by asking you to repeat everything.

Me:  Fair enough.

Her: Ok well I think Jennifer’s good to get home with her friends, you want me to take you back to your place now?

Me: Sure?

Well played, dating gods, well played indeed.  I was on the lookout for a physical deformity and you hit me with one of the few I can’t see or hear.  I was Foreman, they were Ali.  However, on the ride back to my apartment in Santa Monica I had plenty of time to think this whole deaf thing through, especially since Gordon to my left was under the impression that the 405 was just as important as the Daytona 500 and wasn’t saying much.  I came to the conclusion that the whole not being able to hear me completely unless I looked right at her thing wasn’t the end of the world.  Certainly meant I could get away with saying just about anything that popped into my head as long as I mumbled it.  Also probably meant less “state of the union/what does it all mean/let me talk to you about all these things that happened to me today that I don’t care about” conversations.  I could live with that.

We pulled up to my place and just sat there for a minute before I volunteered “sooo, did you want to come in for a dr-” “YES!”.  Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner.  We walked inside and while I was throwing my school stuff in my room she noticed that I had dominoes sitting on the table (the game, not the wretched pizza).  She asked if I played, I got away with mumbling something about them not being there for decoration, and then said “Yes ma’am I do.”  I made us a drink and we sat down and started playing.

Two things became clear during the course of our game:

1. Driving is not the only thing Crystal does intensely.  She studied those bones like she was trying to reorganize the dots with her mind.  This also meant that she was rarely looking up at me, which leads me to…

2. My smartass sense of humor would definitely not work with this girl.  I consider myself a fairly funny person and it’s important to me that a girl have a good sense of humor and be able to laugh at me, with me, make me laugh, etc.  Those 30-45 minutes we sat there drinking and playing dominoes were easily in my top 10 funniest-I’ve-ever-been moments.  It would go something like this:

Her: [Comment]

Me: [Hilarious response]

*crickets*

Me: [Hilarious response again]

*dog barks down the street*

Her: Huh?

Me: Nevermind.

This went on for what seemed like forever.  So I did what any sane person would do in my shoes, I drank faster.  I figured it would either speed up this game, or she would get cuter, or this situation would get more tolerable or something.  Everyone always says someone has a drinking problem, I had a drinking solution.  The lesson here, as always, is that booze is good for you and makes most social situations better, except maybe job interviews.

I finished my drink, asked her if she wanted another…and then asked her if she wanted another…and then asked her if she wanted another and she eventually looked up and I pointed to her glass and she smiled and nodded.  So I went into the kitchen, made us a drink and she followed me, gave me a hug and did that thing that all shorter girls do to taller guys when they want you to kiss them.  She looked up at me, smiled and didn’t let go of the hug.  After a brief mental fist-pump I went in for the kiss.  She dodged me and I ended up kissing the collar of her shirt.  Wow, read that one wrong.

At this point I figured I misinterpreted all of her body language.  Maybe deaf people had different physical cues.  Maybe hold me close and stare into my eyes didn’t mean “kiss me”.  Maybe it just meant “I want to finally hear what this mumbling fuck has been talking about for the last half hour”.  I figured I ought to give her an out so she didn’t have to come up with some excuse for needing to leave, especially now that I’d gone and tried to make out with her shirt.  So I asked if she needed to get going cause I knew she had to work in the morning.

Her: No….why?

Me: Um, I just figured you didn’t really want to hang out more since you dodged me right there…

Her: Oh! No, I just don’t like kissing…

Me: Wha-?

Her: Like at all.

Me: Oooookay?

Her: Come with me.

As she led me by the hand into my room I had all these visions of the Pretty Woman scenario that was about to unfold.  But I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought of not kissing someone I was hooking up with.  In the grand scheme of things that’s a tough step to leap frog.  It’s like the gateway to hooking up and sex.  Unless you’re a porn star.  Wait, was she a porn star?

She sat me on my bed, had me scoot back until my back was up against the wall and then she turned around and sat in between my legs in front of me, facing the other direction like I was about to give her a massage.  Then she grabbed my hands and put them on her breasts.  Give that a second.

Yeah, didn’t want me to kiss her, but wanted me to give her a titty-massage.  Being the giant fan of boobs that I am, I gladly obliged but really didn’t know how to handle the situation.  She took her shirt off.  I became more ok with the situation.  She took her bra off.  I loved the situation.  However, every time I tried to kiss her neck or shoulder, she reacted like I’d just touched her with a soldering iron.  She’d jerk away from me, tell me “no, no kisses” and then grab my hands, throw them back on her boobs and have me get back to work.

After 10 minutes of caressing her boobs and playing with her nipples like they were radio nobs and I was trying to get a signal in the sexiest way possible, I became bored with the whole thing.  If you would have told 13 year old Clint that he could just sit there and play with a girls boobs he would have missed class for the next week.  I was bored.  This wasn’t going anywhere since any attempt to diversify my massage southward was rejected faster than a kiss.  So I stopped.  Rubbed her shoulders for a minute and then just kinda sat there waiting for her to get the hint.  A few minutes went by and said hint was received so she put her shirt and bra back on and hopped off the bed.

Her: Ok, well thanks for the drink and the dominoes, I’m gonna get going.

Me: Um, ok?

Her: I had a great time, we should definitely hang out again soon.

Me: Uh…sure…

I walked her to the door, gave her a hug (though I briefly considered kissing her ear to really fuck with her) and she took off.  Never saw her again.  Also, after going two for two on the deformities with Myspace dates, I decided to dial down my use of that site for anything other than staying in touch with college and high school friends.  The moral of the story is that dating someone from a website is like buying a used car, they need to be subjected to a 100 point inspection and a test drive before you invest.