Love means never having to say "you used me for sex!"

A club in the Hamptons, this past June. A gentleman approaches my friend and says loudly, gesturing to me, that he's not normally attracted to women with curly hair, but he think's I'm beautiful. He introduces himself and we exchange pleasantries (same age as myself, sports agent, lives in NYC in my friends' building) and phone numbers. The night moves on. He texts the next day, I'm uninterested and very hungover and brush him off.

Two months later I'm back in the Hamptons at a different club for my friend's bachelorette party weekend. We've been drinking for hours on end and stumble in (out? it was technically an open-air venue) and I immediately run into Jerry Maguire. I'm fuzzy on the details here, but I do recall making out with him for about an hour while another friend napped on a chair near the exit. When it was time to leave, he drunkenly ran after us out of the club. He texted over the following months, just keeping loosely in touch, and after LE and I broke up Saturday night, I reached out Sunday and we made plans for this week. (To quote my roommate, "I bet you didn't like recess as a kid. You don't play around.") Please note that while I was very serious with LE at the time of the make out incident, we had not yet had the "exclusive talk" and I was borderline Frankenstein Drunk.

(Walking with your arms out to keep your balance)

We were supposed to meet up around 7:30 last night, on the condition that we spend part of the evening at a bar with a TV so he could see some of the Virginia Tech football game-- he's thinking about signing one of the players. Clearly, he doesn't follow my blog, but I said it was OK. His day ran late however, and he asked if we could push back to 9. Then he texted around 8:15 and asked if 9:30 was ok. THEN he called at 9:20 and said he was just getting in the shower, he'd be quick, and he'd call when he was on his way downtown. At 10 he pulls up to my building. While I often run very late to things, I'd say 2 1/2 hours beats my record (though I was born three weeks past due). I wasn't thrilled but life moves on and I'd picked out two fun places to check out.

See, I'd assumed a couple of things, which was silly of me because everyone knows men are completely unpredictable and their past behavior is no indication of their future actions, so I really deserved what happened next. Firstly, since it was now 10PM, I figured the game was if not over, almost over, and had not counted it into our plans. Secondly, I thought that since he was full-share in a Hamptons house and both times we met were at pricey, exclusive clubs, that he would be up for going somewhere relatively nice. ESPECIALLY since it was our first date.

I was...so very wrong.

As I start to tell him the options for the evening and we headed down the street, all he asked was if there was a TV at my suggestions. I was caught a little off-guard and told him I didn't think there were TV's anywhere (because I was not feeling this game). "What about this bar?" he says, and peers in the window of a shithole on 1st and A. I pretend not to hear and point out a new 1940's era swanky bar right across the street instead. We cross over and he walks directly into the diiiiiiive bar nextdoor. I mean, it is a DIVE bar. Every day on my way home it's filled with old bikers and long-haired men and cigarette smokers. He walks in and enthusiastically exclaims "oh, there's people here and there are TV's!" Now not only is this place dark and odoriferous, it was also blasting heavy metal music and was packed with drunk college kids and seriously weird old men. One of them was loudly talking about taking his ex-girlfriend, a post-op tranny, to fetish parties...we squeezed in next to them at the bar.

Jerry asks them to change the channel on the television to the game and the bartender asks for our ID's. I hand mine over the bar to him and he hands them both back to Jerry. I see him looking at mine, examining it, and then he turns around and goes-- literally shocked and totally serious-- "you're THAT old??" I was like "um, what? I'm 26." He responds "like yeah, but I don't know, I just thought...I dont know, I thought you were like 23..." and he was sincerely a little disappointed. Now on first dates, I don't always order Grey Goose depending on the guy. It's pricey and I feel bad. Jerry however, was about to tap a keg of that shit.

Now before I get away from myself, I'm just going to take a moment to mention that at no point during the rest of the night does Jerry even glance at the game or pay the slightest attention to what's happening on tv. That is all you'll hear about football from here on out.

As soon as we sit down, Jerry proclaims "if you catch me looking at your cleavage it's because you wore that shirt, so if you wore that shirt you obviously wanted me to look." It was a sparkly tunic tank top, nothing outrageous or corseted or lacy or anything. I fake laughed and said OK and he goes, "well I'm being honest." He then proceeds to say that there are three things every guy cares about in a girl: her boobs, her butt (though he's not a butt guy), and her "ya know". And it just sucks that you can't see all three right up front and tell if it's for you, but at least you can see two of the three and surmise what the third might be like. "Girls have to wait til like three weeks of dating someone before they sleep with them and can see their cocks. So, I mean I'll just put it out there, mine's big." It's maybe 10:08 and I was DYING. Mostly though, I was more hung-up on the thought of who the hell are all these women waiting three weeks to sleep with people than the fact that he a) used the word cock to me and b) told me his was big.

THEN he says "I mean I can usually tell from how a girl presents herself how her 'situation' [vajayjay] will be. But you'd be surprised. Sometimes you get down there and it's all hairy like she's from the midwest or is 30 or something." I kid you not, this is a direct quote. I was honestly sitting there thinking to myself "Oh my god. Remember this, this is gold."

(Ovaltine? Why dont' they call it Roundtine? The lid is round, the jar is round...GOLD, Jerry!)

When he left for the bathroom, a female bartender came over and asked how things were going. I told her eh, I didn't know. She asked if it was a date and I said yes; she's like "he seems so into you!" I said "yeah...maybe...I'm still feeling it out." She could tell I was really uncomfortable with him and not having an amazing time and proposed that she and I take some shots while he was in the bathroom, quickly, before she made our next round of drinks. Three shots later he returned and proceeded to slam his tongue down my throat for the rest of the night. In between fighting him off and chugging my goose, we talked a little about our families. As he was talking about a cousin he's close with being a young mother, I remarked how rare it was that she's already married and has a son. He shrugs and says "well, she's just a half-Jew." I looked at him and said "yeah? I'm a half-Jew too." He almost fell off of his stool.

Next, I got retardedly drunk. Like world-spinning, tongue-tripping, stomach-flipping shitfaced. After the 5th round of drinks, the bartender came over and asked if we wanted another round. His response was "only if you make it cheap". WHAT?! You live on the 23rd floor of a luxury building with a skyline view of Manhattan and your own car in the city and you're worried about going for a $12 drink? Good thing I was wasted. Did I mention that?

So we wind up making out a little and in my head all I can think is that I'm beyond ridiculous, but I'm going with it. I hadn't gotten any a little while. When we finally leave he tries to hail a cab and get me in and I told him I was not going back to his place. "What?" he says, "come on! I don't want to sleep with you, I don't do that, but I would like to keep making out and spend the whooole night with you." As I stumbled my way down the block to my apartment, I loudly proclaimed "oh goody for me. You know girls hate when guys say that because then it's like wow! Now we get to give you blowjobs all night!" He was shocked I said that and then quickly ran to catch up with me. As we're walking, he continues to explain that he's absolutely not having sex with me no matter what. Sex is only for relationships and he doesnt like to sleep with aaaanyone ever before at least a few weeks. In my head I was like "oh darling. We're never gonna have a relationship." But I felt like in terms of action, it was tonight or never again and I didn't want to die a born-again virgin.

Apparently back at my apartment we made out in the living room for so long that my roommate couldn't go to the bathroom and wash her face before she ultimately just passed out. I don't recall this. What I do recall is basically forcing him to have sex with me. This was a total first for me, but I mean hey, I wore this shirt so you'd see some cleave, don't tell me you weren't talking about your "cock" so I'd be curious. He was playing with fire! On that note though, have definitely seen bigger.

Jerry said he had to get up at 6:30 for work so I figured that once he left, I'd get some quality sleep in. No though. He just kept turning his alarm off. When I rolled over in the morning, half-drunk, fully-hungover, I shuddered. What had I dooone? This is me getting back in the saddle? Not exactly the classiest way to go. And my GOD-- the chest hair! It was like Teen Wolf slept over. By the time 8:15 rolled around, I concluded that he was never going to leave. I'd finally get him up and then he'd just get back into my bed. I literally wound up saying, "welp, gotta strip the sheets!" and pulled them off around him. After 15 minutes of him watching me pretend to be busy and clean my room, he yawned and I said "why dont you go home and go back to bed?" He goes "no, I'll wait for you." I stammered about not leaving for a whiiiiile and he asks me "I thought you said five minutes?" Shit. That was when I thought if he thought I was leaving, he'd leave. "Oh uh, no way! I've got at least 20 more minutes here." He said OK and he'd get going and I walked him to the front door.

But he didn't leave then either. My roommate was in the kitchen making coffee and he stopped walking and stood there, saying over and over how good it smelled. At first she said yes, it does. He repeats that it really does. I said "OK! Well..." and he cut me off and said "mmm, very good." I think he wanted her to offer him some. Instead she goes "well, it's coffee" to which he so cleverly responds, "yeah coffee, good stuff. I've heard of that." At this point she finally stops engaging in this weirdness and looks at me like who IS this guy?? Then he motions to me and asks her "so does she do this all the time?" and roommate exclaims "yup!" He laughs and says he's joking and I say "she's not! ok good to see you!" and pushed him out the door. In the hallway he kept saying how good of a time he had and we had to do this again really really soon.

I will never see him again.

What do my friends think?: You can't just stumble onto guys like this. Guys like this chase you into the cab in the Hamptons when you're on a bachelorette party screaming "one cock for the rest of your life??!!"

Hm. Maybe I used "cock" first.