Dating Diary: Dear Guy I Barely Know, I Don’t Want to See Your Dick but Thanks for Playing

Dating Diary: Dear Guy I Barely Know, I Don’t Want to See Your Dick but Thanks for Playing

I have perverted tendencies. I’m not saying that to be funny or cute, I’m being completely honest here. I don’t know what went on in my adolescence to make my brain decide to live in the gutter, but it is what it is, and quite frankly, I don’t mind it.

In fact, I’ve found that finding the sexual connotation in practically anything that is said can sometimes be a plus. It helps cut the tension and humor is always appealing.

However, it can also backfire big time—and I’ll give you a very memorable example.

Tinder has a rep for being a hook-up app, but I have yet to hook up with anyone from there because I don’t let it get to that point. With that said, I met with this one guy who was my “match” (oooh, so exciting!) at a nearby bar for drinks one night.

Mind you, I almost bailed last minute, which is a trend of mine, apparently. I don’t know why I feel like backing out, I guess I would just much rather come home, put on sweats and go on Pinterest to read quotes about why I’m single.

Anyway, I decided to stick to the plan, and boy was I glad I did at the time. This guy was amazing. I was floored by how much we connected and how easily the conversation flowed. We spent three hours at the bar just talking about everything from work to life to religion and politics (two topics I steer away from, especially on a first date!), and we were just on the same page for everything.

He seemed like the real deal, and once the date was over, he didn’t try anything. He just walked me to my car and asked that I text him when I got home so he knew I was safe…swoon.

Obviously, I blew up just about all of my friends’ phones with texts about meeting my future husband.

To my surprise, he followed up the next day asking to see me again that night. What?! Did Bruna just score a back-to-back date?! For the first time in a really long time, I was feeling the butterflies in my stomach and couldn’t wait to see him.

We met at the theater when we got off work to catch a late movie, and ended up seeing Sex Tape.

It’s a great film, super funny, but as you can imagine—it deals with porn. So during our conversation that night, there was sex talk, and that’s when my perverted mindset worked against me.

To be fair, I didn’t say anything dirty or, what I thought, was suggestive. I just gave my opinion on things and since I was so comfortable with this guy already, I forgot that it was just the second date.

Again, he didn’t try to kiss me. All that happened that night was some canoodling during the movie, very middle school status.

…Until he decided to FaceTime me later on…and lo and behold! It was his dick.

Yep, there was no face in this FaceTime, and Mr. I-Don’t-Have-the-Balls-To-Kiss-You-But-Hey-Here-Are-My-Balls was wacking off on the phone.

I didn’t know what to do and if we’re going to be completely honest here, I took a peek. But then I hung up and told him I was disappointed because he made it clear that there is only one thing he was interested in, and well, I was clearly on a different page.

At first I was mad at myself for letting my pervy ways ruin what I thought was going to be a great thing, but then I thought—No. Who does that?!

Sure, maybe I should keep my gutter gab to myself until a certain point, but maybe guys should keep their penis in their pants until advised otherwise.

After the events of Dickgate, I never spoke to or heard from him again.