So, I am Cameron. A twenty-one year-old single socialite. I had began my first year at college believing that I wouldn't get involved in a long-term relationship with anyone until I was a senior in college but it seems life didn't work out that way. Instead I met a charming, young man my own age (the first that I'd dated...not the first guy but the first of my own age) and on a crazy day in October of 2005 I thought I'd met my match and we embarked on a shit journey into the land of Commitment. So here I am the age that I think I should be ready to settle down and I am far from it. I broke up with Andrew about six months ago and have decided to try my luck out in Single-ville. So far I'm enjoying myself. I have met a few awesome people and have made some lasting friendships with some. What I've really enjoyed doing lately, though, has been telling my friend's horror/hilarious stories about some of the dates I've been on...which coincidentally has been the chosen purpose of our joint blog. So to add another date story to the book...er, blog...here goes:
I always like to begin a date story with a relatively accurate description of the victim. Jared is this guy that I'd been awkwardly dating since (what an odd coincidence!) October of 2008. Sweet, tall, sometimes well mannered, and oh so handsome...how could I resist. He wasn't a jerk like some of the guys I've dated (*cough* Greg *cough**cough**hack*). In fact, when we were at a party around my neighborhood (PARTY CENTRAL) and I decided to head home he walked me all the way to my front door. At first I thought he may have been gay. He always wore tight pants...sometimes even cut-offs. He had gorgeous brown hair and blue eyes and the first time we kissed I swear my heart stopped. All the makings of a great smut novel, non?
Well, we had been making out a couple of times before I found out that the guy was moving away. Boo. Then drama happened and things got awkward and I just kind of gave up after a while UNTIL we got our groove back. Then we started making out again like it was nobody's business and we fooled around twice. Now you would think that above all the wonderful things he had to offer aesthetically (a good personality, great sense of humor, dashing good looks, and some good manners) that he would be absolutely amazing in bed (and to be completely honest I can't be sure that he isn't).
It was his last night in town and we had hung out with his brother and friend until the wee hour of 5:30 AM. I decide to head home and I dropped his friend off and after I pass by his apartment complex I get a call from him. "Do you want to hang out a little bit more?" I knew where this was headed; a goodbye bang before he left town.
Temptation had won me over and so had my pants. So I went back, we made out, fooled around, he had a condom and a penis and I had a vagina (sorry if this is TMI) and at first everything was going really well. The fun was short lived however after 7 minutes. It didn't make it any better that I had spent past day and 1/2 of the afternoon watching and listening to Jizz in My Pants by The Lonely Island. So when he apologized and said "This normally doesn't happen," I replied "It's fine! Nothing to be sorry about. At least you didn't *sings* jizz in your pants." Of course, to make matters worse I spent the next two minutes laughing at my joke like an insensitive idiot saying "You get it!? Oh I'm so funny." He chuckled a bit too himself...which I admire in a man. Any guy who can take a low blow like that is quite the turn on and has loooooads of self esteem.
I suppose that it is quite obvious that I, myself, need a bit of grooming in the dating area.
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