Online dating is the best and I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t for the horror stories I get out of them. Like yesterday, while walking to my birthday dinner, I just started cracking up in the middle of downtown Oakland, fitting in along with all the other cackling crazies.
This is obviously a continuation of my last post–about the same dude. On our final date we were talking about why he couldn’t enjoy intimacy, and in my rolodex of dates from hell, he will forever be the guy who had issues with the demure size and shape of my butt. Not because he doesn’t know how to please women (he doesn’t) or because too much porn has rotted his brain (it has) or because he has a remarkably small penis. (I didn’t want to say this because I try to be a decent human. These are just the facts considering his 5’11” stature. So honestly, I’m just worried about the dimensional logistics of his particular boner requirements.)
And I keep laughing when I think about about how, out of all the body parts I can get insecure about, my butt has never made the list. I’m not immune to the Kardashians or Brazillian booty workouts splashed over every magazine and website, but it just isn’t a huge thing to me (pun intended). And I kind of like to think that all the small-assed, apple-shaped women who came before me and bestowed me my humble but efficient butt are applauding me in their graves. Because they never thought big butts were attractive…”Too sexual…Not classy…Good luck finding pants…” they’d say. And it was one area I didn’t ever get encouraged to feel bad about, which means a lot to me. To each their own, but in this case, I’m into what I have.
Anyway, next on the agenda…first date tonight with a guy I knew from college (who doesn’t remember me). He’s half-Asian and a total cutie in real life, but all his photos online are ones that make him look white. Know that at 8pm, one drink in, I’ll be trying really hard no to bring this up.