Dad's House » hookups

Texting Dirty Secrets – Toronto Mayor Candidate Scandal

dadshouse — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 17:40:34 +0000

A Toronto mayor candidate is in hot water right now for sexy text messages he sent to a now 20-year-old intern. Shades of the Tiger Woods affair scandal? Yes, indeed.

A reporter for the Toronto Globe and Mail interviewed me yesterday for my take on sexy texting and other forms of electronic communication. Between my own experiences, stories from my Dad’s House readers, and lurid rumors that have swept Silicon Valley over the years – I’ve become a bit of a dirty texting expert.

Dad’s House readers are sure to enjoy the money quotes from me in the article:

Flirtatious Texts Tend to Stick Around | Toronto Globe and Mail

I’m very aware and cautious about the electronic footprint I leave. I tend not to blog about relationships I’m currently in, to protect the privacy of others. I’m mindful to not dish dirt on exes if they are still in my life or connected to me through mutual friends.

Outside of blogging, I’m equally careful. I don’t openly flirt with dating relations on Facebook or Twitter. And while I do have a weakness for texting, including sexy texts for booty calls (sent and received), I only do those things when I’m in an exclusive, honest relationship.

Still, plenty of celebrities in exclusive, honest relationships have seen their sexy photos and videos exposed. Paris Hilton and Vanessa Hudgens come to mind (though, how exclusive and honest those relationships were, I really have no idea).

When it comes to sexy texting and dirty emails, you can never be too careful.

Unless, of course, publicity is what you crave.

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Funny Condom Story

dadshouse — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 11:33:00 +0000

I recently went out of town for a business conference. I’ve been to plenty of conferences in my day, and so I know that beyond professional networking, a conference can be a great place to unwind, have some drinks, flirt with an attractive attendee, and hook up for sex.

Now, now, I’m not saying this happens often, or to many people. But business trip sex does happen to some folks, sometimes. While it wasn’t a goal of mine to hook up, I figured it was prudent to be prepared with appropriate protection.

Wouldn’t you know, in my rush to pack, I forgot to pack condoms.

After checking into my room, I went to the lobby gift shop. A cute young woman with a pierced lip was working the cash register.

“Do you have a drug section?” I asked.
“Drugs?” she asked, taken aback. “I don’t sell drugs here!” As if she was the local pusher.
“Not drugs,” I said. “A drug store section.”
“Oh, sure,” she said. She led me to a little island of shelves and gestured. “What medicine do you need?” They had cough drops, antihistamines, ibuprofen, etc.

“Not medicine,” I said. I looked around to make sure no conference attendees were within hearing distance. Then I leaned toward the salescleark and shielded my mouth with my hand. “Condoms,” I said.

“Ohhhhhh,” she said, as if I’d just let her in on a dirty little secret. I wondered if this was the first box of condoms she’d ever sold. She looked about twenty.

She grabbed a box of three, then held it out for me. I suddenly became uncomfortable. I didn’t want anyone at the conference to see me buying a box of condoms, then later see me chatting up a female attendee. Awkward! Especially since my conference agenda was professional. I was here to build business connections first. The condoms were a precaution.

“Why won’t you take them?” the clerk asked. “Are you allergic?”
“Can we be discreet about this?” I asked.

She bugged her eyes, like this was the first time she’d been an accomplice to someone else’s sexual dalliance. But she deftly palmed the box and went back to the register.

“Big date tonight?” she asked, ringing me up.
“No,” I said. “I’m attending the conference. And the hotel has a bar.”
She flashed a devilish grin. “You’re here alone, aren’t you!”

I sighed and nodded my head, feeling equal parts silly and sad. I knew the chances of me actually hooking up were quite slim. Still, if there was even a remote possibility that I’d bring a woman to my room for sex and spooning, and I didn’t have protection, well that’s just dumb. Or a crying shame, however you look at it.

“Do you want me to open the box so you can hide them in your wallet right now?” the sales clerk said. She’d become quite the co-conspirator.
“No,” I chuckled. “I’ll put the box in my pants pocket and head straight to my room.”

I passed through the hotel gift shop two more times during the weekend. On both occasions, the young salesclerk with the pierced lip flashed me a “go-get-‘em tiger” smile. I didn’t bother telling her the truth about my conference, that my business networking was focused and professional and going great, and that was all that mattered to me. I simply returned her gaze and let her imagination run wild.

Rawr.

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Texting Goodbye to a Lover

dadshouse — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 10:19:24 +0000

My friend with benefits texted me: You should know I met someone interesting who wants to date. Consider me off the market for the time being.

I wasn’t too surprised. We’d been seeing each other off and on for the better part of two months. But neither one of us had felt a spark to take things further than the occasional sleepover. We were each filling a temporary need in the other’s life. For me as a single parent lacking intimacy, that was sort of enough.

The part that got to me was the last line, “for the time being”.

Did she think once her interesting dating relationship ended, she’d waltz straight back into my bed? Even I have more self-respect than that. Granted, we were merely lovers. But even a lover relationship can have some decorum.

I texted her back: I guessed that! Have fun. Take care.

And that was that.

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Booty Call Calendar – One Year Late

dadshouse — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 10:01:53 +0000

I received an email the other day.

Dear David. We hooked up last year. It was fun. Call me if you’re unattached and we’ll catch up. I miss having a good man around.

Wait a sec – I hooked up with this woman a year ago? I must have been between lovers, because I haven’t done a one-night stand in ages. (Despite what Dad’s House readers who ask “where’s the romance?” like to believe.)

I searched through old emails, found her picture, and sure enough – I immediately recalled a night of crazy couch sex

But why was she emailing me now?

I remembered telling her shortly after that night that I didn’t think we were a match. There simply wasn’t enough chemistry to keep things going between us.

Fast forward a year later to this email.

Booty is booty, right? I mean, if a former lover jumps back into your life, you happily jump back into bed together.

Er… maybe I would have done that a year or two ago. Not now. I prefer being with one woman long term, whether we’re dating or simply lovers. Tantric sex aside, a roll in the hay is far better when there’s a connection. The sex is safer, too.

I wonder who will text me for booty a year from now.

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When a Lover Wants Friendship and Romance

dadshouse — Wed, 27 May 2009 10:16:59 +0000

When it comes to lovers (i.e. booty call partners, not girlfriends), I’m pretty old school, in a modern high-tech sort of way. You text to hookup, have some fun, then go your separate ways, and generally don’t talk or hang out until your next roll in the hay.

I don’t recommend this sort of relationship for everyone, or even many, but for some it’s a perfect way to enjoy monogamous sensual fun in lieu of a dating relationship. (Busy single parents take note!)

One lover and I had been getting along just fine like this. But then she subtly asked for more romance and friendship.

Ugh.

Don’t get me wrong – I would rather have a girlfriend than a lover. And everyone can use more friends. But this woman and I wouldn’t last in a long term relationship. We didn’t click intellectually, and spiritually we were in very different places. All that was between us was physical attraction and sex. Pushing that physical intimacy toward something more seemed dangerous.

I’m not saying our get togethers had to be wham-bam-thank-you-ma’m affairs. We’d strike the right mood, talk, be silly, then turn up the heat and have some fun. But we both understood the difference between foreplay and romance, between hanging out and being good friends. (The converse is worth considering, too – can friends become friends with benefits, and not destroy the relationship?)

When she texted me for a day-long adventure, I knew it wasn’t good. It would be a chance to hike, swim, hang out, get to know each other more deeply. Nothing wrong with that, except that I sensed she wanted to move the relationship to another level.

I’d rather flirt over gin martinis, have some fun, cuddle, then head home.

And save the friendship and romance for my next girlfriend.

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Glove Box Condoms

dadshouse — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 10:00:17 +0000

A neighbor called on a Sunday night to see if I would take her friend, who was visiting, out for drinks. The friend was an attractive woman who lived an hour away, who I had met a few times before. We liked each other enough, but never dated due to the distance between us. Well, that and the fact I’m a single dad, and she doesn’t want to be a step-mom. Deal breaking material there.

But drinks are drinks, and I’m always up for hanging out with a cool single woman. And she wanted fun company for the night.

I picked her up, and she said to take her to a not-stuffy place that serves cocktails. No problem. I headed for a local Irish pub that has a pool table and a full bar.

“You’re not going to take advantage of me tonight, are you?” she asked.

The way she said it made me think she actually wanted to hookup that night. Like she was planting the seed in my head early on so by the end of the night, I’d suggest it.

“We’re going drinking,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “I’m just giving you grief. You’re a nice guy. You’re not one of those creepy guys who keeps condoms in your glove box. Are you?”

Shit. I might actually have condoms in my glove box, leftover from a date I had the week before. On that night, I had hoped my date and I would end up in bed. But after a chemistry-less evening, we ended the night, and the relationship, with a peck on the cheek.

I wondered – had I pulled the condoms out of the glove box and put them back into my bedside table? I couldn’t remember.

All of a sudden, my neighbor’s friend opened the glove box and starts rifling through it. “If I find any condoms in here,” she said, “this date is over. Now.” She laughed to show she was joking. But she kept looking for condoms.

Forget: no glove, no love. This was all about: stockpiling glove? No love!

What could I do but drive and hope they weren’t there? Or if they were there, hope she didn’t find them? She pushed aside the CD case, several packs of gum, a folded-over brown lunch bag, the car servicing manual.

Satisfied, she closed the glove box. “See?” she said. “I knew you were a nice guy. And nice guys finish first in my book.” She gave me a flirty look.

What she didn’t know was the brown lunch bag is where I stash condoms. You see, I can’t just toss condoms in the glove box. If my kids go looking for gum, I don’t want them finding a couple of Magnums instead. I always hide condoms in a plain brown bag. I usually bring them back into the house. I’d forgotten about these. No need to tell my neighbor’s friend.

A few drinks and a pool game later, it was time to head back home. This woman was planning to stay the night with her friend (my neighbor), but I asked if she wanted to come to my place for a nightcap. (That seed she planted!) Of course she said yes. She didn’t leave until morning.

A week later, we went on a real date. But we both knew it wouldn’t work between us. It’s that single dad/step-mom thing. We decided to just be happy with our fun little hookup.

Who knew hiding condoms from my kids would get me laid?

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Sexy and Funny Wine Country Date

dadshouse — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 11:33:04 +0000

Remember my sexy wine country date? The one where I met Benita, a Brazilian woman, for a second-date dinner in San Francisco. My single-parent custody schedule wouldn’t permit a third date for at least two weeks, so I suggested she and I head to Napa wine country for a sexy weekend fling. She accepted. Only problem, as I found out later, she had other lovers. And I’m not into polyamory.

Here’s the rest of that story. It gets better.

Benita and I tasted at several Napa valley wineries, including Duckhorn, the winery that donated sauvignon blanc for Obama’s inaugural lunch (news of which prompted my memory of this dating story). By mid-afternoon, we were tasted out, and ready to head home.

There are two main north/south roads in Napa Valley – the Silverado Trail on the east side (where the Napa marathon takes place), and Highway 29 on the west side that passes by Beringer, Grgich, Mondavi, Beaulieu, etc. We were on Hwy 29, with bumper-to-bumper weekend traffic. Slow going, and not much fun.

To make matters worse, there was one stretch of road with busy construction workers, and concrete barriers cutting us off from both shoulders.

We were creeping along at an old-folks pace, same as everyone else, when all of a sudden, Benita got all hot and bothered and excited.

“Stop the car!” she said.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Pull over!”
“I can’t. There’s traffic everywhere. Is something the matter?”

I’m not sure if this part is sexy or funny or both. My memory of it is sexy, since I was there in the car. My telling of it is funny, since it usually makes for a good a laugh. You be the judge…

“I want you to make love to me,” Benita said. “Pull over the car, and make love to me now.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“F— me now!”

Um…. Sexy? Funny? Does it matter?

“Right now?” I asked.
“Yes, now. Pull over the car,” she said.
“I can’t. There’s nowhere to park.”
“Just pull off!”
“You want to have sex in the car with people driving by?”
“YES!”

At this point, I was thinking two things.

One – this woman was nuts. I mean, come on. She can’t wait until we’re someplace that’s more conducive to a sexy romp?

Two – this woman was nuts for sex. (Not that that’s a problem…) The funny thing was, I know some guys would dream of a woman this horny. I mean, it’s a better problem than being with someone who begs off with a headache each night.

I kept driving, but I was sweating bullets. Part of me wanted to pull over and give her the sexy romp that she craved. But I’m also chaste enough to at least have car sex under cover of an orchard or a woodsy group of trees. In true weekend romp form, I drove to the next exit, pulled off, and took the first country road I could find. Then I stopped the car.

“What are you doing?” she asked.
Funny, I could have sworn she wanted me to pull off the road for sex. “I thought you wanted some sexy fun,” I said. (Actually, I spoke in more explicit terms than that. I’m just trying reduce the f-bombs, and keep this blog PG13.)
“I’m not in the mood any more,” she said. “I was in the mood back on the main road. Back when you refused to pull off.”

I see…

The lesson of this story: if a second dinner date turns into a fun wine-country romp, and your date demands you pull the car over for sex, don’t assume she’s playing a joke. Sometimes sexy women ask for exactly what they want. And it’s your job to give it them.

Or not.

(Yes, this actually happened…)

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