Dad's House » hookups

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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Sexy Arrangement

dadshouse — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 11:52:21 +0000

As a single man who is in-between relationships, I make it a point to spend time with women, make sure there’s at least some feminine energy in my life. I have single mom friends who I grab coffee or go to dinner with, neighborhood moms who I chat with about school. I flirt (or think about it) with bus girls and coffee house workers (okay, not that often, but it’s good to flirt with a stranger every day!)

One thing can’t be filled so easily – physical intimacy. (That would be sex, in layman’s terms.)

While I’ve indulged in rebound sex and one-night-stands, I’m not a huge fan. I much prefer having a steady partner – if not a girlfriend, then a lover, friend with benefits, booty call partner. A sexy arrangement, agreement, desire to be together on a semi-regular basis.

And so it was with this intention that I met a woman online. We were both in situations where having a lover made more sense than dating.

For me as a single dad with half-time custody, dating is complicated. I won’t bring just anyone around my kids. And with soccer and lacrosse games, I’m with them more than half time. I have had girlfriends, so I know being a single parent doesn’t make dating impossible, just a little trickier.

The woman I met was in her early 30s, working full time, going to grad school at night for an MBA. She has no time for a boyfriend. But… she craves the sort of intimacy or passion that can only come from sex.

Or so I thought.

We chatted for an hour over drinks before I suggested we head back to my place. (When you’re auditioning a new lover, you don’t wait for third-date sex. First-hour sex is more like it.) This woman was hawt, if I may say so myself. Black knee-high boots, a mid-thigh skirt, sexy top. She was dressed to kill.

On the drive there, she asked what sort of arrangement I had in mind.

Hell, I didn’t know. Meet up twice a week? Once if our schedules don’t mesh? More if we could? For a sexy arrangement, more is certainly better than less.

I gave her the quick tour of my house, then we headed to my bedroom. I helped her off with her coat. I was thinking about lighting some candles when she got all awkward on me.

“Can we discuss terms first?” she asked.

Terms? WTF! Was this part of some graduate-level MBA course I never took?

She explained. “My last lover was an attorney. He helped pay my rent.”

Oops. That kind of sexy arrangement. Why hadn’t she explained that before? Maybe over drinks, on the phone, in email…

“I’m not looking for that,” I said.

“It doesn’t have to be my full rent,” she said. “But I’m a woman – I need something from you if you’re going to have sex with me.”

I won’t go into more details. Suffice to say, I helped her back into her coat and we parted immediately. On good terms – it was a simple misunderstanding by both of us. Though she might have mentioned her sexy arrangement idea up front.

While it’s rare for me to meet a woman who puts a price on her sexual companionship (like, it happened once with a girlfriend who figured, if I’m sleeping with her, I should basically give her my credit card so she can buy herself whatever she wanted. To which I said, um…. no) – I know it does happen. This particular MBA-studying woman insisted sexy arrangements were the norm for her in Silicon Valley.

I guess the next time I look for a sexy lover, I’ll be sure to say the only arrangement she should expect is one with flowers.

If even that.

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Holiday Hookup

dadshouse — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 11:14:16 +0000

What is it about the holidays that makes singles so dang horny?

Wait, let me guess. They refuse to start a dating relationship, lest they hit it off and have to introduce someone new to the relatives, or be forced to ring in the New Year without a gotta find someone special resolution to make. Add some cold winter nights, and you’re mixing up Dad’s House favorite winter old home remedy.

Sex.

It’s part of the standard issue single parent Holiday Wish Book. Okay, so sex is also a remedy for spring, summer, and fall. You have to admit, it’s a good one!

I hear what you’re saying: “But Dads, you keep saying you’re looking for someone at your same life stage!”

And you’re exactly right. My life stage is this: I’m single. I’m a dad. I’d like to meet someone long term, but in the meantime I wouldn’t mind a hug or a snuggle or even a sexy romp. Call it a craving for physical intimacy.

So how did the holiday play out? I didn’t have my kids on Christmas day, so we celebrated on our own good time the weekend before with my folks, and the day before with gifts. Throughout, I marched to my own drummer (easy to do in a down economy) by refusing to wish for any of the things the commercials told me to wish for. No Black and Decker, no Mercedes with a bow, no Chia pet (priceless humor, that.) I also didn’t longingly pine for the princess of my dreams to manifest in my life.

I put my flirting radar into red light mode.

Did my sexy Christmas wish come true?

Let’s just say my red light gave Rudolf’s nose a run for the money. And I can’t say I went cold.

Gotta love mistletoe. Does it work year-round?

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