Nothing is quite as depressing as sex in a car on a parking lot in broad daylight.
First of all, most cars are not designed to have sex in. They’re an ergonomic disaster when it comes to intertwining your body with that of someone else. Second, I was constantly on the lookout for people who might see me, along with Guy #28’s head appearing in and out of view over my dashboard.
My date with Guy #28 was a complete disaster.
They say size doesn’t matter. Well, this guy’s penis was pretty much the complete absence of matter. It was tiny. When he unzipped his pants I was greeted by something best described as a socially phobic shrimp.
I found myself on a date with an Asian stereotype:
Guy #28 was completely submissive. That much became clear the moment I stepped into his car on what would be our first and only encounter.
“Hi, how are you doing? You look super! I’m so glad you could make it,” he said as if I was a long lost friend.
My first thought of him was that he didn’t look at all like the guy from the picture, although from a certain angle I could see how he had gone about Photoshopping himself.
He was good with computers.
When we drove off I assumed we were going to his place. After a while he told me he still lives with his parents. He wasn’t driving to his place. He was just driving. He asked if I knew of a place to go. I didn’t.
Our love nest would become a parking lot. In broad daylight.
I wasn’t proud of myself for having sex on a parking lot in broad daylight. It’s not that we got caught or that I never did it again, but the size of Guy #28’s penis made me realize how my ruthless pursuit of sex had sunk my standards. It was ridiculous of me to agree to sex on a parking lot with someone I wasn’t comfortable sharing a space with.
To make things worse Guy #28 was unbelievably passionate. He acted as if we were lovers, while in reality we were just two guys with nothing in common except their time on Craigslist. I couldn’t stand Guy #28’s drama.
I came quickly. I had trouble thinking happy thoughts when I did, but I figured it would be the quickest way to end this ordeal.
At first I was relieved the sex was over. Then Guy #28 asked if I wanted to go have coffee with him. It should be noted it’s not customary to go for coffee after anonymous hook-ups on a parking lot.
I really wanted my date to drop me off at my subway station, but he was already parking his car in front of Starbucks when he dropped the question.
Being with Guy #28 must be what purgatory is like.
All I wanted was to be released from my date, who kept on saying how super happy he was to have met me and how he really wanted to be my friend.
The parking lot sex had evaporated his initial shyness. Now he was constantly telling me how super I was.
Then came the moment Guy #28 ran into two of his girlfriends. I’m not entirely sure their sudden appearance was a coincidence: Guy #28 stopped sending messages on his phone the moment his hags entered the scene. Guy #28 couldn’t believe his luck he was surrounded by so much people to not feel lonely with.
I was loathing myself however. I had to make small talk with the friends of someone who had just given me a blowjob in his car.
I felt like hitting Guy #28 when he ordered himself a second latte. I wanted to go back home, away from my date’s desperate attempts at having company.
I socially obligated my way through Guy #28’s friends for a good half hour. His clinginess became increasingly annoying. At times I got the impression he was pretending to be my boyfriend.
When we finally ended up back in his car we went to another parking lot, this one belonging to my subway haven. I nodded Guy #28 goodbye the moment we got there. He asked if I was going to call him. I told him I would think about that. He said it was making him so sad I had to go. I told him he would get over it.
As I grabbed the door handle Guy #28 put his arms around me and started to cry.
“Please don’t go. I like you so much,” he cried. I told him he had just given me a blowjob on a parking lot and that it was to be the extent of our relationship.
He cried over my impending absence the way North Koreans cry over the death of a Supreme Leader. It was unbearably awkward. In the end I had to pull myself out of Guy #28’s arms. I left him crying in his car.
I’m not saying sex dates are a bad thing, but I do find it interesting you often encounter a lot of loneliness on a sex date.
For what it’s worth Guy #28 has my sympathy. But when your penis is that small and you are incredibly needy, dependent and insecure, it might not be wise to find love in random strangers on a parking lot. In a way I may have taught him that by slamming the door in his crying face.
For his sake I’d like the world to be a place where penis size is irrelevant, but that’s not the case. Stats are an important part of our culture. As is Photoshop. Or parking lots for that matter.
Or post-orgasmic self loathing.
But maybe that’s just me.