Kissing a toilet paper tube

I’m hitchhiking on TV a lot – vicariously living through Blind Date, “the show where we set up two strangers on a date and let you come along.”

My daily half-hour dose lets me experience virtual dating. I don’t have to leave my home or my fluffy, bad-ass girlfriend for a freakish blonde who talks in rhyme meter and digs vampire novels. No more processing the day after. No more early morning sneak-aways from shameful and soiled futons.

I used to laugh at the plight of the floundering heterosexuals on Blind Date, but soon realized that no one is immune to the perils of dating and the sex that may accompany it. We all have to put in some dues before we get the nugget.

Much can go wrong. What you are about to read are some of the low down doggity dogs of dating. It can’t get any worse.

Due to the nature of the close confines and infectious rumour mill that entangles the lesbian community, some names have been changed to protect the traumatized.

Me

I was 17 and green to the scene and I decided to go home with the first woman I saw walk through the door of the club. Under the lights she looked as if she was in her mid-20s. As soon as we walked out, I saw she was pushing 40 and as an ageist teen, I was mortified, but kept going.

She borrowed money from me to buy beer and cigarettes and bought wine coolers and menthol cigarettes because she was boycotting anything I suggested.

On the way to her house, she just blabbed and blabbed about herself and told me she just finished her tour of duty in the Army and that she was looking forward to reuniting with her eight-year-old daughter. I suddenly realized that my boyish looks were being overlooked in favour of my long hair, and that I was the “girl” in this situation. She lived in the basement of this ratty Victorian house and it reeked of mold and damp depression.

There was a huge Sears portrait of her and her daughter in the stairway. She had three cats, which I was deathly allergic to. She put some music on and laid on top of me, singing the songs right in my ear, way off key. I put my hand down her pants and she said, “I’m on my period, baby.”

She took me to the bedroom and stripped all my clothes off and started eating me out and moaning all about my “titties.” She cooed, “Baby, ooh pussy, baby.” I was paralyzed with terror. She crashed out, snoring, and I finally mustered up the courage to escape.

Christine Hilliard

I was auctioned off as a $100 date for a fundraising event. The woman who won me showed up at my door that Friday night in a corporate lesbian Z car with a dozen red roses. I would have rather she picked some milkweed out of the crack of the sidewalk.

She was wearing those “lady pants” that climbed above her navel and they had stirrups. I thought, “It’s for charity, charity, charity.” We went to a restaurant about as cozy as a dorm room and she told me she was a paralegal for a company that defends corporations that are guilty of environmental pollution.

After I laughed out loud, she fished for options to keep the dead-end conversation going. Our personalities were just not mixing. Then in the car she tried to pull the ol’ yawn and stretch smooch action. No kidding, and I told her that I was repelled by kissing in any form. As soon as she drove away, I gave those damn roses to a passing neighbour.

Teena

This woman had been scoping me for some time and I was vaguely interested until she called me up one night and said “I want to fuck you.” I took her up on her forwardness.

We went to her house and screwed for a few hours, but she kept trying to be really butchy and toppy and I couldn’t help but laugh my head off. She was taking herself so seriously and we didn’t even know each other. We took a break to the kitchen to get something to eat and she was trying to feed me everything like we were in the movie 9 1/2 Weeks.

She tried to give me water from her mouth all sexy – in her mind anyway – and I ended up laughing and spitting it in her face. Her world of domination was shattered and I walked home once I found my clothes.

Mariko Tamaki

In Montreal, I dated this total bimbo. We went to see Showgirls and the whole time I was totally mortified that someone might see us. Then I lost my wallet in the theatre.

Too embarrassed to go back in and get it, we went to her house to fuck. When we kissed she opened her mouth, but never used her tongue. It was like kissing a toilet paper tube. Then she refused to take her underwear off. She was like a puppy that rubbed herself against me for hours and promptly fell asleep when she came, I think. I couldn’t sleep because my whole leg was throbbing and sore. I didn’t know any better. I thought, “This is as good as it gets.”

Janice

At the end of a 17-year drinking binge, I went out with $5 in my pocket to meet this bartender in Ottawa who bought me drinks all night. At 1am, she said we should go over to Quebec so we could drink till three.

We get there, all fucked up, and met this friend of the bartender who is a stripper and says she’s got a bunch of coke, which I’d never done, and that we should all do it in the bathroom with her big white businessman boyfriend. We snorted it on the toilet seat.

The bar closed and it was just the four of us. The stripper starts dancing for her boyfriend. The bartender girl pins me up against a wall and tells me I kiss like shit. She says she won’t drive me home but that we’ll go to her house to fuck.

When we get there, it’s like eight inches of filth, and she just walks into her room without saying a thing, winds up a Fisher Price music box and passes out. I wake up the next morning, freaking out ’cause I’m totally late for work. Bartender hands me the phone and while I’m lying to my boss about why I’m not there, bartender starts fingering me. I told her to take me home, because my $5 would’ve gotten me down the block. She dropped me off, pulled her sunglasses off her hungover eyes and said, “See ya, babe.”

Two weeks later, she started dating my roommate.

Allyson Mitchell

I met this girl in San Francisco and we screwed all week. By the end of it, I was pretty much over it and ready to come home. A few days later, I get this call from her, and she says, “Guess where I am? On a bus on the way to Toronto!” Then she starts crying, saying she quit her job and told her roommates to fuck off and that she can’t wait to see me.

I couldn’t believe it. She calls me the next day from the bus station and I drove down there to tell her no fucking way. She was hysterical and said that she had no money and nowhere to go. I bought her a one-way plane ticket to her parent’s hometown and never saw her crazy face again.