My Biggest Dating Blunder This Year Part 1

OK, we're back to stories of degradation again. I knew I'd have to get around to writing about Restraining Order sooner or later.


I met Restraining Order online. We arranged a meeting despite five big bright red warning signs that, had I not been thinking with my penis, should have sent me screaming in the other direction. The warning signs?


1) The first photo she sent was a nude job. Not a polaroid---a professionally done shot. I appreciated her moxie, to be honest about it.

2) She lied about her age. Her profile said 24. Over the course of our IM conversations I realized that her timeline didn't add up and asked her how old she really was. She copped to being 29 but said she'd lose modelling assignments for being over 25 and that everyone in the industry lied about age.

3) She friend-requested 2 ex-girlfriends of mine on myspace. When one of them didn't respond, RO sent her a message to the effect of: I hope you're not intimidated by my looks and I understand that you used to date David.

4) Her spelling was about the worst I've ever come across. I'm no grammar nazi, but I had to wondered if I was actually corresponding with a sixth grader.

5) She shared her poetry with me. It was truly awful.


Those were the signs. Being in therapy didn't count---I like to date interesting girls and interesting girls are often going to come out of adolescence damaged. So it goes.

For our first date, Ro came to my apartment and I prepared chicken cordon blue with a rice pilaf and paired it with a nice pinot noir. Ro arrived in a miniskirt and turtleneck---I should mention that it was February. She was Jewish and had dark, short curly hair, dark eyes and a slender body bordering on emaciated. At 6'0", she towered over me (I list myslef as 5'9", but I think I'm closer to 5'81/2"). She brought me a present consisting of six candles.

We spent the next three hours talking about childhood and families and broaching subjects that are not usually first date subjects---there was a chemistry between us that we both felt. After awhile we started making out and headed for the bed. We both agreed not to have sex just yet. She had a wonderfully feminine vanilla smell about her that drove me wild and I went down on her for a loooong time. Despite our mutual agreement, there was some penetration involved but I wouldn't call it actual sex.

The next morning we lolled about until she mentioned that she was going to be late for her psychiatrist's appointment. She followed with, her back turned toward me,

"Can we have sex?"

I'm not a morning sex person anyway, but the way she said it was cold, impersonal. If she had looked me in the eyes and said, maybe, "I want to have sex with you" or "I want you", that might have been different. At any rate, I wasn't in the mood and my body wouldn't fully cooperate. She was a bit miffed. She recovered enough to leave a salacious message on my myspace comments. Then she left a half-hour later.

An hour went by, and I got a call from her informing me that she had missed her psychiatric appointment and was out of a drug I had never heard of, called adderall. She didn't want to use the emergency number for fear that she'd be committed again. She knew that Mar had access to gobs and gobs of pharmaceuticals and begged me to contact her to see if she had any adderall.

This is the point in the story where I do something really really stupid.

I called Mar and asked if she had access to something called adderall.

Mar flipped out.

"Oh my God, David, have you sunk so low? You got yourself addicted and now you're coming to me for a fix? Damn you!"

I told her it wasn't for me. It was for someone else. Who had missed a psychiatric appointment.

"I'm not getting drugs for any of your sluts!" *click*

I called RO back. No go on the adderall.

At home was an email from Mar. It ended with:

"...by the way: sex is waaaaaaay greater with someone my own age. So Fuck Off. Your newly estranged ex-friend, Mar."

I texted RO to let her know that her contact lenses were on my sink. She texted back:

"You can throw them away. And my number. Be well."

Little did I know that my adventures with RO were only beginning. More in part 2.