Right Now

I don't always want to sleep with a girl on the first date, although I'm not really one to say "no" to the option. There have been times when I won't even ask a girl back to my place, and there are situations in which I'm thoroughly happy with a kiss or handholding. However, if I want to sleep with a girl on the first date, I usually can, and here's how...

The first and most logical reason is that if I want to, it usually means that there is some sort of chemistry between the girl and me, usually beyond physical attraction. Either we had a great time (Ethiopian food, bluegrass concert, what-have-you) and we're bonding over that shared experience or we just sense that we like each other and chit chat has risen to our relationships with our parents, that childhood trauma that shaped us, or Van Halen's best DLR album. Only one of these things needs to happen, usually, for me to want to take it to the next step.

At this point, neither of us wants the date to end with dinner. Having drinks, whether that be tea or whiskey, back at my place is a good date extender, and it always works best in combination with wanting to show the girl something - my sister's rock song, my new kitchen table, a Youtube clip. However, by the time I put the kettle on the stove or get the ice out of the freezer, we usually forget about the show. The show, including various highlights of my interior decorating that I've mentioned over dinner, allows the girl to excuse herself for breaking the rule she set in her head an hour before I picked her up. On the surface, she's coming back to my place for a reason other than sleeping with me.

This is where the important part comes, and where Samantha became the fifth of the last six girls I dated to give it up on the first night. The thing is, each of those girls really wanted to bone, and "convincing" them is really just allowing them to do what they really wanted to do already. The key is figuring out why they set the rule for themselves, and convincing them that I'm on the same page, without ever lying.

The reason for Sam's rule was that she was worried I would lose respect for her if she slept with me that night. I learned this because she told me so; we were practicing honesty from the get-go. Sam has two older sisters, half-sisters, both closer to my age, who warn Sam to learn by what they say, and not by what they do, and their collective experience dictated that guys lost respect for girls who give it up on the first night.

Upon realizing that it wasn't her sisters' chastisement that was the acting chastity belt, I relaxed. It would be much harder to sever her from her sisters' judging glares. Her qualm was an easy one to dispell because it simply wasn't true. There would be no way that I would lose respect for her for such a decision. I know this from experience, as relationships that continue when sex has become a question get strained under the weight of anticipation. I respect a girl who takes what she wants, as it pulls at the feminist cartilage strung within me. Despite what this blog might suggest, I am a feminist at heart, and my respect for women is often what allows me to connect with them in sexual ways.

Sam understood this. After explaning in detail my manifesto on female empowerment and the way in which society has shaped what is "right" and "wrong" for women versus men, Sam seemed to feel empowered herself. I knew she had made her decision, just as other girls do, by the switch - a deep exhalation, followed by a kiss and the mount. With this particular mount, the girl's pelvis will begin to thrust with a different rhythm of movement, one that is leading to something, rather than being the something. She switches on with a release, because she is doing what she wants, because it has become her choice. And we are both happy for it.

Beautiful Girls

When I told my girlfriend I was starting a blog, she immediately wanted to read it. Bless her heart; she doesn't know when something's going to hurt her. Samantha's 22, and seems to be experimenting with pain. She's only been having sex for two years (yesterday was her two-year anniversary!) and this is her first "emotional" relationship. She's a curious, adventurous young grad student in global medicine, and loves to play the game where she asks me what I'm thinking. I always tell her. She's slowly being desensitized.

Sam recently met Jamie at my college roommate's inauguration party. This is Jamie #2, Jamie Ryan, the only girl with whom I ever fell in love. Jamie the first (dubbed only for chronology's sake), Boring Jamie, I will save for another blog entry. Jamie Ryan and I have remained in touch, vaguely, since our messy break-up three years ago, and my stomach still drops when her name is mentioned. Sam liked meeting her. She likes meeting, discussing, and seeing naked pictures of girls from my past. Where most girls balk at asking my "number" for fear it will be larger than the number of strains of HPV, Sam greedily pumps me dry, as if doing so tests her threshold for tolerance and love.

What Sam and I have going for us is that I would consider showing her this blog. The more I am honest with her, the more I watch her eyes accept my mental trespasses and my history, the more I feel her beauty. The generosity she showed Jamie Ryan this past Tuesday night, her genuineness, took Jamie by surprise. It was the first time Jamie saw me with another girl and I'm glad it was Samantha. For Sam's part, I try to be the same way with her, help her parse her past two years, and give her the one thing she asked me for when I met her six weeks ago: honesty.

When Sam and I got back to my place Tuesday night after the party, she made me stay up and tell her how I got Jamie to sleep with me on our first date. Next entry, I'll explain how I convinced Sam.