Brightest Young Things

In an effort to catalog the mass sexual dysfunction in the District of Columbia, we bring you BYT Below The Beltway: 1 week. 1 person. 1 city. Total Anonymity guaranteed.

Today: Single female, living in the Gayborhood and glancing at 30. Life is rarely sexy, often ridiculous

DAY 1
7 AM: Wake up and assess necessity of shower. Due to that evening's blind date, decide it's probably best to stray from dirty hippie aesthetic. Shower, shave, AND blow-dry hair. Exhausting!

8:30 AM: Arrive at work and head over to coffee joint for daily coffee ritual with co-worker; discuss potential all the bearded baristas at non-chain DC joint have to offer. Upon return from caffeine run, see I missed a call from the blind date set-up; he left a message. Then check my computer; he also sent an email. Woah tiger.

8:50 AM: Review his messages. He has availed himself of all DC-area music venue schedule, and offers questionable show options for the evening. Apparently my blind date doesn't adhere to my personal "Drinks Before We Commit" rule: no activity-ing until it is clear you can hold decent convo for an hour. I stave off his poor music choices with an emailed suggestion of low-key drinks. He responds by pushing for dinner, which is fine, whatevs. I showered, after all.

12:30 PM: Weekly Affirmation Lunch with Gay Work Husband. I realize halfway through our conversation about wood versus boar bristle brushes that proliferation of Gay Husbands and Gay Boyfriends in my life takes me that much closer to Cat Lady. Secretly sob a little bit inside.

7:30 PM: Meet blind date at DC-chic lounge. Uh, wow. Friend who set me up failed to mention the BAMF-tastic nature of blind date counterpart. Beard, hair, hard bodied (that's ok actually), talk of motorcycles and lots of inappropriate jokes about dead celebrities. Wha.....? I'm pretty certain every bar maiden at this DC lounge is snickering at me, as BAMFy relays in full pantomime motion how one conducts their body on a motorcycle. My DC lounge cred is about to go to shit.

8:30 PM: Proceed to dinner, more talk about how "extreme" BAMFy is, various sports and pursuits he undertakes to demonstrate this. I silently list through what extreme things I did this week. Trapeze school? But alas, I had been too scared to actually swing. Shit. So, I do as one might and get drunk. We get into long conversation/argument about...the nature of faith? Religion? Extremism? Puppy Bowl? Hard in hindsight to say really, due to drunk factor. Decide I am over the pantomimed moto-bike routine, and befriend some chick sitting next to us. She and I hit it off swimmingly, decide we should hang out later, and I get her number. BAMFy appears sulky at my newly found friend. I think we might go dutch on bill. Damn it.

11 PM: Peace out from this debauched disaster, deliver ceremonial kiss peck after letting him walk me home. (Mom would be proud. Can't give it up for a bill gone dutch.)

DAY 2
7 AM: Wake up feeling less than awesome. Too old for this shit. Have to shower off excess of boozing.

8:30 AM: Stumble into daily coffee routine; catch hell for looking like hell from the bearded barista crew. I review previous date with co-worker coffee buddy, describe as utter fail. Majority of her horror stems from the "bill gone dutch" phenomenon on a first date. Also pass the news along to friend who hooked it up.

8:45 AM: Follow-up starts from BAMFy.Non-committal thank you, he enjoyed himself. Huh. Second text comes through, he asks when can we get together next? He is free for lunch. As in, lunch today, in a few minutes. Then he calls to discuss aforementioned lunch possibilities. I let voice mail pick it up; text him I am busy in meetings all day. Can't decide if I feel scared or flattered. Regardless, I decide to play it cool, and declare myself busy for the evening.

5:30 PM: Head to happy hour. Stick with Corn Nuts and water, as a result of last night's overindulgence. Then have a couple beers. Then accidentally light piece of paper on fire. Temporarily ban self from bars, and throw into self imposed timeout.

10:45 PM: Text the BAMF a bit too late in the eve to pass as a sober choice, to see what he is up to. Never good.

DAY 3
7:45 PM: Wake up feeling ok, praise Corn Nuts for that. Then remember late night text, embarrassed....Whatever, he re-enacted American Choppers at a bar.

8:45 PM: Ambiguous Coffee Man at barista joint (unclear on his race, age, or sexual preference) seems to both be hitting on me and giving off some Sassy Gay Friend vibe when he says he has really missed me, and he's not the only one. This causes some internal questions for me:

o A--why did he miss me? I am here every day.
o B--then where the hell's my free coffee?
o C--who ELSE is missing me? does he have a beard too?

10:30 AM: Coworker comes by with proposition--has 4 tickets to a game next evening, do I want to double date with him and his wife, and friend they are trying to set me up with. I’m game.

6:30 PM: continue self-imposed timeout, go home, slip into something comfortable (Charter Club Robe), click through some Hulu, bowls of cereal for dinner. Being single is fucking killer sometimes.

8 PM: BAMFy calls. ((I AM BUSY!!! GET OUT OF MY LIFE!!)) We chat; he's actually not so bad. Agree to dinner in 2 days.

Y 4
7 AM: Wake up refreshed. Plan outfit accordingly, for good work-to-game-time conversion.

12:30 PM: Affirmation Lunch with Gay Work Husband. He shocks me into realizing awkward quotient of evening set up. Shit, he's right--co-workers' BFF, double date, sports, blind factor. Now I want to crawl back to timeout.

7:30 PM: Yup, completely awk. This is a Silent Setup kind of guy. I spend majority of this date becoming really acquainted with the stale popcorn on the ground and my co-worker's wife. (Who is lovely. I think we will continue to be friends outside of this evening.) I also feel like I am on a date with my mom and dad in tow. Score.

10:30 PM: Walk out of stadium, walk directly past Dude Who Broke My Heart last year, with the phrase "I just feel afloat in an ocean right now. I'm on an island. And I need to be there alone." Throw up in my mouth all over again, remembering this line. Just to be sure, and because I am a girl, confirm that was he via text; it was. He wants to know why I didn't say hi. I want to know where he found a dinghy to escape from his fucking island.

10:40 PM: Car ride home with Mom and Dad co-worker in the front, Silent Setup and I in the back, and the phone blowin up with texts from Island Man and BAMFy.

11:30 PM: Charter Club robe and cereal for comfort, as soon as I get home.

DAY 5
7 AM: Wake up resolved to give BAMFy a fair shake. He's talking (not Silent Setup), he's available (not Island Man), and he's taking me to dinner tonight. Giddy up.

8:40 AM: Follow up email from Silent Setup. He enjoyed himself. Huh? Wants to get together again soon; agree to brunch next week.

5: 30 PM: Peace out from work early, head to event with friends. Excuse myself early to get ready for BAMF date numero dos.

6:45 PM: As I apply the last of my mascara, get a text saying he's running late, with out of town friends. Ok to push back, and meet later? Of course.

7:45 PM: Hour later, no word. No good.

8 PM: Texts again, canceling. Did Mr. Overeager BAMF really just stand me up!? Fuck that noise. Call friends to meet up again.

10 PM: Unashamedly dance at Chief Ike's all night, as though it's 2003 and I am 22 ALL OVER AGAIN! Judge away.

2 AM: Biggest win? Still at home with charter club by 2am.

DAY 6
1 PM: Meet up with a friend, escape to Spa World and recover from life for a moment. The Koreans have it right, man.

4 PM: BAMFy has called and texted about hanging. I give tentative maybe. M-effer totally stood me up last night. I need some remorse.

8 PM: Celebrate a friend's promotion by adventuring out. BAMFs excluded. Make friends with homeless man, after he impales himself unsuccessfully on side of city bus. His name is Charlie, and is recently separated from his lady love, which is "not fair", because he had been "eating pussy for 9 year, and for what?" For what indeed, Charlie.

11:30 PM: BAMFy texts to see if we can meet up. No we can't, well past the polite pour time of day. Get real! Ignore messages.

DAY 7
11 AM: Hear from BAMF, he apologizes for overcommitting/flubbing plans. Agree to meet up for meal.

7 PM: Dinner is ok, but his warmly aggressive demeanor is weird for me. And his talk of war and metal hair bands. Decide I am not into it

9 PM: Walking home, starts raining and BAMF makes a move. Decide I AM into it. What can I say; I’m a sucker for a dude who could teach me to paraglide, and will make out in a rainstorm.

9:15 PM: BAMFy is exactly what you'd expect in bed, and it's awesome--direct, upfront, dirty, super into me, super into it all. Proceed with Hot People Sex. You can hate, but more pretentious things have come out of my mouth. Extremism has its' perks as his body is pretty epic.

9:30 PM: Dude likes to watch himself, shocker.

9:50 PM: Dirty talker, shocker.

10:20 PM: Ever watch Weeds? When Andy asks Nancy how she likes it with her Mexican drug lord lover? "Rapey Sex?"

10:50 PM: After we're done, and done once more, he asks for a debrief, sort of a "Best Practices" manual for future reference. Sidebar--i recommend everyone start doing this. so fucking honest, and thus awesome.

11 PM: Despite the Hot People Sex, dirty talk, ruined sheets-- BAMF gets no sleepover invite.

11:15 PM: Goodbyes delayed, because he pushes me up against a wall and throws it down once more. Damn. Sluts. Yes. Fucking worn out man--dirty talk and rapey sex take a lot out of a gal. But no overnighter. Because sometimes, all a girl really wants? Like really, really wants? A charter club robe and a bowl of cereal.

Previously in Below The Beltway:

• 8/9: Below The Belt(way) No.18
• 7/27: Below The Belt(way) No. 17
• 7/23: Below The Belt(way) No. 16
• 7/14: Below The Belt(way) No.15
• 7/13: Below The Belt(way) No.14
• 7/7: Below The Beltway No. 13
• 4/27: Below The Beltway No. 11
• 4/26: Below The Beltway No.10
• 4/21: Sex Store Stories: Pleasure Place
• 4/21: Below The Beltway No.8