I’ll admit this right off the bat: I stole the title for this essay from a dating profile on Plenty of Fish. I don’t remember what the young woman looked like, but I’ll take her at her word that she was in fact fine in the summertime, and possibly in the fall and winter as well. She was one of the dozens of women I’ve messaged over the last three months, and one of the dozens which never responded to me. Oh well. But I did get responses from a couple of other women, and I would definitely describe them as summertime fine, both due to their appearance and the brevity of our relationships. Hence the title. We’ll get to that though.
I suppose this is the final part of an unofficial trilogy I’ve been writing since the summer, without even realizing it. Life is of course an interconnected braid of events, not individual threads, so it makes sense that these stories are continuations of each other. It all began with a haircut, and essentially ended with a question, so if you want to check those out first, go for it. A lot happened between those two points. Let me tell you all about it.
It was a Wednesday, the day after my friends convinced me to get a haircut. I was typically bored at work. That meant cruising Facebook, as usual, trying to sort between the bad news, the worse news, and the memes. I saw a post from a guy I’d recently added. I didn’t pay any attention to what the post said, instead thinking, “He’s cute,” immediately followed by, “Huh, that’s a thought I just had.” I’ve never been the type to slide into someone’s DMs, mostly because I have the irrational fear that I’m going to get screenshotted and exposed as if we’re all still in high school. But maybe because it was a guy, maybe because I was surprised by my own interest, maybe I was that fucking bored, I messaged him:
“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it- I think you’re really cute. Full disclosure, I’ve never asked a guy out before, and I’m not really looking for anything serious with anyone, but I’d like to spend some time with you.”
I sent that message at 12:12 PM. There’s no terror like sending a risky message, and having it sit out there for hours. Especially when you can see that it’s been read. Especially when you can see that person is active online.
Seven hours and fifteen minutes later came the response:
“Hey, thanks I appreciate the sentiment but I’m honestly not really looking for dates right now.”
I apologized for bothering him, and that was that, or so I thought. A concept that I’ve been learning more about is, “putting things out into the universe.” It’s a cheesy, metaphysical way to say, “Ask and ye shall receive.” Because the next day, I got what I’d asked for, although in a different fashion.
Again, I was bored at work (this seems to be theme for me). Again, I was on social media, but this time I was tromping around my various dating apps. I’d created profiles on Tinder, Plenty of Fish, OkCupid and Bumble on a particularly lonely 4th of July, and had little success with any of them. So there I was, on company time, checking out my PoF profile. I’d had a view, and when I looked at who had checked out my profile, the user’s name was “HeadGamePopping4U.” No profile picture.
This has to 100% be a bot, I thought to myself. Scam bots are a common feature on dating apps, and PoF is notorious for being overrun by them. But I respond to obvious scam bots anyway. There’s a nonzero chance that the beautiful woman fronting a bot profile is actually a real person who’s into you. And if there’s a nonzero chance that a woman whose head game is popping is into me, then yeah, I’ll suffer the temporary, private embarrassment of talking to a script for a few minutes.
As it turned out, the obvious bot actually was a person. The conversation has since been deleted, but it went something like this:
Me: Hey, how are you?
Them: Want to get your dick sucked?
Them: There’s one catch though. I’m not a woman, I’m actually a bisexual guy.
Me: Okay, cool
That was literally it. We exchanged a few more messages to determine a time and a place. We would meet up at his job that afternoon.
As a writer, I’m not often at a loss for words, but I was honestly surprised. When I sent out the DM the day before, I wasn’t sure what I actually wanted. I was riding the wave of energy from the haircut the day before, and just acted on impulse. If the guy had said yes, I don’t know what I would have done. Dinner? A movie? Ask, “What’s your favorite color?”
But now I had a better situation. Just a blowjob, no questions asked. I could find out what the experience was like without any of the time or energy of getting to know someone. That’s exactly what happened. I showed up, said hello, and he got down to business. When he finished, I said bye, and left. We didn’t even ask for each other’s names.
So I’m sure you’re wondering, did I like it? Hell yes I did. No disrespect to the women I’ve dealt with, but it was the best blowjob I’ve ever received. It helped that the guy was cute too, but he was also good at what he did. There was an aura of excitement and naughtiness about it too- an anonymous sex act between strangers at, at his job. There was the danger of being caught. It really was a great experience, and it happened in the perfect way.
I’m not a metaphysical person. I don’t really believe that DMing a guy on Wednesday shifted something in the universal ether to lead me to meet another guy on Thursday. What I believe is that I opened myself up to a potential experience on Wednesday, so that when the guy on Thursday exercised his free will and checked my profile, I was ready to receive it.
It didn’t lead to some sort of crisis of sexuality or deep introspection either. Afterwards, I thought to myself, “Wow, that was a great blowjob.” And I appreciated it for that. Men and women feel different though, and without being graphic, I like the way women feel better. But if anyone offers to suck my dick for literally nothing but the cost of the Uber to get there, you’d better believe that’s an offer I’m considering.
I never met up with that guy again. There was no problem or anything, but shortly thereafter, my options grew again. That weekend, I met the two women who would dominate my time for the next two months.