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Dating & The Single Grrl:
Cupcake I: The bug…
It was an interesting summer for this single grrl, in more ways than one. This has led me to reflect on one of my favourite vices, boys, while indulging in the other: cupcakes. From this continuous reflection, buttercream icing atop mini-butter cakes has melded with the dramatics of my encounters with the opposite sex. The result is a comparison of boys to various delicious cupcakes – a mini-series....All cupcakes from The Little Cupcake Shoppe – visit them, they’re nut-free!
Exhibit One:
THE BUG
Cupcake: After Eight – chocolate buttermilk cake with mint buttercreamThe Bug is so named because his nickname sounds like the name of an insect. Already this was a little unattractive because during intimate moments, the last thing a girl wants is to think of a domestic pest.
I’d known The Bug for two years through a mutual friend, and my feelings for The Bug were similar to my feelings towards the After Eight – not my usual choice but I was curious as to what the tasting experience would be like. The Bug was, in my opinion, obnoxious, arrogant and a bit perverted. He was the life of the party in big groups because he always cracked jokes related to strippers, drinking, and sex. Although in another life I would have considered myself to be his female counterpart, in this instance I found him annoying and he made me uncomfortable. In all of our encounters I could never think of a really good one-liner to make him shut up, unless I was truly nasty, thereby wrecking the party for everyone. However, he was somewhat attractive and on rare days, his arrogance and big ego appealed to the dominatrix within. Because of this strange sexual tension/hatred, we always clashed and things were always awkward between us. One night, while out for a friend’s birthday, I ventured to the patio of the club for some air. The patio was actually an alley filled with large recycling bins, thereby demoting the status of this story from Harlequin romance to sale table. Nevertheless, the air was thick – both with smoke and heat, the stars were out and a couple was making out against the wall. The Bug followed me out into the alley – perhaps his antennae had sensed an opportunity. While I pretended to watch the cabs drive by, my shoulders tensed as The Bug came up and stood in front of me. I relaxed when he didn’t immediately launch into a story that painted him as a sex god or master of debauchery. In fact, our silence was quite amiable, until…
“You know, alleys are only good for two things. Urinating, and making out.”
I knew this game – who doesn’t know this game? But I played along, just like the movies. The next 20 minutes were spent participating in the activity I hadn’t yet tried in an alley.
These random encounters continued almost every time our mutual friends would meet up. We would always begin with polite hellos, or if it was later in the night, a slightly lingering hug, and as the night progressed and the alcohol flowed, there were more excuses to dance together, or visit the bar together, and of course, eventually sit together, alone, on a couch. Now, even if this is just some random fun, a girl wants a little regularity. Can she call to get some random fun, or is it only limited to the encounters where you’re both present and invited? Will he ever call on his own for a laid-back, friendly conversation? Because of this, the experiences with The Bug reached a head when I told him that he should call me. He proceeded to give me his card, telling me to call him. After a few other encounters with boys who have done this same thing, I will say that boys who don’t want commitments, and who will probably never call you, tend to do this. I returned The Bug’s card to him, with my number on the back, telling him I didn’t want it (it wasn’t glossy, nor did it have raised print, and thus I couldn’t really use it for my own amusement anyway). A few months later, I got an email from The Bug, telling me he was sorry he wouldn’t be able to make it out for my birthday, but that we should go to dinner to make up for it. He also asked why I had returned his card to him – clearly my smooth and sly move had worked exactly the way I wanted it to. I felt comforted that a decrepit old man was probably walking around with my number on the back of The Bug’s card; perhaps if the old man called, though, I would give him a chance as his intelligence level was probably superior to that of The Bug’s. Another month later, a random meeting resulted in The Bug again mentioning this dinner. And finally, very recently, I received a series of text messages from The Bug that were the epitome of class:
The Bug: “Hi. When are we getting together?”
Single Grrl: “Who is this?”
No response. Calls the number; hears The Bug’s voicemail message, and leaves a message.5 hours later…
TB: “It’s The Bug.”
SG: “I know that now. I left you a message.”
TB: “Let’s get right to it… sex?”10 minutes later…
TB: “No?”10 minutes later…
TB: “Hello?”20 hours later…
TB: “Hi.”The Bug, like an After Eight (chocolate and mint!), sounded good in theory. But it’s not something I would indulge in regularly, and for good reason – it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. ¤ Dani