There are men who thrive under pressure. There are men who crack under pressure, and there are men who avoid pressure altogether. And then there are boys. We all face moments that determine our worth as men. Mine came one Friday.  

Woody's Wharf, Newport Beach. After a lame day-party at Sandy's house, a group of fifteen of us headed to Woody's. Close to midnight, my score was a solid 0 for 6 with one business card following a ten-minute conversation with a hairstylist. Business cards by the way, are a waste of space. Toss them in the closest trashcan. I’ve gotten over twenty of them in my lifetime from chicks, and all have led nowhere. 

I noticed the hottest chick in the bar standing alone against the corner, while some bouncer guy kept hitting on her. She looked like she was maybe thirty and seemed to be enjoying the attention because she was all smiles. As I checked her out, I couldn’t find anything wrong with her. Her face, framed by long blonde hair, was beautiful. Her rack was enormous. Slim waist, nice ass, nice legs, great smile. Was I missing anything? She was a 9.5, losing the 0.5 only because she looked a little older. As the bouncer persisted with her, I drifted here and there just waiting for him to leave. Finally, after ten minutes of waiting and staying out of the girl's eyesight—aka being creepy—I moved in.

What ensued was more than just an exchange of words. It was a series of the most intricate tests any single man can ever take.
 
Me: “Is that bouncer guy your boyfriend?”
 
Her: (She smiled and chuckled) “No, we were just talking.” (After she said this, she turned away and looked at the dance floor to see if I'd give up. TEST 1)
 
Me: “A couple buddies of mine came with some boat party. Were you there?”
 
Her: “No, that's the second time someone's asked me that. What party was this?”
 
Me: “I dunno, some etrade party or something. I take it you don't work there.”
 
Her:  “Etrade? No way.”
 
Me: “So why are you standing up against this corner trying to be all mysterious?”
 
Her: (She laughed for a good five seconds and that gorgeous smile of hers made another pleasant appearance) “Who are you? I'm not trying to be mysterious. My friends are out on the dance floor. I'm just watching them.”
 
Me: (I spotted some couple eating each others' faces and pointed at them). “Is that your friend?”
 
Her: (She laughed again, this time only for two seconds) “No, they're right there (pointing to these two cute chicks who looked a bit older than her) dancing with each other.”
 
Me: “Oh, pkay. How old are you?”
 
Her: “Thirty-five. How old are you?” (Her first question.)
 
Me: “Twenty-six. I love older girls. What's your age limit on guys?”
 
Her: (She had now turned her body to face me, and her eyes went upward as she thought for a moment) “Twenty-one.” (She smiled)
 
Me: (I grabbed her hand, brought it up, and looked at it. No ring) “Why aren’t you married?”
 
Her: “I was.”
 
Me: “Oh really. You have kids?”
 
Her: (Using her fingers she brought up two fingers, then a half second later brought up two more fingers to make it four to see if it would freak me out) “Four.” (TEST 2)
 
Me: “Oh, that's so cool. I just dated a girl with a kid.” (I wasn't lying.)
 
Her: (She walked around to the barside of me) “Let's get a drink.” (TEST 3)
 
Me: (I slowly walked behind her, smiling) “I'm not buying.”
 
Her: (smiling) “What?”
 
Me: (smiling) “I'm not buying.”
 
Her: “That's cool; I'll buy.”
 
She bought us both beers, and we walked back to our same spot where she continued to test me. At this point, I knew I had already passed at least three of her tests. For a girl this fucking hot, I was keeping great composure and somehow was able to maintain my mindset that I was hotter than her, which was definitely fiction. 
 
As we stood in our old spot, the conversation ensued.
 
Her: “So we need to find you a girl tonight.” (TEST 4)
 
Me: “I don't wanna find a girl. I wanna talk to you.’ (I kept a straight face the whole time)
 
Her: (She held back a smile, looked at the dance floor and remained silent)
 
Me: “Do you wanna dance?”
 
Her: (She shook her head. Thank God)
 
Me: (She hadn't said a word in a while, and I needed to get her talking) “I've been trying to figure it out for a while; what color are your eyes?”
 
Her: “You've been trying to figure it out?”
 
Me: “Well yeah, it's dark.”
 
Her: “They're green [smiling].” (She was back). “I’m Taylor. What’s your name?”
 
After another eight minutes of talking about our jobs, her face got close to mine, and she pecked me on the lips. Five seconds later, she did it again. Another ten seconds went by, and her face was close again. I leaned in for the kiss, but she leaned away. What the hell? (TEST 5). I tried two more times with no luck. Then, as if on cue, her two friends came out of nowhere and pulled her onto the dance floor. Shit. Conveniently, my friends were right there, so I talked to them for a bit and tried to make it seem like I wasn't waiting for her in case she glanced back.

Another five to ten minutes went by, and I began to get a little worried that I might lose her. This had to be another test. (TEST 6) I grabbed her by the hand and told her it was my turn to buy drinks. She didn't resist but only took my hand for a couple seconds and then let go. I turned around and asked, "Aww, you don't wanna hold my hand?" she smiled and followed me to the bar. 

Taylor ordered the same thing as I had and then began talking to some tall dopey-looking guy wearing a Santa Claus hat. (TEST 7) I whispered in her ear after maybe a minute of waiting, "Get his hat." She turned her head to me and whispered back, "What do you think I'm trying to do." She tried to get his hat for another minute and then took me by the hand and led me to the other side of the bar. We made out in that spot for the next forty-five minutes.
 
Not too many words were said during what had to be one of the best makeout sessions of my life. Top five for sure. She said at least three times mid-makeout, "I'm not a bar kisser. You don't understand, I never do this. You're just...funny or something." I lied back, "Yeah, I'm not a bar kisser either. This is like the first time in a year. It's been so long since I talked to a cool chick at these places." The kissing resumed.
 
During that makeout session, I stopped to notice a group of three guys my age sitting on stools staring at us. I tried to imagine what they were thinking--"How is this guy with this girl?"--"He HAD to have known her before."--"He must have a big dick."--"He must be famous or something." It was quite a thrill to be making out with the hottest girl at the bar and have three douchebags staring at you in pure jealousy.

For the hour that I had known this chick, I had kept the poise of Tom Brady, but when the lights came on and we went outside, I began to crumble like a Malibu landslide. Remembering previous successes at this bar, I first tried to get her to walk home with me. I then tried to get her to take a cab with me, insisting, "I just wanna drink another beer with you." Taylor refused both times saying, "No, I don't know what you're gonna do to me. I need to wait for my friends."

We leaned up against a car, made out, and waited some more. Her hand grazed my pants accidentally, and I asked, "Did you just try to grab my cock?"

She looked surprised and asked, "What did you just say?"

"Did you try and grab my cock?" Before I had even finished the "cock" part of the sentence, she grabbed my dick through my pants. I conveniently had a semi, and it felt very large in my drunken haze. She kept her hand there for another couple minutes and made out with me. I persisted with trying to get her to come home with me with the line: "I just wanna have another beer with you. We're not having sex tonight." She replied, "We're not?" I unfortunately didn't realize the potency of this response until the next day. 
 
Taylor’s friends finally came stumbling out of the bar. One of them had a guy draped over her. The other girl was bumbling around, laughing like a clown, and yelling something that involved the word "cheese." As Taylor and I stood on the curb, she told clown chick, "This guy is such a good kisser. Kiss him." (TEST 8) Her friend stumbled toward me and started kissing me. It must have been the sloppiest kiss of all time. I had saliva on my chin, cheek, and nose. Taylor told her to do it again, and I foolishly let her. Taylor stormed back inside the bar but obviously there was nowhere to go in there since her friends were outside. I called after her, and she walked up to me and said without looking at me, "We're done." I kissed her. She kissed me back but pulled away and said, "I can't kiss you. You kissed my friend." I told her that I only did it because she told me to. She told me that it was a test, and I failed. Aha! I knew it! But I didn't know it.
 
In the game of picking up chicks, there is always a tipping point in the night that can be the difference between getting laid, or being just another frustrated masturbator. In a sports match, games are won and lost at this moment. A good coach can call a timeout at the exact tipping point to provide an emotional boost to the team. Sales are made and lost at this moment. A good salesman can recognize the precise moment when the buyer shows interests and can communicate perfectly just what the buyer wants to hear.

Shit, why is the movie Braveheart so inspiring? Because William Wallace knew this tipping point best. He recognized it and capitalized on every opportunity that came his way; and he won Scotland their freedom. My tipping point didn't come when I kissed clown girl. It actually came right after Taylor told me that I had failed her test. What I should have done was put my hands on her face, looked her in the eye, and told her, "I didn't want to kiss her. I'm with you. I've had a great time tonight. You are the dopest chick I've talked to in a long time. It was just a kiss. I don't like her. I like you." It may sound cheesy, but at that point, it was something she had to hear. That is what I should have said. For the first time that night, I let her beauty make me feel inferior. I doubted myself into extinction and instantly became one of those three guys on the stools. Instead, I had said, "I only kissed her because you told me to."
 
To fuck a hot chick, you have to be better than her. Taylor was testing me all night long; even though I failed her last test, she still would have taken me home had I taken control and acted like a man. I had acted just like every other guy who had failed at trying to date or fuck her: meek and inferior. My tipping point came and went. I had blown it. She took off. I walked home and put my hand on my mouse, and then on my dick, just like the other 98% of the single guys in the bar that night.
 
The following day, I jerked off feverishly to her. Images of what may have taken place satiated my mind. I could not sooth this underlying pain that had taken over every aspect of my manhood. I called her a little past noon the next day. I may have blown it, but I had to play the percentages. I gave myself a 3% chance that she would still hang out with me despite my wussiness last night. I called. No answer. I left her a voicemail:
 
"Taylor! What's up? This is Dave. Just seein' what you're doin. I had a great time last night and I didn't wanna kiss your friend. It's not my fault. You made me. No, but it's been a while since I talked to a cool chick at a bar. Call me back when you get this."

I hung up and felt lame. My voice didn't waver or anything, but I wasn't too pleased that I had just blamed her for me kissing her friend. I felt that the whole "didn't wanna kiss your friend" sentence came off awkwardly. Oh well. The voicemail was already left. It would have to do.

The percentages held true. She never called back. Five days passed, during which time I jerked off to her at least three more times. My percentages had now dwindled to 1%. I had to play the percentages. My last card in the deck was the less intrusive text message. I texted her. 

Me 12/27: What you doing?

An hour went by. Nothing. But then….(windchime)…New text message from Taylor.

Taylor 12/27: Hey you, what’s up, bar kisser?


I was cautious. First of all, I hate texting. It's impersonal and too much dead weight loss time is spent typing letters into a fucking phone. Why can't everyone just revert back to actually speaking on phones? This new-age game of text messaging was still a mystery to me. One douchebaggish word, sentence, or paragraph could cause a girl to sway. Especially a girl this hot. I chose my words carefully.


Me 12/27: Nothin, so are u still mad at me or can we get a drink?

Taylor 12/27: I was never mad at u silly, I had fun w u.

Me 12/27: K good. I had fun too. Let's get a drink (making plans for "tomorrow night" had never actually led anywhere with previous chicks. I tried for tonight)

Taylor 12/27: K, i am in seattle fm fri until the 4th. Maybe when i get back?

Me 12/27: Sounds good, so ur busy tonite? I wont keep u out late

Taylor 12/27: Yeah very busy. I am packin and cleanin my flight leaves at 9 am tmrw. I can giv u the other girls u kissed, she is not busy. Hahaha jk

Me 12/27: Haha shut up dork, well that's cool, have a safe flight, we'll get together when u get back. Looking forward to it…

Taylor 12/27: Me too, Hav a fun New years. Ttyl

After her last text, although I was excited to hear from her, I saw her slip away again. She wasn't coming back until the 4^th??? Great. That was just too much time for someone whom I had spent so little time with. Nevertheless, I upgraded my percentage of a second chance to 21%. The next day, she texted me again.

 

Taylor 12/28: Hey you, whatcha doin? I am havin a drink at the yardhouse in seattle. A very yummy margarita!

Me 12/28: Mmm that margarita sounds good (a lie), im at a bbq (another lie. I was actually sitting on my couch playing with my balls but I had to make her think I was doing something more exciting than her), so why are you in Seattle?

We texted back and forth about why she was there, and how she "just took another shot." They were obviously drunk texts from her, but I went along and put my time in. The only good thing about her being drunk was that I was allotted more leverage to sound like a douchebag. My percentage of a second chance had now increased to 29%, but it was still a long time before she came back to California. Time usually has a way of weeding out "bar kissers" from a hot chick's mind.

           
She texted me the next morning. She was sober. I had to be cautious about my words again. After the bullshit about her being hungover, the real texts began.

Taylor 12/29: So u dont think i am a bad girl cause i  am a bar kisser? How long did we kiss anyways?

Me 12/29: haha musta made out for an hr. No ur not bad, our lips felt good together, and its hard meeting dope girls at bars. Guess I lucked out w u.
 
Taylor 12/29: Aw u r sweet. Glad u dont think i am a hooker! And yeah u r a muy caliente kisser. That is all the spanish i know so dont try to hablo w me. Ha

 
Me 12/29: So do u always bar kiss or was I just special?
 
Taylor 12/29: U caught me, i am a total bar kisser. I usually charge tho so u r very special! Haha jk. Actually i never do that. So u really r special.

Me 12/29: Aw thanks, well hurry back to ca after the new yr, I wanna see u (that was two messages in a row from me that were borderline needy. I wasn't too proud of these texts. My percentage dropped to 28%)

 
Taylor 12/29: K well these crazy rock stars r making me get up and get in the shower. They want to go to this place called Margaritaville. U hav fun 2day

Me 12/29: Ha ur crazy, k have fun

She drunk texted me that night too, and I was starting to get some serious hope now. The fact that she was sacrificing her drunk time to text me had to say something. Or maybe her friends were just lame, and the guys were too intimidated to hit on her. Either way, my percentage increased to 32%.

The following day, I asked her how she was feeling. I became a little annoyed when she didn't text me back. In fact, she didn't text me until New Years Eve when I went to some club in L.A. She was obviously drunk. Here are the highlights:

Taylor 12/31 8:59 p.m.: Hey sexy! Waz up?

Taylor 12/31 11:08 p.m.: Yeah u would rather b at my party! Muah! Happy NEW year almost

Taylor 12/31 11:16 p.m.: K will hav fun at ur dope club! But i wish i was kissin w u. Our lips touchin. I want u

Taylor 12/31 11:50 p.m.: totally 4 real. Happy NY! Picture my lips touching yours MUAH

Taylor 1/1 12:19 a.m.: HEY CANI CALL U

The club was loud, and I was busy kissing girls, so I didn't get her last text until twenty minutes after it was sent. She never called. In case you're wondering, it really didn't matter what I texted her back. She was obviously shitfaced. I could have told her that a giraffe was giving me a rimjob, and it wouldn't have mattered. My percentage had increased to 39%.

She didn't return my text the following day when I asked how she was feeling. Waiting for someone to text you back is irritating. I really didn't know what to think. Was she purposely not returning my texts? Did she lose her phone? Was she sick? What the fuck? I wanted to text her back to back, but that would have showed weakness and neediness. I fought the urge and waited patiently. Finally, the next day she texted back. She was sober. I had to be careful again.

Taylor 1/2: Hey you, i was totally sick yesterday. Hope u had a great New year. Were u at club minage on New years eve? I heard that place is a lot of fun.

Me 1/2: aw poor baby. No I was at club area. Never been to minage. Well I hope u feel better today

Taylor 1/2: Yeah i feel much better. i am shoppin! That is always fun. No more drinkin 4 me for a little while. U go out a lot huh?

Me 1/2: Shopping huh? So what r u buying? Shoes? No I usually only go out on fri and sat but im on winter break rt now so I guess ive been going out a lil more

She didn't text me back that day. Or the next day. Or the next day. Or the next day. Or the next day. By this time, she should have been back from her trip for at least two to three days. Was she mad that I made fun of her shopping? I didn't get it. My percentage had dropped colossally down to 4%. I knew it. But still, I had to play the percentages. She wasn't returning my texts, so I figured I'd try plan B. I called her and left a voicemail:

"Taylor! Where in the world are you? You mysteriously stopped texting me, so I’m assuming the texting feature on your phone stopped working. Give me a call 949……… FIND YOUR PHONE! Bye."

The next day, I received a text from her during my lunch break. It came in two parts.

Taylor 1/7: Hey there. Sry i havent texted ya. I am going to be completely honest w u. I have been seriously dating this guy on and off, we r in a break. It is very confusing at times. We are on and off all the time and i dont want to drag anyone into it. I am so sorry. I hope u dont think i am a horrible person. I am glad i met u wish the timing was betr.

 

Aww, shit. Well at least she cared enough to text me. I let that text simmer with me for a couple hours while I finished teaching periods five and six. I mulled over a good way to react to it. The best text messages are sent after good quality time to think. Too often, when I reacted immediately to serious shit, my emotions would take over, and I would say something like "Yeah, that's lame; lose my number" to try and sound tough. But that had NEVER worked in the past. I've found that most girls desire men who really could care less or men who are just plain understanding. I hadn't known Taylor long enough to use the "care less" technique. I had to be careful. I decided to be understanding. Even after her text, I still felt my percentage had risen from 4% to 8%. Finally, I texted her. 

Me 1/7: Its totally cool, whatever ur situation is I hope everything works out. I just really had a fun time w u (and im not talking just about the kissing) and think ur a dope girl.this sucks. Wel save my number, maybe the timng wil b rght 1 day. Txt me if u evr go to woodys I live 2 blocks away we dnt hav 2 bar kiss if dnt wanna

It worked. 

Taylor 1/7: U r so sweet! I will sav ur number. U never know when i will end up at Woody's, Malarky's or somewhere else. I used to go to Snug harbor. Is that place still there?

Me 1/7: Snug harbor? hmm i think youre mistaking newport beach with super mario world


We texted back and forth about bullshit for the next hour. She even sent me a text that night saying she had a good time "talking to me today." I disagree with calling it "talking." The next morning she texted me at 7 a.m. telling me to "have a great day teaching!!!" But just as I felt my percentage rise, it started to fall again. I didn't hear back from her for two weeks. I had already used the voicemail lifeline before so I couldn't revert to that. Another week went by. By the end of that third week with no communication, my percentage was down to an anemic 0.27%.

Then one Saturday night, I received a text message as I was jerking off at 1:30 a.m. It was Taylor. "Hey" was all the text said. I texted her back asking her what she was doing but didn't get a reply. I called her; she answered on the second ring, and we talked for nearly an hour and a half. All the little things were discussed in that phone call. Her night. Her situation. Her current drunk level. Her myspace. Her plans for tomorrow. Her job. It was an entertaining conversation, and my leftover boner from jerking remained rigid the whole time. We ended the call on a good note, and the next day she added me as a myspace friend to get a sober look at what I looked like.

Taylor 1/27: K I am done checkin u out. U look very good in a suit. Good w ur shirt off too. I knew u were cute but u r cuter than i remember.

Me 1/27: Haha thx ur sweet

Taylor 1/27: I think I need to kiss u again soon. Maybe u could tutor me in math I suddenly hav an interest in it. Ha

Me 1/27: I think u need to be tutored too. Well whenevr ur up for it, id love to hang out

Taylor 1/27: Well maybe we can hang out this week sometime. Hows tues. What time do u usually get hm?

No sane person can ever be interested in someone they haven't had visual contact with for an extended period of time. Taylor had finally "re-seen" me and she liked what she saw. She was back. Suddenly, I didn't have to be so careful with my texts. I just had to make sure we hung out as soon as possible. She texted me the next day, Monday, asking when I was free.

Me 1/28: Any nite works just let me kno, k well get some sleep, have fun in LA. Think about kissing me when u wake up lol

Taylor 1/28: K I will let cha know. I will be thinking about kissin u all day. Ha hav a good nite.

She texted me to come see her at Woody's that Tuesday night. Although I was exhausted from teaching and had barely slept the night before, I knew that if I passed this up, I'd regret it the next time I was ever horny. I suddenly realized that I had beaten the odds. 100%. Whatever I had done up to this point had worked. I had to make a new goal: Sex. Fuck the percentages, my chances were "good."

Woody's was empty when I arrived that evening. I hadn't done laundry in over two weeks, and had no clean boxers to wear. I went commando. Taylor was the sober driver, so she had to monitor her alcohol consumption. Her friend, Lindsay, was a mess— screaming, yelling, laughing, and barreling through people like a triceratops. She had over six drinks, and everyone in the bar would casually look over at her to witness her next scene. She had already talked to all the guys there. She had already taken five "pottys." She was cut off from drinks by 7:30. When the karaoke started, she hopped on stage with a stranger and tried to intrude on her singing. At one point she was lying on the floor kicking the air laughing uproariously for no reason. Then she got off the floor, walked over to me, and high-fived me.

           
Taylor was digging me, smiling or laughing at everything I said. She asked good questions. She put her hand on my leg and didn't move it when I went to play with it. One thing I still didn't understand was the amount of times she went to the bathroom. She went four times in an hour! It wasn't congruent with her positive body language or her amount of consumed beers (two). I had always thought that the more a girl went to the bathroom, the less she liked you. She wasn't a cokehead. I could tell. I really didn't know what the issue was. Girls are the ultimate mystery of the universe. However, I assumed the bathroom trips were good because we kissed immediately following her fourth bathroom trip.

           
The kisses escalated. We made out all over the place--at the table, on the stool, against the bar, next to the women's room. She was so hot that people began to wonder who I was. Taylor later told me that two karaoke girls befriended her and asked her, "Who is that guy you're with?" implying that I was either rich or famous.

We ultimately ended up in her car. When we got in her car, the "NEVERs" started. As we made out, she told me seven times, "You don't understand, we can NEVER have sex." Sometimes it was a "It will NEVER happen." I said, "That's fine," and kissed her some more. She would then reach for my cock, grab it for a second, and then pull her hand away saying, "No, I can't do that either." She said this only three times. I laughed and kissed her some more.

           
After an hour of listening to the word "never," she unzipped my pants and brought my cock out. She played with it for a bit, teasing me with, "I can make you come real fast." I said, "Oh yeah?" Just as she was about to go down, Lyndsay came barging out of the bar with some dude. I zipped up, said my goodbyes, and went home. I would have tried to get her to come back to my place but didn't want to play that percentage. I was pretty sure I had hooked her. I called it a night.

The next day, she texted me.

Taylor 1/30: Ready 4 a nap yet? I totally am, 4 some reason I keep thinking about kissin u. Hope u r havin a good day.

Me 1/30: u 2. I think u gave me a hickey, my students noticed. Been thinking of u all morning. Weird huh

Taylor 1/30: Omg I am so sry about the hickey. Haha that is actually funny. I could seriously kiss u all day long. U feelin tired still?

Me 1/30: Ur silly, btw I didn't wear any boxers today

Taylor 1/30: Ur a bad boy! Um I really wanted to taste u last nite, I had to practice som serious self control.

A couple days later, she invited me to come out to Rancho Cucamonga with her and two of her friends. Although it was a Thursday night, I only had teacher meetings the next day. I figured I could afford to be hungover for that; those were always miserable. We met at this place called "McAlans." When I arrived, she was talking to a thirty-something dude. She saw me come in and walked over to me and kissed me. Sorry, dude.

The place was dead, so we drove to a punky little karaoke bar called Peppers or Pepper. It was packed. There was a line, so Taylor used her hotness to get in before any of us. She left us standing out in the cold while she had tattooed dude after tattooed dude hit on her.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, we got in to find almost every single person in the place (150 total) flaunting a tattoo. Half the people there had a "sleeve." The rest had another tough tattoo to show off their threshold for pain and risk. I was impressed; the girls were hot.

 
I finally found Taylor in the middle of three tatted guys who were giving her their undivided attention as she yapped away under the influence of her obvious intoxication. One of her friends, Jana, told me that Taylor liked it when her men grabbed her and started kissing her. Such a maneuver would portray jealousy, and I know that most girls are turned off by jealous men. But I guess there are always exceptions. Jana had seemed sincere from the moment I met her, so I took her advice. I walked up to the intimidating group of four, grabbed Taylor's hand, yanked with authority, and pulled her in for a make-out. Taylor loved it. We left shortly after.

 
Taylor's two friends, Jana and Mindy, had befriended these two dudes, real characters. Jana's guy had a Southern accent and a bowl cut. Mindy's guy had to be the Goober of the Year for 2007. He was giving me a googly-eyed look all night and kept on asking me if I thought “that girl was hot." I was polite to him and answered his questions honestly, but he irritated the shit out of me. He had probably just moved to California from South Dakota and was having a hard time handling the prominent deviation in female quality out west. Hooking up with Mindy had to have been his first hook-up in at least a year. Nevertheless, these guys would be coming back to the girls' hotel. Fuck, how on earth was anything going to happen between Taylor and me with four people in the room? I had to strategize. Quickly.

 
When we got to the hotel, I had an important decision to make: take one of the two beds or take the bathroom. Given the fact that chicks usually won't do anything but make out when someone else is in the room, I eliminated the two beds and went with the bathroom. I let the two other couples live out their above-the-neck-fate on the adjacent beds, while I tried to take things further in the bathroom.

When we got in the bathroom and the lights went out, the "NEVERs" started up again. Taylor told me six more times that she would "NEVER have sex with me." She told me two more times that she would “NEVER give me a blowjob." Then she took my pants off and yanked on my cock. Three minutes later, Goober One and Goober Two had to pee, so we let them in. As predicted, Goober Two got the stage fright and couldn't pee with us in the room. We exited the bathroom and let him begin his trickle.

Taylor and I returned to the bathroom where more NEVERs were said. After fifteen minutes of yanking and pulling on my cock, Taylor finally got on her knees and sucked me off. She swallowed it all. 

I took off a little while after. It was 4:30 a.m.  

A few hours later, she texted me as I was driving to school.


Taylor 2/1: Hey. I know I told u bye last nite, I am sry I hope u dnt think I am a weirdo, I had fun w u. I just know myself, I am not good at cas sex or whatever, I would end up liking u. I am just kinda a dumb girl when it comes 2 that. U r such a cool guy. I just kinda wanted to say bye w/o being hammered. Take care

 
What the fuck? Now she was trying to end it? I was close to texting back "whatever bye," but I let the text sit with me for a few minutes and came up with something better. Now was the time to use the "care less" technique.

Me 2/1: Haha u assume too much, well do whatever u want Taylor, that text was lame. Bye

It worked.

Taylor 2/1: I am not assuming anything silly. I know that u do not expect anything. I am just tryin to protect myself. I am not lame either stupid haha jk. I am totally delirious. U can b a meanie. K go to wk silly

I didn't reply and assumed she'd text again later. I was right.

(Two hours later) Taylor 2/1: My friend Jana said I was being very butterflyish last nite. Im sry if I was rude 2 u. Whatcha doin 2 nite?

           

I knew it. We texted back and forth for a bit. I had gloriously averted her "goodbye." We agreed to meet Woodys on Saturday night. She had been there for over two hours before I arrived. When I walked inside, a Triple-A baseball team was all over her. All that ended when she saw me. We made out immediately. Fifteen minutes later she said, "I wonder if I should just fuck you and be done with you." I didn't understand but replied, "You won't be done with me, I can tell." She assured me she would, and I falsely agreed with her.

As I was making out with her, I began to get some serious stomach pains. There was no holding it in; I had to take a dump. The toilet was disgusting, but it was either that or my pants. When I got in the bathroom, some dude was taking a piss in the toilet. As I waited, I had to scrunch up my face in order to hold it in. My shit was literally four seconds away from involuntarily blasting out of my ass when the dude finished. I frantically put the toilet paper on the soaked toilet seat and sat down and unleashed. It came out fast and furious. Relief. I still had a 75% boner from making out with Taylor. As I got up to wipe, a guy resembling Sea Bass from Dumb and Dumber busted the door open violently. I stood there with my pants around my ankles, with a boner! He didn't say anything. He just closed the door and waited for a urinal I presume. Somewhere not too far away, there is a story being told about the guy with the boner who was wiping his ass in Woody's bathroom.

Taylor, Jana, Mindy, and my roommate, Vick, left the place shortly after and returned to my house. Voicemails, texts, percentages, and NEVERS, had all come down this. But first thing's first: I was self-conscious about my 14-wiper at Woody's. I had to secretly take a shower somehow. As the other three were messing around on Myspace, I went to the bathroom and turned the shower water on extra low so it sounded like the sink was running. I got naked and washed my ass. It was gross. But I had to do it. I wanted to get a blowjob and didn't want to be "that guy who smelled like shit during a blowjob." I pulled it off. She gave me a blowjob.

Then we had sex.

Crazy sex.  

The current boxscore for the beginning of our relationship:

VOICEMAILS left by me: 2

TOTAL TEXT MESSAGES (sent by me): 190

LOWEST SECOND CHANCE PERCENT: 0.27%

TIMES SHE SAID SHE WOULD NEVER HAVE SEX WITH ME: 18

TIMES SHE SAID SHE WOULD NEVER GIVE ME HEAD: 6

TIMES SHE HAD GIVEN ME HEAD: 2

TIMES SHE HAD SEX WITH ME: 1

The next day she texted me around lunchtime. The highlights:

Taylor 2/3: My head hurts from u pullin my hair. I want more of u!

 
Taylor 2/3: I want to taste u rite now, I want to feel u inside me. U felt so good!

Two days later, she came over, and we had sex again. The next day, she texted me.

Taylor 2/6: U put a spell on me, I am thinking of u way too much, undo it please, haha hope u r not tired today.

On a serious note, most of my texts weren't bullshit. I never led this woman on. I told her the fling with her was just for fun. We discussed and agreed on it; the feeling was mutual. Since she has kids and is thirty-five-years-old, we both knew there was absolutely no future for us. A couple years before I met Taylor, I briefly had a thirty-seven-year-old fuck buddy who was also a published author of a book about dating. She said it perfectly: "We’re attracted to each other, but we don't want anything serious, so why not find a middle ground and enjoy ourselves?" I was hoping Taylor was capable of the same mindset.  

           
More sexual activities ensued in the coming weeks. She even gave me a rimjob, and she "never does that." Getting to this point took some serious experience, tests, bluffs, hard work, and a lot of time. Get busy texting, or get busy jerking.

***

We fucked several more times after I finally broke her in. The texts came pouring in: an average of three per day. It irritated the shit out of me. I’m not a fan of texting, so to feed her silly needs with dopey texts was like doing laundry or something. It was a lame task that I wanted no part of.

She would text me shit like "whatcha doin?" or tell me some dumb joke and expect a comment. It was a never-ending road that rendered one pit stop for sex every hundred miles. But she was hot, and the sex was good, so I submitted to her needs. Barely. I would answer with one of the following responses:

haha (a lie)

thats so crazy (a lie)

K (the truth)

Ha, well Im gonna go to the gym ttyl (a lie)

Sorry Im just tired (a lie)

We never talked on the phone, even though I told her that I preferred she call me instead of texting since it was much more efficient. Besides, every girl reaches a point where her silliness becomes outright irritating. Text messaging has evolved into one big silly clusterfuck. Nothing gets accomplished, and heterosexual men become disenchanted with all the dumb texting after sex has been achieved (unless we’re drunk). I had reached that point with Taylor a long time before.

Finally, my lack of texting had entered the danger zone for her. She never actually said it was the reason, but I could deduce that my refusal to communicate to her the way she wanted me to had pushed me out of her comfort zone. One day, I didn’t text her at all. She flipped out the following day (at least through texting).

Taylor 2/28/08- Ok something is wrong. You didn’t text me at ALL ysterdy and you wont return my txts. Is everything ok?? Where r u?

It was early in the morning, and I was driving to work. I didn’t text her back because I didn’t fucking feel like it. Maybe she shouldn’t have texted me so damn much. I checked my phone during lunch and poof, she actually called me! She left a voicemail with a jolly tone in her voice as if nothing was wrong:

"Hey you! I hope you’re having a great day. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Hope everything is okay. Call me when you get a chance. Talk to you soon! Bye."

I called her back and was honest with her. I’m not a dick. I don’t lead chicks on. It was time to put her to the test:

Me: (flatly) “Hey, what’s up?”

Her: (fake happy) “Hey, how are you?”

Me: (flatly) “Good, what are you doing?”

Her: “Just taking a break. Sooo what’s up?”

Me: (I jumped in) “I dunno. I just think this is getting too relationshippy

Her: What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, I don’t want to text you all the time…and I think you get mad when I don’t text you back right away. I dunno, it’s just getting too serious. I thought this was all for fun?”

Her: “Yeah, I wish I was able to do that. But the more I spend time with you, the more I wanna see you….and, I guess the more serious I get. I thought I could do the "just sex" thing but I don’t think I can. I need more. How do you do it?”

Me: “I dunno, I can do it if we’re both on the same page, but I don’t think we are. I thought we talked about this being a fun thing?”

Her: “Yeah I know, I guess things changed, because I was just thinking about it, and it would literally kill me if I saw you with another girl. Like seriously.”

Me: “Uh huh. (There was a pause) Yeah well, I mean this is fun, and you’re a dope girl, but I really don’t see this going anywhere. I mean, I enjoy spending time with you even without the sex…but I dunno…”

Her: “Yeah.”

Me: “And I care about you and don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t think we can do the sex thing unless we’re on the same page. You know?”

Her: “Well, if you don’t see it going anywhere, then I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Me: “Yeah, well that sucks.”

Her: (Silence)

Me: “Are you mad at me, Taylor?”

Her: (fake contentment) “No! I appreciate you being honest with me.”

Me: “Yeah well…all right.”

Her: “Well, have a good rest of the day.”

Me: “You too. Bye.”

What a lame conversation that was. I felt like a weenie and found myself feeling a little sad. She sounded hurt, which sucked because she really was a cool girl. She was just becoming too attached for my comfort level.

I finished off the school day, got in my car, and checked my phone. "1 New Msg."

Taylor 12/28/08: Hey, so I don’t want you to think that you hurt me in any way. I am all about fun right now. Seriously. Don’t worry about it, txt me later if you want.

I calculated a 96% chance that this was a lie. Sure she would have liked herself to be "all about fun," but this is what fuck buddies evolve into after too much time together. One side always wants "more." I have yet to find an exception.

I didn’t text her back that day or the next day. I wanted to make it clear to her that I was finished being silly. She could hang out with me if she wanted. Cool. She could fuck me if she wanted. Cooler. But the in-between stuff had to go.

She texted me as expected and asked what I was doing the next night. We made plans for her to come over. She came and we went to the movies. I paid. We went home and we fucked. She spent the night and left in the morning.

It wasn’t a date. It was just two people enjoying each other’s company. But her emotions were clearly on a different page. Her mind was thinking of future shit, and my mind was thinking of tonight shit. I sensed an end nearing.

Over the course of the next week and a half, we made plans three times to hang out. She flaked all three times, claiming she "thought it was a bad idea. Nice to meet you." Blah, blah, blah.

She sent me the texts below. They were essentially all the same: undercover attempts to see if I would beg. I refrained from any such act.

Taylor 3/6/08: Hey u. I am not coming over today. Maybe some other time.

Mysteriously, fifteen minutes after this text, I received a text from her that was supposedly meant for someone else that read: Yeah we had fun!!! We will definitely have to do that again! Maybe on Tuesday?

I replied: huh?

She replied: Uh did you just get a text from me?

I replied again: huh?

She replied: Oh woops, haha nothing. Yeah we’ll shoot for a night later in the week

It was an act of desperation. She had just tattooed her lameness and low self-esteem in the form of a text message. I was starting to feel sorry for her.

 
Taylor 3/11/08: Hey I am not coming over today. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I guess this is goodbye. You don’t have to respond to this. Im glad I met u.

Taylor 3/17/08: Hey u. Im flaking on u sry. I am just tryin to make good choices 4 myself. I know that if I see u I will make a bad choice. The last time we had sex, I left feelin strange. Im nt a good sex w/o feeling anything girl. I was raised to respect myself and I dnt when I do that. That’s just how I am. I cant b a hooker. Ha. Sooo that’s pretty much it. Im sry about hw I am. There r plenty of other chicks out there that do that, as u know. Be safe, I hope u find that special one someday. Hav a good st. Pattys day. Drink sm green beer, go to Cassidys! Hav fun. Take care

Maybe I secretly liked this girl or maybe I just don’t like goodbyes, but I had to communicate something to her. I called her up and left a voicemail:

"Taylor what’s up, it’s Dave. Anyway, got your text. It’s cool if you don’t want to see me anymore. I understand. But I mean…we don’t have to have sex, it’s really not that big of a deal. I just enjoy your company. We’ve hung out before and not had sex. It can be done. Hope that’s cool. If not, then that’s cool too. Well, it would be nice to actually talk to you. Not that big on texting as you know. So….hope to hear from you soon. Bye."

I hung up and really felt like I had told the truth. Was I really willing to hang out with this chick with no sex? Maybe I was. Or maybe I didn’t want to lose her just yet. Or maybe I secretly knew she’d have sex with me anyway. Or maybe it was a selfish move on my part. She was trying her hardest to cut ties with me, and I was keeping her hanging.

After some silly texts, she texted me the next day:

Taylor 3/18/08: Hey best math teacher ever! Can I c u thurs? I promise I wont flake.

Taylor flaked. It was the fifth time. One week later, she flaked again. It might actually be over this time. I remained fair and stopped texting her. For a while, she stopped texting me, but after a week or two of no communication, I still would have bet good money that she was destined to break the silence. Sure enough, on the tenth day of silence, she texted me again.

Taylor 4/18: Hey you, wheres my homework! Ha

 
Me 4/18: Hey how are u

There were a few cordial texts of what was new.

 
Taylor 4/18: So, u havent been out w anyone else since we met? Just curious

Me 4/18: Yeah I went on one date but it was lame.

Taylor 4/18: Haha, u think everything is lame. Did u make out? Ha why was it lame?

Me 4/18: Eh, she wanted coffee. Dont really wanna talk about it.

She continued with the texts about my lame date with coffee girl, but I didn't go into it. After more silly texts we made plans to party Saturday night at Woody's. Given her history, I gave it a 90% chance that she would flake.

She ended one of the most historic flaking streaks of all time and showed up at Woody's close to midnight. She came with her friend Mindy, whom Vick kept entertained all night.

Four drinks later, the four of us stumbled five blocks home. When we got home, Vick led Mindy to his room; I led Taylor to my room. Vick's door was shut, this time not to masturbate. My door was shut, this time not to masturbate. A long awaited night of double fulfillment was finally achieved in these two units off of West Balboa Street. It’s nights like these that single roommates strive for. 

The girls left early the next morning. Vick and I awoke around the same time to beautiful spring weather. I asked him what had happened. "Everything," he replied. I smiled. He went to work. I spent the Sunday relaxing on the patio and checking the Internet.

The next day, I received an inevitable guilt text from her. It came in three parts.

Taylor 4/21: Hey. I really cant c u anymre. It makes me lik u, and I dnt want to. We bth want diff thngs, It is just nt gd 4 me. I hav to protect my heart. U challenge me. Which I like, bt not in this case. I cant make u feel a certain way. Ur young, I know what I want. We r just at diff places. I hav to stop w u or I will get hurt. Sry. Dnt text me back and tell me how lame I am. I cant call u, this phone sucks. Dnt b mad. I am sure u understand and dnt want to hurt me.

I didn't text her back. I held her heart in the palm of my hand and it just wouldn't be fair. Sure enough, my silence made her uneasy.

(Nine hours later) Taylor 4/21: I hpe u dnt hate me. U must thnk I am completely crazy. Ha. Im really nt. It would be cool to hang out as friends sometime.

I didn't text her back. The next day, she continued on.

Taylor 4/22: Hmmmm im thinking, cuz that's what I do. That u r irritated w me. I cant imagine why. ha. Eh, nt sure hw to fix this. U r havin a drnk w us this thurs nite! Dnt be a punk!

 
I didn't text back. She continued.

 
Taylor 4/22: We can at least b friends, this is my final attempt. Where's my hmwk? Ha.

(sigh) I gave in.

Me 4/22: I dunno.

Taylor 4/22: U dunno where my hmwk is? What kinda teacher are u? Ha! What dontcha know? I asked u a couple ?'s

I didn't respond, but when she texted me the next night, I agreed to meet up with her at Woody's on Thursday.

Thursday night around 6:45, I received a call from Taylor.

Her: “Helloooooooo.”

Me: Hey, what's up?

Her: [laughs] “What are you doing?”

Me: “Was gonna go to the gym in a little bit. Are you guys here yet?”

Her: [laughs] “Oh yeah. We've been here for like four hours.” (laugh)

Me: “Ah.”

Her: “So, I have a question for you. Are you ready?”

Me: “Yeah, what's up?”

Her: “Well actually it's more of a favor.”

Me: “Okay.”

Her: “Well, Lyndsay is fucking trashed. Soooo I was wondering, can I just like bring her over and let her pass out in your bed?”

Me: (Fuck that. I paused) “Well, Vick isn't home yet, and I was …(stutter) g-gonna go to the gym …and m-my rooms a mess. Uh, she can sleep on the couch if she wants.”

Her: “Oh, ok. Well I dunno, we'll figure something out.”

Me: “Just put her in the backseat of your car.”  

Her: “Yeah, we'll see. So you're going to the gym?”

Me: “Yeah, I should be ready to go out by 9. I'll call you then.”

Her: “Okay.”

Me: “Bye.”

One minute later, she called again.

Her: “Okay, here's the deal. You are fucking lame. I know how you always call me lame. Yeah, well, you're lame.” (she paused)

Me: “Uh, why?”

Her: “You're just a fucking idiot. And you call yourself a teacher? You have two girls that want to come over and bring beer to your house, and you're going to the fucking gym. How dumb are you?”

Me: “Yeah, I was planning on partying with you guys later. It's not even seven o'clock yet.”

Her: “Who the fuck cares!”

Me: “Uh, why are you yelling?”

Her: “Because I'm fucking pissed. I drove all the way out here. I'm literally like three blocks away from you, and you're going to the gym.”

Me: “Well maybe if you guys began partying at a reasonable hour, we would be on the same page. It's always the same deal with you. Everytime I see you, you are shitfaced—”

Her: “I'm not shitfaced!”

Me: “Uh, yeah you are.”

Her: “How the hell do you know?”

Me: “I can tell. It's obvious.”

Her: [laughs]

Me: “Seriously, it's no fun partying with someone who is already like twelve drinks ahead. It isn't fun for me, and it won't be fun for you. We are on different levels right now. It's lame.”

Her: “You're lame.”

Me: [laughs]

Her: “Well, have fun at the gym.”

Me: “Okay, I'll call you later.”

Her: “Oh wait one more thing. Can we crash at your place like way later in the night—I mean we may not need to—but just in case?”

Me: “Yeah, of course….K, bye”

Her: “Bye.”

Three minutes later, I received a text from her.

Taylor 4/24: Im just gonna let u go. Ur dumb!

I went to the gym shortly after, leaving my cell phone in the car. When I got back to my car, I checked my phone. I was almost positive there would be a text or drunken voicemail from her.

Nothing. This worried me. I hoped she hadn't driven home in her drunken state. I felt uneasy, so I texted her.

Me 4/24: Make sure you don't drive home, if u dnt wanna stay here, take a cab and find a hotel.

A half-hour later, she called me. There was no bitter aftertaste, and she sounded pleasant and sober on the other line. I was just relieved she hadn't driven home.

I agreed to meet her at Woody's. Vick tagged along, and we made the one-minute drive. We weren't planning on drinking more than two beers.

We arrived to find her at the bar ordering more drinks. I could smell the alcohol on her, and she tried to make her best sober impersonation of herself. She failed miserably. Vick and I ordered a beer and tried to cope with the two drunken chicks. It wasn't fun or entertaining. After just one beer, we had enough and tried to drag them out of the bar. Just before leaving, Taylor was hit on by two tall dudes with goatees. This cost us another five minutes of waiting. Finally, we departed.

Vick drove my car, and I drove the girls' car. When we arrived home, the girls went to my computer to check Myspace. They giggled and shrieked to a myriad of silly pictures, while I laid on my bed in midnight exhaustion.

After Myspace came YouTube. They made me watch the same Dane Cook standup I had already seen twice before because they "loved that guy." I watched. After what seemed like a decade, the friend left the room. We shut the door and fucked.

After sex, we lay in bed and cuddled for about an hour. I got up to pee and when I returned to the bed, she looked at me as if she were looking at a needy dog she didn't feel like petting. She glared at me, then at the ceiling. I put my arm around her. She didn't even let me touch her. She grabbed my arm, threw it back at me, got up, and the barking began.

Her: “I'm done.”

Me: “You're done?”

Her: “I can't believe I did this, AGAIN.” (She scurried around the room trying to find her clothes).

Me: (Silence)

Her: (Still scurrying) “You know what? You're actually really smart. I'm just…stupid.”  

Me: (Silence)

Her: “This isn't your fault. It's MY fault--fuck, where is my top!?”

Me: “Check over there.”

Her: “I already checked. I mean how do you do it?”

Me: “Do what?”

Her: “Have sex without any emotions?”

Me: “I don't know, practice?”

Her: “Ugh, you are so fucking stupid. Do you realize you have no emotions? Why don't you just keep fucking as many girls as possible and be happy that way. Because I am done. Where the fuck is my top!?”

Me: “Why are you so mad?”

Her: “I mean did you see that in there? Like when I go out, I am used to getting attention. Guys want me. I usually get what I want.”  

Me: “Yeah, I know.”

Her: “But with you it's just …ugh! I mean, do you have emotions?”

Me: “Yeah, of course I do. I just don't want a relationship. There's just some things I want to do right now …that make me want to be single.”

Her: (Still scurrying) “You're not that young.”

Me: (I laugh)

Her: “And now you're laughing. What's so funny?”

Me: (She was close to where I was lying and I grabbed her hand and pulled her over me. I spoke softly.) “Taylor, I am sorry if I have upset you. You are an amazing woman. You really are. I love being around you. I just don't want a relationship at this point in my life …I mean you want to like…date me, right?”

Her: “Well, yeah.”

Me: “See, we're just on different pages with that. I wish we were on the same page. I really do. We're just …not.”

Her: “I know. I appreciate your honesty.”

We lay in each other’s arms for a few minutes and continued our conversation. It wasn't long before she abruptly leaped up and proclaimed she had to go. Moments later, she found her top. I tried to convince her to stay, but she insisted she was as sober as she had ever been. She’d made up her mind.

When she had all her things, she stopped at the door, and looked back at me. She walked over and gave me a long sensual kiss. I presumed it meant goodbye.

I believed her this time.