Encounter #21.3: Brooklyn Babe

App: Hinge

Name: Khalil*

Date Location: Mills Tavern (Hoboken) and Johnny Rockets

Location Review: 3.0 Stars – Honestly I have no idea why I go to Mills. There’s nothing particularly special about it except that it’s easy to find

3.5 Stars– Mediocre food. Has a classic diner atmosphere and bomb ass shakes though

Date Duration: 16 hours

What Happened:

After flaking on me twice in three days, Khalil took it upon himself to make it up to me by suggesting a NJ date. He had me pick the spot and was really overcompensating for flaking as much as he did.

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I met him at the bar and he apologized again for bailing on me. We covered the normal small talk, he kept complimenting me on how good I looked, and did all the right things to physically say he liked me. I loved how he would keep his arm on the back of my chair, rest his hand on my knee, and take my hand. It had been a long time since I felt like “someone’s girl”, as stupid as that sounds. Really, one of the things I missed most about being in a relationship was the physical contact outside of sex. There is something to be said about being touched in a way that makes you feel important.

After we had a few drinks he suggested we head across the street for some milkshakes since he knew I loved them so much. We crushed our shakes and some cheese fries and while we walked out I asked if he had ever seen the skyline from Hoboken. By far, it’s one of, if not the best, view of NYC so we walked over to the pier.

On the walk over he had his hand around my waist and held my hand because it was so fucking cold. When we got to the edge of the pier, he pulled me into his side as we stared at the skyline. Then he turned to me, brushed my hair out of my face, and kissed me. HOT DAMN. Then per usual we were making out and I asked him to come back to my place. He agreed.

Side note: Let’s be real. We both knew we were going to fuck. So I have no idea why we wasted our time going out beforehand.

Within about 5 minutes of being in my apartment we were making out on the couch and ripping clothes off. I threw some Trap Nation on and we did our thing—fucking nonstop.

Things were better this time. I knew what to expect, he knew my body a little bit better so it wasn’t as painful or shocking as the first time. It was slightly weirder though. I’m not opposed to dirty talk but I really don’t like a lot of it. To me, it feels like I’m in a shitty porn and it doesn’t add anything more to the experience. However, Khalil was very into it (and kind of bad at it). The word “pussy” should be used sparingly. In the way people hate the word “moist”, the word “pussy” makes me cringe. That was his go to word. “Your pussy feels so good. Do you realize how amazing your pussy is? Your pussy tastes so good. Pussy pussy blah blah blah pussy” If he just replaced the words “your pussy” with “you” it would have been about 5 million times less awkward and actually more genuine. But he stuck to his guns and also said mid-sex, “Your body is amazing. I love how thick you are.” UHM. NEVER CALL A WOMAN THICK TO HER FACE LET ALONE WHILE YOU’RE HAVING SEX. I spend a lot of time trying to not be considered “thick” so yes, thank you for bringing that up.

If that wasn’t enough, later that night between rounds we were talking about turn ons and what we looked for physically. He said a thick or curvier woman while he slid his hand down my side. OKAY SIR. I GET IT I NEED TO HIT THE GYM. I know it was meant as a compliment but when you spend so much time trying to rid yourself of that look, it doesn’t feel great. Also I’m a size 6/8 jean and wear medium shirts. I don’t think that would necessarily count as “thick”.

I made a mistake with Khalil. We were talking about our sexual chemistry and I made a comment along the lines of, “This never happens. No one ever makes it to my apartment let alone a third date.” So now he thought he was special or some shit. Then he said, “Well I can’t wait for our fourth date, and the one after that, and the one after that.”

Here’s the thing. After that night, I made the decision that we were only going to be sex friends. I liked spending time with him, he was smart, interesting, and all that but he couldn’t really make me laugh. We had different senses of humor and I kind of found his to be annoying. He was so sexy when he would talk about his career and other things he had done but oh my god, I wanted to wring his neck whenever he tried to be funny. Also, when describing him to others I would say “He’s fine.” Fine is not the word to describe someone you want to seriously date.

He asked me when he could see me again and we picked Friday of that week. There was a bar in Hoboken I really liked for weekends and he wanted to check it out. Since he had already flaked on me twice before, I texted him at lunch asking if we were on and he responded, “On like Donkey Kong” and we decided to meet at 9.

A half hour before he was supposed to meet me he asked if he could push it back by an hour…to take a nap.

Ummmmmmmmmmmmm, kay.

I figured it would be a wash at that point so I changed out of my cute outfit and hot underwear into bum clothes, headed to McDonald’s to get a McFlurry, and parked my ass on the couch. While I was rage eating fries (the ice cream machine was broken) this fucker called me.

“Heyyy what are you up to?”

“Nothing. I’m chilling on my couch eating fries in my comfy clothes. You?”

“That sounds dope. I still haven’t left my bed. …Do you still want to do something tonight?”

“I’m not making you come to NJ to sit on my couch with me.”

“I feel so bad but Jersey is soooo far. I’m just so tired. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work.”

“Sunday?”

“I already have plans.”

“Oh. Okay, I don’t want to get in the way of your plans. Sorry again, have a good night.”

He texted me the next day and then the week after that.

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Yeahhhh I’m never going to be free. He cancelled on me 3 times and one was for a damn nap. BYE.

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