On dating 19-year-olds.  

rm_TravelGeek 35M
2 posts
2/19/2006 3:09 pm

Last Read:
3/21/2006 11:30 am

On dating 19-year-olds.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

On dating… 19-year-olds


It’s a game. Flirting has got to be one of the most entertaining activities that God invented. If God did invent things, as opposed to just discovering things. Like the Dinosaurs. But what does dating have to do with Dinosaurs?…. nothing, as dinosaurs are unlikely to practice human mating rituals. But here’s the biological look, how does dating, and even flirting for that matter, improve our fitness? Many species exhibit rare and to us very strange ways of communicating the same message: “nice shoes, wanna fuck?”
So how did we, as evolutionary creatures, evolve the custom of dinner and a movie? And what does it mean that we have done so?
If sex is about reproduction, as Natural Selection tells us, must be so, then our genes tell us that dating is a chance to have more time to evaluate a mates phenotype. Or, a chance to check each other out, before reproduction would occur. Thankfully, reproduction is no longer the goal of dating, and with the discovery and practice of safe sex, has all left the minds of dating singles. However, our genes generally operate outside the spectrum of conscious control anyway. That is, our “old school” genetic desire to “pop them out” still holds undercurrents in the game we call dating.
Let us not forget though, that it feels good to fuck. Per haps the reason humans have done so well, evolutionarily speaking. Alas though, humans are not just a genetic product. Dating has perhaps more to do with customs than with genes.
“Dating” exists in many forms throughout every culture. While biologists have declared, and often it is seemingly so, that dating customs are clear examples of humans following genetic laws, there is more to dating then just sex, and certainly more than just reproduction. The customs of dating are often as extravagant as the plumage of a male peacock. Much of it designed to show the reproductive success or fitness of the males. Signs of wealth and strength are blatant demonstrations of the ability to provide for offspring. In order to mix our genes for the best possible combinations. Hence why it is illegal to marry your 1st cousin, unless of course, you are Darwin. But none of that has to do with dating now. Or does it?

The Start:
A week ago I met a girl that caught my eye at a birthday party of a friend of a friend. She was defiantly one of the most attractive pirates in the lot, as it was a disguised affair. We spent most of the night, as I remember it, flirting. Cute, energetic, and able to drink me under the table, she was everything you want a pirate girl to be. As the night progressed, we learned more about each other. One of the things I learned was that this beautiful pirate maiden was only 19 years old. While still legal, and certainly within my “dating pool” I have never really dated a girl that was considerably younger than I am.
The night ended, and while she left the party with my number, I had the feeling that without further incentive, I was never going to hear from her. I have always imagined that cute pirates like this must endure an almost constant barrage of proposals from lesser men. So, with “booty” in my eyes, I used the annual excuse of Valentines Day to refresh her memory of the worldly outlaw she had already forgotten about. It would be unfair not to call it a trick, but an unexpected gift, at the right (and yet unexpected time) is a powerful reminder.
Our first date followed shortly after. I picked her up for dinner, and we chatted nervously over sushi. Most of the conversation revolved around how surprised she was over her valentine. While that may seem like shallow conversation (and it was), it was conversation, and none of it would have been without the boldness of an unexpected rose. After dinner, we returned to her apartment, with a bottle of wine. An Ex, and very dear friend, had recommended that move, and was absolutely correct that a premeditated bottle of Pinot can give a date momentum.
It snowed. The cold allowed us to huddle together, in a way that may not have happened on a balmy summer night. There was a point where we were both catching flakes, falling from the dark clear sky, when I kissed her on the cheek. It wasn’t as bold as it could have been, but she was, after all, a little distracted with the falling precipitation.
Ok, so first date was a success. She was charming, driven, intelligent, and even mature, especially for her age. She can hold her own in conversation, though we never left the “get to know you” path, which may have made that easier. She calls the next day, which while in clear violation of “Dating Code”, was the best move that she could have made. We had similar plans to go to an art opening through the friend of a friend who recently had a “booty-ful birthday bash.”
Date two started casually. It was smiles and hugs to start us off, a good sign after a good first date. All was well, and while our paths diverged for sometime, she met up with some friends. It was when I rejoined them that I came to understand what dating a 19 year old was all about. At least that’s when things started to get interesting.

Mary’s friends are apparently all cheerleaders for the local university. While some men may prematurely ejaculate to that thought, I was “underly” thrilled by the new development. We met at a new “all ages club” where “over aged” onlookers from the beer garden look for prey amongst the young-ins. A live band played to the crowd that surrounded a life size mechanical bull. Surprisingly, it was mostly girls, grinding the back of bull in miniskirts, in winter, before tumbling on to the inflatable mat.

One of Mary’s roommates told me at the end of the night, that she had ridden the bull 5 times.
“I didn’t even fall off once,” she said “but, I asked the guy to go easy on me. I didn’t want to pop one of my boobs.”
“It didn’t seem like it was that uncommon for girls to pop out of their shirts up there. Most of them are not exactly dressed for bull-riding.” I said, with the image of a girl from the bar, holding on to the bull, with 2 inch heals.
“No, I didn’t want him to pop one.” She said again, “I just got’um like two weeks ago.”
“She just had them enlarged,” the other roommate clarified, “And I think it makes her look way more proportionate.”
“Thanks,” said the post-op. “I love you girls.” She said to her breasts.

Suddenly, we were all leaving. Someone initiated a sort of group response, much like in the migration of the Penguins, and we left the fertile hunting grounds, for the isolation libation iteration. We didn’t last long before the girls became impatient at not being able to drink the $3 Rock-Star Vodkas, that were being sold in the “Beer Garden.” I watched with amusement, as Mary left angry that they would do something like “enforce the law.” Words that even at the time did not seem like hers.

“Mary where are we going?” I asked her as our designated 19-year-old driver took us away from town.
“This guy Lopez’s house. We never get busted there. The cops always bust up our parties in town. But I don’t know why we are going, NO ONE is going to be there now, its only 11:30.”

By now, the night had become rather funny. These were the girls that everyone died to be “cool with” in high school. But, thank god, none of us are high schoolers anymore.
We roll up to a trailer home, just outside city limits. The lights are on, and a few cars are already parked out front.
“Oh my god, no one is here.” One says, and they all whip out their phones.
Though she didn’t say it, the look on Mary’s face was “told ya.”

We walk into this place and six guys are all huddled around a 21’ tv, playing some Playstation NFL game. From the looks of it, they have been playing for years, the graphics suck, so maybe many years. The guys look drunk, or stoned, or both, and they are all older than even the oldest girl by years. Like me.
A makeshift bar is built into the corner, which the girls storm at once. These guys, they actually charge them money for shots… of Monarch. Somewhere there is a case of Keystone Light. The girls drink a lot, most of it from there own bottle of spice rum, cleverly disguised in an Apple Juice container. These guys though, they are classic sleazy.
“Take a shot with me baby.” They all cooed at one time or another. I fear for the girl that passes out there drunk with no way home.
We are there for maybe 40 min. . The girls dance. And they can dance. The guys slobbered. One of the guys danced with one of the cheerleaders for almost 3o seconds, before straight up grabbing her tit. Which apparently, was acceptable.

Mary was having a rough night. Her “possy” had been ditching her, and making decisions for her all night long. It seemed as though she was fed up with it. But, in her frustration, and perhaps nervousness, she drank a lot. As she got drunker we got closer. Not sexually, necessarily, but playfully. It feels good to have positive physical contact with people. She felt good. And she smelled wonderful.
This party ended as abruptly as the last one, and we were on our way. Though it wasn’t terribly late, most of the girls had drunk themselves out for the night. We were not far along when Mary leaned in and kissed me. It was a very seductive kiss, as drunken as it was. I know that she initiated it, because I remember being surprised by it. I doubt she even remembers it. We got a ride back into town, and I picked up my car, giving Mary a ride home.
She carried my sweater in from the car to her place, and now, away from her friends, the frustration started to over-boil. She was upset, but had thrown up huge walls to protect herself. I think she knew that the night had not gone as either of us had hoped or expected. I went to her, and having nothing to say, just held her. There was a connection there, and I think she appreciated it. Only moments later, she passed out.
Her roommates were not worried, or surprised. Though this was the first time a girl had passed out on a date with me, it was by no means the first time that Mary had ended the night “unconscious.”

“Lets draw on her.” Said one of her roommates.
“It’s the passed out rule.” Said the other.
“No way,” I protested, “No way am I gonna let you draw on her… until I go home.”

Moments later, I went home. Though its only been a few days I have yet to hear anything from Mary. I had to call in order to find my cell phone, which had fallen into the back seat of a cheerleaders car. An uncomfortable place, like the back of a Volkswagen. But, Mary never answered. My phone eventually was returned by the car’s owner.
What I realized in this parallel universe, was that dating a nineteen year old, is like dating 7 nineteen year olds, because when you date, you also date their friends. Who keeps a guy around that your best friends says is a jackass? Doesn’t work. But at nineteen, who are you without your friends. In High School it was all about strength in numbers. Those who were cool, were never cool alone. These girls are a group. A function unit, which has its own set of government checks and balances. A game with its own set of rules.
So the funny part about it is that as you get older, it becomes more and more rewarding to live life as your own entity. The versatility, and freedom of “flying solo” is not understandable to those who clutch to each other to avoid drowning. It’s unavoidable. However, learning to make decisions alone, is terrifying, and rightfully so to many people. For when those decisions yield undesirable results, there is no one else to blame. Self discovery is a bitch, but it pays well.
I imagine that Mary is out living her life as she usually does. But it’s a much funnier thought to picture her hiding with BALLS written across her forehead. Either way, I think I have learned the lesson I was looking for. Cute, sexy, fun, blonde, blue eyed, beautiful, energetic, bright, seemingly very happy, flirtatious 19-year-olds may just not be for me. A hell of a lesson to learn. Now, how do I get back my sweatshirt?

MassyCarolFarcy 48M
2 posts
2/21/2006 8:58 am

TravelGeek you are totally on with this post. I'm a bit older than you but have had a very similar experience. I was in college a few years ago and was one of the older students at the time. I started dating an 18 year old soroity girl that I had met in one of my classes. It didn't take very long before I was asked to go buy beer for them. Being horny and hoping that this would lead somewhere, I agreed. After about two weeks of being stupid and not getting any, I gave up. I have found that the age difference doesn't mean much, but they need to have grown up. You don't want to go on a babysitting date. I'm sure women feel the same way about guys.

rm_TravelGeek 35M

2/23/2006 12:12 am

Just read your comment on my blog. Thanks for the feadback and support. I have never blogged before this, and so far it has been an awesome experiance. Liberating. almost 50 people have read that story in a week. I can't wait to post some more stuff. Anyway, this girl sure is sexy, I wish there was a way to get passed it, but growing up is just one of those things you have to do on your own.

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