Several years ago, when I lived in Portland, I attended a weekly poetry slam with a friend of mine. It was our thing. We would go to the slam then go get yogurt and talk about the slam. It was a lovely way to spend a Sunday. One time, a well-known slam poet got up and started speaking and I felt this crazy need to talk to him. So I did. I also bought one of his books. His poetry was smart, funny and dare I say, insightful. I started following him on facebook. Yes. It was that serious.
A few years later, I was living in Bellingham, and I commented on one of his fb posts. He noticed and messaged me, and he told me that he thought I was very cute. I seriously could not believe that this dude that I had crush on was messaging me! This famous slam poet! How could this be!?!?! I was overwhelmed, my heart was beating a million miles a minute, but I held it together enough to reply in a semi-intelligent manner. Then we started messaging back and forth, then texting, then talking on the phone, sometimes for hours. We had this great connection. Every day, I looked forward to his texts and his phone call. Then, he suggested he visit to see what was what. He was thinking about moving to the PNW anyway, so he figured he could stay with me in my spacious studio apartment and we could give it a go.
I happily agreed. I also agreed, upon his request, to get a cat so that he would have company while I was at work. Though I didn't see it at the time, this was a red flag. As his arrival drew near, I became excited and even a bit distracted by the story I had created in my head about the two of us. We had found each other across time and space! It was an epic love story, worthy of song and celebration. I don't know, I might have gotten a little carried away, but this was true love. The plan was that he would take a bus from his parents house in Kansas or Arkansas or Missouri or some such place and I would pick him up in the dark of night at the bus station. It was so romantic.
When he arrived, we decided to take it slow. We would spend our evenings talking about a wide variety of interesting things; writing, food, cats, The Hunger Games books, nothing was off limits. It was pretty sweet. After about a week or so, we decided to have sex. It was an exciting night. We had a tasty but modest dinner, I cleaned up, then we went to bed. Everything was going pretty well; he was a great kisser, he smelled good, he had a good touch. But one thing was a bit strange. He would only fuck me from his back. I am a fan of the cowgirl and the reverse cowgirl, so I didn't mind being on top. At first. By the third time we had sex, I realized this was not merely a preference, this, for him was a rule. I had brought a man across the country to lay on his back and let me do all the work. He didn't even have the decency to go down on me.
After this, other strange things started surfacing. I found myself coming home from work to find a hairy, shirtless man sitting on my couch in his underwear amongst empty dishes and papers in front of my TV. He revealed his desire to sleep in my closet. He made no effort whatsoever to get a job. It became less and less appealing to be around him. Finally, I told him to leave. One week later, he did. That was the end. Except for the cat. The cat who stayed and mocked me for months after about the stupid thing I had just done. The good news was that I had the foresight to name her Chewbacca, so whenever she chose to mock me, I would simply reply, "laugh it up, fuzzball."
Since then, I have dated a lot, and every once in a while I get a guy who, like the poet, does not want to do the work, sexually, to make me feel like he is in it to win it. These are hard moments, frustrating, disappointing, sometimes, even embarrassing. It is in these moments that I think of Angie's List. The service that women use to find a good contractor. People all over the country use it to assess the quality of their contractors and other people use it to pick contractors.
I feel like it is time for another service for women. I would call it Spike's List. "Tired of lousy sexual service? Spike's list makes it easy to find top quality service providers!" This way, before you decide to sleep with a man, you can go to Spike's list and see how others have rated him.
It would be a very low annual membership fee, and always free to review men, even without a membership, and each review would be verified by Spike's highly qualified staff...to the best of their abilities. Men would have to pay a fee to be reviewed and listed by Spike's staff in cases where no reviews were available.
An erect nipple rating system would be the assessment method, based on things like stamina, size, smell, and level of engagement. One nipple would mean don't bother, ten erect nipples would mean he is a top performer. There would also be plenty of room for written reviews. It would revolutionize dating and sex as we know it.
I am aware that this is a crazy and far-fetched reaction to sexual disappointment and frustration. But just in case, I think I might try and post a crowd-source funding video on Indie gogo. You know, just to see if anyone else is interested in this type of service......