Now that I know Dustin’s a “zero,” I am ready to start dating him again.
Let me explain.
After I wrote my last post about my rekindling romance with Dustin, I realized that I left the best part of the date out of the post; how I got from point A to point B.
A few months back, in my post titled “Dustin Wonders…What Went Wrong?” I discussed the fact that I could never really see myself with Dustin. I touched on the fact that I thought that he might be gay, which was the obvious reason that I couldn’t see myself dating him.
But we resolved that over dinner the other night. And I’m gonna tell you exactly how that happened.
We settled in across from each other at a cozy table under the sparkling white lights of the veranda and smiled at one another. I was happy to be there, and he seemed absolutely over the moon that I was his date for the evening.
We were chattering non-stop, about what I don’t even know, and our waitress came and went a couple of times before we had a chance to decide on our drink selection. Before long, the conversation turned towards our dating relationship and that was when *the* question was posed by Dustin.
He looked at me somewhat mystified from his perch across from me and asked, “So what happened? Why did you decide you didn’t want to keep dating me? I really want to know what the deal is.” He said directly as he thumped his hand down on the table for added emphasis. Let’s just get this out in the open right now.”
Appreciating his direct approach and desire for open communication, I inched slowly into the conversation. “Well, I think I told you that your lateness was always kind of a problem for me…” I hedged a bit, and trailed off, full well knowing that wasn’t the crux of the matter. He looked at me appearing to steel himself against giving me an eye roll and said somewhat briskly, “Yes, we’ve discussed that. I will never be late again.” He sat expectantly, ready to tackle the next issue as it came.
“Well…” I hem-hawed around, not fully knowing how to say what was on my mind. “I always wondered if you might be gay.” I sat back, happy to have it quite literally, on the table. He looked at me incredulously as he tried to keep his face from smiling. “No, I am 100% heterosexual,” he said confidently. “I knew at a very early age that women did it for me. Like kindergarten, when they had some female dancers come put on a show for us at school.”
Undeterred and suddenly ready to unleash my arsenal of doubts, I forged on and successfully pinned him down about each and every reason I had this question mark in my mind about his sexual orientation.
“I know you’ve said that you’re 100% heterosexual, but you’ve asked me to tell you from my perspective what went wrong with our relationship. So that’s what I’m trying to do here.”
He smiled and his body language didn’t change whatsoever. I could clearly see that there was not a defensive bone in him, which only further helped move the conversation in a healthy and positive direction.
“Well, there were a couple of reasons I got started on this path of thinking you were gay,” I thoughtfully proceeded with my analysis. “It was not one thing individually that brought me to this conclusion.”
I began casually. “So, we had sex a few times,” I paused slightly as he held up one finger and waggled it a bit from side to side indicating that we had only actually had intercourse once. I nodded in agreement, and reminded him that we had a few other encounters where I gave him a blow-job and he never orgasmed. His eyes remained fixed on mine and he continued to listen.
“Now I’ve given guys blow-jobs where they never came,” I said knowingly. “This ain’t my first rodeo. But there were a few other “flags” that gave me pause.”
He looked intrigued and remained silent waiting for me to continue. “All three times I was sucking your cock for a while, thinking it was going great and then you asked me to stick my finger up your ass. Now there is nothing weird about you asking for that, but every time? Like you can’t get off without a finger up your ass?” I stopped and let that sink in for a minute.
Still trying to keep a straight face, and remaining totally open in his body language he said, “Well I’m not going to deny I like that, but I don’t need it to have an orgasm.”
Not flinching, I asked, “Well then how come you never had one? Even during intercourse? Are you able to orgasm with other women?”
He nodded emphatically to the last part of the question, then tilted his head a bit as though he was pondering the reason he didn’t have one with me. “For me, an orgasm is 95% mental, and I can psych myself out of having them very easily if I don’t think the woman is enjoying herself, or into me. I can be intimidated by a sexy woman. That’s just how I am.” He looked at me and asked, “So me not having an orgasm set you off on this notion that I’m gay?”
I was not nearly done with the sex portion of the conversation, and not nearly ready for him to take me off the podium. I forged on. “What about the time I was sucking you and you were all hard and suddenly stopped and said you’d be right back. When you re-emerged you had a cock ring. What about that? Are you telling me you need these types of things to enjoy a blow-job from a female? From me?”
Not able to contain himself anymore his hearty laugh rang out and he put his head in his hands. “Oh God, I forgot about the cock ring.” he said sheepishly. “Okay, so maybe I am a bit kinky, but no, I don’t *need* those things to have an orgasm.” He looked at me with pure amusement in his eyes and asked, “So I guess I just should have had an orgasm and gotten it done, eh? That would have avoided all of this?”
I raised an eyebrow and said, “Well it certainly would have helped as I found out some of the other things that raised questions. It was not just the lacking orgasms, but almost like the ‘perfect storm’ of things that has created this in my mind.”
I went on. “For example, you told me at 18 or 19 that you had some feelings for a man. I mean, are you telling me that doesn’t make you at least bi-sexual?” I asked point-blank, unwavering in my determination to get to the bottom of this once and for all.
Still his body language was loose and open. “Wait a minute, he said. “I told you that I felt weird around him, but nothing had ever happened. He paused. “I look at that as an experimental phase in my life where I was open to a possibility of learning more about different ideas.” He casually waved his hand. “That was just a kid in an experimental phase,” he said confidently.
“Okay,” I accepted. “Moving on to your favorite place to vacation. A place that you tout as being a gay and lesbian community tucked away on the shores of Lake Michigan.” Again, he burst into laughter and put his head in his hands. “Okay, I can see how that would throw you, given what you have already shared.”
Truthfully, no explanation was needed on that one. I just wanted him to be aware of how all of these things had worked together to create my uneasiness as to his sexual orientation.
“And finally…” I said, ready to put the finishing touches on this conversation. “You have a male cat that you are constantly saying is gay. A gay cat for a gay owner?!” I teased him laughingly.
He sat there and chuckled. “Well he is gay! Haven’t you noticed he only loves men?”
At this point, I was feeling pretty good and almost totally confident that he is straight, but there was one final piece that would help solve the puzzle once and for all. I smiled and said, “There is one more thing that made me leery, and that has to do with the Kinsey Scale test I sent you a few weeks ago. You said you’d take it and get back to me, but you never did. Of course I naturally assumed that meant you were in fact a closet gay and didn’t want to deal with it.”
He looked at me openly curious and said, “What’s the test? Can you give it to me right now?”
I happily picked up my phone and said, “Yes. It’s about a 15 question test that shows where one falls on the sexual scale of heterosexual or homosexual. I pulled up the test online and held the phone between us asking, “Would you rather answer the questions on your own or would you like me to read them to you?” I asked.
His face was now permanently fixed in a wry grin from his extreme amusement over this entire conversation, as he unabashedly motioned back to me and said flirtatiously, “You can give it to me…” suddenly trailing off before muttering under his breath… “I love it when you give it to me.” Groan, I thought happily. That is such a man thing to say.
Without further ado I gave him the test. I balked on a few of his answers, yet he refused to change them or budge one inch. “Nope,” he would say, “That is my final answer.”
When I finally clicked “Score,” I honestly didn’t know what I might find. I figured by his answers that he would at least be a one on the scale. When the new browser with the results opened, my mouth dropped open and my heart soared.
“Zero!” I almost shouted excitedly. “You’re exclusively heterosexual!” He looked at me with a mixture of happiness and confusion over my surprise.
“Well okay then. I’m a zero!” He exclaimed proudly. “But I can’t help you with my cat.”
And just like that it was like a switch flipped on in my mind and I started seeing myself vacationing with Dustin, trotting around downtown enjoying the nightlife together, sitting around at home doing nothing, meeting him for lunch during the work week, drinking great wine and just generally becoming a power couple. I saw it all in my mind as clear as day…for the first time.
That, my lovies, is the power of open communication. It can change your life in an instant…even if it’s just the life in your mind.