Every woman is looking for the perfect package: smart, funny, sensitive (but not in that weak, sad way). Not too long ago, I found a guy who seemed to fit the bill. We went on several dates that included lots of movies and sleepovers. Everything was going well except for one thing: we hadn’t had sex. We would stay up all night talking about life—global warming, how dolphins communicate—but when it came time for us to do the deed he’d simply say, “Good night!” and roll over and go to sleep. I’d stay up all night positively ITCHING. (It was either the lack of sex or bedbugs, I’m not sure.)
Anywho, I liked him and I didn’t want to call it quits, but I also have to have sex. I came up with a plan. I decided to go on one more date with him, get him drunk, and get my way. I picked a sexy little wine bar in the West Village called Corsino Cantina. When I met him there (in my Sunday best of course), I noticed that he was carrying a newspaper under his arm. I thought that was a little weird, but in New York you carry your life with you and, well, men don’t use purses (and let’s face it—I would rather him carry a newspaper than carry a purse).
We sat down and ordered a bottle of wine, and it was ON. After a few sips, I got a little feisty, and decided to go for it. “You know,” I said, “we’ve been dating a few weeks, and I really am having so much fun with you, but I HAVE to have sex.”
I continued. “Don’t you find me attractive? Are you missing a testicle? What is going on?”
He wasn’t offended, bothered, or phased. He simply picked up the newspaper and said, “You know, I would rather read a stimulating article and challenge my mind than have sex with you. I just think sex is a waste of time. People spend all this time laying around sleeping with each other when they could be learning, reading, or talking.”
My mind was screaming, “Lindsey leave! Get out! Get up and go RIGHT NOW,” but we had just ordered wine, and I was thirsty. I stuck it out, and we changed the subject. I’m not sure what we talked because I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that anyone would rather READ than have sex. I, for one, have never met a book that made me orgasm.
Well, I guess that’s not ENTIRELY true…
Lindsey Gentile is an actor, writer, comedienne, and all-around gal-about-town. Every Thursday, she reports from the front lines of single life in NYC. Check out her website HERE. Need more Big City Siren? No problem.