• Victoria Nachos

Vancouver Dating Blog: The Truth About Trucker Joe

So that was that, I'd had 6 dates with Trucker Joe. 6 dates full of fun activities and like real actual date shit like I've always wanted, with one glaring exception. We'd only really been physical once. Sure, it was Tuesday. Hot. Sticky. Delicious. But still, it was just that one time. And even more alarming than no action when dating someone is having had action and then going back to no action. But like a true coward, we ended our 6th date on Tuesday with no action in site and I said nothing.

Confused as I was with what was going on with Trucker Joe, when Sunday rolled around and he texted:

Hey Vic, How's your weekend? Tuesday night you want to go play pool somewhere? 

I couldn't help but give him a few points. I mean, I absolutely love shooting pool (as I'm sure ya'll have figured out by now) but also because when we'd spoken about shooting pool once before and he hadn't seemed so keen.

I responded: Sounds great. Count me in.

As has become our habit, we meet at his place and drive to our date (to shoot pool) together in his truck. Pool is delightful, we're laughing, we're having fun, but as per usual there's no touching. There's still no goddamn touching. I mean christ! At this point, I'm not even sure he checks out my boobs when I bend over to make a shot. But then I'll win a game and he assures me we'll have to come back so he can have a rematch and I'm confused again. After a few more games, most of which I win, we leave and go back to his place.

Standing at his front door, I'm hesitant and confused and completely unsure if I should eve stay like maybe the date is over I honestly don't know what the fuck we're doing here anymore.

Should I stay? I ask and he assures me that I should which you'd think would be a positive indication but honestly with Trucker Joe and this novel situation where the man I'm dating isn't jumping my bones, I absolutely don't know anything anymore. We watch TV and by "we" I mean "he" because clearly I'm just sitting there on his couch having a whole goddamn conversation inside my head:

Fucking say something!

Ask him. Just say it.  ust fucking say something.

Why don't you ever touch me? What is the deal? Am I bad kisser? Have you decided I'm not hot?

Do your balls hurt when you get turned out? Do you just have no sex drive or something?

Are you not attracted to me?  as something changed since we made out?

Ask him. Just say it. Just fucking say something.

Grab some balls bitch! Man the fuck up!

You CANNOT have another date without finding out the answers to this. 


And then, finally, after what seems like an entire lifetime but in reality is probably only like 10 minutes, I turn to look at him and just say it:

So...uh...this is really embarassing but why don't you ever touch me?....like I understand if your balls hurt and you don't want to have sex and all that...but like...you never touch me...there's no kissing...I mean except for the hugs at the end of the night...there's like no physical contact whatsoever.

And the thing is, I knew as I soon as I turned to him and saw his face that he knew what was coming and honestly it was a relief (to know at least that I wasn't the only one aware of the lack of touching, that I wasn't a total floozy who was all about sex, that there was actually some problem).

But then of course it hit me, there was, in fact, an actual problem.

So...seriously...are you attracted to me?

He made some kind of noise to indicate obviously and then said something to back the insinuation up, but I wasn't falling for it again. I mean, shit, he'd already confirmed once with words (and once with his boner) that he was attracted to me. And so I prodded him again:

What is the deal?

And then, from somewhere deep inside (I'm guessing) he said something along the lines of:

Er...um...I don't love you

And my ego obliterated into a thousand tiny pieces. Jk jk jk. I mean, of course he's not in love with me...and last I checked I sure as fuck wasn't in love with him. Truth be told, we still barely knew each other. We talk a bit more and while I can't remember all the exact wording (my ears were still ringing from the love bomb) here was the gist:

- he'd been married for 10 years (unhappy for a lot of it)

- his ex-wife cheated and moved on immediately with that guy

- he'd spent the last year full of rage (not exactly healing)

- he'd only dated one other girl so far but she was super upset when he wasn't ready to settle down with her

- but the real thing is none of it had anything to do with me, though it clearly affected our time together (and any future time was now moot)

After all this gets figured out, which I admit I handled like a goddamn badass, I asked a few fun questions about our dating experience (because why the fuck not). I got to find out that I'm even better looking than most of my photos and yes he'd noticed all my weight loss while we were together and when I ask why it took him this long to say it all he basically insinuated he didn't want to lose a friend.

We continued to talk for awhile; I told him about the blog, we talked about boys, we talked about me possibly being a professor one day and he said I'd be famous long before that for a newspaper column or something (which was pretty sweet given he'd only ever talked to me and hadn't read my writing lol). I left earlier than usual because without the prospect of sex for anyone there wasn't really a good reason for either of us not to get a good night's rest.

He walked me to my car as per usual and as we hugged goodbye, I said "So I guess just gimme a call if you want to hang out."

To which he responded Oh...I'll definitely be harassing you to hang out. 

And that was it. I drove home as happy as a person can be after being disappointed but at least I was in the know now. We had planned to add each other on facebook (a new concept for me, up until now I'd kept my facebook pretty closely guarded) and beyond that I'd guess we'd just have to wait and see what happened.

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