- Mar 11, 2019
"For one night, I could live like a legend."
I stood in the snow, shivering, pissed off, deciding if I should keep waiting for my date to show up. If a normal guy had stood me up for an hour without a call, I would have gone home and watched Project Runway. But Tyler (not his real name) wasn't just some guy. He was a god. He was an actual male model! Or, at least, an actor in some small films who'd dabbled in modeling. Either way, he was by far the most gorgeous man who had ever gone out with me. Assuming he showed up. I'm a New York 6, maybe a 7 back in Ohio. I kind of look like Julianne Moore after she's had a big lunch or 10. I've gone out with my share of cute boys, but Tyler was different. He was hot. Sexy.
We'd met the week prior on the set of a film we were both acting in, and he'd asked me to get a drink with him. I couldn't believe it. I vowed in that moment that I would get him in bed. I didn't think I had a shot at really dating him, but for one night, I could live like a legend. I wanted a story I couldn't tell my grandkids about.
Suddenly, I felt a tap. I turned around, and there he was — his hair perfectly mussed, his sharp jawline covered with stubble. He looked like the love child of Justin Timberlake and Jude Law — the kind of guy you'd write a vampire novel about.
"Sorry I'm late," he said. "The subway took forever." "No worries, I just got here a minute ago myself! The snow is crazy!" I said, blushing. I decided to forgive his lateness — after all, I was the one who chose to meet at a statue outside instead of a bar.
Tyler brushed some snow from my face and told me some of his friends were at a bar nearby. I didn't love the idea of sharing him on our date, but I planned on getting him alone later in the night, so it was cool. We walked down the street hand in hand. I prayed that a friend, an acquaintance, or especially an ex would walk by and see us together. If a 10 was interested in me, then I couldn't be a 6, right? Or at the very least, it made me a 6.
When we got to the bar, we found about eight of his model friends, mostly women, lounging on a couch in the back. I felt like Alice in Calvin Klein-land. I introduced myself and pulled up a chair as he headed to the bar to get drinks for some friends. However, it turned out that didn't include getting one for me. I told myself it was presumptuous to expect the guy who kept me waiting for an hour in the snow to buy me a drink. Right?
An hour later, as I half- listened to a friend of his recounting some "designer drama," I realized Tyler had walked off. I excused myself and searched him out in the crowded room. Finally, my eyes found his jacket in the back, with his arm around one of his (female) model friends. As I made my way over, they started ... making out. My face burned with jealousy and rage. I couldn't believe he would be so rude. I wanted to hurl my drink in his beautiful, stupid face!
Instead, I stood there, watching. I couldn't help but notice how much better-looking this girl was than I am. My anger turned to embarrassment. What did I expect? I knew he was out of my league. It was foolish of me to expect him to treat me like I was on his level. I should be grateful to be chosen as his date at all. Plus, I'd already suffered in the snow, so I might as well just finish my conquest. When I bragged to my friends, I could just leave out this part of the story.
When he came back over to our couch, I pretended not to have noticed he was gone. His friends began trickling out, and I suggested we head to his place. He smiled, and I swooned again. Finally, the date seemed to be picking up. He caught me when I almost slipped, he snuck a kiss as we waited for the train, and we started actually sharing information about ourselves.
"So, I'm originally from Boston. What about you?" he asked.
"Cleveland! And no, I don't know Drew Carey."
"Ha, your sports teams are, like, allergic to winning!"
I laughed. "Yeah, we suck. But at least we don't have Boston's fans!"
His face went to stone. "You should shut up about things you don't know anything about!" he snarled.
I tried to apologize, but he pulled away. "Just shut the fuck up!" I did, because I didn't know how to respond. Why was I still there? Somehow, having sex with this man was my redemption. The proof that the guys in high school had made a mistake. The proof that I could be sexy and wanted, even with an extra 15 pounds. The proof that the voice in my head saying, "You're nothing," was wrong.
He motioned when it was his stop, and I asked if he still wanted me to come. He said, "I guess," so I followed. It's not like we'd have to talk during sex. Yes, he was an asshole, but it was going to be worth it!
We got upstairs and shed our clothes. The electricity I'd felt when we first met was back, and for a moment, I felt like I'd made the right choice by following through with my plan. I was about to have incredible sex with this Adonis. Or ... not. There was no foreplay, no seduction — he just stuck it in like he was charging a cell phone. The whole thing was over in minutes. I'd expected to feel validated, like a champion, a sex goddess. Now I just felt stupid. He snored next to me as I stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, the sight of his well-sculpted body was the last thing I wanted to see.
I snuck out once the sun was up without saying a word. When I got home, I didn't text my girlfriends like I planned — I just wanted to forget the night ever happened. Not only had I acted like a doormat and slept with a guy who treated me like garbage, I'd deserved it. Using a beautiful man for sex didn't bolster my clearly low self-esteem, it just made me feel cheap and stupid. Tyler texted me later that day: "LOL did u leave?" and I saw him again a few days later to finish shooting the film. There was another actress on set that day. Between takes, she asked how Tyler and I knew each other — we both said we didn't. Even though I regretted the night, it was a wake-up call that I needed to start respecting myself. Casual sex can be great, assuming the guy doesn't treat you like human garbage. Sure, that may mean dating guys who are a little more dough than meat or spending some nights at home, but at least the models on Project Runway won't leave you feeling pathetic.