Pop quiz #1: HukPhun.
A couple weeks ago, I finally met the Match man who I’d rejected over a year ago, blogged about, got chewed out about, and then asked out by again. For our first date, I suggested the restaurant where I was once hired to be a server. I sent an email to my former boss giving him a heads up that I’d be coming down with a date.
“Please do whatever you can to make the evening extra uncomfortable,” I told him.
Apparently, he didn’t know I was joking. Or he did and he wanted to give me a hard time (since he’s married, it’s the only hard thing he can give me, LOL). Within minutes of hugging HukPhun hello, my boss appeared and slid into the booth next to me.
“Sorry I haven’t returned your calls,” he said.
“Yeah, thanks a lot, Mr. Elusive,” I scoffed.
The conversation was purely professional, but my boss was so physically close to me, I wondered if HukPhun got a tad envious. (And if he did, good. Men should know that other men find me find attractive. It keeps them on their toes.)
After my boss went about his merry way, I asked HukPhun where he lived, as he’d mentioned moving in a previous exchange. HukPhun named his hometown. I won’t say where (to protect his privacy) but it’s no where near the Twin Cities.
“What?” I gaped. “I thought you said you weren’t a cheesehead!”
“I’m not interested in football," he said, "But I do live in Wisconsin. I thought you knew that.”
Sometimes men I’ve met online think I forget such information listed on their profiles. The truth is that I never read it in the first place…because 99% of the time, it’s shtick. My bullshit meter is much more effective in person. But once I have a man in front of me, you better believe my radar is set to ultra-sensitive…and I will remember every tidbit of pertinent information.
“Are you in town on business then?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Wait wait wait wait. You came all the way here just to meet me?”
“Why does that surprise you? You’re an exceptional woman.”
Yes, but, I’d also learned my lesson from the Paul Bunyan debacle and was resolved not to make the sex-on-the-first-date mistake again.
“I wish I’d known,” I said. “I would’ve told you not to bother.”
“You’re worth it,” he said.
That’s not what I meant. I know I’m worth way more than I get most of the time. What I meant was: if I’d driven 2 ½ hours, no matter what number the date, I would’ve expected to get laid. And if that’s what HukPhun was expecting, he was going to be disappointed.
We dropped the driving topic long enough to order some ridiculously delicious cheese curds, a buffalo burger (for me) and a shrimp diablo pasta dish (for him).
Halfway through the entrees, our small talk meandered over to the topic of marriage. HukPhun’s opinion on matrimony?
“Marriage is friendship with benefits.”
Conversation came to a screeching halt. My cheese curd dangled frozen in mid-air.
“Um…”I said. “I don’t know if I agree with you on that. If you need a best friend, go get one. Your partner serves a different purpose.”
“Hence the benefits.”
“Something about that doesn’t fit for me,” I said. “I’m going to have to think about that.”
Isn’t the “benefit” part of friends with benefits that you can ask them to leave (or even better, that they do so of their own accord) after sex without anyone taking it personally? Isn’t the point of a marriage that nobody leaves anybody? And what about when children are involved (as was the case with both of us)?
“Marriage is just paperwork,” HukPhun said, digging the hole deeper and deeper. “And I do not want to get married ever again.”
My jaw might’ve dropped. Just a little bit. This guy was, physically, everything I was looking for (tall, dark, handsome and huge!). He’d also pursued me…hard. (Persistence is really sexy.) Now, he’d driven from out of state just to eat with me! (This was quite the change from people like Good Guy who wouldn’t even drive across town to pick me up.) I was incredibly flattered.
But HukPhun’s shitty opinion of marriage did not mesh with my long-term plans.
“If I met someone, we could do the whole commitment ceremony and have a party if she wanted,” HukPhun said. “But no paperwork.”
“Why not?”
“I think either partner should be free to go at any time. Making it legal just complicates things.”
“That’s the point,” I said. “Love ebbs and flows. Knowing how horrific divorce is and how long the process takes to end it will keep the couple together long enough to figure things out.”
HukPhun didn’t agree. His attractiveness instantly dropped to non-existent.
Once the plates had been cleared, HukPhun came over to my side of the table. He was showing me cell phone pix of his kids when a text message popped up at the top of the screen.
Is she hot? it read.
HukPhun’s face turned as red as the Heinz ketchup bottle.
“Oh...um...that’s just my buddy. I told him I was meeting you tonight,” he gushed, slinking back to his side of the booth.
I don’t know why the text shocked me so, but it did. I started to get that icky prostitute feeling.
“I’m just going to go freshen up,” I said.
I gave myself a silent pep-talk in the bathroom. My plan was to return to the table and end the date. On the way back, however, I noticed a cozy little section of the restaurant with a widescreen TV, a fireplace, and a leather couch. When I pointed it out to HukPhun, he suggested we hang for a bit. Considering how far he’d come, and that we’d been sitting in the same booth for over two hours, I agreed…
..and instantly regretted it.
HukPhun put his hand on my thigh. I must admit, it felt good. He had big hands. Strong hands. Hands that could completely contain my ass while I was riding what had to be a ginormous cock...
Wait right there! my smarter alter-ego screamed inside my head. Remember your intentions, Erica! If the goal is marriage, you do not fuck someone—especially on the first date—just to “see what it would be like”. It might feel good, but it’s bad. It’s telling the Universe that you’re not really ready to remarry.
I thought about the driving distance, which HukPhun swore would not deter him from seeing me. This was a major roadblock (pun very much intended) en route to an LTR. Quite frankly, I am an attention whore. I like to have my man close by in case a sudden craving arrives. Besides, that amount of distance would really put the pressure on...and not in a good way. If I drove 2 ½ hours to meet someone (which I never would, BTW. One hour in the car is as much as I can handle at a time), I’d expect a lot of bells and whistles upon my arrival. I’d want a parade to march through the bedroom post-coitus.
“What are you thinking?” HukPhun asked. (Contrary to urban myth, men ask this question way more than women. It’s like they want you to grade them every half-hour of the date!)
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just processing.”
I repeated the warning signs in an attempt to turn myself off: HukPhun had a history of rule-breaking. There was the ever-popular bipolar ex. (Men love the crazies. Luuuuuuv them.) And despite his masculine physique, there was something, um, effeminate about him.
I slunk down into the cushions and sighed. No, this was not going to work. My brain knew it. My body? Still unconvinced. HukPhun’s eyes were doing that horny man twinkling thing. I could tell he wanted to kiss me. The familiar sensation of butterflies swarmed my stomach.
"I can get a room,” HukPhun said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t do that,” I replied. “’Cause I’m not going there with you.”
“Why not? I know how to stop.”
“Yeah, but when I start something, I like to finish.”
“I don’t have any expectations, Erica.”
“Bullshit.”
“I don’t!”
“I know you must have fantasies.”
“Okay, there is one thing I want.”
“I knew it.”
“A second date.”
“That I can do,” I said. “But for now, I need to call it a night.”
Someone whooped behind us. I got up on my knees and leaned over the back of the couch. A group of inebriated 20-somethings were testing out the mechanical bull—and my ex-boss was behind the control panel, plotting every buck and twist. Was I really going to forgo an awesome fuck to keep my promise to the Universe?
Yes.
“Would you walk me to my car?” I asked.
HukPhun obliged. Then he asked me for a ride...to his car. I hesitated, knowing the kind of intimacy cars encourage. But, again, despite my better judgment, I agreed.
“Is this one yours?” I asked, pointing at a white pick-up.
“Yeah, I think that’s it.”
“You’re not sure?”
“Gimme a break! I just stole it today!”
“Ah-ha, so that’s where the ‘hitchhiker’ came from?” I said.
(At the start of our date, HukPhun confessed to giving some stranger a ride to the Mall of America. In under an hour, the two guys bonded over their exes. The hitchhiker provided endless opportunity for mockery.)
“Is there a dead body you need to dispose of in there?” I asked.
“Now there is.”
I started laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. It felt incredible. I thought maybe, just maybe, HukPhun might be something more than another “I wanna fuck Man Eater” fan.
HukPhun was waiting for me to change my mind. I could smell his desire polluting the air like exhaust seeping in through the window. I felt bad that he’d driven. I felt like I owed him something in return. I was thisclose to making the fun but stupid decision of getting a room.
Then I reminded myself that my company should be enough. I deserve to be wooed. I deserve to be spoiled. I deserve to respect myself in the morning. I would not change my position just to get laid. (Natch.)
Sleeping with HukPhun, no matter how much fucking fun it would be, would not change his opinion on marriage. And I knew how unlikely it was that a hook-up would turn into a satisfying relationship. To sleep with him just because the opportunity was there would be (gasp—I can’t believe I’m going to say this) wrong. It would be using him for his body…and it would be abusing mine.
(Pat me on the back, people. This is growth.)
I could tell HukPhun wanted to kiss me. I didn’t make the move—or invite him to—and he read my cues correctly. He gave me a peck on the cheek instead and opened his door.
“Since my phone’s dead,” he said, “You can just give me your number on Facebook.”
I agreed, though I didn’t have any plans to do so. By the time I got home (a 15 minute drive, which made me feel supremely guilty in comparison to HukPhun’s ride home), HukPhun had already emailed me asking for my thoughts. (Tip for the fellas: follow-up is essential...just wait until the next day to do it, okay? Women only like pressure in the bedroom!)
“I need to sleep on it,” I said.
The truth was, though I’d enjoyed HukPhun’s company, I felt incredibly empty. It sucked coming home unfucked. Normally I’d never pass up a chance to get naked with such a hottie (I’m like a man in that way), but I recognized this for what it was: the Universe asking if I was serious about finding a mate. I’d passed the test. And yet, the pride of keeping my pants on paled in comparison to the pleasure of fucking my brains out.
The next morning, I composed a message to HukPhun. The new (and utterly asinine) Facebook deleted all our message exchanges, so I can’t take the easy way out and just copy and paste. My reply went a little something like this:
ME: I’ve been dating long enough now that I know I need to trust my instincts. If all I wanted was to get laid, I would’ve jumped (literally!) at the hotel suggestion. But I’m trying to keep my actions in line with my intentions. Marriage is really important to me but it sounds like we’re not on the same page with that. I’ve wasted enough time and energy on men who I hoped would come around and realize how fantastic I was and put a ring on it. You said you weren’t interested in that, so I don’t see how our dating would be healthy for either of us. Have I scared you off yet?
Apparently not. HukPhun wouldn’t let me get away that easy. Now that I was clearly uninterested, he continued to pursue me. Message after message arrived. He posted poetry on my fb page. He tried to retract his no-more-marriage statement, telling me that he didn’t know me well enough when he blurted that out, and that for someone like me he could easily see himself changing his mind…
Uh-huh. Where have I heard that before? (Easy. Econman.)
HukPhun pushed and pushed and pushed. I thought I’d made a firm decision about not proceeding to date #2, but ultimately, the "free food + starving artist = ‘nuf said" equation decided for me and I agreed to a second date a week hence.
Me: OK, OK. Let’s do another din din. Get a room. That’s not a guarantee about what’s going to happen if/when we go there, but if something were to occur, I wouldn’t want you driving home afterwards. I WILL wear you out.
I wasn’t really looking forward to the date, but I wasn’t dreading it either. Luckily for me, fate intervened. As we know, a lot can happen in a Man Eater’s world in seven days. And it did. I went out with someone else (actually, I went out with a couple people, but I stayed in with only one of them). We made bacon. Literally. Afterwards, we made out on the couch. Before the clothes came off, he pulled back to check the time. I was supposed to rush off to an impromptu concert by my Pictures of Then peeps.
“Do you want to go?” he asked.
Absolutely…not. I wanted to come. And boy oh boy, did I ever. The evening was indescribably yummy. And I was happy.
But I still had the unfinished HukPhun business to deal with. A worse woman would’ve gone out with HukPhun anyway, just for the meal ticket. But no amount of grub, no matter how good (not even truffle mac n’ cheese as we’d discussed) would compensate for me having to fake it through a dinner when I’d rather be elsewhere. So I canceled. And went out with The Baconator for pizza instead. And, yes, you know what comes next. (Me. Innumerable times.)
The moral: Trust your gut. Especially when it’s asking for hot and spicy cheese curds.
THREE ALARM CHEESE CURDS
Ingredients
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup milk
1 quart oil
1 pound hot & spicy cheese curds (psst…you may have to order them ‘em online)
Method
• In medium bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Add eggs and milk; stir until combined.
• Heat oil in large skillet over medium heat.
• Dip cheese curds in batter, then drop into skillet. Fry 1 minute or until golden brown. Remove with spatula and drain on paper towels.
• Serve with Chipotle Mayo (recipe below).
SPICY CHIPOTLE MAYO
Ingredients
½ cup fat free mayo
¼ cup fat-free sour cream
2 Chipotle chilies (from can of Chipotle chilies in adobo sauce)
¼ teaspoon dried oregano leaves
Method
• Combine mayonnaise and sour cream in medium bowl; stir and set aside.
• Remove 2 chilies from tin and chop finely, allowing some adobo sauce to cling to chilies.
• Add chilies to mayo and sour cream mixture; stir.
• Add oregano leaves; stir.
• Serve with cheese curds.
• Any sensation still left in your tongue? You know what to do with it. Just make sure to stop before you get stuffed.
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