Mike

You know how you get those Tinder matches sometimes that you don’t really remember swiping right on and you’re not super enthusiastic about? Sometimes I’ll unmatch, sometimes I just don’t message the guy and it doesn’t matter. Well that’s how I met Mike. I received a Tinder notification one Tuesday morning and saw that I had a new match, which quickly turned into a new message from Mike. I honestly couldn’t tell you what Mike really even looks like. Dark hair, dark eyes, white guy. Pretty average looking, to be quite honest. As I looked back through his profile I was only moderately interested but I wasn’t in any position to pass up friends as I’d just moved to LA, so I responded to his message. He was pretty direct and after a few basic messages he suggested Taco Tuesday that night at Cabo Cantina in West Hollywood. After we exchanged numbers he suggested meeting at his place since he lived in walking distance, but not being one to go to a strange man’s home before meeting in public, I declined and said I’d prefer to meet at the bar. He seemed to act like that was a stupid concern of mine, as if it was totally absurd for me not to come to his place first. That should have been enough for me to decide not to meet him, but I failed to notice red flag number one. 

There would be several more red flags.

 

Mike suggested that I could park at his place, but I told him I would be ubering and I would meet him at the bar. He finally conceded to that and said to meet him there at 8:30. Later that evening when I was headed to meet him, Mike texted again asking me if I party. I assumed he meant cocaine, to which I responded “occasionally, why?” He said he had some for that night for us.

 

Bro.

 

It is Tuesday. This is a first date. We have not even met yet. Maybe bring the blow up after a few drinks or something, damn. That was yet another red flag I didn’t listen to, and I laughed it off and said I was good on that, I wasn’t trying to rage. He laughed and simply said “Welcome to Los Angeles, this isn’t Texas.”

 

I couldn’t have rolled my eyes harder. Clearly Mike had never been to Austin. For those who aren’t aware of the party scene in Austin, Texas, the bars may close at 2am but the party really never stops. That city has the most liquor licenses per capita in the United States and it’s essentially one giant bar. And don’t even get me started on the drugs. Texas is a border state to mainland Mexico. You know, where the cartel is? You can practically will a bag of coke to appear in your purse (or on the floor next to your foot in a bar, or in your pocket, or in your bra, don’t ask how I know these things). Austin also is full of young professionals with disposable income and something to do every night of the week, plus cocktails don’t cost twelve fucking dollars and bars don’t have long lines of cunts in fake Louboutins trying to find guys buying bottle service. I party way less and not nearly as hard in LA than I did in Austin. But I digress…

 

That condescending tone should have been yet another red flag, but here I was already almost to Cabo Cantina so I thought I could suck it up for a couple drinks and maybe he wasn’t that bad.

Hoe tip: pay attention to the fucking red flags, you idiot.

 

I texted Mike that I was there and he said “inside, table to the right of the door.” Oh god. No. Was that…was that him? What the fuck old ass pictures was this guy using on Tinder?? Mike was about 6 inches shorter and 40 pounds heavier than his pictures suggested. And to say his hairline was receding would be inconsiderate to men with receding hairlines. He had a full head of hair in his pictures. I looked around for a minute until I heard him say “Meredith? Hey, I’m Mike.”

 

Before you start to think I’m a shallow bitch…well…no, you’re right, I’m a shallow bitch.

 

Look I’m not saying a heavy, short, or bald guy can’t be attractive. I mean I used to regularly bang a guy that was 5’6” and one who was bald as fuck. But this…was this technically catfishing? He had obviously used very old photos and somehow just expected that to fly. But what was I supposed to do at that point? I accepted his hug and sat down across the table from him, and he grabbed the leg of my barstool and pulled me next to him.

 

What the fuck dude. Another red flag.

 

The waitress came to our table quickly and Mike ordered for the both of us. I was almost frozen with shock at this dude’s behavior. The bar had two for one drinks and tacos, so he ordered us EACH two margaritas, a shot of tequila, and two tacos. I just kind of stared at him, and the server could tell I was visibly uncomfortable and got our drinks out to us lightning fast. I downed the tequila shot and started working on my first margarita when the tacos came out. Mike clearly missed out on social cues and kept putting his hand on my knee as if he was completely oblivious to the fact that I kept adjusting to be further and further away from him so he couldn’t reach me. He spent the entire time talking about himself while his mouth was full, which was just as charming as his lack of respect for my personal space. As it turns out he was just some spoiled as fuck rich kid from Bel Air who’d never worked a day in his life and thought he was better than everyone because he drove an Aston Martin (that his daddy paid for) and lived in some fancy condo in West Hollywood. I have no problem with someone being privileged—if your parents have that much money that you’re set for life, good for you, but that doesn’t make you any better than me. I don’t think I’m better than anyone because I’ve supported myself since I was 19. We all come from different backgrounds. But as the great Countess Luann de Lesseps once sang “money can’t buy you class,” and Mike was in serious need.

 

I finished my first margarita when Mike mentioned there wasn’t any hot sauce on the table. So instead of just going to the bar or snagging some from the empty table next to ours, he did one of the rudest things I’d ever seen someone do in a restaurant. He fucking snapped his fingers at the server. I was horrified. I realized he also hadn’t uttered a single “thank you” the entire time we’d been there. I just wanted the date to be over. I sucked my second margarita down in record time and then said I had to use the bathroom. I planned to sneak out but realized he was facing the door and would see me leave so I hid in the bathroom for a few minutes texting my best friend Rachann who lives in Austin.

 

“What the actual fuck do I do? This is horrible.”

 

We texted back and forth a little and I decided I was going to feign an emergency and say I needed to leave. I got back to the table and there were two more giant margaritas waiting for me. I told Mike that I had to work the next day so I didn’t want to get drunk (which is an almost comical thing for me to have said—I worked for a brewery, getting drunk was practically part of my job), to which he replied, “Well we can go back to my place and do some blow.” Dude, enough with the fucking cocaine. I didn’t trust that this guy hadn’t slipped something into one (or both) of these drinks, so when I sat down I kept my phone in my lap and quietly called an uber under the table. Once the uber was arriving I told Mike I had a phone call I needed to step outside to take and that I’d be right back.

 

I practically dove into the back seat of this uber and shouted “DRIVE, DRIVE!!” at the driver and he took off. As I began explaining the dinner to my uber driver he was nearly in tears laughing so hard. As I was regaling the details of the night, I unmatched with Mike on Tinder and blocked his phone number. When I got home I laid in bed just laughing at myself and the entire situation. Lesson learned: never go through with a date when there are so many red flags and you know you aren’t into it.

 

Oh well. At least I got tacos.

 

 

Ask Meredith!

Time for me to give more shitty advice!

 

Q: I’ve been dating my girlfriend for almost two years now. She truly is awesome. She’s funny, pretty, and I know has my back through anything and everything. And of course I am totally in love with her. As awesome as she is I have been super tempted to cheat on her. I have two girls right now that are just waiting for a text from me. I really want to but at the same time am very hesitant because I know if she were to find out what I did it would absolutely devastate her. I don’t know if I should go through with this or not. I know losing her in the long run definitely isn’t worth it but I miss sleeping with random chicks and not having to deal with all the things that come with being in a relationship.

A: If you love your girlfriend and don’t want to lose her, don’t cheat on her. It’s not fucking rocket science. If you want to fuck other girls, break up with your girlfriend. But don’t be surprised if you find yourself missing her and she doesn’t take you back. Pretty simple if you ask me, keep your dick in your pants if you want to keep your girlfriend.

 

Q: I know you always say you don’t want unsolicited dick pics, but I know sometimes girls ask to see it. When would you want to get one and how should a guy send one?

A: This is a good question. I can’t speak for all women, but I do think that I can for the majority when I say that you should never send a dick pic unless a woman asks you to. For example, if I’m sexting or flirting with a guy and he tells me he’s turned on I might ask him to show me–acceptable time for a dick pic. Or if I’m interested in sleeping with a guy I might ask to see what he’s working with. Another scenario is if I’m exchanging sexy pics with a guy and he sends me a full body pic where is dick is exposed–that would be fine. As for tips on your dick pic–include your body in the pic. Just a dick is aggressive. Don’t make it zoomed in too close, and if you take it from the bottom up that’s a tell-tale sign you’re trying to make it look bigger. Also, let’s start being honest about what 8 inches is, okay fellas?

 

Q: What does it take to get a date with you?

A: This is a common question in my DMs. If it’s just a date we’re talking about, be attractive, between the ages of 27-45, have a decent job, and be a non-smoker. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me want to throw up and second-hand smoke makes me cough (on account of the asthma). Weed smoke doesn’t bother me though. Make me laugh and have the ability to make me cum. If you’re asking me out, dinner/drinks/whatever we’re doing is on you my man. Also, I’m 32, not 21, so put in some effort with where you decide to take me. That doesn’t mean it has to be expensive, but make it worth it for me to go out with you. Also be geographically desirable, I’m not traveling more than like 30 minutes to go on a first date. I think that sums it up pretty well!

 

Q: What is too small for you when it comes to dick size?

A: My preferred range is 7-8.5 inches, however I’ve had perfectly good sex with someone in the 6 inch range. Under 5 and you better have a strong head game my friend.

 

Q: I really want to blow my boyfriend’s mind with a great blowjob. I think I’m okay at it, and I usually make him cum unless it’s foreplay before sex, but I want him to be super impressed. Any tips?

A: The biggest keys with giving blowjobs are to pay attention to your man’s responses to whatever you’re doing, and to enjoy it. Notice when his breathing changes or intensifies–he likes what you’re doing. Spit on it. Don’t be afraid to get messy and use a lot of spit, guys like a messy blowjob. Also get your hands in on the action, using a slightly circular motion on the base of his dick while you use your mouth so it’s kind of like your hand is an extension of your mouth. Keeping a steady rhythm once you can tell he’s getting close will make him cum—don’t change your rhythm up too much (unless he’s into edging and you want to prolong the process—that’s another topic). If you’re able to deep throat that’s a fun thing to do while you’re building him up. If he enjoys face-fucking you then being able to deep throat is a must. Relax your throat and breath through your nose. A good finishing move when he cums is licking his dick hole—the tip and hole are super sensitive so definitely give that area some good attention. Most of all, have fun! You’re always likely to be better at something you’re having fun doing, and he will notice that you’re having a good time and enjoy it more. And don’t forget, spitters are quitters (unless he prefers a facial or something). Good luck!

 

That’s it for this week! If you’ve got burning questions for me use the contact submission form or email me at meredith@meredithactually.com!

Xoxo,

Meredith

The Australian

Okay, I’ll admit it. I forgot his name. If y’all didn’t think I was a total asshole before, you probably do now. Whatever. Anyway, I matched with this hot Australian guy on Tinder in LA the day before I was heading to Vegas for a random January weekend getaway. We talked a little back and forth and it turned out he was in the states for a few months and was deciding if he wanted to stay in LA or not. I told him I was heading to Vegas for the weekend but we should get together when I get back and by some random coincidence he just happened to be going to Vegas that weekend as well and had a suite at MGM Grand. Perfect. We planned to meet at the whiskey bar there in the casino on Sunday.

The Aussie was there before me and was every bit as cute as he was in his pictures. Tall, blonde, blue eyes, and a Perth accent so thick I could barely understand him. Thankfully a couple of my close friends are Australian so I was able to decipher his slang, but otherwise he basically would have been speaking another language. Not that it really mattered, this guy was not sticking around or anything, he was just something fun to do for the night. We had a few drinks and then decided we needed to eat and looked around for a restaurant. Aussie was in the mood for steak, which I’ll never turn down, so we decided on Craftsteak. A $300-$400 steak dinner in Vegas with a hot Aussie? Uhhh yeah I’ll take it.

 

Dinner was amazing, he ordered a bottle of wine and we went to town on some amazing steaks. We walked around the casino floor a little and then decided to hit up the Hakkasan nightclub there at MGM. We danced and had a few drinks and at this point were already pretty drunk so everything sounded like a good idea. Aussie had never played craps before and it’s my favorite table game, so we left the club and hit up a craps table. Aussie handed me a bunch of cash and told me to show him how to play. Gambling with someone else’s money is the best way to gamble. We played for a while, won a little cash and finally decided it was time to go back to his hotel room and get weird.

 

As soon as we got in the door Aussie was ripping my clothes off like a fucking caveman and I could not have been more turned on. He threw me on the bed, pushed my legs open and dove in face first. God I love a man who enthusiastically eats pussy. After I came we rolled around and I feel like he put me into every different sexual position known to man, fucking my brains out, before finally grabbing me and flipping me on top of him. As I’m riding him he grabs my hand and slides it to his throat. This was new, I’m usually the choke-ee, not the choker, but it was oddly satisfying. I got more and more aggressive with him and he was loving every second of it. Before I knew it I was fucking him and slapping him in the face. And I don’t mean light little love taps, hauling off and slapping the shit out of him. And he could not have been happier. He came and we both almost immediately passed out. I was fucking exhausted!

 

Our flights back to LA were roughly around the same time the next day so we decided to head to the airport together, probably still drunk from the night before, we kissed goodbye when I got to my terminal since we were on different airlines, and texted each other when we landed. We’d considered getting dinner in LA that night but we were both exhausted, and he was leaving for Nicaragua the next day. I’ll probably never speak to Aussie again, and I don’t even remember his name, but that was honestly some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had. So if you’re out there reading this, Aussie guy, thanks for an amazing night in Vegas and the many sex bruises that covered my body afterward. I may have forgotten your name, but definitely not how great in bed you were.

Raffi

I met Raffi on Tinder (what a surprise) and I was immediately attracted to his beard and tattoos. He was Armenian, lived in the valley and owned an Armenian restaurant in Van Nuys, seemed to have his shit together and had a great sense of humor. After a couple of days of talking he invited me to dinner at a place I love, The Misfit in Santa Monica. I immediately noticed he was a little shorter than I’d expected, but honestly what the fuck do I care, I’m 5’2” (5’3” if my hair has volume that day). Shortness aside, Raffi was cute and had a great laugh. Dinner was amazing as usual and we decided to go to a bar around the corner afterwards for a few more drinks. It was truly a textbook perfect first date. We kissed good night and I knew I definitely wanted to see him again. 

That week was Thanksgiving, so we were both super busy with family stuff and couldn’t coordinate to meet for another week, but we talked every day and he seemed great. Raffi asked me out for drinks again, and then invited me over the next night. Fucking finally I was gonna get laid, what’s with these guys not wanting to fuck on the first date? What bizarro world am I living in? Anyway, I went over to Raffi’s for the classic “Netflix & chill” night and was immediately comfortable laying on the couch with him. Let me tell y’all, getting stoned as fuck and watching David Blaine specials is WHERE IT’S AT.

 

We finally started making out and made our way to his bed. He began taking my clothes off and kissing me, working his way down my body to land between my legs. Good job, Raffi. A tip for all you fellas: go down on her first to make sure she cums. So many women don’t cum from sex, gotta make sure she gets hers and she’ll be more enthusiastic during sex. After he successfully went down on me, I then went to return the favor (like a lady). Average sized dick, nothing to write home about, and after I warmed him up a little with a blowjob, he was ready to fuck. The sex was okay, not bad, not amazing, but decent. Pretty standard sex, but whatever, I came from oral so I’m fine with it.

 

I stayed the night and headed home in the morning, and Raffi said he would get tickets to a show at The Comedy Store that I really wanted to go to a couple days before my birthday that following week and I was super excited. We went to the show that Sunday night and had a great time. Since Raffi lived in the valley and I’m way down on the west side I decided not to go home with him in favor of not sitting through Monday morning traffic the next day. He asked me to let him know when I got home, I did, and bid him goodnight. The next day I texted him to congratulate him on closing on a new condo, and got no response. No big deal, I figured he was busy.

 

The next day was my birthday. I waited until maybe 1 or 2pm and still had not received any sort of “Happy Birthday” text from Raffi and was obviously annoyed. There are few things girls love more than their own birthdays, and not wishing a woman you were recently inside of a happy birthday is fucking rude. I texted to invite him to dinner with my friends and I, no response.

 

Did this fool really leave me on read ON MY BIRTHDAY?

 

I was reasonably upset about him just going M.I.A. on me like that, considering we’d had 4 really great dates and I had zero indication that he wasn’t into me. The rest of the week went by with radio silence from Raffi. Finally that Friday I decided to text him and ask him what the hell the deal was. I don’t really deal well with being ghosted, I just always want to know what the problem was (because I’m a girl and we are neurotic as fuck). I was all pissed off and then finally, Raffi responded. His reason for ghosting? Because I didn’t offer to pay on any of our dates.

 

Let me be clear about something. I can buy my own drinks and dinner. I do it all the time. But when YOU ask ME out, YOU are paying buddy. Also, maybe this is the southern girl in me but that’s how dating fucking works, bro. We’d only gone out 3 times not including the night at his place where I fucking drove all the way to the goddamn valley to get some mediocre dick, 2 of which were his invitation and the third was mutually agreed upon and was an early birthday celebration. Why the fuck would I offer to pay in any of those situations?

 

After I tore Raffi a new asshole via text he then had the audacity to say that he thought I was being crazy for being upset about the situation considering we were “basically strangers.” After talking every day for 2 ½ weeks and seeing each other 4 times we are not strangers dude. I guess Raffi regularly sticks his average dick in strangers on the reg or something. Well Raffi, good luck with dating in Los Angeles because if you’re irate about me not offering to pay, you’re gonna have a real bad time with every other girl here. I gave him my final thoughts on what a douche he is and promptly blocked his number.

 

Hoe tip: don’t go out with cheap assholes.