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.


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.


You  ever hear that phrase “young, dumb, and full of cum?” Well, that was Matt. I met him through Instagram, oddly enough, when he slid right in my DMs after saying he saw me on bumble and had to take me out sometime. Matt was cute, and had a nice body, but was only 25—well under my typical age cutoff by a couple of years, but I figured why not. He seemed sweet and eager to please, so I agreed to go on a date with him. I honestly can’t even remember where our first date was, I just remember him being so naive and sweet and so clearly not cut out for dating in Los Angeles. He had a thick Minnesota accent and was average height at best, but he had a nice smile and he was sweet.

We wound up having sex on maybe the first or second date, I’m not sure, but he definitely knew what to do when it came to oral. I think he was just so excited to be with an older woman he basically did anything to get me off, which I appreciated, and honestly loved that I could be so totally selfish with this guy and he didn’t seem to mind. And then I realized that this kid had never had casually dated in his life. He literally only knew how to be a boyfriend and I was being his teacher on how to fuck without feelings.

Apparently, I’m a shitty teacher, because this boy fell fast.

I realized it when we went for a hike at Runyon. Halfway up the trail this guy was trying to hold my hand and when  we got to the summit to rest for a minute he started trying to hug and kiss me. Okay dude, I for sure smell horrible and taste like dirt and sweat, the last thing I wanna do is make out with you. I should have called it all off then because I knew I did not want to date this guy, I was just in it for the sex. But being the true asshole I am, I kept stringing him along for a while for whenever I didn’t have plans or needed a date or something. I started to feel kind of bad, but then I thought, wait a minute. This is EXACTLY when men do all the time, and nobody seems to bat an eye.

So why can’t I?

I felt like I’d been clear with him in that I did not want a relationship and that this was casual, so where was the wrongdoing? Isn’t that what men do? I’m not a dick for this, right? I continued to go out with and sleep with Matt until one day at his place when we were watching a movie. I don’t remember what was on, but I realized in that moment that Matt was so, so dumb. He kept asking questions every 5 minutes that I felt like were so totally unnecessary. “Why is he acting like that?” “What is she doing?” “What is going on?” I DON’T KNOW, MATT, SHUT UP AND WATCH THE FUCKING MOVIE!

Fewer thing turn me off more than a dumb guy. I knew after that I was done. But here was the hard part about dating like a man: how do I end it when the guy hasn’t done anything wrong, I’m just over it? So I did the shitty thing, that I HATE having done to me, and I ghosted. I’d say I went at least a couple weeks without responding to Matt’s texts when I think he finally got the hint and stopped trying to reach me. Until this text came through:

“I miss your tight pussy.”

Oh Matt. I don’t even know how to answer that. So I didn’t. Fuck, I’m an asshole. I could have at least given him the classic “it’s not you, it’s me” (see Tyler), line, but no, I just went MIA on the poor kid without any explanation. I don’t exactly know where Matt stood with this, but the next thing I knew I saw on Instagram that he had moved back to Minnesota and was done with Los Angeles.

Oops. Sorry, Matt.