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He asked me to dance a lot that night and we exchanged numbers. “You’ll have a six-pack and he’ll be dying to talk to you.”I followed her program religiously. I invited him to my birthday party the following weekend in Boston, not expecting him to show. When Liam didn’t call for more than a week, I didn’t cave. I sat shivering on my futon in my drafty Victorian apartment, staring at my cordless phone, willing it to ring.
Liam was 29, and he was already an executive at a top engineering firm. He said, “I really like you,” and kissed me deeply. She married a handsome surgeon who lived in a mansion on the North Shore of Chicago. Rochelle said, “If you want to get that ring on your finger, it’s going to be very painful and you have to be fully committed to the program that I put you on.”“Just tell me what to do,” I said.
Then he wrapped my arms around his waist as I sat behind him on his motorcycle. I worried, I decided I didn’t want to ruin it with Liam. I got a $300 wardrobe at Anthropologie and a fancy bob at a Newbury Street salon instead of my usual bowl cut at Fantastic Sams. I no longer saw a gawky Jewish girl, I saw Diana, the dating huntress.
We drove through Harvard Square, blasting through piles of red and orange leaves.
It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m at the W Hotel in Manhattan with a boyfriend I’ll call Liam. The champagne arrives from room service in a silver bucket. His piercing green eyes and jet-black hair are striking against his white tux. I stick my hand under the pillow, because I always imagined that when a man proposed, he’d hide the velvet box there, like an adult version of the tooth fairy. I was a virgin until I was 20, when I finally had sex with my college boyfriend. He pulls back my pink lace thong and after some shoving and a lot of lube, he puts it in. Silence.“Sure, if you’re cool cleaning poop off your dick,” he says when he comes out of the bathroom.
We’ve been together for over a year, and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life: He’s going to propose. I cried the entire time and asked him if he was going to marry me because I couldn’t live with myself if he didn’t. It feels like my butt is being jackhammered by a giant apple corer.
My heart is pounding as I stare at the twinkling Manhattan skyline. My old-fashioned Russian mother drilled things into my head like, “If you give the milk away for free, he won’t buy the cow.” I believed her.
After he promised he would, I made him cuddle me for hours. We’d look deeply into each other’s eyes at a fancy restaurant where they comb your tablecloth. We had great sex, and I didn’t turn into crazy Marilyn. When it’s over, he asks me if I liked it.“That was awesome,” I lie.
This went on for a year until he cheated on me with a waitress at Steak and Shake. He’d want to have sex, and I wanted to do it too, now that I’d been defiled. He’d start spending lots of time with his friends at Paddy O’s, the perfect place to complain about your crazy girlfriend over a pint of Guinness. When we were together, Liam acted like I was the most important person in his life. I fooled him into thinking I was the calm, laid-back girl of his dreams. I try to call her from the bathroom, but she doesn’t pick up. I think, Liam excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
But after we’d have sex, I’d feel like a slut and become that needy girl every man is afraid of. And before long, he’d stop calling and break up with me. That’s when he asked me to spend New Year’s with him.
With Liam, I was determined to do things differently.
When I first spied him at a swing dance at the Supper Club in Manhattan, he was leaning against the mahogany bar drinking a martini in a neatly pressed button-down shirt. And when you call him back, respond to everything he says with, That’s awesome! “Whenever you have the urge to call him, don’t gorge on gummy bears, do sit-ups,” she said.Tags: Adult Dating, affair dating, sex dating