by Jennifer Feltyberger
I panicked! Oh my god, what do I do? How do I approach this? And before I could even really have a chance to appropriately freak out, he sent me a message. He told me how beautiful I was. We had a quick exchange back and forth before he asked me to message him on Whatsapp. Then he wanted me to send a picture . . . I was shopping for dating clothes – who knew after 10 years of marriage that your wardrobe would be more for comfort than making you look good? He sent one back. He was standing next to a car in a body shop. How rugged. He works on cars. The smell of oil and dirt under his nails. Who knew that would be a turn on?
I noticed that his english was a bit broken. That is not uncommon here in SoFlo. A good portion of people have English as their second language. When I asked him if he was from the US originally, he told me he was Cuban – and he doesn’t speak a lick of english. What do I do? No need to worry, there is always google translate for texting. And let’s face it, horizontally we all speak the same language. I decided to go for it with my Cuban Vin Diesel.
He was a perfect gentleman in our messages always being sweet, never sending dick pics, and even sending me cute pics daily of flowers or teddy bears or kittens saying “Feliz Miercoles! Dios te bendiga!” He even sent me videos of him at work throwing me kisses, or showing me what he was making for dinner. For me this all seemed a little too sweet – we all know why we are here. But maybe he was different and wanted a relationship. The next week we agreed to meet.
I did something I promised myself I would never do by agreeing to meet him at his place. (Sorry Mom!) I was a bit too into the idea of touching his rippling biceps or running my hands over his smooth bald head to care too much about my safety. I took the precautions I set up for myself.
I parked outside of his apartment and waited for him on the street. For some reason, he decided to run and get a case of beer right before our meeting. Maybe he thought this was a meeting of the bros – or maybe that was his way of making sure he could check me out before he invited me in? He pulled up and gave me the look from head to toe – moment of truth for me. Did I portray myself well enough that he is not surprised by my full figure?? The biggest smile washed over his face “Muy bonita! Me gusta!!!” he exclaimed. I guess I passed the test!
I will point out how disturbed I am by that last paragraph. I should have been more concerned if he was going to be wearing my skin as a dress or keeping me chained in his apartment in a wedding dress rather than if he thought I was hot. Now I finally understand all of the women who end up dead on Dateline.
When he spoke, he definitely didn’t have Vin Diesel’s voice, and he was the same height as me, but he was still hot as shit, and I was all in. Things started out sweet . . . and then got hot fast. This man with his muscular body was an Adonas. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw a body like that. I couldn’t help but stare. In the military, they test out how tightly you made your bed by bouncing a quarter on it. You could bounce a quarter off of every single inch of his body- and he was well endowed. It was hard to not stare. We honestly got naked so fast that I have no idea what he was even wearing. And I will never remember after I saw that tight naked body. Just wow.
The sex was fascinating – amazing – confusing. I lost myself during sex for the first time in 10 years. I really can’t remember exactly what happened. I know that about every few minutes or so, he completely changed position. He was like the energizer bunny! At one point I remember him standing on the bed. (I have no idea how that one even worked.) When we both had our fill – or rather, the condom did- we lay there in his bed. Then for the first time, I saw the room – a pink wall, a purple wall, a flowered comforter, a rickety dresser, and not much else. It was almost like it was a little girl’s room. (No, not creepy at all. . . )
So as we lay there catching our breath, his cell phone rings. A beautiful woman’s photo shows up on his screen – makeup, hooker hoops, and long straightened fake platinum hair. He looked at it. I am not going to lie to myself – I know what this is. I motioned for him to answer the call. As he answers the phone, the video screen comes up and there she is with a big smile on her face “Hi Papi!” Oh shit! A video call????? Who answers a video call when they are lying in bed naked with a tinder date? As I try to cover myself in a panic, I am horrified and hope to god she can’t see me. All of the progress that was just made on my self esteem have been dashed.
They speak back and forth in Spanish, and I hear him mention his “novia”. What about his girlfriend? No wait Jen- back up. He’s talking about you – but that issue isn’t as big as the fact he is now pointing the camera at you, and handing you the phone!!! Now I have to talk to this woman? She starts off in English. He has his head on my shoulder making faces at her, while she is explaining that they are just friends and she’s headed to a party. The next thing I realize my Cuban Vin Diesel is leaving the bedroom while buck naked, and I am alone with this woman. Who does that? “You know I’m not his girlfriend, right?” I ask as soon as he leaves. She explains that he would make a great boyfriend and he’s super sweet. Yeah, I don’t know . . . I think the boyfriend ship sailed when he answered a video call right after sex. He returns with two beers, and I gladly hand him back the phone. Thank god that’s over! No, it isn’t – She is knocking on the door of her friend’s house – the party. “Hey! You can say hello to everyone!” Oh helllllll nooooo! I jump out of bed and head for the door. He gets the hint and ends the call.
How on earth can I recover from that? Turns out a bit more of inventive sex with that tight body helped shake my repugnance at what just transpired. After the second round we got dressed, grabbed a six pack and a blanket, and walked the block to the beach. We traded off from making out on the sand and stumbling through a conversation in spanish. He really didn’t know a word of English, so it was amusing at first to try to converse, but then quickly became frustrating for me. He talked a lot when we weren’t kissing, and I understood most of it. Or maybe I just made up a romantic story of his journey to this country while connecting the few words I understood. At around 2 am I finally headed home. He asked me to stay, but I know how this works – you just gotta walk away before that next video call comes in.
For months after our date he sent me the same sweet messages, and pictures of flowers and teddy bears. Every once in a while, I would request an encore, but he always said he was working. Why bother with the sweets if he wasn’t interested in getting together again? I stopped responding and he finally stopped messaging. But for some odd reason, he always thinks of me on International Women’s Day. I don’t know if getting messages with kittens on that day is ridiculous – or oddly empowering.