Dear Dude Whisperer,
I met a guy at the gym back in July. He and I had been checking each other out for about a year before that.
After several text messages and some that I deemed innappropriate (one asked me if I considered my breasts a beautiful thing and would he enjoy playing with them), we went out on an actual date. I thought I fucked it up a) because I was drunk, and b) I refused to have sex with him. Feeling this overwhelming sense of guilt I decided to text him offering my body. He took me up on it a month later. Then came only text messages propositioning sex… and he’d refuse invites to baseball games and other things I thought he’d enjoy doing. I gave it up two more times, then started dating someone else.
Well, I guess this is the reason I shouldn’t fuck dudes I meet at the gym. I kept running into him and he’d say hi. I stopped dating “other dude” and gym dude came around again… with a text message that said, “I want to stop by right now.” I *finally* refused, because I’d told him I wanted to get to know him if we were to continue having sex and he’d keep brushing it off. Shocked that I told him the freebies were up, he started to chase me half-assedly… Half-assedly I say because he only approached me at the gym a couple times and called me once to “hang out”. When I finally started to respond to him, he backed away again.
Now, luckily I hate my job so much of my time is spent trying desperately to find a new one. That said, I folded my cards and decided that I can’t waste any time on this cat-and-mouse game. Plus, it takes two to play a game.
But my question to you dudewhisperer is, I want to know this guy, I want to spend time with him… Is there *any* way in hell that I’ll be able to trap him? And if so, how???
Hi there GL,
In a word, um, no. And we’ll get to why in a minute. But first, the DW is dying to talk about the movie he saw the other night – 10,000 B.C. Really, no matter what post went up today, he was going to find a way to talk about this film. It was that awesome. It’s just lucky there are some things in this letter that will eventually tie together with it.
Of course, by “awesome” the DW means that 10,000 B.C., which really should have been called Tribes of Unconvincing Appearance Unite! or The Sensitive Hunter/Gatherer, was the most spectacularly over the top hack job he’s ever seen. Just inept and dumb in ways that were truly fascinating to watch. But, as sometimes happens when the planets align just so, it was the utter completeness of the ridiculousness that made it so enjoyable. You know how sometimes a bad movie can make you frustrated because there was actually an interesting idea that could have been fleshed out or a great character you wanted to know better? In this movie? Nothing. The only two choices, and this was apparent from the first shitty voiceover in the opening credits, were to walk out of the theater or sit back and giggle. The DW and his wife chose to giggle. Did the DW mention his wife went with him to this steaming pile of movie poo? That’s why she’s the best wife ever.
Basically, here’s what happened. There were six or seven special effects sequences with the Great Pyramids and wooly mammoths that cost about 75 million dollars. The rest of the time you just sort of meander around soundstages with fake snow and matte paintings and lost bits of Stevie Nicks’ jewelry collection saying stuff like the people of the mountains have great honor and in the end the whitest guy in the movie and the model with blue eyes save all the wise and noble brown people from the evil Arab people. There were dreadlocks and perfect teeth and weird caveman accents and random daubs of facepaint and prophecies and a resurrection of a hot chick by magic.
Yes, 10,000 B.C. deserved the 10 % rating it got from the surprisingly reliable mob justice of Rotten Tomatoes. Because that scale is if you’re looking for an actually good movie. But if you judge 10,000 B.C. against the way it advertised itself, it actually delivered every bit of the hammy schlockfest it promised and then, accidentally, even more than that. Which is how the DW gets back to the dude at the gym.
The gym dude didn’t exactly advertise high art either. His movie trailer, as it were, was a lot like 10,000 B.C. if you think about it – great visual effects glued haphazardly together with little or no substance. He led off with text messages about playing with your boobies, after all. I mean, really? Why not a picture message of his balls while he’s at it? Not that this guy should be absolved for being a bit of a, er, caveman, but it isn’t exactly like he was promising fine wine, home cooked coq au vin, and discussion of Kant while painting your toenails. You don’t go to Porky’s at the dollar theater and expect them to show Michael Clayton.
Compounding the problem is that you didn’t do much to suggest this guy take you seriously, either. If you’re going in with the mindset that not sleeping with him on the first date is a f*$kup and that the way to get back in his good graces is “freebies”, well, the 10,000 B.C. treatment is going to roll on and on and on.
So no, you’re not going to trap him. The dude never said or did anything that indicates he is the least bit interested in anything but some hot gym people lovin’. He was, in your own words, “inappropriate” from the start, brushed off your attempts to engage him in any activity that involved wearing clothes, and ran the other way at the simple suggestion that you’d like to know him a little before the Boneapalooza world tour was to continue in your yoga pants. He won’t be changing his mind any time soon. The DW couldn’t be more sure of it.
Move on. Get out of the gym for a while. Find a dude who at least takes the time to dress up his trailer to look more PG-13 than late night Cinemax. And get 10,000 B.C. in you Netflix cue immediately. It won’t be in theaters much longer.
Best of luck,