TAINTed Love

“Oh yeah. I’ve heard of that stuff. I know sometimes cyclists use it. Do you use it for cycling too?” 

“Well yes, but mainly for my taint area.”

This was an actual conversation I had, on an actual date, with an actual human male a little over a week ago.

And I don’t know about you ladies out there, but it’s pretty much always never been my dream to hear those sweet, sweet words pouring out of my date’s mouth as I’m getting ready to put another chip, heaping with guacamole, into my mouth.

Ah…romance!

I should probably back up a little and provide some backstory, right?

Basically it’s this: I’ve started dating again and I still despise online dating as much as I ever have. More, really.

I’ve been on quite a few online dates in my adult life, two of which actually resulted in long-term relationships.

Although,  I mean, look how well those turned out.

So of course I decided to give it another go...and I ended up on a date with a guy who told me about his taint cream.

Taint cream....

TAINT.

CREAM.

And then had me pay for my dinner.

(But I mean, I wasn’t expecting dinner AND a show, so I guess it was worth it?)

My lotioned-taint Lothario was actually the second person that I went out with in the past month or so. 

The first was a 34-year-old professional pedicab driver emblazoned with a tattoo of a giant eyeball (to commemorate his recent cataract surgery...duh) and who wore a screw as an earring.

In the middle of the date he pedaled us off into an alley where he proceeded to pee and then roll and smoke a spliff. At the end of the night he left me stranded to find my own way home from Bucktown so that he could go to a late-night electronic music festival afterparty.






Needless to say, I think this all might just be the Universe's way of saying, "Stop it. Enjoy your summer."

Point taken, Universe...

...and I'm sorry you had to resort to talk of taint cream.