talesfromthelyft

A view from the driver's seat

If You Like Him and Want Him To Ask You On A Second Date, Then Don’t Dress Like a Slut

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I really don’t use the word “slut.” I think it’s judgmental and cruel and being a woman who’s been known to wear a skintight black dress every now and again, I think it’s every woman’s right to look as hot as she feels.

When I pick up R, she teeters out of her apartment in high wedge heels with gold buckles. She is wearing a blue mini dress, not tight but short, with a braid of fabric coiling around the neck and going around the back. She’s young, 20’s and her hair is ironed and gleaming, her face painted and perky.

“You’re definitely going out.”

“Yup. I got a date.”

I cooed. “Yeah! Is this your boyfriend or a first date?”

“First.”

“Oh did you guys meet before or is this an internet thing?”

“Internet. Is there any other kind?” She laughed half heartedly, sadly.

“Have you guys talked?”

“Yeah, we talked. We’ve been texting.”

“I meant, did you talk on the phone?”

“Oh no,” she said dismissively. I guess the kids don’t do that these days.

She proceeded to tell me that she didn’t care, in that jaded way that only the young can put on. She was over the whole dating thing. Whatever. The last guy she went on a date with, they hung out for 3 hours!! 3 hours!! And then he never called her back. Maybe he was getting out of a relationship and it was just too heavy for him, I offered. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

She didn’t want to be too early so she asked me to drop her off at the corner so she could walk up when she knew he was there. But when we passed by the bar, he was standing outside. So I dropped her off in front of the entrance and as she got out of the car, I saw the rest of her outfit.

O.M.G. The dress was completely open in the back. Open like down to the ass open. Like open open. No zipper no buttons. The only thing between her and total nudity was the black lacy bra that she had carefully chosen as part of her over-sexed, over-it look. She got out and tried to pull her skirt down but there was not enough fabric to really warrant a tug. I watched her and the guy exchange a perfunctory air kiss, looking awkwardly at the space beyond each other’s ear.

I feel like Chris Rock who said something about why men are confused by women. So you look like a stripper, you smell like a stripper, you wear dresses and shoes like a stripper, but you DON’T want to be treated like a stripper?? I kinda sympathize with the guys. I mean, what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to treat her?  The mixed message  of her fuck-me outfit and her defiant nonchalance would definitely stop me from making a second date. I sympathized with her too. How do women/girls say I want love without coming off as vulnerable and needy?

The dress was supposed to be her armor. Instead it was her Achilles Heel, showing her weakness not her strength.

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