The Hot Cop and the Bikini Bar
Love this quote from Maya Angelou–and it seems especially appropriate when navigating your way through the World of Dating.
My tendency, however, is to believe them and then believe that I can change them. Especially when it comes to players. I met one such player online–a cop–and we chatted for 3 or 4 weeks before we met. Here’s what I knew before our face-to-face encounter:
1) He had a badass job that included fighting terrorists.
2) He was exceptional at witty banter and could make me LOL at a clever text. Often.
3) He had fucked a lot of women. He liked to fuck a lot of women. He wanted to fuck me “every way he could.” All his words–and I heard them often, both via text and phone calls. He was mid-40s, had never been married, and from what I could tell, was still living the lifestyle of a frat boy. A frat boy with a grown-up, badass job.
The day we were supposed to meet, he shot me an address. No name, just an address. I knew he’d been doing some cop stuff in a “dark, seedy” bar, but beyond that, I didn’t have a clue where this address was leading me.
Sporty’s Bikini Bar. What the hell is a bikini bar?
I pulled up outside a strip mall, called to confirm I was at the right place, and he did indeed confirm. “Come in to Sporty’s,” he said.
FYI: A bikini bar is not a bar with a beach theme (which would have been sorta cute). It’s not a place with sand volleyball courts. It’s not even a bar where all the women wear bikinis–unless they’re the women who are GETTING PAID to pole dance in their barely-there bikinis.
Yes. My badass cop had sent me to a sort-of strip club. For our first date.
I know what you’re thinking . . . why did I even agree to meet him, right? Cops have a rep as being bad boyfriends. He’d made it clear that he lives a lifestyle of hookups and casual sex. He told me he could “fuck a woman with zero emotional connection, not even knowing her name.” So sending me to a place that objectifies women (in my humble opinion) makes a lot of sense for someone who spends his life objectifying women.
Why did I agree to meet him? Because I believed I could be badass enough to change him.
I’m free-spirited, I wanted to be the cool chick, and so I rolled with it. I hung out at Sporty’s with my hot cop, drinking vodka tonics, putting dollar bills into G-strings, chatting with his buddy (who said he wanted to fuck me, too), listening to his sexcapades about all the women he’s fucked and how easy it is for him to get laid. You know. Typical first date material. The kind of stuff that makes a woman feel really good about herself.
We went to dinner after Sporty’s, I kissed him in his unmarked cop car, he told me, “I’m crushing on you so hard,” which we all know is player speak for, “I want to take you home, fuck you and never call you again”–and then I left.
We texted a bit for a few days after that, but then I was done. He’d showed me who he was, and I believed him–and I had to concede that, no matter how badass I was, I would never change him. This is a tough one, right ladies? Meeting an attractive man who makes you laugh, who’s smart and successful professionally . . . and then admitting to yourself that his good qualities will never make up for a potentially painful and difficult situation.
People can change, sure. But they can’t be changed. It’s an internal job, especially once they’ve reached mid-life.
I was wrong when I went off on him via texts the next week for disrespecting me. I mean, he had dissed me, yes.
But come on, Sienna, what did you expect? Seriously. Everything I had learned about him prior to our date fully supported the fact that he could and would disrespect a woman. Many women, in fact.
It’s not enough to just believe someone when they tell you who they are. You also need to accept it, and either embrace it or move on. Flirting with the potential 0f who they could be will get you nothing but a one-way ticket to the Land of Disappointment.
Or possibly a first date in a strip club.
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