Meanwhile, Stephen wasn't good, or giving, or game at all. When I asked if he might go down on me, or do anything to help me achieve orgasm, he said, "Well, we all want that," and then didn't. He also wanted to move into my house, because it was nice and he couldn't manage his roommate situation. I broke up with him.
Weeks later, Stephen stalked me at the coffee house I liked writing in. I gave him his DVDs back. They'd never left the trunk of my car.
After losing my virginity, I got a taste of (almost) every kind of relationship
Loren arrived a few months later at a Starbucks in Toledo. I found him on Plenty of Fish. Given some of the men provided by POF -- one who'd faked his own death, a guy who lived in his mother's basement, a man who saw his kids two days a year but dedicated weeks and weeks to Godzilla conventions -- I started calling it "Plenty Offish." Still, Loren seemed better than all that.