Seriously, I Manscaped for This? Book One: Seriously, I Manscaped for This?, #1

By Jesse Trautmann

Ever date a guy who only engages in Star Trek sex? I got the dish. Have you been mid-date when the guy literally runs away from you never looking back? Been there! Did you fart (or anal queef as I delicately try to euphemize it) in your boyfriend's face during your first rim job? I win.

 

When we're children we are meticulously taught not to talk to strangers. Now as adults it seems as if that's all we do. Dating and the need to find someone special is a driving force in dulling down our "spidy-sense" allowing for frivolous interactions whether it's on the internet, a coffee date, or meeting a guy in a dark bar.

 

But dating and relationships don't always play out so well.

 

My stories (as well as my friends) are vignettes depicting the roller coaster ride of dating and relationship mishaps in my 20s and early 30s, which I chronicle on my blog "I Shaved My Ass for This?"

 

Follow me into the hilarious and often shocking gay dating arena, which can be filled with bad decisions, angst, and sometimes even downright cruelty. These tales are to remind us that maybe our mothers were right in trying to paint the act of talking to strangers with such a cautionary hue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Haven't You Heard Press
• Release date: Jan 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781775131717

Jesse Trautmann

Jesse Trautmann is a Journalism graduate from Ryerson University and he has had numerous articles published in various newspapers, magazines, and websites.  During his schooling Trautmann wrote columns about his friend's and his fucked up dating and sex stories. It started with "Dating with Scissors," then it was "Date Night FAIL," then he continued with his blog "I Shaved My Ass for This?" Trautmann is currently residing in Edmonton, Canada wrestling the riddled equation of talented writer + scribblings = mortgage paid. He’ll get back to you on that.

Book preview

Disclaimer

This book will not get you a boyfriend but it sure as Hell will make you laugh!

I wrote all these columns during my 20s and early 30s. All the stories are true and happened to my friends or myself. OK, maybe not all of it is true but I’d say 95 per cent of it is. To create stories from the situations I finessed things or added jokes to make them flow better or just plain funnier. So, I categorize this work as Creative Non-Fiction.

All names have been changed to protect people’s privacy and my liability. The only name I didn’t change was mine. I’m bold like that. Also, I can’t sue myself for defamation.

Premise

When we are children we are meticulously taught not to talk to strangers. It’s dangerous our mothers would tell us and we learned quickly not to approach unfamiliar people or engage in conversations with strangers. Now in our twenties, it seems as if that’s all we do.

Meeting new people is a common part of being a successfully functioning adult. Our social lives, both platonic and romantic, depend on our abilities to take chances on new people. The thought that they might be dangerous only flickers in the back of our minds before our grown-up logic speaks up telling us to stop being paranoid.

Dating and the need to find someone special is a driving force in dulling down our ‘Spidey sense’ allowing for frivolous interactions whether it is on the internet, a coffee date or meeting a guy in a bar. But these meetings don’t always play out so well. Sometimes the dates we naturally expect to go smoothly take an unpleasant turn.

My collection of columns is an entertaining look into the dating behaviour of 20-somethings, which can be filled with bad decisions, angst and sometimes downright cruelty.

These cautionary tales are to remind us that maybe our mothers were right in trying to paint the act of talking to strangers with such a dangerous hue.

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Remember when Mr. Big hunted Carrie down in the climatic reunion of their soul mate status in the finale of the Sex and the City show, and again at the end of the first movie? Wasn’t it just wonderful? We’ve all fantasized about it happening to us, and we all have our Mr. Bigs but sadly T.V. moments rarely happen to mere mortals. When my ex- the guy I considered to be my Big, and the one I was secretly waiting for- called me up, it wasn’t to rescue me. Instead, he bitch slapped me like the Russian did Carrie. So, let me tell you how this shit goes down in reality.

I’m getting ready for work when I get a call from my ex, David, asking if I could come by his place before my shift because he has something to tell me that had to be done in person. It’s odd that he can’t wait until later that night but I agree to meet him anyway. 

The story of David and I is a complicated one so here’s the Cliff Notes version. About six months ago he broke up with me but we remained friends and saw each other practically every day. Even when David got a new boyfriend, we remained close. He would bitch to me about how he didn’t like this new guy and gloated about how jealous his boyfriend was of me. David and I spent New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day together, and he even cheated on this guy with me recently.

Basically, we were still boyfriends but without the title and our post break-up relationship was fueled with mixed signals and mixed drinks. I put up with all this because I’m still in love with him and I’ve secretly been waiting for him to realize we are meant to be. 

Walking up to David’s apartment it dawns on me why what he has to say is so important. He’s finally going to tell me he wants to get back together and that he’s still in love with me. The door is unlocked and upon entering I see he’s in bed lying on his stomach. He tells me to come over so I lie beside him and we’re face to face. After some of our usual flirty repartee, I say something funny and he laughs, lightly poking the tip of my nose.

I have to tell you something and I don’t know how you’re going to take it, he says.

Here it comes! He loves me! I think, barely containing my excitement. But instead, he tells me that I’m going to have to get tested for Syphilis.

OK, he loves me not.

So, this is why he isn’t at work and why he is pathetically bedridden. He just got back from the doctor who gave him a penicillin injection in each ass cheek and now he can’t walk.

I’m mad as hell and about to put a smack down on his swollen, tender ass, which he is helpless to defend against but it isn’t worth it. He’s already in enough pain and I am too mature for that.

Who am I kidding? I give him a hard,