From Chemistry to Disappointment in Five Minutes

Remember when I wrote that I needed to bring sex back into my life? Well, I did. The whole thing turned into a comedy, honestly. But the most important thing that came out of it was this: I realized I've lost the ability to fall blindly in love. And that's what this story is really about.

At first, I thought I'd handle it the same way I did in my twenties—go to a nightclub and pick someone up. This was before I moved, while I was still living in DTLA. I had found a great club just a five-minute walk from my apartment. And guess what? I never made it there. I tried two nights in a row—Friday and Saturday—and both times I was simply too lazy to leave home. That's when I realized I might be getting too old for that kind of adventure. Lol. So I chose the easiest option available for finding a one-night stand: Tinder. A magnificent invention, really. It works in every country. I used it for exactly the same purpose back in Russia.

My first date happened the very next day. The conversation was pleasant enough, but the chemistry was absolutely nonexistent. We had drinks at a bar, went back to his place, and had sex. It was bad. Not because of him. Not because of me. There was simply no chemistry. None. I wasn't even turned on during oral sex. That's how little attraction there was between us. Thankfully, he never texted me again, because I had no desire to see him either.

The second date was much more promising. On both dates, I was completely honest about my intentions. I wasn't looking for anything serious. I wanted sex. Whatever happened afterward would happen. The second guy was an actor. And somehow, he managed to be even more self-absorbed than I am. At first, I assumed he was simply trying to impress me. Within minutes he sent me his Instagram, started talking about his acting career, listing projects he'd worked on, and sending links so I could watch them. For the record, I had never seen anything he was in, and he wasn't exactly starring in major productions. I went straight to his place. We didn't even go out. We drank coffee at home and ended up having sex. This time there was chemistry. The sex was great. We agreed to see each other again, and I drove home in an excellent mood. For a brief moment, I even caught myself thinking that maybe this could turn into something more.

Looking back, the warning signs were already there. After our first date, I hadn't paid much attention to the fact that he spent most of the evening talking about himself and asking almost nothing about me. I figured he was just trying to make a good impression. The moment I got home, he texted me saying he had a wonderful time and then complained that his friend couldn't come the next day to help him record a self-tape for an audition. He never directly asked me for help, but the hint wasn't exactly subtle. Since I liked him, I offered to come over and help. I'll admit it—I was at least expecting sex in return. The next day I got ready, dressed nicely, and drove over. We recorded the self-tape, and the moment we finished, he said, "Let me walk you to your car." I was slightly shocked. But I figured it was fine. We already had another date planned for two days later.

The day of our date arrived, and he postponed it until the next day. By then, my excitement had already started fading. When I asked whether we were actually going somewhere, because he'd previously mentioned dinner at a restaurant, he somehow managed to turn a simple question into a discussion about how busy he was, how hard he worked, how dedicated he was to his career, his meetings, his agents, and all the sacrifices he made to be successful. I remember thinking: I literally just asked whether I should dress casually or not. Somehow everything always circled back to him.

When I arrived at his apartment, things only got stranger. He told me I looked great, then immediately complained that I never complimented him. According to him, everyone compliments him because he's attractive. I tried to laugh it off and turn it into a joke. I said that, as the man, he was supposed to be the one giving compliments. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. During the short walk from my car to his apartment, I got an entire lecture about sexism. Once inside, while he was preparing grapes and popcorn, he told me my energy felt different. Of course it did. I had already decided this would be our last date. I wasn't there because I was excited anymore. I was there because I wanted to see how the story ended.

I refused the snacks and just drank Coke. Mostly because I didn't want to remove my aligners for random snacks and then deal with cleaning everything afterward. His solution was, "Next time, don't wear them." Then he somehow topped that by asking why I didn't just get veneers. Apparently, veneers magically fix bite problems and straighten teeth now. The man was forty-three years old. Mentally, I swear he felt younger than me. We spent nearly an hour trying to choose a movie. At that point I was already thinking: Can we just have sex so I can go home? But he didn't even put an arm around me while we watched the movie. He just sat there eating.

Then came the grand finale. He had some kind of CBD or THC drink and decided to have some. A while later he announced that he thought he was high. He disappeared into the bathroom, came back, said he didn't feel well, disappeared again, then returned and told me I should leave because he needed to sleep it off. I was stunned. I got up, left, and he walked me to my car. The evening was a complete disaster. There wasn't even any sex. Well, I was curious. Curiosity satisfied. What amazed me most was that somehow he had managed to make that entire evening about himself too. Maybe I hadn't given him enough attention. Maybe I should have complimented him. God help me. I've hung out with actors who were genuinely well-known and successful, and none of them had an ego this inflated. Meanwhile, this relatively unknown actor carried himself like he was Hollywood royalty. And honestly, status has its place. But before any of that, I care about who a person actually is. No matter how successful someone may be, character will always matter more to me. No matter who we are, we're all just human beings.

The next day he texted me. Which I absolutely wasn't expecting. He apologized and explained that he'd accidentally consumed too much THC and that's why he asked me to leave. Then he added, "I'll make it up to you." My response was simple: "Honestly, I don't want anything anymore. And it's not only because of yesterday." He replied, "Okay. I respect that. Take care." Later that evening, I checked his Instagram out of curiosity. I wanted to see whether he'd unfollowed me. Instead, I discovered that he'd blocked me. Lol. It felt incredibly childish. By the way, this is exactly the kind of man who would insist on splitting every bill 50/50. I'm not 100% sure. I'm 200% sure. He also lived in an apartment smaller than the one I had in DTLA, and now that I've moved into a house, the difference feels even more ridiculous.

Later, another memory surfaced. During our first date, there was a moment when I was quiet simply because I had nothing to say. He looked at me and asked, "How's your English?" God, I hate when people question my English. Most of them only speak one language. I've already started learning my third. Then, on our final date, he told me he could hear a Russian accent. That irritated me too, because I've never had a Russian accent. Individually, I could have ignored those comments. But when enough little things start piling up, you begin to see everything differently. Suddenly, all the charm disappears.

As my sister once said, "From admiration to disappointment takes five minutes." Lol. What this situation made me realize is that when something doesn't make sense to me logically, my feelings disappear too. I discovered that I simply can no longer fall blindly in love. I've learned to genuinely love and value myself, and to think with my head first. I also realized that dating consumes an absurd amount of time—something I already don't have enough of. A few days later, I deleted Tinder. And instead of feeling disappointed, I felt relieved. No relationship. No drama. Just freedom.

At the same time, I'm not planning to become a nun either. I'm definitely not going to spend another seven months without sex. There has to be a healthier middle ground somewhere between emotional chaos and complete celibacy—and sooner or later, I'm sure I'll find it.