Have you ever had two brothers try to date you? Or maybe win you? What about twin brothers? This is a dating app horror story about two identical twin brothers who competed for everything– including me.
Like most of my recent dating nightmares, this one started on a dating site — OK Cupid, to put my embarrassment all the way on Front Street. I have never had a positive dating experience from using the site, but once I downloaded it on my phone, I’d lie to myself when I tapped my way through various profiles. I’m only on here because I’m bored.
I checked my messages. There was one from a a dude with dreadlocks who looked like he loved the smell of incense, but also enjoyed skateboarding. “What in the world does he want with me?” I tapped his face.
His name was Daebi. He was 27, lived in my neighborhood in Brooklyn, wore skinny jeans so tight I feared for his ankles and his profile was perfectly wordy. I like when men take the time to complete a profile with some substance. He detailed that when he’s not working (retail, ugh), he’s writing poetry and going to shows, uncovering parts of Brooklyn he’s never seen, with his identical twin brother.
OK, a weird, twin thing.
I opened Daebi’s message. He thought I was beautiful, a queen even. He loved my style, grace and that my profile made him feel like I was a cultured woman who was genuinely looking to connect. It was more than any other small face in a profile photo box was offering me. I responded. Within minutes, we were chatting back and forth on the app.
I was giggling, twirling my hair and allowing my voice to reach higher octaves than it normally does. I was officially flirting with Daebi. “I like this,” he wrote.
“Me too,” I smiled typing back. It was refreshing to connect with someone on a level deeper.
We made plans to hang out the following week. Something chill. Coffee.
I walked into the coffee shop, scanning the brooding crowd for Daebi. I spotted him at a table closer to the back of the shop. His head, filled with dreadlocks of all sizes, was bowed as he scrolled through his phone. I walked up to him, “Daebi,” I said more than asked.
“Danielle,” he matched my inflection and smiled at me. “This thing doesn’t do you any justice,” he gestured towards his phone before tossing it down on the table and standing up to hug me.
He was shorter than his personality. I shrugged it off. He was a man of substance and it was about time I got my hands on one of those unicorns. We chatted until the coffee shop closed. And when we kissed goodbye, I swear I heard Drake whisper sing into my ear. I was swept up in the fantasy and brought Daebi home with me.
We awkwardly, but passionately, clawed at each other’s bodies and laid in our own afterglow, or something like it. He smelled like essential oils as I nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
I broke the silence, “That was…” I didn’t know how to finish it. It wasn’t bad, but Lord knows it wasn’t good.
Daebi laughed, “That was, indeed.” He rolled on top of me. “Best two out of three?” He laughed.
And it was better. Much better. Daebi and I started seeing each other on a regular basis. Correction, Daebi and I started having sex on a consistent basis. One of the things that bothered me most about Daebi was that he wasn’t the most affectionate…OK, let me be honest, he didn’t kiss me. I need kisses like I need water, especially when I am dating someone, or, well, sleeping with someone.
One night, after I’d given Daebi the oral pleasure of his life and went to kiss him, he turned his head. I addressed it right then and there, “So, you just don’t kiss?”
Daebi sighed, “I do.”
“But you don’t kiss me?”
“I don’t. Not yet,” Daebi said as if what he just said didn’t need an explanation.
The look on my face must have said it all because he laughed.
“It takes more time for me to share that level of intimacy,” Daebi said to me with his eyes closed.
This patchouli oil-smelling dude has some nerve. My mouth had just left his crotch and here he was saving levels of intimacy for some later date.
“Because me sucking you off isn’t intimate,” I turned over.
Daebi sighed and got up, searching for his clothes. “I don’t justify my choice to anyone.”
“Your choices are selfish,” I said without turning over. We continued to argue back and forth for a few minutes before I said, “This isn’t worth the trouble.”
Daebi left. I didn’t walk him to the door. But I waited for it to slam close behind him. The tears slowly leaked out onto my pillow. Daebi’s desire not to kiss me hurt my feelings. How is that even an option when you’re having sex with someone. Who the heck did he think he was, Pretty Woman? (She never kissed her clients on the lips.)
My phone lit up, indicating a text. It was from Daebi, “You’ve got a lot of sexual issues you need to work out. Don’t put those on me. But I still want you to put it on me. ;-).” I wanted to throw my phone, but I did what I always do…dusted myself off and opened up OK Cupid to try again.
I scrolled through my messages. I had a recent message from Daebi. “Ugh, this dude is relentless.” I opened it, it wasn’t Daebi. This guy’s name was Ali, but he had the exact same style, stature and face as Daebi.
The message declared my beauty and Ali requested that he and I get to know each other. I thought Daebi was playing some sort of weird joke on me, and then I remembered–Daebi told me he has a twin brother.
I replied to Ali, “Do you have a twin brother?”
He responded immediately, “Thanks for getting back to me beautiful. I do, how did you know that?”
Stay tuned for part two next week!