The story of Vegas Guy/I’m fucking Matt Damon!

I was in Las Vegas a couple months ago with a friend and it brought back memories of a super special online wannabe relationship I had several years ago with a man who I pretty much exclusively called “Vegas Guy” when mentioning him to my friends or family. This year’s trip to Vegas was only my second time going there, my first time, was to visit Vegas Guy/be his concubine. More on that later.

So, let’s see. This story was probably a good 6 years ago, when I first got a real job and decided to use some of my hard-earned paycheck to join match.com. Come to think of it, it may have been my first foray into the magical world of online dating. And magical it was. So I get a message one day from this guy who has his location listed as Las Vegas, Nevada. He messages me in complete sentences, using correct grammar, and explains that he lives in Vegas now but is planning to move to Denver in the next few months. Wow, complete sentences without text speak and the possibility of geographic proximity! We send a few messages, he suggests talking on the phone, and also tells me that he is going to be in Denver in a few weeks for business. He travels to Denver a lot, he says, because he is trying to start his own business in Denver and his parents live in the area. He seems very smart and articulate on the phone, so I decide to go ahead and meet him for dinner when he comes to town.

We go on a date and although he is not particularly impressive in the dressing skills department (he pretty much dresses like a stereotype of a computer nerd but with no glasses), but he is smart and funny and we generally have a good time. We hang out a few times that first week when he is in Denver, then he comes back in a few weeks. This time, I figure it is acceptable to let him into my home while other people are there… I am having a karaoke party, you see. So he comes to the karaoke party, gets impressively drunk, breaks one of my wine glasses, etc.  I decide it’s not a good idea to let him drive to his hotel and instead let him drunkenly dry hump me for a while and fall asleep in my bed. Very attractive. However, I must admit that even while drunk, he is a surprisingly good kisser.

He comes back to Denver one more time, over Easter, and I am yet again having a party, my traditional Easter Party. This party basically involves drinking mimosas, playing lawn games, hiding Easter eggs for my adult friends to find, and exploding marshmallow peeps in the microwave. This time, he is not quite so drunk, but we are cock-blocked by my drunk friend wanting to “go lay down” in my bed and then falling asleep in it for HOURS. We go to his hotel but realize that neither of us have a condom and therefore do not go get one, but instead commence with more dry-humping.

He comes to Denver one more time and we finally manage to have condoms and a bed, so we finally have sex. He is surprisingly good for being old… or perhaps because he is old. You know, experience and all? I realize that the other thing I have neglected to mention about Vegas Guy is that he had just turned 40 years old when we were dating, and I think I was 25.

At this point, I figure this is a real relationship! Why do I think this? I don’t know… But we talk on the phone between his visits, he entertains me, I am not sure what I am bringing to the relationship besides boobs, but maybe that is enough.

So I decide that it’s a good idea to go visit him in Vegas. I have never been before, so he asks me what I want to do there and the only thing I can think of is Elvis. I tell him I want to see an Elvis impersonator. So he picks me up from the airport and we go see “Big Elvis,” a 300-pound Elvis impersonator who performs at one of the old, past-it’s-prime casinos on the strip. The whole thing is actually pretty great and hilarious in a campy sort of way. Then we proceed to do other things that people who actually live in Vegas do, such as drink heavily, go to the movies, stay indoors as much as possible because it is unbelievably hot, eat at buffets, and lay down large sums of money like it’s nothing at the Blackjack tables. I don’t really do much gambling, but Vegas Guy doesn’t flinch at placing $500 bets at Blackjack. No slot machines for this motherfucker, he is apparently loaded and a hardcore gambler.

During this trip, I learn an interesting tidbit about Vegas Guy, which may or may not be true on several accounts. He tells me that he once dated a girl who had dated Matt Damon. It’s a very weird and specific thing to brag about, so I am inclined to believe it’s true. So in a sense, I have indirectly fucked Matt Damon…. Which is kind of gross, when you think about it.

So let’s see, the rest of the story of Vegas guy is basically that he takes forever, like 6 months, to move to Colorado. Or, honestly, I don’t know if he ever did because I broke up with him before he moved. Our time together eventually seemed to be all about sex and he became much less interested in returning my calls unless he was actually in Denver. I went out of the country for three weeks and called him when I got back, and it took him a whole week to return my call. I realized then that I was just his ho in the 303 area code. So I stopped fucking Vegas Guy. The end.