I had been “celibate” for 2 and a half years. Why? 1. Because I have the stupid implant in my arm that whilst holding back the monthly floods did nothing for my libido and 2. Because I had a best mate that I had a thing for, who doesn’t have a thing for me, but who was enough of a companion once a week for tea that I wasn’t wanting anything further.
Roll on 2 and a half years later when the thing in my arm is starting to wane and all those toey feelings have started to come back. I questioned said best mate just to doubly make sure nothing was going to happen there – and no, he doesn’t find me attractive that way. Ok, move on.
I get back onto one of those lovely dating sites, where all men think the women must be desperate and so they go straight in for the kill. I even had one guy offer to “service” me and set up a financial relationship – yep, I had to pay him if I wanted it. Not that desperate and more respect for myself than that mate (although after reading this your opinion on that may change).
Moving on, a few more conversations with different guys of varying ages, builds, nationalities and I came across someone I thought might be a fairly decent bloke.
Before I go on, here is the part where I state the old contentious issue – why are men who get have a lot of sex called studs, while us women are labelled with less than flattering names, like slut, slag, whore – the list could go on and on. Our sex drive is sometimes just as needy as any man and sometimes our BOB (battery operated boyfriend) just does not cut it. In general -this doesn’t mean we will sleep with anyone anytime, it just means we have needs to and sometimes they need satisfying.
Getting back to the story, this fairly decent bloke and I start chatting. His parents live in the town I’m in and he is less than an hour away. He suggests we catch up on Friday. Sounds good. He asks for my number. I say not yet but thank you.
Now, I’m not sure who is the woman and who is the man in this scenario at this point because instead of saying, “OK well I really wanted to catch up with you on Friday, so let me know when you’re comfortable”, he cracks the shits. Gives some reply and stops chatting. I thought it was mainly us women that did things like that. And yes, I am a woman, but I also know we are REALLY hard to work out. How can blokes understand us when we don’t understand ourselves?
The reasoning behind my answer - the general rule of thumb for those of you not on dating sites, you give someone your number and the first thing you get is a picture of their Johnson. I have a child so the last thing I want is for them to pick my phone up and see that! Therapy for life!
By this stage, I’m all – it’s been too long and I need to get laid. So, I message him back and say, “that was a not yet, not a no” and we keep chatting.
Friday comes around. No messages.
I have a good girl-friend ring up and say, “do you want to come out for tea” – now normally I’m a homebody, but I was all like, “why the hell not”. And of course the fact that I could talk to her about it all was a big draw card. We chat about said guy and while we’re having tea he messages me asking what I’m doing.
“I’m out for tea with a good friend”
“Oh, ok enjoy”
WTF!! Mate seriously, are you interested or not! I ask him if he’s in town yet. No he’s not coming until Sunday. I tell him we can catch up Sunday afternoon. He wants to know how will he message me?
My reply was, “if you promise not to send any dick pics I will give it to you”.
He said he never does that, and my reply to him was, “thank you from women everywhere!”
Guys, we don’t want to see that shit in a photo. It might get you all hot and steamy but for the majority of the female population it does the exact opposite when we haven’t even met you yet. Keep it in your pants!
I give him my number. We text and then end up calling and speaking on the phone. He explains he was going to come down on Friday but because I wouldn’t give him my number he decided to stay put. See what I mean – woman or man?! We are supposed to be the overthinkers aren’t we?
I get a bit of a feel for this guy over the phone – and no matter what I write now there are going to be Judgy McFudgy people out there. How do I know? Because I do it myself.
Anyway, I tell him to come on down and see me. He is a nice bloke. Great kisser. Very cuddly. Tick, tick and tick.
We watch an Adam Sandler movie for a bit. We go to bed. I won’t go into too much detail, but of course there is the usual foreplay before we get down to business. I am soooo ready for this.
The final chapter starts, and he goes in like a jackhammer - actually a small pneumatic drill would probably be more fitting if you catch my drift. I start pressing the devils doorbell (as I’ve heard it referred to because apparently females shouldn’t masturbate) like my life depends on it……
Then it’s all over. Not even 2 minutes. I’m laying there thinking, “really, 2 and a half years for that!” and of course I only have myself to blame. More frustrated than ever, I ask if he minds if I finish myself off. Of course being the big tough bloke, I’ve hurt his ego because he thought I had already arrived. I try…. I can’t, too much pressure. Still fucking frustrated!
So we snuggle. I snore. He wakes me up tells me to stop snoring. I go to my kids bed to sleep and go back in the morning to try again, but no of course it’s all about him again and I am still left wanting.
I wasn’t too worried as I thought he was staying another night before going to his parents tomorrow. But no, he went there today and is staying there tonight and so I was laying in bed, unable to sleep and had all this running through my head and thought it might give someone a bit of entertainment.
Still frustrated and not really sure whether I will hear from him again – and in 2 minds of whether I want to, I’m signing off.
I hope you have enjoyed my first Blog.