Three lessons

August 26, 2009

I probably should’ve left right away. He was exactly not my type: bulging, round head, jug ears, indeterminate forehead (I like a high, clear, decisive one…he was bald). Maybe someone would find him attractive, but not me. I don’t know why I was trying to seem non-shallow with this guy. Lesson 1: Always ask for a face picture.

I resolved to give him a chance. Sometimes I won’t find a man attractive until I get to know him better. Unfortunately this guy proved to be kind of an exasperating person to converse with. He likes goading people, then soothing them once they get going. It’s a control thing, I guess (he identifies as a switch). Sometimes we’d have a nice patch of conversation (usually about something erudite), then lapse into awkward little silences. I’d stare down at my plate and wish that the-boy-formerly-known-as-the-boy were there instead. Despite everything, we never had those awkward moments.

Dinner was over and I still couldn’t make up my mind about fucking him. I wasn’t attracted to him, but I also wanted to get laid. I finally asked him to present a case for himself. He claimed to be good in bed and well-endowed. Lesson 2: If you don’t know you want to fuck someone, then you probably shouldn’t.

We did end up going up to his hotel room (in retrospect, the fact that he booked one is kind of presumptuous). The chemistry was just not there. I would not let him kiss me. I don’t know why. I think I was afraid that he would taste weird and off-putting too.

The shifting control dynamic was new for me. He would do what I’d tell him, but still displayed a little too much independence. He didn’t follow directions well. He barely seemed to be listening at times. At one point he even pinned me down in an aggressive way. I ignored it. It was supposed to be vanilla, but I guess sex between two kinksters will never be purely kink-free.

He has an oral fixation too and kept, like, gnawing me in that crazed male way that I dislike. It’s hot for about thirty seconds, then it becomes boring and sometimes painful. Especially when the guy starts rubbing his stubbly face all over, like he’s trying his best to give me a rash.  And he seemed to forget that my limbs were not, in fact, pipe cleaners and bent me into some  distinctly uncomfortable positions. Even his skin felt wrong, kind of rubbery.

I did hold onto his ears while he was going down on me. That part was kind of amusing.

Finally, I had him fuck me, as the foreplay was not going anywhere. He was, in fact, pretty well-endowed. But weirdly, he seemed unable to get fully erect. He was half-limp the whole time. He did manage to get a condom on and stuff himself into me a few times, at times going deep enough to hit my cervix and make me jump. This wouldn’t have startled/bothered me quite as much if he’d been fucking me properly. But his cock kept falling out and he’d have to manually maneuver it back in, and then—as if to make up for its bendiness—would  like, SLAM it into my cervix! He never got harder. This weird approximation of fucking went on and on….

And the whole. Fucking. Time. He was whimpering to himself in this utterly bizarre, high-pitched babyish moan: “puuusssy pussy wetpussypussypussy fuckpussy wet pussy, canilickyourpussy? Can I lick? Canifuckyour pussy? Caaaan I fuck your puuusssssy…” I do like hearing people enjoy themselves during sex, but he seemed like he was in a trance. And the nasal baby voice was just icky.

When I’d caught myself rolling my eyes for the third time, I knew it was time to go. I pushed him off and got up and started pulling my clothes on.

“Wait, is that it? Did you come?”

“Yes, it is and no, I didn’t.”

“Don’t you want to come?”

“I don’t think I can come with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. I don’t think I could ever come with you.” I shook my head slowly and definitively, “Never.”

He’d had a little too much to drink that night. While I was putting on my bra, he threw his arms around me and tried to pull me toward the bed. His grip was tight. He was bigger than me and much stronger. I was half-naked in his hotel room. All this flashed through my mind as I tried to maintain my balance, exasperatedly telling him, “get OFF me.” Weirdly, I was not scared. I was alert, but still kind of calm. It was a good thing I’d refused to drink more than a glass of wine that night. Lesson 3: Never get drunk on the first date.

He let go and stumbled into a corner, watching me as I finished getting dressed.

I was looking for my shoes when he began berating me for being rude. That caught me off-guard—what a strange thing to say. Oh you’re so rude for not waiting until I was finished. You’re rude for telling me something I didn’t want to hear. But accusations of rudeness generally don’t bother me.  Genuinely polite people don’t run around pointing out how rude other people are.

He sulked as I fixed my hair at the mirror. I paused at the door.

“Well, thanks for everything. It was nice meeting you. Good night.”

He stood and faced me, a speculative look on his face, “You’re kinda rough with people, aren’t you?”

I stood there, stuck by the phrasing. Rough with people. Yeah, I guess I am. But I also guessed that he was trying to engage me again by provoking my temper, hoping to keep me there a few minutes longer. I almost responded, but remembered that I owed this guy nothing. So I left.

I walked home quickly. It was quiet, still and dark. The night breezes played with my hair. I wasn’t sad or mad. I felt oddly light, free. That night, at least, I was looking forward to sleeping alone.

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4 Responses to “Three lessons”

  1. W Says:

    Dear S&L,

    Cringing at the description of this guy. Happy that the story ended with you realizing sleeping alone (for the time being, at least) isn’t all that bad.

    Wondering why its seems so easy for certain guys to reason out, “Hey, I’m a passive aggressive misogynistic perve A-Hole, I think I’ll describe myself as a switch!”

    -W


  2. Lack of self-awareness, maybe. These sorts will oftentimes describe themselves as “feminists” or “nice guys” too.

  3. M Says:

    I’m not sure if you meant to evoke this reaction, but I thought this was hilarious (well, the part where he grabbed you was creepy and scary, but with that exception . . .). I don’t know how you even kept a straight face when he was using a baby voice during sex. Lesson 4: don’t use a baby voice during sex with a stranger!


  4. Grotesque is the word that comes to mind when I think about the experience. But funny too, certainly.


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