Follow my adventures in dating as a 30-something, sex-positive divorcee who likes rough sex.
Follow my adventures in dating as a 30-something, sex-positive divorcee who likes rough sex.
There is a new cashier at my preferred gas station. He’s gorgeous. Dark hair and eyes. Tall and slender. Strong jaw, delicate cheekbones. He’s got a nice voice and an even better temperament. I am smitten.
I am not above a little social media snooping, and neither are my friends. We quickly uncovered a Facebook profile, and I was stunned to realized I’d previously matched with this Adonis earlier this year on Tinder. What a small world?
I unmatched because I’d been talking to the Much Younger Guy. Also, this guy is far better looking in person than he is in his chosen profile picture. I wouldn’t have assumed that these people were one and the same from that photo.
Anyway, since we’re unmatched, I’ll need to work up the courage to do this in person. Wish me luck!
Listen. This sucks.
I really, really, really like you.
I like you so much that it scares me. It’s always scared me. I fell too hard and too soon. And that was okay as long as we both thought you were into it, too.
But, even then, I thought this was too good to be true. As much as I thought “finally, this is it!”, I was terrified that it wasn’t.
And going from talking half the day away to not speaking at all is hard, okay? Fucking hard. I simply miss your presence, our wordplay, the laughter you brought to my life. I miss it all.
It’s no mystery why I would fall for you.
Maybe the hardest part of it is how I am falling away from you. Just another person for me to get over.
And I’m getting far too good at that.
Sure, there’s something awesome about a dick that’s just big enough to stimulate the G-spot, and I feel like a champ when i take an especially big dick. But having a big dick alone is not enough, folks. If you just stick to the in-and-out, it can be boring and painful and the big dick inside my vagina is unlike to do anything for my clit. I would much rather sleep with someone less endowed but more skilled. Sorry.
I am sure there are plenty of people who have little to know experience who will eventually make wonderful lovers. I’m just not the person to teach them. I’ve no problem telling you what I like or don’t, but sometimes that’s easier to articulate than others. And sometimes it’s just nice to be in experienced hands and to let go of thinking and just be.
I can’t say that I need this every single time, but it’s gotta be something that happens at least 75% of the time I have sex with someone. It’s almost a guaranteed orgasm, and even if it weren’t, getting eaten out feels intimate and divine in a way that I am not willing to live without.
My ex-husband was a terrible kisser, like, to the point that I feel bad for his new wife. He opened his mouth too far, didn’t move his lips and was incredibly sloppy. Kissing him often made my own mouth feel chapped or sore. I tried to bring it up, gently of course. Time and time again. He was acknowledge me, seemingly open to my suggestions. Nothing ever changed. The kiss thirty seconds after I requested something would be exactly the same.
I can’t do this, not ever again. It’s one thing if you’re a little self involved or aren’t as good at reading body language as some people. But when you actively want advice and then ignore it repeatedly, I am done.
There’s an interesting thing that happens when someone finds out I have toys and they like it: I am simultaneously aroused and a little frightened by the prospect of using them together. This is because the way I masturbate is so different than the way I have sex, and using toys together seems like a melding of the two.
But that anxiety is absolutely better than someone who won’t ever use toys with me or, even worse, someone who thinks I shouldn’t use them just because I am am actively having sex with other people. Nope nope nope.
This was definitely a roadblock when it came to the last guy I had sex with. He was just boring in bed. To be fair, he was boring outside of bed. His routine was the same. Am I talking about his everyday life or sex? Does it matter.
There’s a thrill that comes from being slightly-less-than vanilla. Call it chemistry or sexual tension. No matter what you call it, though, sex isn’t really worth having without it. I know they say that sex is like pizza because “even if it’s bad, it’s still okay.” But I have to disagree. Pizza and sex aren’t worth having most of the time if they’re not at least good enough. I’ll stop halfway through and do something better with my time.
And maybe that’s why I’m the type of woman who many men would rather not have sex with. I’m okay with that.
I’ve been putting off writing an update about the guy I met for several reasons. I am confused. I’m not sure how I feel, but I suspect there’s not as much potential as I originally thought or as I’d like there to be. It would be so nice to finally be dating someone again. Except when I miss how much time I had to myself when I didn’t have to work another person into my schedule and before I was spending so much time talking to someone.
He’s not a terrible person, we’re just incompatible in ways that are more than likely deal breakers. And this is certainly exacerbated by changes I’ve made over the several years — becoming more liberal leaning, identifying as a feminist and focusing on sex and how I can help others around me better enjoy their sexuality. This manifests itself in ways, perhaps small, but that I cannot help but notice.
For instance, I flinched when he used the word “whore” in a casual sense to describe something he’s a big fan of. I awkwardly replied about how we shouldn’t refer to sex workers like that, but it wasn’t eloquent enough. I let it be. What am I going to do, start a conversation about the trials and tribulations that people like Perth escorts have suffered through? Do I start a conversation filled with facts and stories from the latest Best Sex Writing anthology I’ve read?
You can bet that I would do this with certain people, but I think I realize deep down that it’s not worth the effort with this guy. We might wind up as friends, but certainly nothing more. Perhaps at some point my opinion on sex work and the rights that sex workers should — but typically don’t — have will come to light… only as friends. But there’s an awkward lack of discussion and thoughtfulness at this stage and the mention of Brisbane escorts wouldn’t help any.
It hasn’t all been a loss, however. It’s definitely interesting to learn how I interact with new people after developing a stronger sense of self. Seeing how I represent myself is satisfying, reassuring even. I am presenting myself the way I want to be seen, as the person who I know myself to be.
And adding another notch to my bedpost, going on some successful dates and breaking out my flirting skills reminds me that I’m alive, that people can desire me and that maybe dating isn’t as difficult as I thought it was in the first place.
Tonight, I met a guy I’d been talking to online for a few days. It’s not a long story; although, it is interesting. To me, at least.
I’ve been playing a game called Ingress lately. It’s sucked up a lot of my time, and I’ve met a few new friends through it. Ingress is a local MMO, so I’ve been talking to and occasionally running into people in the area.
A few weeks ago, I came across the OkCupid profile of someone who plays the game because he uses the same name in both places. I hadn’t seen him being active in the game the entire time I’ve played, but he did create some missions in the area so I recognized the name. i didn’t message him because, to be honest, he’s not quite my physical type.
Fast forward a couple days and I see he’s become active in the game. Then, he messages me on POF the next day. I recognize his pictures and reply solely because we play the game and it’s an interesting coincidence. Instead of answering his questions, I complained — in a friendly manner — about him attacking me in the game.
This prompted some fairly consistent conversation back and forth. While I wasn’t quite sure if we clicked, we moved communication off site. We’ve had fun talking, and a lot of talking we’ve done. but as things seemed more like they could be something, I became even more anxious to meet him. And as someone who is already anxious to meet anyone, this isn’t a great thing. To my credit, I was upfront about this. To his credit, he’s been incredibly understanding and helpful about it.
We’ve very missed each other by very short time frames playing our games, and I found this both amusing and, perhaps, a bit relieving because I didn’t have to meet him. He’s politely inquired a few times, and tonight went out specifically with the intent of crossing my path.. only i slipped back home after missing him by an entire two blocks and a few short minutes. I wound up going back out specifically to meet him when I saw he was out, and we met. Although, maybe meeting a stranger a 1am isn’t the best idea ever. Heh.
It wasn’t terrible though. A little awkward but not the most awkward meeting I’ve ever had. To my surprise, he’s better looking in person. I don’t think he photographs well. He has an adorable dog and he knows when to laugh at my jokes. I had a decent time, which is more than I can say for 90% of the times I’ve met a guy in person after talking online.
I think I slightly prefer the way we communicate online, but there’s at least something worth exploring here.
We ended with a hug that I, strangely, found myself holding onto longer than he did.
We departed on a high note but I wanted to send him a quick message before he headed to bed and I headed to the Internetland. He mentioned that it was well worth it to stay up late enough to cross paths with me, and I feel quite flattered. He’s really such a kind and good person, which is a relief and would probably make for an awesome friendship if nothing else.
But aside from that, I’m glad to have finally met someone again. It’s been years since I’ve done that. I went on so many terrible first dates/meetings. I didn’t want to go on any more. And the longer it had been, the scarier the idea had become.
So, yea, I met a guy.
I am not a thin person. I’ve never been, really. In the past, I’ve been thinner. I’ve also been bigger. Over the last year or so, I’ve shed some weight from my midsection and generally feel more proportionate. And, honestly, I care about that more than some number on a scale or chart. But I’m borderline plus size and short, so it shows.
I’ve struggled with this for all my life, but I’m probably more secure about the whole thing than I have been. The last couple years have been especially good for me in terms of fashion. I can afford to experiment, and this has led to comfort and styles I would never have tried in the past. It’s a good thing, because I feel better about dressing my body.
But no matter how the clothes look, I suppose, there’s always an element of trying to hide or distract from the extra weight where I won’t want/need it, even if it feels good and it’s not a health issue. When it comes down to it, I suppose I’m just worried that all the good things I may be — smart, funny, cute/pretty, witty, compassionate, sex-positive and more — will be completely negated by not being thin. Or, at the very least, that people will judge me solely by my appearance at first glance, and will write off any of the positives I could bring to the table.
This is especially true with guys, and perhaps even more painfully awkward because the tall gangly body shape is, you know, my type. In comparison to tall, narrow things, I look even shorter and wider. And while I don’t necessarily care what others thing, I’ve become so terrified of the idea of being rejected by these people to whom I am normally attracted because I may not be attractive enough to them.
So much so that I have pretty much stopped even communicating with potential dates because of it. On Tinder, I’ll swipe away from someone who I determine to be out of my league, even if I’m really attractive and we might have something in common. I will avoid talking to and, especially, meeting people who I think fall into that category.
I know I’m giving in to fear and I’m probably not giving myself enough credit. I also know, intellectually, that the whole idea of “league” is BS, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Even if there was some universal scale, people would still have different tastes. But that doesn’t make me feel better or, perhaps, bolder is the word I’m looking for. Even knowing that people of my type have been attracted to me before doesn’t really help.
And I’m terribly afraid of meeting people in ways that I wasn’t a few years ago.. despite the fact that most of the people who I dated in 2012 were romantically interested, at least enough to pursue a second date (I was not, however.). I’m afraid of showing up and not being thin enough from the waist down. Or of being too much.
Honestly, this isn’t even rooted in being mistreated as a fat adult. Because I can’t remember the last time someone, anyone, has insulted me over my weight (or anything, really). Maybe my discomfort is more noticeable than anything else. My insecurity and anxiety certainly causes me to be more uptight with new people than I really am or want to be.
Though, I’m sure some of this is just because I haven’t gone on a date like that in a few years. I’m out of practice, and it feels like a big deal to jump back in. But maybe that’s all I need to do. Do. Act. Less thinking. Which has always been a problem of mine.
Like always, I feel a little haunted by my own mind.
If you ask people who know me well, they’ll tell you that I focus on sex to the exclusion of romance. That I have no use for emotions on the whole, let alone for a romantic partner.
But I like “Good morning, beautiful” texts and sleepy phone calls before bed, sometimes not even managing to hang up before you fall asleep. I want to be Facebook official and to post photos — albeit, photos in which I look good.
I don’t say this because I am some special snowflake or because I am letting the world in on a secret about what women like because I know these things are common for men and women alike. But, these are things people wouldn’t expect from me specifically. And why is that?
But at the end of the day, I think I need to admit and accept that I am or can be romantic and that this doesn’t make me — or anyone else for that matter — less.