It’s time for some old dating stories! That was initially the point of this blog, I have enough funny/brutal/heartbreaking stories to fill a trilogy, but thought a blog was a better place to start. Then life kind of happened, men happened, feelings took over and I ended up writing about them instead. With the current situation making any new developments less than exciting (for those asking, poor communication guy has really stepped it up and we are going strong, will definitely see him on the other side. The ‘mate’ turns out isn’t such a good friend after all!), it’s time to dig through the archives for some of the frankly weird things I’ve encountered over the years. This one might be my favourite.
We’ve all seen the classic profile of a guy that’s fresh out of a long term relationship. ‘Not your usual guy, not looking for anything serious, dominant, and looking to explore my kinky side after years in a loveless marriage’. They’re ten a penny on tinder and bumble, and this guy was no different. I ordinarily don’t swipe on a profile like this, not my bag. But sometimes I like to mix things up, have a chat, see what happens. Plus, the difference with this guy was that he actually had some photos of himself, not just the standard chest photo, whips and handcuffs and cut off face at the beard stubble.
We matched, he messaged. We chatted for a few days about pretty normal things. He was freshly single after marrying his childhood sweetheart, flat hunting locally, finding himself and fucking his way through both tinder and bumble. But there was most definitely something endearing about him, he was smart, he was funny, he was good looking. I wasn’t looking for anything serious either, so we arranged to meet. Now, I have strict rules usually. Always meet in a public place, never just let them come round your place etc etc etc. This guy ran his own business. He’d let me fully check him out before we met, and I’m lucky to have a close mate that’s a police officer and I always tell her when I’m on a first date. So fuck it, I’m breaking my own rules. I trust this guy, someone knows he’s coming, let’s cut straight to the chase because we all know what he’s coming round for, so what’s the point in the drink beforehand?
The evening arrives, I’m weirdly excited and a little nervous. We haven’t talked too much about the whole BDSM thing, I know that he’s exploring, and he knows that I would never describe myself as submissive, nor dominant. I’m a ‘go with the flow’, see how the mood takes me, and pretty much vanilla sexual partner. He arrives, with what I can only describe as a doctors bag, a leather case. I don’t mention it. We have a glass of wine. We chat for at least an hour, we are getting on and I’m attracted to him. He then asks before a second glass of wine if he can kiss me. He wants to know if there’s a sexual connection before the second glass. It’s clear he thinks at this point that he believes he is staying the night. This is very confusing to me! The only people I let stay the night are potential partners or accidental drunken one night stands. Never a friend with benefits, never a guy that is for sex and only sex.
He explains that he doesn’t usually stay the night either, but he’s having a great time, wants some more drinks and more time. It’s a Friday night, I’ve nothing better to do so I agree. We share a snog, a couple more glasses of wine and then finally head upstairs. It feels like a date rather than a guy that’s here to ‘explore’. He feels nervous, keen to impress even. But, I had forgotten about the ‘doctors bag’, that came upstairs with us, and that’s where the man I’d been getting to know disappeared and the ‘travelling sex locum’ took over.
I was a little tipsy, and I trusted him. He asked if he could tie me up, I agreed. What followed was 15 minutes of very complicated, Boy Scout level knot work on both my hands and my feet. Not very sexy, but safe, I could get out if I needed to, he had used some special ‘Dom knots’ which had taken forever to do. I probably didn’t help by pointing out his relative inexperience during this awkward preamble. Foreplay is usually a little sexier than a formal tying, but I was still going with it. What else is in the bag!? Well, I was about to find out, in order, by explanation of each thing in there. I’m sure some of you can guess, I was clearly more naive. Sex toys, vibrators, butt plugs, nipple clamps, leather whips. It was like a 50 shades of grey starter kit. What I expected, however, I was fucking horrified at the thought of a sex toy that wasn’t my own being used on me. I was freaking out. He explained it was the best on the market wand, I’d never feel anything like it again, I’d squirt for the first time, and on and on and on. However, by this point I was in my head, I wasn’t even slightly relaxed, definitely not turned on and firm on the fact that anything that had been near another vagina was coming nowhere fucking near me.
I have never seen anybody so thrown! He did not have a clue what to do now. I’d ruined his repertoire, disturbed his act, made him forget his lines. I felt bad, so I pointed to my own drawer of sex toys and told him to feel free to use whatever he chose out of there. He did, but everything was still just a bit awkward. I think we pissed about for about half an hour of him using a variety of things to try and pleasure me, but my head wasn’t in it. I asked him to stop, untie me, and we eventually went to sleep.
Middle of the night and I’m awoken with the classic spoon, and we had pretty amazing, mutually satisfying and VERY ‘vanilla’ sex. He explained that I was the first woman he’d orgasmed with since his marriage break up. We fell asleep again, and repeated the next morning. As far from a BDSM experience as I could get I imagine, but it’s clear that just isn’t for me. I love that he respected everything I said, things could have gone very differently and I suppose I was lucky. He left in the morning after coffee. I made a joke about him travelling the country with his doctors bag, pleasuring women, like a travelling sex locum. I apologised for putting him off his stride and being an awkward patient.
I have to say, I never expected to hear from him again. That wasn’t the deal, that wasn’t what he did, he came, he tied up, he acted, he left. Within an hour I had a message. That evening I had a phone call, the days that followed the communication was pretty incessant. When could he see me again? Maybe we could go out for dinner? I can’t remember the exact timings, but I wasn’t free for a few weeks, so we set a date about a month in the future. He followed me on Instagram, started telling me about his kids, sent me photos of the flats he was viewing. It was all a bit odd, because at the same time he was also going to see around 3 to 4 women a week and performing his routine. He would tell me some details, things were escalating quite quickly, there was some physical things involved and it had started to make him uncomfortable, and yet he couldn’t stop. It became an unhealthy addiction when all he was craving was normality. I eventually told him I couldn’t see him again, and recommended some therapy.
That was about 3 years ago, and we are still in touch. He’s in a great relationship now and very happy. He went to counselling and worked through his break up and everything else and is now in a great place. I’m very happy for him because he really is a great guy, respectful above everything else. I learned that swiping on someone outside type isn’t always a bad thing; character judgement and spending a bit of time getting to know them is usually all I need to detect the wrong uns. Plus I learnt how to tie someone up properly, which might come in useful one day!