Tag: a mistake

on being honest

When it was still warm in mid September and I was just getting to know JR, we fell into a discussion about the masks people wear and to what extent that is a falsehood.  In our dating and even interviewing efforts to appear at our best some of us may present a picture of ourselves deemed socially acceptable.  We may even believe that that is truly who we are when in fact we are untrue to ourselves.

So when he asked me what boundaries I had, I had thought about it for a while and declared that I would not be overly upset if I discovered that someone had lied to me about themselves.  He had been rather surprised.  But it was surely not dissimilar to our wearing a mask.  And naturally on a first date we always try to present the very best sides of ourselves.  Of course it’s easier simply to be honest and it must reflect more on our insecurity the bigger the lie, but that has less to do with the person being lied to than the person doing the lying.  And so it made it easier not to feel betrayed.  We were of course talking as people who’d only just met – it had been a first date when we rambled on in search of a quieter pub or one with more seating than clients.  We ended up eventually at one at the bottom of Downshire Hill.

A few months later, I was having a similar conversation with Goran.  We had been dating since early spring this year and have developed a bond/rapport.  I’d always taken everything he’d told me at face value and yet all the same I felt last week as if he hadn’t been completely honest with me over some trivial arrangement we had made which had then been cancelled.  Eventually he conceded that he might not have been entirely truthful and I had felt a little disconcerted.  And just like that, my warm feelings towards him – and there had been an overload of this recently – have begun to cool.   It’s very difficult to continue to be excited about arrangements we might make considering that they’re likely to be postponed or cancelled and I am almost glad that this has happened to remind me that this is not a relationship that has much of a future.  And to be fair to him, he has always tried to be honest and I had known from the outset that his loyalties lay primarily with his family.  I was merely surprised that he had felt the need to be economical with the verite.

The only reliable constant I have is me and what I do and the choices I make.  Whilst it’s exhilarating to lose one’s heart over another, I should be more careful who I lose mine to next time.

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an 80s musical night at the park

 

Zuiderpark, The Hague to be precise.  Last weekend it had been Hyde Park, London with Grace Jones and Kylie.  Last night it was UB40 followed by Duran Duran.  Simon still has it – the voice and moves, now sexier than ever.  To his right was John Taylor on guitar, equally hot!  I didn’t recognise the smooth sax player but some of the other band members looked familiar even though their spiky locks were now shorter and trendier, in keeping with men of a certain age.  My date had got tickets and a hotel room next to Mauritshuis which housed Rembrandts, Vermeers, Van Dycks, Holbeins, Rubens and many more Dutch and other European masterpieces.  It had been a rocking weekend with high brow culture thrown in before I boarded the Thalys at Rotterdam enroute to the Eurostar back to London.

My European date had been charming and smooth, someone I’d met as Amy.  He had sent me a text message asking if I might be interested in seeing Duran Duran live.  I had thrown caution to the wind and messaged back – sure!  would love to!  Two weeks earlier, when he had put the feelers out as to my availability for another tryst I had hinted that Amy didn’t do much sex anymore; and so I was relieved to discover when we checked into the hotel on Saturday evening that we were in a room with twin beds.  In any event by the time we had got back after the fireworks closed the show as Duran Duran waved their farewells, it had been two a.m. and we collapsed exhausted on our separate beds.  A couple of midlife lightweights.  Outside the rest of the city were still partying away as the distant muffled sounds of a rhythmic beat and whoops could be heard occasionally if you stirred in your sleep.

The following morning I woke early, showered and left him still slumbering.  I took a walk around the neighbourhood and saw that there was a beach volleyball tournament at the bottom of the street.  A few blocks away was the Binnenhof – the Dutch seat of parliament.  It was an impressive and complex enclave with a gothic style building in the centre.  I had thought it to be a cathedral but on googling it later at breakfast discovered that it was in fact a knight’s hall – the Ridderzaal.   Later we saw the recently restored Saul and David now accredited to Rembrandt.  It was a stunning painting, the tension quite palpable between the two figures, Saul, aged, paranoid, a wildness in his stare as he clutched and chewed at a curtain/wall hanging with one hand, the other grasping his spear and eyeing a young David who was demurely, with downcast eyes plucking the strings of a harp.  Mauritshuis itself was a 17th century building, previously the residence of an old, respected noble family, recently renovated with the addition of high tech smooth glass lifts which lent a smartness befitting the national treasures housed within.

When we parted my date said he might checkout the beach volleyball tournament after all.  It had clouded over and as rain threatened to pour from the heavens I supposed that from a male perspective there may be something pleasing about watching teams of women playing a ball game in wet t-shirts.

We had lunched in a restaurant perched over the high street lined with specialist shops, boutiques and department stores.  Cyclists ruled the streets and bike parks abounded.  In fact the cycling theme continued outside the city as cycle trails snaked their way along canal paths and alongside motorways.  Occasionally a couple or young family can be glimpsed from the train window, peddling in the distance.

On the train on my own I decided that it had been a fun weekend but resolved that in future I would like to see the Netherlands in more congenial company.

The evening on Saturday ended with Rio and fireworks

Goodbye Max

This morning we said goodbye – instead of letting the relationship limp to the end we bravely agreed to quash the sexual side of things, settling instead on remaining friends.   Yes, it may be difficult but possible, if we only met in future on neutral ground and didn’t share a bed, perhaps not seeing each other for a bit until some time had passed.  We both set out the terms and smiled unflinchingly at each other.  We were having breakfast together, he must’ve have been feeling quite all right as he managed two helpings of coco pops whilst I had green tea.   We held each other’s hands for a little while, acknowledging the finality.   By then we were both a lot more composed.  When we woke in the morning things had been just a little different.  I was already aware that the end was approaching over the last fortnight.  Still, we’d had a really enjoyable date the day before – going on a foraging walk, taking a turn off the beaten path, crossing a brook a number of times before going home to prepare dinner together and playing some Scrabble where M was sorely beaten (a second time).   We had both been exhausted when we went to bed.  We awoke almost at the same time just before eight o’clock.

It began with tentative kisses but the doubt was at the back of my mind and like an itch that must be scratched or a hangnail asking to be picked I asked a question and the answer was a hint that this might be the beginning of the end.  So, lying in bed companionably the goodbye kisses became more passionate and the surge of emotions caused tears to well up and I had to get out of bed to clear my head.  It wasn’t totally unexpected but all the same I’d had that little cry.  He was quite a sweet man but not suitable for the long haul I’d known.  He said I’d had a near miss and we began the discussion which led inevitably to the end.  It felt mature and considerate – we were two very nice people who didn’t want to hurt each other.

The sun was up and the sky a beautiful blue that morning and I felt the incongruity of this civilised break up.  Please tell me a joke, I pleaded.  When I’d blown my nose in the bathroom and composed myself I went back to bed and we held each other.  I knew that letting M glimpse this vulnerability in me was going to excite feelings of tenderness in him.  Still, my pride would not let me be pitied and I demanded a dignified break-up.   We considered the opposite scenario – if he’d declared undying love I would’ve had the burden of gently letting him down, so however broken-hearted I might have felt, it came as a relief that this relationship had run its course.

The men I’ve picked over the last year have been commitment-phobes, either already in primary relationships themselves or never lived with anyone (like Max) or only been in very short, light liaisons.   The cycle of beginnings and endings continue and I take comfort with each heartbreak that I was right to be wary because there are no fairytale endings in real life.

Two dates

Johnny on Thursday morning

He had introduced himself as Kevin Joseph but in telling me about bumping into an old student of his he must’ve forgotten that and revealed his real name which she had used when she called out to him – Johnny! How lovely to see you again!  I didn’t mind that he didn’t want me to know his real name.

We’d arranged to meet up one morning after a few days of texting each other.  I got to the cafe a lot later than we’d arranged due to the fine weather and dearth of parking spaces. He recognised me and got up to introduce himself. He was a small man, quite warm and friendly. He immediately offered to get me a drink and I settled at the table as I waited for him to return.  From our previous text conversations I knew that he was a musician with a strong nurturing side to him.  He said that I looked exactly how he expected and he really liked what he saw, which served to put me at my ease.

We talked about our dating experiences and he emphasised his need for close female company especially since his wife’s mental breakdown/neurosis.  When we’d finished our drinks we went to the old kitchen garden and sat on a bench in the sun. Very soon he leant over and kissed me.  His hands got bolder and as the place was fairly deserted he got even more adventurous.  The question of where we might continue was raised – our residences were not appropriate due to the presence of our children.  In the end I suggested we went to my car which had tinted rear windows.

It was about midday when we got into the car which was parked on The Bishop’s Avenue.  It was a very warm afternoon and he was sweating profusely throughout. Unusually, this did not put me off at all and the box of tissues in the glove compartment proved really handy.  We removed our shorts and pants and after I had fellated him to the point that he was close to climaxing, produced a condom which he slipped on.  I then climbed on top of him as he scooched down into the seat and I rode him until we both came.  After that he continued touching me with his fingers, whilst kissing me and fondling my breasts.  At one point he said he wanted to taste my come.  So it was my turn to slide down the seat and lift my fanny up to him.  He said that he enjoyed the taste of me and was pleased that I wore no perfume – which I hadn’t that day conscious that I was to do a spot of beekeeping with a friend after this.  Bees can react to artificial scent and become dangerously bad-tempered.

We stayed chatting for another half an hour or so and agreed that we might make this a regular Thursday morning thing.   So far I haven’t heard from Johnny but if he did contact me again I would probably enjoy another session with him.

********

Dexter in the evening

In the afternoon I got a very apologetic text from Dexter for missing our date on Monday evening. I told him that I was free later.  I didn’t mention that it was because Goran had blown me off for a second time.  So we met at a rather seedy looking pub which he’d not been in in the last five years and hadn’t realised had gone downhill since.  We left immediately and went to another.  Later, after chatting over a few pints of some golden craft beer and sharing some pub fare he invited me to his place to listen to his music collection.  Which I took to be code for something raunchier.

It was a very odd experience, sex with Dexter.  Not because he was obsessive about the issue of safety, although it led to my first encounter with the dental dam, but that he would make soft whiny sounds which I found really quite disturbing.  When he kissed me, sitting on the sofa in his living room, he also made these smacking noises – as though he was eating loudly instead of kissing.  The whole encounter was not pleasurable at all and I was relieved when he put on a condom and climaxed. After a decent period of time had passed, perhaps 10 minutes, I made my excuses and left. It was only half past nine but I was glad  to be away in my car.

Dexter was actually quite a good looking man with impeccable manners – he was tall, fit with some nice looking muscles on his arms and torso.  His face had that square jawed handsomeness and his grey hair was close cropped at the sides.  I had initially been drawn to his conventionally attractive physique but the chemistry between us was elusive – I should have stopped when he started making that loud chomping noise as he was kissing me.   But he was intent on trying to pleasure me, at first with his fingers in a condom, because he’d cut himself over the weekend and then later with his mouth, shielded with a sheet of dental dam which was opaque and obscured the view of what he was doing and eventually he gave up as he thought I looked bored.

I was not sure how I was going to let Dexter know that there wouldn’t be a repeat of that disastrous non-event.  He had already sent me a rather enthusiastic text the next morning raving about how great the previous night had been.

The third week of batshit crazy dating

There’s a certain appeal about having a rendezvous at a hotel.  When Alex read about my hotel adventures the idea took his fancy and he arranged for me to meet him at the bar of the Park Plaza Hotel on Westminster Bridge.  What made this date a little exciting was the fact that we were meeting up at 1pm for an afternoon of promised debauchery.   I hadn’t had afternoon sex in nearly a year and this one had the added titillating factor of a hotel assignation.  I relished dressing up for the part in a mini skirt and French seam stockings whose tops could be glimpsed along with bare thigh flesh when I sat down and crossed my legs.  Alex’s excitement was clear in his eyes and voice which cracked a little when he asked oh-so solicitously if I’d like to leave my coat and bag in his room before lunch.  I knew what his intention was and sure enough as soon as the doors closed behind us on the lift his kisses became more amorous.

He led the way to his room and the chambermaids in the corridor cast disapproving looks in my direction.  Stiletto heels are a giveaway that the wearer must be a hooker?  When we emerged an hour later the same chambermaids were loitering at the lift lobby and their look was of pure disdain.  Internally I grinned at the deception I had pulled off.  Any Asian woman dressed in a miniskirt and stilettos must automatically be up to no good in their eyes – and of course having sex with someone I’d just met must be a bad, bad thing. After lunch we returned to the room and he ravished me a second time.  It wasn’t as good as the first and we spoke briefly about his taking viagra the next time we might meet.  I only know one other guy I was dating briefly last year who very thoughtfully took the little blue pill whenever he was meeting up with me.  The sex had been divine with him being in a constant state of priapic readiness which I took advantage of between pauses and there were several repeat sessions throughout the night to the extent that I would be quite sleep deprived the following day.  Sadly he stopped seeing me because he felt disappointed that he couldn’t feel any emotional connection when engaged in coitus.  I had got a little attached to him and when the relationship petered off I felt just a little heartbroken. With Alex it was only our first date and I think my heart is quite safe now that it has had so much practice at detachment.

************************************

A few days after meeting Alex I was contacted by Conrad.

Hi Amy,

I never get jealous. 

Yes, my profile does say I’m looking for a relationship but I’m also open to other ways and I love that you know what you want and go for it and I really do not get jealous.

Respectfully, Conrad.

We met in Hampstead and went into the cafe/bar at the Everyman Cinema where Conrad rather astonished me by his extreme right wing views and Christian values.  He also professed that he was hoping I might be a typical bitch of a woman which he would find sexually provocative.  Unfortunately I was merely amused at this man who seemed determined to provoke me into an argument.  After about half an hour of listening to his drivel where he hurled statistics at me to justify UKip’s election promises and appeal I felt I had to bid him good night and stop wasting my precious evening talking with a man who was obviously confused as to what he was looking for or doing with his time.  If he was looking for a significant other what was he doing arranging a date with me and then proceeding to ruin the date by trying to provoke me with every single word he uttered? Was this a form of neg-ging?  The method clearly did not work in his favour as I firmly shook his hand and made my swift departure.  The following day I received a message from Conrad:-

Hi Amy,

It was nice talking to you the other day. Thank you for meeting me. 

I think you are a very sweet person and I like your voice. I don’t think I want to be in a relationship of any kind (romantic/physical) where the other is dating and sleeping with a stable of guys. Ironically it would be different if you were a bitch as then it would be attractive but it just feels odd when a sweet person does that 😉

Anyway I just wanted to say that you are a nice person and good luck. 

Regards, Conrad.

***************************************

Last night I made an impromptu date after an exchange of messages with Joe.

Well I never get jealous….you sound interesting though. Up to much today?

Having a restful family filled day. Thanks for messaging. Your profile suggests you’re a fairly normal guy which is all good  I think

I’m fairly normal but with an adventurous side. And a family filled evening?

I might be tempted out … depending on what’s on offer So how long have you been on this site?

Am planning on going up to Tate Modern this evening – I think a couple of years but lose interest occasionally. How about you?

This is my third week. What’s happening at the Tate modern tonight?

Marlene Dumas exhibition

Sounds interesting. Just googled it. Are you a fan or is it the subject matter that interests you?

I like modern art and this looks interesting. How about you? Is art interesting or do you worry this is pretentious?

not at all – i never worry about pretensions. i usually like to read about the background to how stuff/art gets created and also see if i feel anything about it.

I don’t do so much reading – but then I’m a man eh? Would you be interested in coming?

what time are you going to be there?

Maybe 7.30 or 8

i might mosey Tate M wards about 7 … perhaps we might bump into each other there

Well if you want to see the exhibition and don’t want to pay I can take someone in for free

Mind, you could also pay and help fund the Tate eh? 

I’m not exactly flushed so would be grateful for a free ticket

Well it wouldn’t cost me anything so it is what some might call a win-win situation?

Fab. See you at the entrance to the exhibition at about 8 ish then?

Cool – looking forward to it – better than going on my own anyway  By the way my name is Joe

Hi Joe Amy’s mobile no. is 0*********6

And Joe’s is 0*********6

When we met we both liked the exhibition and we also found that we shared similar life experiences as we stayed chatting at the members’ room on the top with a view of St Paul’s and the river until we were thrown out at 10.  Outside we went to two pubs staying at each until closing. On the way he told me what he did which involved looking closely at sex toys.  I wondered if this was a chat up line as he seemed to be really good at spinning many tales.  I do enjoy fantastical stories and was quite happy to pass an evening with a fairly good looking man keen to impress and charm.

It was getting later and later and we were both suppressing yawns until finally there were no more drinking establishments open and we went into London Bridge station where he kissed me goodbye and we went our separate ways with promises to arrange a second date.

I found that I’d missed the last train north and had to take a night bus home – a first for me in decades!  The early hours of the morning were filled with young people who had been out far too late as I had and as we approached the West End I was surprised at the amount of traffic on the roads.  Taxis and cars jostled along with buses and there were hoards of pedestrians on the pavements – it could’ve have been any other time in the day and not 2am!

The following day he invited me to dinner at his at 7 and he made a simple no frills meal of salmon and mash with some plain broccoli.  We had some Bordeaux, one he’d already opened and another which I’d brought.  It was another coincidence which he remarked on.  We sat and talked in the living room, played with his tortoise Star and admired his two goldfish.  Eventually he took me to his bed.  I left and drove home a little just after 10 and wondered if I should continue to see Joe again as a number of factors counted against having him as a regular lover: the distance, lack of spark in the bedroom and once we’d found out about each other there didn’t seem to be anything else to talk about …

Kisses from N

“bath run, oven on, music playing in the background”

as i parked my car outside my new lover’s house i looked briefly at the screen on my phone and couldn’t help smiling.  this is someone who knew how to seduce a woman.  we’d met last weekend on the heath, at my suggestion, to walk our dogs together and see whether there might be more than a shared interest in taking long, rambling sojourns on the windswept wildness in these drizzly grey winter months.  i told him that i loved going up to parliament hill and taking in the view over the metropolis and he said that it was one of the things he was going to miss when he moved westward.

at the end of our walk we repaired to the pub on downshire hill and sat by the open fire with a bottle of red between us.  slightly tipsy at about 2pm i walked uphill to the bus-stop.  he kissed me a soft goodbye just as my bus was approaching and i waved to him from the window.  that evening he suggested that he would cook me dinner the following night and sent me his address.

it wasn’t difficult to find his mews house on the edge of north london.  he met me at the door with a large glass of a blended red wine, shiraz and merlot.  barry white was playing in the background and there was the delicious aroma of baked pastries or bread.  sure enough there was a small tray with an ensemble of crudités and vol au vent -ish looking canapés.

i wasn’t sure how hungry you were going to be, he ventured a smile as he waved at the table.

umm, when i saw that you’d run a bath, i wondered what else you had in mind besides dinner.

would you like to see the house?

we stopped outside the bathroom – it was magical in candle-light and the bubbles on the surface of the bath twinkled invitingly.

he bent his head and brushed his lips on the nape of my neck.  i shivered in response.

are you feeling cold?

he was not familiar with my responses and i turned round and looked into his eyes.  they were dark, a deep grey in the dim light.

you’ll find that when you do that, it makes me want you to do more.

he kissed me deeply this time and we both abandoned the idea of dinner temporarily.

as he poured oil on my back in the bath, i remembered his dog – where’s tara?

she’s with my sister and her own sister as i’ve got the move to organise tomorrow morning.  she would hate to have to meet strangers removing boxes and furniture from the house.

and i thought we might enjoy this evening on our own and see how we get on.

His hands were rubbing firmly against the small of my back and then travelling up in sweeping strokes along my side and up to my shoulder where he paused and kneaded the flesh there.  he pulled me against his body and as i pressed closer to him, i could feel his hard-on against my back.  earlier i’d had a quick look and seen that he was fairly well-endowed.  after a diet of men with medium to small penises, his looked a little alarming.

i needn’t have worried as he was quite assiduous in ensuring that i only felt pleasure and not pain.  the positions we took up and the shallowness of his penetration at the beginning was a prelude to later ecstasy when i had warmed up sufficiently and was able to take the fullness of his tumescence within me.

our lovemaking lasted a whole two hours which included his licking me and causing me to orgasm as his fingers thrust deeply into me even as his tongue and lips flicked and sucked at me.  it was the first time that i had actually managed a clitoral orgasm without the use of any toys.

it wasn’t merely his technique but his reiteration and appreciation of my body – you’re so, so sexy, your body is beautiful and gorgeous.  i love how wet you get.  i can feel how much you’re enjoying this.

and when i offered to return the favour, he was in turn vocally appreciative of my efforts.  later when we were both utterly spent on the bed, we both fell asleep for a short while.  it was late and i had to leave my lover but he tried to make me take home with me the baked pastries.  ordinarily, i would have given them to tara, but i won’t see her until next weekend – he reasoned.  give them to your removals people – i can’t possibly have them all, it’s far too many.  in the end he gave me a small number and i felt it would have been churlish to carry on refusing.

strangely it made me reluctant to want to continue the liaison.  on the drive home i tried to put my finger on what it was about the evening that was so off-putting.  was it really the awkwardness with the canapés?  the episode was enjoyable and more.  and yet i didn’t feel as if i wanted to see N in a hurry again.  i gave up thinking about it when i got home and after giving my dog the bag of canapes, went upstairs, got ready for bed and fell into a deep and sated sleep.

Dear John – the 2nd irishman

She was already sitting at the back of the pub when he got out of the taxi. From where she was, she had a direct view of the entrance and beyond that the Seven Dials. It was still light at half past seven. He was tall with a full silver head of wavy hair. It was already beginning to thin a little at the top but that was not surprising given his 55 years.

He scanned the pub but did not see her in the dark corner. He approached the bar and ordered. He was wearing a stripy T-shirt and soft brown loafers. She watched him reach into the top of his jeans pocket for his mobile phone. She had left him a message to say where she was. He looked around again, then his eyes rested on her and his face lit up straightaway.

Hello darling, so good to see you again. He had a medium to bass tone of voice with a trace of an Irish lilt. Her ears tingled every time she heard him speak. It infected the rest of her which remained taut with anticipation.

They kissed continental fashion and at the last kiss on her left cheek, he drew her into his embrace, ducked his head down and breathed in the scent of her soap and body lotion which lingered on her neck and shoulders. It was a mild September evening and she could smell the musk like male scent on his upper torso, she being considerably shorter than him despite her high heels.

She smiled her hello and looked up full into his eyes. They were a pale blue, almost grey with a sombre depth to them. And at that searching stare, his lips broke into a smile, revealing crooked upper teeth. The intensity of his emotion was too much for her and she turned away, quickly sinking into her club chair. He drew the one next to it close to her and without taking his eyes off her sat down and took hold of both her hands at the same time. She felt the couple at the next table staring at them and burned with embarrassment.

He was oblivious to everyone else, it was clear, as he continued to gaze at her. Her head was now bent low and releasing one of her hands, clasping it in his other, he lifted her chin up. Hers was an expression of sobriety and she continued to avert her eyes. Picking up her drink she attempted to bring a measure of normality to the tense situation and asked him how he found the journey into the West End. He had to release his hold on her. He leaned back into his chair and there was a long pause.

He did not answer her question and instead returned it with his own – What’s the matter? I sense something has changed.

Yes, I’m sorry.  It was going to be a long evening as she thought of how she was going to end this short liaison which had only begun the previous week with a few titillating emails and messages. The thing that sealed the end of the relationship as far as she was concerned had been his last words to her one morning after the night before – See you again babe.  Did he even remember her name or could she have merely been any one?  She took a deep breath and began:

I think … this has been a huge mistake.

the arms expert

Back at the dating drawing board –

Me to him (text format):

This may be past your bedtime?  If not do you still fancy a quick chat? 

Straightaway my phone rang – it was 10 minutes to midnight.  Nothing new here, the men are always at their most eager at the beginning.  I couldn’t help feeling flattered by the attention though. We exchanged background information.  It seems he has suffered a bitter second divorce where the ex appeared to have accused him of violence and paedophiliac tendencies, not before making off with his money.  I make sympathetic noises and expressed my surprise at his divulging all this potentially off-putting information to a total stranger.

He asked me what i was doing on the dating site intent on paying me the most lavish compliments.  As I write about it this morning I remind myself how lover no.1 had also operated at the start, being at his most attentive, teasing and orchestrating a feeling of delicious anticipation before we met.

And so B and I arranged to meet that evening at a wine bar on the embankment.  We ended our chat at 1am and he sent me the following text just as I was going to sleep.

B:

Lovely chat – see you tomorrow. I’ll call you in the morning but it’s Gordon’s wine bar – sleep well xxx

Me:

looking forward to it. good night x

B:

Xx

And call he did at 10.30 and we arranged to meet up at 8.

i got to the rendezvous 15 minutes before the pre-arranged time and decided to take a turn round victoria embankment gardens.  It is planted up with vibrant tropical and summer blooms splashing colour amidst the memorials to notable men of victorian times.  the only name i recognised was that of robert burns.

so at 8pm sharp as i was making my way to the entrance to Gordon’s I spied B diving in.  My first thought was that he has that dishevelled look not unlike denholm elliot in a room with a view.  i was slightly surprised he wasn’t as tall as i’d imagined.  Sitting outside we exchanged more background info.  When we finished our bottle of merlot he suggested dinner and took me to the india club. 

to date, the 4 men who have taken me out have chosen indian cuisine.  i do marvel at the culinary preferences of male broadsheet readers of a certain age who must collectively be keeping these places going!  the india club has remained faithful to its original decor, it has a student common room feel to it of a bygone era, circa indian independence…  the food was quite lovely and reasonably priced for this part of town – the strand.  we brought a bottle he’d picked up at tesco’s and i also had water with our meal.

slightly emboldened by drink i invited him back.  we had another glass each, this time of st emilion, sat in the front room for a bit, necked like a couple of teens and then we continue upstairs.  he has a shower whilst i strip off and get into bed.  no longer shy or nervous, i’m now a dab hand at having sex with perfect strangers.  i don’t remember everything that happened due to my fairly inebriated state but i do remember being brought to climax on many occasions, the final orgasmic waves were quite spectacular when he thrust several fingers into me.  on his part he was hard most of the time, but similarly to recent past lovers,  here is another one who does not see it to the end for himself at this first coupling with me – perhaps they weren’t expecting to get so far on a first date and had been completely unprepared.  he is wonderfully clean though – taking no fewer than 3 showers – which i completely approve – pre and post-coital and just before leaving the house.

writing this at midday my head is still mildly throbbing.  so this shameless jezebel has bedded 3 men over the last 2 months.

2nd attempt at coitus

An abortive weekend after an evening out in Brighton. I’d begun to get the feeling that he was becoming a little too enamoured and not really my type – his attempts at sex by taking some faux viagra which proved more faux than vigour was disappointing.

letting B down

so meeting in the west end one evening i ended it as gently as i could.

and again, in a text and again, by email – please stop contacting me.  despite being as clear as i could have been that i wanted nothing more from him, i received an email from B recently:

And delicious moments they were …

For me Amy, the connection was not just physical … if so, I could move on and cast it aside.

Unfortunately, you hit a lot more than my moving parts.

There have been, there can be, there probably will be many others.  But none like Amy.  I happen to be hugely attracted to women of your ethnic origin … and now I meet one with a planet sized brain to match – OMG.

Amy – get in touch – I will deal with all you can throw at me.

XXX

which is all completely flattering but not what i signed up to the dating site for.  so i’ve had to block him from my phone too.