Claude.

He is #9 on my list. The only man who has had sex with me in three of my four decades – at 18, 24, and (spoiler alert!) 43. We missed my 30s due to marriage. My first and only serious foreign crush – one which went from desire to implementation after a few years of hoping. 

We met in France the summer I was 15, on the cusp of 16. My father and step-mother had signed us all up for month-long language classes in a beautiful university town. We stayed in campus housing. In the classic style of my father, my class was supposed to be for age 18 and over, but he signed me up anyway. They never checked. 

My classmates were young adults from around the world. I still remember the man from Botswana who told me there were more cows there than people. The wealthy Texan. The fun women from Spain. And Claude. Tall and handsome, with light blue eyes, eight years my senior, foreign, I was instantly smitten. 

With good reason, he assumed I was 18 or over. He treated me like an adult – or perhaps better said, he didn’t treat me like a child. We drank Kronenborg 1664 in small cafes. I had my first glass of Dom Perignon on the roof of the school with the Texan. We talked for hours upon hours. 

In classic teenage girl style, I was desperate to be physical with him, but he never touched me. I have to check my diary, but I think he did kiss me goodbye and it was heavenly. When he found out how old I actually was, he assumed I was a virgin. He also had a girlfriend at the time. She came to visit one weekend and I was so intensely jealous of her. Older, European, and his girlfriend. 

I later learned she assumed we’d had sex that summer. It even caused an argument with her (they remain friends) and his then-wife within the last year. Which I find hilarious. While she had no reason for concern at the time, I do wonder what they’d say if they knew what transpired this past week. 

After we parted all those years ago, we stayed in touch. Before the days of the internet and smart phones, we wrote letters to each other. I still have all of them, tied with a ribbon, safely stowed. They were magical to receive. His life was exotic to me, his letters creative and sent from various countries he’d visit. They spoke of romantic things and they fed my desire.

A few years later, Claude was living in New York City. I had a boyfriend who was unsurprisingly intensely jealous. Plans were hatched for us to visit a friend studying opera, and see Claude as well. When, at the last minute, my boyfriend’s work schedule changed and he couldn’t come, he insisted I stay back as well. I refused. He gave me an ultimatum: if I went, it was over. 

I went.

I stayed with my friend but Claude and I had a late night together. We had sex in his tiny New York apartment. I was ignorant of truly how expensive a city it was, and expected something much more glamorous. But I’d gotten what I wanted for so long. 

He also came to visit me in my city. My Mom let him sleep in my bed. We had sex for hours in our outdoor hot tub. We had an overnight trip together. 

It was another few years before we saw each other. This time, he was travelling to my city for work. I was around 24, the year before I met Will. I stayed in his hotel for a couple of nights. We had showers together and a huge water fight and made good use of the hotel bathrobes. We had sex in the big king bed and it felt glamorous. 

Something happened to me with him during that visit. I didn’t specify it in my diary, but I mention there were things in his personality I hadn’t noticed before. The lustre wore off somewhat. I suppose it was inevitable. 

I met Will, and Claude and I fell out of touch. I married Will. Claude married a Spaniard. At some point we reconnected, probably thanks to social media. He has never forgotten my birthday. He had two children around the same age as mine, and was unhappy in his marriage, although he split more recently than I. 

We’ve texted back and forth fairly steadily for the last many months. We’ve talked about the breakdown of our marriages, our separation agreements, and sexual exploration (we share some similar kinks), and he even reads this blog (hey, babe). 

And when I decided to visit Spain with Liam, we talked about seeing each other. He didn’t know whether his house would be available for us to stay there, as he “nests” with his wife. The children stay in the house, and they switch week-on week-off. As much as I appreciated the offer, I was also not sure what it would be like to stay with him – it had been a long time since we’d seen each other. 

As it turned out, it was like no time had passed. 

When kissing leads to a cancelled date

I had a sore throat on my first date with Bruce. I didn’t think much of it, or better said, I wasn’t going to think about what it could mean. I was still in denial. The day after I woke up feeling terrible and worked from home. I’m a big believer in not coming into the office with a contagion. 

We kissed each other goodbye on the Wednesday. I was sick through Monday, when I saw him for our second date. He’d been away and I hadn’t mentioned not feeling well. I didn’t want to sound sickly to a guy I’d just started dating. It’s a sore point – my ex always gave me a hard time for staying home when I didn’t feel well.

We had an amazing date that Monday. The next day he mentioned he was getting a shore throat. I cringed inwardly. I told him I hoped I didn’t get him sick.

But I did. 

After his Wednesday night went sideways with work, I was rather eager for our Friday date. We were going to go to an event and I knew he would stay overnight. I wanted the opportunity to keep getting to know him better, and I very much wanted to experience his beautiful cock again. 

It would be the perfect send-off to my almost three-week trip with Liam, but it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t regret kissing him on our first date but it denied me a night and morning with him. Bummer. 

And for all of you cynics out there, yes, he was really sick. We ended up speaking on the phone for a couple of hours off and on. We had a great discussion about dating and what we are looking for. I learned more about him and how he thinks and feel more secure he’s not a player talking to tons of people. 

I’ve deleted the POF app from my phone and am not pursuing anyone else for a relationship. I have time for one man with relationship potential along with the others floating around in the outer circles of casual connections. We’ve been in touch since I left and have spoken twice. Thank goodness for wifi and whatsapp audio.

Got to go, I have a city to explore. 

  

Trying to relax with Bruce.

Thankfully, it wasn’t over after sex with Bruce on the second date. We exchanged a few texts as he drove home – an almost hour-long drive – and he called me “sweetie” when he texted goodnight. But I still had dating anxiety.

The next morning I sent a good morning text and we had a brief exchange. Mid-morning he checked in to say he hoped I was having a good day. We had another exchange at the end of the day. All consistent with the days prior.

That night I was at a sporting event with a close friend. A man who reminds me a bit of Bruce, actually, and Bruce and I bantered off and on throughout the game. I asked whether he was used to a woman squirting since he seemed pretty chill about it. Continue reading

Bruce… he of the magic (2)

I hit “publish” by mistake on the previous post. Whoops. I wasn’t going to create a cliffhanger, but those of you who follow me on Twitter already know what I was going to say.

Bruce and I decided to leave my couch and go for dinner. As he moved to stand up I said “ummm can I kiss you before we go?” and he immediately said “yes”, shaking his head to himself as if to say “Bruce you are such a dummy” as he leaned in to kiss me. At least, that’s what I’m hoping the reaction was.

It was as good as the first kiss on our first date. Perhaps better, because it lasted way longer. Continue reading

Bruce: he of the magic…

Bruce and I had our second date the evening he came back from a vacation with friends and family. Because he didn’t know exactly what the drive would be like, we didn’t have an exact time set.

He kept in touch with me though and I found it quite courteous. He called the moment he had steady cell service – with his kids in the car – to give me an update on the rough time. He also called when he finally got home, and then when he was about 15 minutes away.

Such a stark contrast to Kyle, where I was left wondering whether our dates were still on, hours before they were supposed to occur. 

Bruce and I hadn’t talked about what we were going to do, so the default was dinner somewhere in my neighbourhood. He knocked on my door and didn’t greet me with a kiss.

I wasn’t fussed – he seems ever so slightly awkward in these situations. After all, I had to ask him to kiss me goodbye on our first date. He was super game once I broke the seal, but he seemed rather clueless until then. 

He said as much to me on our first date – that he doesn’t know when women are hitting on him. It’s hard to believe a tall, handsome, and muscular guy doesn’t have good game, but he genuinely seems to not.

Or he’s a player and he knows exactly what playing dumb does to a woman. But that’s a hooded Kermit thought right there.

I offered him a beer and after he checked out my main floor and I poured myself a drink, we sat on my couch and talked. After our second drinks, we decided it was time to go eat – it was already 9:30pm.

whoops! I hit publish instead of “save draft”… so I’m gonna leave this here but I didn’t mean to write a cliffhanger!

Don’t be a hooded Kermit.

Bruce and I have been in steady contact since our first date. He sends good morning and good night texts, and has checked in a few times throughout each day.

He left for a short vacation with his children and some friends, and had very limited cellular service. But he still tried to call me his first night there and because my phone was on silent I missed his call. He then discovered he had data at the cabin so messaged me on WhatsApp. 

One night mid text conversation he video called me. I was in bed with no makeup on and my dark “nerdy girl” glasses. I answered anyway. 

I liked that he seemed to be thinking of me throughout each day. He would sign off with “goodnight beautiful” or “sweet dreams sexy”. 

There was nothing wrong.

He wasn’t making crazy declarations of love or devotion like HWSNBN. He wasn’t overly expressive about our connection or me or anything that would give me reason to think he’s enamoured with having someone, versus enamoured with me. In love with love, as they say.

On our last date he asked me out for the night he came back.

So what is wrong?

Nothing.

But it’s been difficult for me to just be excited and happy about it. My brain, as much as I’m trying to shut it down, cycles through a number of doubts:

Bruce is a tall, athletic man. He can’t possibly be attracted to my curves so as soon as he sees me naked it’s going to be all over. – Yes, I think this. I’m pretty sure is because at some level I wonder if my physicality was what turned Jack off. He had always dated dark haired small women. So yeah, this thought is unusual for me but it’s there in the background. And yes I my pictures are in my profile and he’s seen me up close. The man isn’t blind, but still. 

If I’m his first, first date he surely just is enjoying the attention and he doesn’t really like me for me. He can’t possibly be that into me if I’m the first woman he’s met online. – This is not based on anything he has said or done (or not done), it’s simply a concern based on the situation. It’s too close to comfort to what happened with Jack (I was the first woman he met online). 

Maybe he’s actually a player and he’s lying about his situation. He just wants to fuck me and then he will be gone. – Again I have no actual reason to think this is the case. Just general doubt. I like that he calls me “sexy” and “beautiful” but as much as I appreciate a man who is cool with terms of endearment, I also question whether it’s too early for such things. So naturally then I wonder if I’m being played.

Something is going to go wrong that’s beyond my control. I’m going to like him and find out he’s hiding something or he’s going to be a player or stop texting or something. – Yeah. I know why I’m worried, it has nothing to do with him. I think I’m so hyper aware that trusting and allowing myself to be emotionally vulnerable means on occasion I’m going to get fucked over. It happened with Jack and it’s been a while since I’ve been hurt like that. 

I don’t want the doubts whispered in my hooded Kermit brain. I want to be regular Kermit. Because the doubts breed anxiety which trigger behavior which will be contrary to getting what I want. No, I don’t need to ask Bruce endless questions about his relationship with his ex or if he’s talking to others on POF or did he really not meet any other women in the last two years.

I’m going to do my damnest to enjoy our date and see how it goes and focus on whether I think he’s right for me. The more I try to protect myself from hurt, the more I protect myself from love. 

And I really want the right love in my life. 

Oops I did it again. Another first, first date.

I’d hidden my Plenty of Fish profile when Jack asked to be exclusive. When we broke up I wasn’t in a big rush to unhide it again as I had plenty of stuff (aka boys and friends) to keep me occupied. But last week after Ray decided being in different parts of our city was too far for him, I went back to it. I unhid my profile in the hopes of a good first date.

I realized as much as I may say “I’m all done with online dating” or “I’m not going to do what I did before”, it’s at this point less about behavior change (I don’t do as much dumb time-wasting stuff since I’ve been looking for a relationship) and more about mindset.  Continue reading

what attracts men

A depressing experiment.

I created a fake profile on Plenty of Fish. The reason was singular but it matters not. The profile served its purpose, but I experienced something completely unexpected. What attracts men, anyway?

This is one of those situations where I don’t really know what to make of what happened. It has caused me to question things I’ve told myself, and I’m curious what you think.

I created a profile of a 39 year-old woman. She was pretty but not stunning, but had a very hot body. There were four pictures on her profile. The main profile picture was her in a small bikini walking out of the ocean and smiling, in dark sunglasses. There was a closeup of her face, smiling, and two pictures of her outdoors. None were selfies and they didn’t show cleavage. Continue reading

Three rejections does not a happy Ann make.

I am not happy. I am angry and sad and hurt. I know it won’t last, but rejection in any aggregate form is really difficult. I suppose by now I should be used to the peaks and valleys of dating, but as much as my brain knows it, it still takes my heart by surprise.

First, there was Jack. Thank you, Maggie, for the parable…I’m still carrying him in my head and need to get him out. It hasn’t helped that Liam has been away so I’ve only seen him once in three weeks. My child is a huge help for having my head in the right place.

I was behind on posts about Ray but now I’m sure it’s worth catching up. We had three dates in total and many more conversations. He would greet me in the morning via text and ask to call me to say goodnight. It was nice. He was nice. The chemistry wasn’t mind blowing but it was good enough to keep going to see how things progressed. Continue reading

You can train for Axe, but not for kindness.

Life has been a little hectic the last few weeks. Not just with sex parties and disappointment, but also time with friends and some additional work responsibilities that have made my days far more intense.

I didn’t want to get too behind on writing so I put up two posts about Ray, the one who reached out on FetLife and with whom I had an unconventional but nice first date.

Some of you may have noticed I didn’t talk much about Ray; just how things went down with us. It was deliberate but only so I could get through the date itself. He’s an interesting guy and is yet another man who makes me think through what I want, versus what I actually need, and how the two intersect. Continue reading