Kissing in the rain | Another first date story (part 1)

He favorited me on Plenty of Fish and then didn’t message me. I figured (hoped) it was simply a matter of time. He is a handsome, dark-skinned, 6’2″ finance professional with an MBA. He is separated with a young daughter, has lived in multiple cities, went to college on a sports scholarship, and likes to dance.

While I wanted to reach out to him, I stuck to my rules and didn’t message him.

Then late last week, he reached out. He was bold and polite – commenting on my profile and asking if he could take me for a drink. I said I would love to but was visiting a girlfriend for the weekend.

Will asked if he could have Liam on Monday night. So I first offered Monday to someone I have yet to meet in person (a very sweet teacher from POF), but he wasn’t available. I then asked Mr Fetlife, but he had to work. I therefore planned to actually get some non dating things done that night. Continue reading

Kissing in the rain | Another first date story (part 2)

[Part One]

Coming out of the bathroom and picking up my phone, I’m saying to myself “PLEASE HAVE TEXTED ME” and “ANN DON’T GET LIKE THIS” at the exact same time. I unlock my phone and I see he’s sent me a text:

rain 1

I do a little dance around my bedroom. I practically squeal “OMG HE’S NOT A BAD TEXTER!!” Continue reading

Wherein I make the next move and uncover what’s in his pants.

With the early morning text exchange with Lewis, I felt optimism. A nice feeling, for a change. He was flirty and sexy without being crass. I liked it.

We texted off and on throughout the day, sharing some jokes along the way. I’d been busy at work with the new role – finally – and it helped me to not worry about whether a few hours had passed without my hearing from him.

Our first date was Monday night. Through Wednesday morning, we exchanged relatively steady, if infrequent, text messages. He wasn’t as consistent as the school teacher, but he’s definitely not a bad texter.

I started to realize my schedule was conspiring against me. I also started to wonder whether he was going to ask me out again. Continue reading

It's easy to be chill when you don't care.

A few months ago, I came across an article which had me saying “YES. This.” It’s called “Against Chill”.

I am decidedly un-chill. I am passionate and intense and feel deep and fall hard.

But I can cultivate chill. I talk the big brave talk about my dating rules, which 95% of the time I’m really good at following. Like I mentioned last week, I’m rather proudly blasé about not hearing from the Accountant or Mr. Fetlife. Hell, I even totally missed that Mr. Checklist and I hadn’t texted for three days.

Yup. I’m a badass chill cool cat.

Yeah, right. Continue reading

The problem with getting to the next level.

why is this a problem

Why is this a problem?

I deliberately don’t have a scale on this picture because the point is relativity. What you see in the pic is the result of a few different things which for a couple of days last week got me almost three times the blog traffic I’ve ever received. It won’t last, and now my chart just looks like all those other days were shitty.

This post isn’t actually about my blog stats, but what it got me thinking about:

Once you have achieved something or experienced something fantastic, it’s difficult to not want to continue at that level. If you don’t, everything else afterwards can feel like a letdown.

If I like Lewis’s cock, can I be satisfied with someone smaller? If I got used to Johnny’s communication, should I really expect anything less? Will anyone else have the kind of chemistry that Tony and I shared?

I have high expectations of myself, and always want to be better. My job demands excellence. When it comes to dating, I know nobody is perfect. But how do I know what is a reasonable-yet-high expectation? At the office, we call them “stretch goals”. What are my dating stretch goals?

When I started to think about how I wanted to be treated, it was a good step forward. I never wrote the post on the characteristics of the man I want to be with – at least not that I can recall. But really, these are minimum specifications, not my ideal. I’m a pragmatist, after all.

When I meet someone like Lewis, who – on the surface – exceeds the minimum criteria in many ways, it’s very exciting. While I don’t think I’m a big deal at all, I know I’m intelligent, kind, funny, passionate, financially independent, successful at my job, happy, decent looking, fun, a good communicator, organized, and I love to have sex. You can pretty much take me anywhere and I can talk to anyone.

In other words, I’m a catch.

Now, I’m not everyone’s catch – you’ll notice I didn’t talk about the down sides of being passionate, which is an intensity that can sometimes be overwhelming. I didn’t mention I’m highly analytical which can drive people bananas. I like order more than chaos, so if you love just flying by the seat of your pants all the time, I’m not your gal. What makes me good at my job – planning big things – can be irritating if you love spontaneity. I like to be tidy and organized, and I will try to organize you. I’m like the border collie of organizers… I can’t help but try to herd you.

All that to say, I don’t have a mindset that I’m perfect and my mate has to be. But am I in a place where I can demand that they be perfect for me? What does that even look like? What are the things I’m willing to compromise on? I don’t want to settle, but I can see how its tempting.

But, then I will remember I now have six (6!) views on this blog from Greenland and perhaps know that those stretch goals are achievable.


This makes me happy. Sadly.

Afternoon delight…how to break a sex dry spell

Eight months ago when I first joined FetLife, he reached out to me.  He was my height, built, dark skinned, and well-endowed. He frequents a local sex club; otherwise his life is fairly vanilla. He goes mid-week, in the afternoon.

We simply couldn’t get our schedules aligned to meet, and then I went on a hiatus while I was dating Tony. He was one of the ones (along with Dale and Lisa) I reached out to when I got back online. We’ve been trying to find a time that works for both of us, and it had never worked out.

Until Monday. In the midst of my anxiety about Lewis and whether he was evaporating, I knew I needed to be busier. Work hasn’t really taken off yet and there’s only so much messing about I can do online and avoiding the gym. It’s not that I lack for things to do. Continue reading

The beating of my cervix. Then a slow fade.

So the last we heard of Lewis, he was on my couch showing me his massive cock. Well, massive for me. I’m sure it’s all relative.

That was Wednesday night. We planned to see each other the following Tuesday. Even if he turned out to not be relationship potential, I was really excited to experience someone of his size. Shallow, perhaps, but I wanted it to happen. If needed, I was even going to break one of my texting guidelines (generally let them set the pace of communications) in order for that to happen.

Thursday morning I sent him a “good morning handsome” text. No response. At 1pm I told him he was responsible for my inability to focus on my work. He said:

“Good Afternoon! Me? Innocent little me? Well…I’m sorry but it was worth it! I pictured you on your hands and knees and I was eating your pussy and ass out from behind…then I slept like a baby…”

It’s funny how the gut works.  Continue reading

Left to my own post-coital devices, I contact Tony (1)

Lewis left that morning before 7am. Exhausted, with sore insides and aching limbs, I crawled back into bed and fell asleep for a few hours. I had the day off of work.

I woke up, feeling somewhat melancholy. I made myself a coffee and went back into my bed, pulling my crisp white sheets up around my shoulders. All those niggling feelings about Lewis came to a head when he point blank ignored my question about seeing him again.

I pondered life and love. I thought about chemistry and thought about how effortless it is with some people.

Naturally, this train of thought took me to Tony. It had been almost a month since we’d last spoken. I missed him like crazy; rarely a day had gone by that I didn’t think about him. Continue reading

Left to my own post-coital devices, I contact Tony (2)

[Part One]

Sorry about the cliffhanger…I had to sleep and decided to just post what I’d written instead of waiting.


In a comment on Part One, Dawn asked whether I was experiencing sub-drop. Certainly the feeling of fantastic sex then being alone is never good. In this case, the let-down was both emotional and physical.

I was unsettled at Lewis’s blatant disregard for my question about when I’d see him next. I was bothered he neglected to use a condom at one point. When I told him he was hurting me that morning (my cervix was fine the night before but was protesting at morning), he said “you’re going to take it all” and didn’t stop a thing. Disrespectful more than anything else.

None of that stuff felt good. Continue reading

Left to my own post-coital devices, I contact Tony (3)

[Part One | Part Two]

I decided to buy myself some time. I was seeing my friend Katharine and her children that afternoon and wasn’t sure when they were going to leave. I told Tony I would text him later in the day and let him know if I was able to see him.

Did I want to? Yes?

Did I think I should? Ummmmm…

Ultimately I decided to go for it. He suggested a beer on a patio which I figured would be innocuous. It wasn’t drinks at my place; I knew where that would end up. Or more precisely, where we would end up.

And what if we had sex? Did it change anything about where his head was at? No. I was NOT fooling myself. Not at any level.

I texted him to tell him I would be free. He was delighted.

And then in typical Tony fashion, this: Continue reading