Something may be wrong with me, people: I had the opportunity to get laid and said: “no worries, I’m tired too.” But, my dinner date didn’t end as planned. Perhaps it’s a phase. Perhaps it’s personal growth.
Zane and I had our concert date. He’s not very familiar with the city core and also seems a bit directionally challenged. It’s interesting to me; while I recognize everyone has different skill sets and am pretty understanding, for some reason it’s irritating to me when men I date lack that particular skill. Continue reading →
We arrived at my place, got inside, I took off my coat, and Gregory was on me instantly. Gone were the perfect kisses I liked. They were replaced by full tongue-down-my-throat action. I don’t know I can call them kisses, I don’t know what the hell they are. I usually end up not knowing exactly what to do.
Those kisses are gross, guys. I feel skewered and unable to react. There’s a difference between a momentary thrust of a tongue down a throat… but keep it there? A whole lot of NOPE.
He didn’t want wine, he only wanted me. We stood in the same place for a while – his hands all over me, his tongue down my throat – until we agreed to go upstairs. Once again, we didn’t spend any time on my couch.
The man who referred to himself as a poet peppered his texts with “you’re such a little sweetheart” and sunflower emojis. When we met at a downtown bar for an after-work drink, my first thought was he might be bisexual. He had that way about him.
He’s in his mid-fifties and after ending his 25-year marriage, he got a tattoo, a nipple ring, and earrings in both ears. He’s in the film industry in an artistic role.
When I departed that first date, he stayed seated on the barstool, we hugged and he gave me what I would call a quick peck on the lips. Later, he professed via text how excited that kiss got him. He said he felt a spark.
Claude and I were together several times over the course of a few days. We spent one full day and four evenings together. It was frustratingly comfortable and easy to be with him. I wished often there could be a way for us to practically explore a relationship together, but it is not to be.
Liam is young, and jet lag took its toll the first couple of days. He’s also a very particular eater and was not about to try the delights of Barcelona. While I already liked Claude, seeing him in “Dad mode” made me like him even more. He was patient with Liam and handled him very well. I had a peek into what he was like as a Dad and couldn’t help think how nice it would be to be around that more. Continue reading →
The conversations with Jack are starting to meld together. It’s the problem when living my life outpaces my ability to write about it. I’m going to try to get caught up with this post with our dating status.
We had the kind of fourth date made necessary by single parentdom: a late night visit. It was a three-act play similar to the third date: a drink on my couch with lots of conversation, moving to my bedroom for some good sex, and then talking far too late into the wee hours of the morning.
This time, instead of waiting for me to suggest it, he asked to take me upstairs. I liked it. Continue reading →
To read about my first and second dates with Leo the technician, follow this link.
We had our third date this past weekend. He arrived early – traffic wasn’t as bad as he’d thought – and I opened my door to him in a bathrobe, wet hair, and a towel. He was all over me and I before too long I was naked on my bed, moaning as he worked his magic.
One reason I like bigger guys is I feel small. I love the feeling of being enveloped by a man. Preferably one with a fuzzy chest and strong arms. Between orgasms, I coiled my fingers in Leo’s grey chest hair and enjoyed the stillness with someone who was all kinds of available to me. I was calm and comfortable.
Half groaning and laughing, he told me I felt amazing in his arms. He couldn’t keep his hands off of me. He said “Ann, you are sexy as FUCK. I don’t know whether to kiss you, hug you, or bite you.”
The combination of weed and alcohol eliminated what verbal filter I usually have. I wish I could have recorded the shit that came out of my mouth that night but will have to rely on my faulty and sex-addled memory.
I told him I was wearing a great bra and panties. La Perla.
I write this from Hy’s balcony, enjoying the weather and sipping a coffee. It’s been a very low-key and perfect few days so far. Good friends are precious.
While I’m sure some of you would love to hear me say we’ve been out been out partying, picking up men and having crazy orgasmic sexcapades, that wasn’t on the agenda. Sure, orgasms would be fantastic but so far they haven’t been sought out or received.
While still at home, I Bumble matched with a man temporarily in my city who lives in her city (the chance of that oh-so-slim), but despite being super keen to meet, he says he’s come down with a summer cold. It’s the closest I’ve come to an orgasm on this leg of my trip. Oh well. Continue reading →
I am not one for evocative sex writing. In my opinion, I don’t write erotica – I don’t write sex well (although some of you have kindly said I do, so thank you), I don’t have the words to describe body parts other than their slang or actual term, or sexual activities and can’t make everything sound beautiful or sexy.
But I suppose those of you who read, aren’t reading because I can make things sound like a Harlequin romance.