100 First Dates

That could very well be the title of my forthcoming book. Yes, I’m actually thinking of rewriting and publishing my blog in book form, with additional backstory, details and never-before-seen chapters. If anyone is potentially interested in this, let me know. But at the rate I’m going, I’m going to have to call it 200 First Dates.


I met this one at a local burger bar – one I’d been wanting to try for some time. She turned out to be even more attractive in person. Hell yeah. I joked that she obviously got the memo, as we were both clad in blue jeans and black T-shirts. That was pretty funny. I was feeling very confident and comfortable with her, and conversation was remarkably easy. It didn’t lag or drag, and we had so much to talk about.

In fact, it went so well that we were there for three hours. That ended up being a problem, as I had double booked that day. I’d done that in the past without incident, because one would always cancel on me. Well, my first date was running long and the second one hadn’t canceled yet, so I did a shitty thing. I excused myself and texted the other girl from the bathroom that something had come up and could we reschedule? I got a “sure” in response, and I headed back to the table. Crisis averted.

I was hoping to continue onto drinks or dessert afterwards, but she wasn’t feeling up to it. She’d recently had neck surgery and was dealing with on-and-off headaches ever since. So that was a wrap on the night. She gave me a hug goodbye, and then came in for a second one. I could have – and should have – gone for the kiss, but I didn’t. I kicked myself for that afterwards, especially as that had been one of the best dates I’d been on in a long time.

She agreed that she had a great time, and I asked if I could see her again either Sunday or Tuesday. We settled on Tuesday, but Tuesday came and she cancelled on me, citing continuing side effects from the surgery. She sounded sincere in her regret, although I noticed that our texts were starting to drop off. I asked her out again a few days later, saying I’d like to see her if she was up for it, and then I got one of those “I’m not ready to date right now, sorry I didn’t realize it sooner” texts. I would’ve believed that had I not noticed her Bumble profile updates and new photos around the same time.


Funnily enough, I got that text while I was on a date with the girl I’d canceled on. She was put off by my abrupt cancellation and lack of apology, so it almost didn’t happen. Oops. My bad. I promised to make up for it, and she said she was still open to meeting. We went back to the original plan a few days later, and she was sitting by herself at the bar when I arrived. The place was nearly empty since it was a weeknight.

Thank god for that, as I detest noisy bars. It made conversation easier, although I felt like I was talking a bit too much. I couldn’t help it. She was there on the date, but not really engaging. It was more like she was sitting back and observing the date without really participating in it… if that makes any sense. Not the first time I’d experienced that, but that’s the best way I can describe it.

She called it a night shortly before 10, as she worked in the city and had an early train to catch. (Note to self: stop scheduling dates when they have to go to work early in the morning.) She unmatched with me on Tinder afterwards, which was too bad because she was so hot and had the type of body I crave. However, I still had her number, but knew better than to reach out. I would have just gotten the standard “I had a nice time, but…” reply. It was clear she wasn’t feeling me, and was probably still hacked off about my cancelation. Obviously, I didn’t redeem myself.


I met the next girl off of Facebook Dating – my first time trying it after a couple of years. I wasn’t impressed with the selection back then, but this time I found one that seemed like she might be my type. We even enjoyed the same types of woodworking hobbies, so that gave us a lot to talk about. We met for lunch at local farmstand that had animals roaming the property. (It was actually the same place I met my ex at, but I didn’t mention that.) It was pleasant enough, but there weren’t any sparks. Conversation was a bit strained after a while and I didn’t get the impression she was into me at all. Neither of us reached out afterwards, and it was onto the next one…


This one was 38 and recently divorced with two kids, so I was a bit hesitant to pursue her. However, we had quite a bit in common. We had the same musical tastes, and had even played with the same local marching band (albeit at different times). We even raised the same animals. And since we’d met on Facebook Dating, we saw that we had a number of mutual friends as well. We met at the local sports bar had a nice chat for almost two hours, standing in the corner the entire time because the place was packed with Rangers fans screaming at the game on TV. All the 20-somethings started filtering in after 10PM, so we took that as our cue to leave. While it was a fun time, I didn’t really feel any connection. She obviously felt the same way, because once again we didn’t talk afterwards.


I’ve grown to dislike Starbucks coffee dates, but I settled for one this time because I wasn’t sure about her. I made sure to get there first and was already seated with my drink by the time she arrived. Let them buy their own damn drink for once, I thought. I was getting burnt out from always picking up the tab, and was looking for some more egalitarianism. That likely didn’t sit well with her, because after she sat down with her own drink, she went on about how she likes “tRaDiTiOnAl VaLuEs.” You know, the type of guy who opens doors for her, pulls out her chair, walks on the right side of the street, etc.

Oh boy. No wonder she fit in so well when she lived down south. She was also a huge country music fan. Huge. Not only that, but she told me she always swiped right on guys with fish pics. Well, that’s a first. But yeah, she loved the idea of hunting. Now, I’m not against hunting for food, but if you just want to shoot animals for fun like she did… that’s a little fucked up to me. Oh, and she had a pit bull. Basically, she was telling me she was a right-winger without telling me she was a right-winger, because she was checking all the boxes. The only thing missing was a plea for a “REAL MAN” on her dating profile, because that’s another dead giveaway.

My suspicions that I wouldn’t be into her were correct. Even though I was only looking for something casual, I just wasn’t feeling her. Nonetheless, we were there chatting until closing. We hugged and parted ways outside, and that was that. Our texting dropped off afterwards, and I let it. And once again, I knew it was coming and she didn’t disappoint. I didn’t even answer, I just deleted her from my phone and moved on:


It was a beautiful summer day, so I proposed a beach date and she accepted. We packed lunches, and she gave me her address so I could pick her up at her house. The beach was busy but not as bad as I expected. We grabbed a spot close to the water, spread out a blanket, and spent the first couple of hours just chatting and basking in the sun. We applied lotion to each other’s backs, and she had very soft hands. Mmm. In fact, we were rather touchy-feely with each other – holding hands, frequently putting an arm around the other, stroking arms and legs, running our fingers through each other’s hair… Later on when we were standing in the surf, I nearly went in for the kiss a few times, but then she mentioned how she was just getting over covid. I didn’t know if I wanted to risk it.

Nonetheless, I was still hoping we’d go back to my place, especially since we were closer to mine than hers. I even invited her back so we could wash the sand and sweat and sunblock off each other. She thought I was being cute and funny, but I was being serious. Just to make sure, I asked “where to?” when we got back in my car. She said home, and I said “yours or mine?” She just laughed and gave me a playful shove. I dropped her off home, and that was that. No invite inside, no sex or fooling around. We texted for a little bit afterwards, and then it petered out. Just as well, because she lived pretty far from me and she didn’t seem to be on the same page with what I was looking for.


This one was a doozy. I suggested checking out the Scottish festival going on that weekend, and she surprised me with a yes. It didn’t seem like her scene at all, but she was glad just to be outside doing something. Then she told me she was thinking of bringing her cat. Oh? That’s… interesting. But I’m totally a cat person so I didn’t mind. I headed out, doing my best not to sweat on the drive over. It was the hottest day of the year, and I was starting to drip even though I was in shorts and a T-shirt. I usually get a bit of nervous sweat on my way to dates, but this time I stuffed napkins into my armpits and put a towel inside the back of my shirt so I wouldn’t be a sopping mess when I arrived.

I met her in the parking lot, and she was standing there with her cat. And not just any cat, but a $3,000 hairless Sphinx cat on a leash that she got from a special breeder. She was wearing a tank top, leggings, boots with heels, heart-shaped sunglasses, and a tiny Gucci purse on a chain. And she appeared to have lip injections as well, which wasn’t really obvious in her photos. She gave off strong California vibes, and indeed she had just moved from there a year prior.

I ended up toting the cat around most of the time, because he wouldn’t walk with the leash and he was too heavy for her to carry. We were a popular attraction, with people stopping to ask questions and take pictures. Then we ran into my sister and niece, just like I did at the last festival. What were the chances… My sister’s eyebrows went to the back of her head when she saw me with yet another new girl, but didn’t say anything.

It was a short encounter, and we continued on. We alternated between walking and sitting every five minutes, as she couldn’t seem to decide which she wanted to do. Then the heat was starting to get to her. She had been drinking heavily the night before, so she was very hungover and starting to feel sick. The longer we were there, the worse she felt and the more she complained. Finally she’d had enough, and I was about to call it a day when she beat me to it.

I walked her back to her car, and that’s when she started hurling. Vomiting and walking at the same time. I followed alongside her, holding her hair in one hand and her cat aloft in the other. We made our way through the parking lot, puking and pantomiming in this weird kabuki dance. She went home to recuperate, and while I told her to feel better and thanked her for coming out, I silently wondered why she did when she clearly wasn’t up to it in the first place. And she wasn’t feeling me either, because she unmatched on Tinder later on. I knew that was coming.

Still more dates to recap… stay tuned.

Irish Eyes

Wow. It’s been ten years since I started this blog. Most of my fellow WordPressers have moved on, but I’m still here. I’ve come a long way in my journey, and yet it seems I still have far to go. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I still have to catch everybody up on what I’ve been doing for the last 8-9 months after I broke up with my ex. I was relishing my new independence and freedom, and took a two-week “vacation” before plunging back into the dating world.

One of my first orders of business was to meet another fellow blogger. I’ve met a couple dozen by now, and this time it was TheShitShowThatIsMyLife. She stopped blogging years ago, but still visited mine whenever a new post landed in her inbox. We’d been talking about meeting up for a long time, but life (and a pandemic) kept getting in the way. Finally, the day arrived, and I made the trek into the city to see her. I wasn’t sure what to expect in person, as some of her blog comments were rather blunt. But she was quite a lovely person, and seemed like a real kind soul. I had a lot of fun with her and glad that we finally met. Only took 7 years.


And then it was back to the apps – Bumble and Tinder. One of my first matches was actually someone I’d matched with 10 years ago. We’d had a phone conversation which turned out to be one of the most bizarre conversations I’d ever had. (You can read about it here.) This time, she swiped on me before she recognized me, and once again she sent me her number and insisted on a phone call. I played dumb and pretended not to remember her. We chatted for a half hour and while it wasn’t as weird as the first time, she still had a strange mix of shyness and passive-aggression. I don’t know how else to describe it, and I wondered if she might be autistic or something.

She texted me the next night asking if I was free to meet at the park nearby. At 10 o’clock at night? What if I was a psycho? She responded that there are some lights there, she had a gun, and she looked better at night anyway. Okay then. This chick was definitely different. I met her there at 10, and we did a few laps around the walking path. She wasn’t as attractive as I’d hoped (her pictures were old and not very clear). I often had to fill the silences on her part, and she was vague and mysterious in her responses. We stayed until a trio of teenage boys showed up to smoke weed on the swing set. She moved to Connecticut two days later, and that’s the last I heard of her.


It didn’t take long for things to turn sexual with this one. Despite her claims of being bad at dirty talk, she certainly got me riled up. And once again, I was amazed that a girl would skip the public meeting and invite me right to her house. Especially when she had a kid. The father is out of their life so she had full custody of the daughter, raising her alone on a 5-acre farm. Not a bad accomplishment at her age. So I went over and she gave me the tour, introducing me to all the animals. Unfortunately, we didn’t have much time to do anything else, as she had to go pick up her daughter from day care. “I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” she said, as she was just getting over a cold. I told her I’d risk it, and I kissed her. That was a mistake, as I was sick as hell for the next week.

When I finally recovered, she invited me over again.  We had limited windows of opportunity when her daughter was at day care during the week, and I was only off on Fridays.  This time we settled in to watch a movie.  I had woken up to a “I just got my period text” that morning, so I didn’t think we were going to do much else.  But she had her arm and leg draped over me and I was stroking both, which eventually led to us making out.  I’d already felt her getting restless, and that kicked it into high gear.  The kissing was better this time, but still needed a bit of work, I thought.

She climbed into my lap and started grinding against me as we made out. Then she let out a soft laugh and said, “I’m surprised you haven’t gone for my boobs yet.” That was just the green light I needed. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and they were swinging and bouncing right in my face under her T-shirt. It was driving me crazy. I starting groping and feeling her up, first over her shirt, and then under her shirt. Her nipples were quite erect. Then she lay down on the couch and I moved on top of her and continued making out, taking note as she said she liked my hands around her neck.

Finally, she couldn’t take any more, and whispered, “do you want to go commit a sin?” Mmm yes, what did you have in mind? “How about we go into the bedroom, take our pants off, and let me feel your cock inside me?” By that point her hands had been down my pants and she was like, “wow! You have such a nice cock!” She took me by the hand and led the way, put a towel down on the bed, and we went at it. She sucked and jerked me beforehand as a bit of foreplay, and then we tried some cowgirl. She was having trouble putting me inside her, so I asked if it would be easier with her lying on her back. It was, but it still took a minute or two for her to guide me inside.

It was really right at first, but her eyes shot open once she was full to the hilt. I pounded her as best I could for a good ten minutes. I was surprised I held out that long, given how horny and anxious for sex I’d been. She was craving a good fucking, moaning into my ear how much she needed it. She came two or three times. Unfortunately, I did not. We had to cut things short as her former housemates suddenly arrived to pick up their furniture upstairs. She also realized it was time to pick up her daughter. Goddammit. When I pulled out and rolled the condom off, my pubic region looked like it had a farmer’s tan. Her period blood had gotten all over me.

We got together one more time after that, doing some farm work together and fooling around in the shower afterwards. She tried getting me off by hand in there, but she didn’t have the right touch, and once again things were rushed as she had to pick up her daughter. Goddamn kids. They’re such a cockblock. And that was the last of our encounters. She says she’s got too much going on now, and didn’t think she had it in her to do any more casual sex. We still text occasionally, but that’s it. If she wants me, she knows what to do. I’m certainly not going to ask for it. I just wish I could have gotten off at least once with her.


I have ShitShow to thank for meeting the next girl – an Irish expat, 29, living and working in NYC. She actually lived in the building over the restaurant I met ShitShow at, and she swiped when she saw me on Tinder. I had both apps running the whole time I was in the city, but I didn’t match with Irish Girl until I was already on the train home. We messaged back and forth all night and into the next day. This definitely called for a date, and we scheduled one at the first opportunity.

The plan was to meet at this burger place in Hell’s Kitchen and then get drinks afterwards. She also mentioned taking a walk in Central Park and watching the sunset, and I had joked “don’t be surprised if I feel like making out by the sunset.” Then I hopped on the train and met her outside the place, arriving at exactly the same time. It turned out they were closed for renovations, so we decided to try the place right next door. It wasn’t bad. I had my one beer and got very giggly, which amused her greatly.

It was noisier than I would have liked, but we had a good time and she was fairly easy to talk to. We discussed cultural differences between Ireland/Europe and America, our respective families, and shared some dating stories. It was starting to get dark, so I asked if she was still down for that walk in Central Park. We had to get a move on if we wanted to catch the sunset. We missed it, but found a lovely, secluded spot right on the water’s edge. We sat there talking and holding hands, and then I went in for the kiss. We made out for a short while. No fireworks, but it was still nice.

We starting heading back, stopping at an ice cream place right by Union Square. It was her treat, after all the money I spent on dinner and drinks. I was hoping for an invite back to her place, but no such luck. I did walk her to the subway and watched her get on the train before I caught my own. We texted regularly for the next two weeks, including one night when she drunk texted and sent a picture of her tits. Oh, hell yeah. I invited her out to a festival the next weekend, and she took the train out to meet me.

We had a late breakfast together before going to the festival. She headed right for the beer tent and put away at least ten Guinness that day. I was impressed. I’m such a lightweight that I would have been out cold after two or three. She was a real social butterfly, making fast friends with everyone she talked to. Then we unexpectedly ran into my sister and niece and their respective boyfriends. Ah. It had been a month and a half by that point, and I hadn’t yet told anyone I’d broken up with my ex. They were able to figure it out pretty quickly and didn’t say anything, and before long Irish Girl and my sister were singing along to the band with their arms around each other.

We stayed until the very end of the festival. I told her she was welcome to stay at my place for the night, and she accepted. We spooned and cuddled and kissed in my bed. I was already in my underwear by that point, since I always sleep like that, so I started pulling her clothes off too. Her breasts looked just like her pictures, and I happily cupped and suckled them before moving south. She was wearing a thong, so I pulled that off as well. I went down on her, but she kept laughing like I was tickling her. I couldn’t seem to find the right spot, even after some direction and fingering. Things were not going as well as I’d hoped, but I thought I heard her say something to the effect of, “wow, you really know female anatomy…” Or maybe she said I didn’t.

Then she flipped me over so she could return the favor, but her blowjob was a bit toothy. Ouch. I just grabbed a condom and started fucking her instead. I tried to last as long as I could. She wasn’t a very active participant, but she seemed to be enjoying it. “I want you to fuck me from behind,” she whispered, and that did me in. Between her words and the mental image they conjured, I unloaded. It felt so good after my cum-less sex with Farm Girl. I collapsed on the bed, but I kept touching her. I wanted to make sure she got hers, too. Despite my best efforts, I don’t think she got off. She seemed close, but that was it. She kept saying “don’t you dare fall asleep,” but I couldn’t help it. Oops.

I spent the morning dozing in and out of sleep with her, occasionally spooning and kissing. I was ready for another go at things and hoped to improve on my performance, but she didn’t seem interested. I don’t know if she wasn’t feeling things, was too tired, or was hungover. All the above? I got out of bed once it became clear nothing further was happening. I made waffles for myself, but she turned down my offers at making her breakfast. She finally accepted some OJ and a banana for the road, and then we were off. I kissed her goodbye and saw her off on the train. We continued texting for the next month or so, but were unable to plan another date. Then I got a text from her ending things:

And that was all she wrote. Sigh. I was disappointed because I really liked her, but I wasn’t surprised either. I had a feeling that was coming. Anyway, I still have more dates to recap. Stay tuned…

Hugging the Cactus

They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, and I was starting to feel that way. I looked up my ex on Facebook and saw that she was in a new relationship – one that started barely two months after our breakup. I was shocked. I never understood how people moved into new relationships so quickly and as easily as breathing; it’s an ability I’ll never possess – not when it takes me months or years to do the same. It wouldn’t have bothered me as much had I been able to find someone new myself. The gnawing pain of loneliness had me down for a while, and how could it not? She was my first love, and no other woman had ever treated me so well. I almost wondered if I’d made a mistake in letting her go.

I found myself looking back remembering the good times, and there were a lot of good times. But I initiated the break-up and had to come to terms with being single again and embracing the ugly parts of myself – namely those jealous feelings. Now I’ve fully accepted things and moved on. It also helps that I’ve thrown myself into a bunch of hobbies, both old and new. I’m relishing my independence and the chance to pursue things I’ve put off or neglected. I’m doing a major declutter. I’m restoring old furniture. I’m reading books again. I’ve dusted off my instruments. I’m hitting the gym with renewed vigor. I’m taking dance classes again. I’m studying Spanish again. I met up with a fellow blogger or two. I even got a seasonal job at a haunted house – something I’ve wanted to do for years. The list goes on.

Speaking of lists, I need to update you on all the dates I’ve been on. I’ll start with the last two before I met my ex, then tell the story of how I met my ex, and then my next post will detail all the dates since our breakup. Here goes:


We matched on Tinder and she was immediately taken with my bad jokes. Within a few messages she sent her number and told me to text her. Aggressively interested… I like that. The next night we met at a pub for food and drinks and instantly hit it off. She loved my sense of humor and we traded stories and laughs for two hours. We actually continued the date at a bar down the street. I rarely have a date that goes so long that we move from venue to venue, and this one lasted 3-4 hours. I took that as a very good sign – even more so when we held hands on the way to my car. She took an Uber there, but asked if I could drive her home and I obliged.

We made out in my car in front of her house, and she probably would have invited me inside had she not been living with her daughter and grandmother. Yeah, she was a 39yo single mother with a 14yo daughter. There’s always a catch, but I was willing to overlook that for the time being. She had worked me into a lather telling me about her storage chest of sex toys, and she was one of the hottest girls I’d ever landed a date with. Holy shit, bro. However, it was not meant to be. We made tentative plans for the coming weekend, but then she got really quiet and ended up ghosting me. I was confused and crushed. On the bright side, she had given me her Netflix password when she found out I didn’t have an account, and I’m still using it to this day.


It never ceases to amaze how many women are willing to meet at my place, or invite me over to theirs, without any kind of public meeting first. This one invited me to her building in downtown Brooklyn. Bit of a hike for me, but the last time I schlepped into Brooklyn for a date, it ended with some pretty wild sex. #91 looked just like her Tinder and FaceTime, but she gave off a weird vibe and energy in person. She let me into her apartment and I immediately noticed she was a hoarder. There were Gucci and Louis Vuitton boxes stacked to the ceiling, and miscellaneous crap everywhere else. She managed to clear a small spot on the couch, and we sat and chatted, occasionally touching each other’s arm or leg. She wore huge clunky gold rings, and huge gold bracelets that slid up and down her forearms and clinked together as she gestured. Oh my. Between her accessories, her Professor Trelawney eyeglasses and her wild hair, I was expecting a deck of tarot cards to emerge at any moment.

Aside from the occasional touch, I didn’t make any moves, letting her set the pace. Eventually we decided her bed would be more comfortable, so we moved to the bedroom. She cuddled up to me and threw her leg over me, and finally I rolled onto my side and pulled her close to kiss her. Ugh. Not a good kisser. It was like kissing my sister or something.

There was no passion at all, and when I tried some tongue she kept biting the tip. Her breath wasn’t the greatest either. She told me I could touch her so I started teasing her legs (I love dresses with easy access). Eventually I pulled off her underwear, slipped my fingers inside and started stroking her, but I wasn’t getting any noise or reaction whatsoever, despite how wet she was. For the most part, she just lay there like a starfish, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She finally confessed that I would be at it forever because she never orgasms and no man has ever made her cum. That was a buzzkill.

We cuddled and kissed a bit more, and then she went to put her pajamas on while I hit the bathroom. This isn’t going anywhere, I decided while I was in there. She ended up kicking me out because she was going to bed, so obviously I wasn’t staying the night. Looks like I packed a bag for nothing, but by that point I wasn’t interested in staying over anymore. We kissed good night a few times, she told me to text her when I got back home, and I made my way downstairs and outside. I had to wade through the pot clouds, oddballs, and other questionable characters outside her building.

This time I was the one to drop the conversational ball, and she asked if I wasn’t feeling things anymore. I confessed I wasn’t, and that was the end of that.


And now, the story of how I met my ex. We matched on Bumble and immediately bonded over a love of animals. We had a lunch date at a farmstand the following week, and hung out in the backyard while the free-range chickens swarmed around us and crawled into our laps. We had a blast sitting there petting and holding our little feathered friends. She told me she wanted to get her own chickens once she settled in. She’d recently moved here from the Midwest, and I took that as a good sign. For whatever reason, I have better luck when they aren’t native New Yorkers. However, I wasn’t sold on her yet, and we didn’t go on our second date until two weeks later.

This time we went to an animal sanctuary. She met me at my place, and I was going to drive her but she insisted on taking her car. She was still learning the roads and wanted the practice. We checked out the little shop at the sanctuary, and bought some celery to feed the animals. Our first stop was to see the cow, because she loved cows. She was in heaven meeting all the residents there, and we celebrated with lunch at an Italian place down the street. Unfortunately, I had somewhere to be early in the evening but told her I’d be free afterwards if she wanted to do anything else. She suggested I come over to her place and watch a movie.

Giggity. I knew what that meant. We shared a quick kiss when she dropped me off back home. When I was free again, I took the world’s most thorough shower and headed to her address. She gave me the tour, pointing out all her home renovations, and then we settled in for the movie. I brought Bad Santa; she was curious to see it after I told her I’d been dumped over it. (That girl chucked me out of her apartment, telling me she never wanted to see me or anything like that ever again.) This time, I was curious to see how long we’d actually watch it for. She was holding onto me and her breathing was growing progressively heavier and more distracting. She was also wearing a low-cut shirt and her cleavage was spilling out and driving me crazy (“oh good, it worked,” she giggled when I told her afterwards).

We watched about two-thirds before I grabbed her and started making out. Our earlier first kiss was nothing special, but this was amazing. We meshed together so well, and I hadn’t enjoyed kissing anyone that much since my high school girlfriend. This was something else. Eventually we moved to the bedroom, and the clothes came off in no time at all. We fucked in missionary and doggy, and that was end of round one for me. I went down on her, and she attempted oral on me but I was taking too long to cum after I’d already done so once. Womp. I ended sleeping over, but very fitfully. I wasn’t used to sleeping in someone else’s bed; it’s usually the other way around.

She invited me over for dinner the following night, and holy shit could she cook.  The food was amazing.  I think I started falling in love right then and there.  And nobody had ever cooked for me before.  I cleaned my plate in about five minutes, and we had some pie for dessert.  Then we moved to the couch, cuddled and made out, and it was into the bedroom again.  I started out by giving her some incredible head.  I was determined to make up for my lackluster performance from the day before, and I felt like I redeemed myself in that department.  Definitely a game changer as she came all over my face. 

The next time I slept over, neither of us had work the following day. We had a nice, lazy morning in bed, drifting in and out of sleep and occasionally cuddling and touching. Finally, we had some morning sex, and it was pretty good and I lasted for longest time yet. Eventually we got up and made ourselves pancakes, moved to the couch, and then back to the bedroom. We were developing a pattern but I sure wasn’t complaining. I was getting antsy that morning, waiting for her to touch me below the waist or make any kind of move. She didn’t seem to be one to initiate things.

It took a while but she eventually reached down and stroked me through my pants, and just barely. I couldn’t take it anymore so I unzipped and pushed my pants and boxers down. She got the hint and started stroking me, but didn’t have quite the right touch. Then she got up to go to the bathroom and I tucked myself back in, figuring that was the end of the show. But when she came back, she was like, “but I wasn’t done yet…” This time I went into her mouth. Ugh, finally. It took a little bit but I came in her mouth. Not the best head I’ve gotten, but still pretty good.

Our sex life got off to a promising start, and things in general were great. I started spending more time at her place and leaving more of my things there. She made no secret of her desire for me to move in, but I still maintained my own apartment. I was reluctant to pull the trigger on living together. I’d never cohabited before and wasn’t a fan of it in general. I also wouldn’t even consider it until at least a year of dating, and even then I’d have to be 100 percent sure – which I wasn’t. And if you read my last post, then you know how that worked out. I’m not going to rehash everything. And like I said, I had some of the best times of my life with her, and would do it all again. It’s just a shame that things didn’t work out.

I’ve been a free man ever since. Before long I was excited and eager to hit the dating scene again. I was horny as hell, and they say the best way to get over someone old is to get under someone new. I went on a slew of dates since the breakup, which I will recap in my next post. Then we’ll finally be up to date here.

Is there anybody out there?

Hello everyone, it’s been a minute. I don’t know if anyone is still reading this, which is partly why I haven’t blogged in so long. But I figured I’d drop a line in case I still have a few lurkers. The other reason why I haven’t blogged in so long is that so much has happened that it would take forever to recount, so I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version.

After my last post, I went on a few more dates and then I met The One. She certainly thought I was the one, anyway. I was cautiously optimistic, but things quickly became serious. Withing a few months we were unofficially living together, although I still maintained my own place and left most of my stuff there. My mother always advised my sisters not to rush to move in with someone, “but if you do, you should always have somewhere to go.” I took this as good advice for us boys as well, and good thing I did because where would I be now if I’d given up my apartment?

Things started out well. We raised animals together and dreamed of having our own little farm someday. But the animals ended up doing me in. I don’t like dogs and she had two. I love cats and always wanted one, but she hoarded them like Trump supporters hoard guns. And I’m allergic to both cats and dogs. It was manageable in the beginning, but I was using Benadryl to the point where it was losing its effectiveness. It got to the point where I’d wake up literally gasping for air. Even if I wasn’t allergic, I’m just not a fan of animals in the house. She’d have professional cleaners come in once every two or three weeks, and I’d do my best to keep up with things, but I couldn’t take the smell nor the hair on EVERYTHING.

Then I would witness things like one of the cats puking or shitting on the floor, and the dogs would eat it up, and then the dogs would shit on the floor. She’d work long days and I’d end up cleaning up most of this crap. Literally. And we never caught who it was, but someone was pissing on her brand-new couch every single day and that whole room smelled like urine. Yuck. Not to mention how destructive they were in general, with the chewing and scratching and knocking over and breaking things. Even if all my stuff could somehow fit into her house, I didn’t want to subject it to all of that.

But the main sticking point for me was our sex life… or lack thereof. It started out promising with some very nice sessions in the first few months, but then it tapered off. Our sex life was reduced to a handful of times a month, sometimes going weeks without. I was dying. I didn’t suffer through 30+ years of virginity to be in a relationship where I had to constantly steal away to masturbate.

She’d decided to get an IUD a few months in, which was the main culprit. It caused her initial grief with horrible pains and cramping, and then the hormones wrecked her libido. Then she hurt her back and that put her out of commission for another couple of months. And then she was working so much that she was exhausted and totally burnt out. I did my best to be supportive during these periods – taking care of the animals, trying to keep the house clean, and having dinner ready for her when she came home.

When her life got back to some semblance of normalcy, I finally broached the subject. She attributed the initial drop in sex to “the honeymoon phase. That’s just what happens in new relationships – there’s a lot of sex in the beginning.” I’m paraphrasing, but that was the jist. I am a very sexual, sex-driven person, and that is NOT something I want to hear from my girlfriend. And I’m sure I could have worded things better, because she acted like I wasn’t understanding of the problems she’d been facing. I pointed out that I was well aware, and that’s specifically why I DIDN’T bring up the subject before then.

Then she said that there were times where she wanted sex. But it would be her day off, and I was out doing other things. Or she’d be in bed, but I was in the other room having a snack or working on my computer. You’re kidding me. The amount of times I would say or text sexy or flirty things, only for it to be sidestepped or ignored… Yet I was supposed to somehow magically divine that she was in the mood simply by virtue of her being home, or in bed in the other room? Why not clue me in? Why not respond to my advances? She almost never did or said anything to indicate she was in the mood anymore, so I was often left feeling undesired

In any case, things still didn’t improve, although we did have a bit more sex in the first month afterwards. But even when we did have sex, she was just too vanilla. She said she was open to experimentation, but we took a trip to the sex store and she made faces at everything in there. The only thing we came home with was an ostrich feather, and we never even got to use that. And finally, I went down on her constantly but only ever got two full blowjobs in the year that we were together. That in itself was a dealbreaker for me. To be fair, she tried a few other times, but I could tell she wasn’t into it, and she could tell it wasn’t doing anything for me, and therefore I couldn’t finish. She confessed that she really doesn’t like it, so it was rare even for foreplay.

By this point, I was getting so frustrated that my eye was wandering, and I was afraid I was going to do something stupid. I had to end things. Sex life and animals aside, we were looking for different things. I knew if I asked her to marry me, she would have said yes without hesitation. But I didn’t think much of the idea of getting married. Not just to her, but to anyone. And while she kept imploring me to fully move in, I didn’t think much of the idea of playing house either. It was already fulfilling every stereotypical trope of relationship/married life. I’m too independent. I like doing what I want, when I want, without having to answer to or check in with anybody else. But neither of us wanted kids, so there was that.

It took me a few weeks to screw up the courage. I knew I would be okay, but I also knew how much this would break her. The day came and I laid everything out – omitting anything about our sex life. It didn’t make things easier, and it still hurts me remembering her tears. We both loved each other, but you can still love each other and not be right for each other. Such was the case this time. At least I got to be in love for the first time. I had one of the best years of my life with her. We never fought, and I’m grateful to her for everything. We had a lot of laughs and fun times. She was very supportive. She liked to spoil me. She showed me new things, took me new places, and was an overall good influence. She helped me grow into a better person, and it was a very hard decision because it was a lot to walk away from. But I wish her nothing but the best.

So that brings me up to the present. It’s been almost five months since our breakup, and I’ve had plenty of dating adventures (and misadventures) since then – including a couple of new sex partners. Now I’m back in my usual rut of rejections and ghostings, and once again I’m considering a break from dating for the hundredth time. This shit is just so emotionally and mentally taxing. I’d like to keep blogging… if anyone out there is still reading this? Otherwise, it’ll be ten years next January, and maybe time to put this blog to bed.

You tell me.

Tuna Taco

I’ve got quite a few dates to tell you about. Now that things are relatively back to normal, I’ve been making up for lost time.


My first date out of the pandemic was from Tinder with a cute little 28yo with a stay-at-home job. She seemed a little shy but was pleasant and easy to talk to. In fact, I was in full flow when she suddenly went, “oh my god, you went out with one of my friends!” Huh? Apparently I have a favorite subject to expound upon on dates, and she recognized it from a story her friend told her. I asked who her friend was and she said Jen. Ah, yes. I remembered her… until I got home and checked my notes and realized I’d gone out with more than one Jen. Now I’m not sure which one was her friend. All I know is that I’m seemingly developing a reputation out there. As far as she went, though, we took a stroll around town after we finished eating, stopped in at a bar to continue our conversation, and finally I walked her to her car. I thought about going in for the kiss but wasn’t really feeling the chemistry, so I settled on a goodbye hug instead. We continued texting for the next few days, and then things quietly fell off until they came to a natural end.


My next date was from also from Tinder. She was 27 and had some boring medical billing job. I was pleasantly surprised by her appearance, as I wasn’t sure I’d be into the long nails and numerous piercings seen in her photos. But she was remarkably toned down in person. We didn’t have much in common, although I learned we’d actually graduated from the same high school nine years apart, so that provided us with some fodder. Nonetheless we talked for a good while before we called it a night. I wasn’t sure what else to do with her, so I suggested she show me her favorite video game sometime. She was a big gamer, and I have zero experience or knowledge. I didn’t grow up with them, nor ever had any desire to play. But hey, I’m always down for trying something new. She didn’t take me up on my suggestion and things petered off in the days afterward.


It’s funny how my luck vacillates between apps, but I was on a Tinder hot streak. All my matches from this point on were in their early- to mid-30s. Womp. This one was 32. We met for lunch and then we headed back to my place to, erm, hang out. However, once she started showing me all these ultra-conservative memes and sites on her phone, I lost any interest I might have had. Ten years ago she would have been a perfect match, but I’m not into that scene anymore. Now it’s a total buzzkill for me, especially when I found out she hadn’t taken the pandemic seriously. She was one of those “I’m sick of the pandemic, so therefore it’s over” types. Okay, goodbye.


This one I met from Facebook Dating, the second time ever meeting someone off that app. She was 35 and worked in the court system, so we talked about that for a while. It was a refreshing change from the usual mix of teacher/nurse/social worker that populates dating apps. After an hour and a half the conversational well was running dry, and I needed some air. Literally. Her perfume was killing me. When we walked outside I was surprised birds didn’t fall from the sky, it was that potent. I gave her a quick hug and we parted ways, thankful I didn’t carry her scent home.


Finally I reeled in the big one. She was 34 and worked at the hospital. We’d matched in the past, but nothing ever came of it. I don’t remember what happened, but I likely met someone else and deleted my Tinder. But now we had a second chance. She was on the same wavelength, and sent me some saucy pictures. However, they were all taken from the usual angles, so I was a bit leery. Nevertheless, I persisted. My dick led the way.

I picked her up at her house, which I always find odd. You’d think people would be more careful these days, but at least I know I’m not a psycho so I went with it. She looked just as I expected. I took her on a Taco Bell date, and man that place is good. I hadn’t been there since I was a kid, and no wonder chicks go crazy for it. And I was surprised to learn that I was the first one to take her on a Taco Bell date, which she had proposed in her profile. We ate in my car and traded dating stories, and we had plenty between us. I almost told her about the blog, but that’s one thing I’ll probably never tell anyone I date.

Then she shocked me by suggesting going back to my place. She laughed when she saw the look on my face. “Don’t underestimate your hoe-getting abilities,” she said. Fuck it. Back to my place it was. I gave her the cursory tour and we ended it in my bed. We didn’t even kiss first, she just went right for the dick. She gave me some amazing head, and swallowed too. Damn, girl. I passed out shortly afterwards, and when I awoke again we had sex.

Long story short, it was nasty, and not in a good way. It was like Stinky Girl all over again. Definitely had cigarette breath, and it was awful. I don’t know how I missed it before, but I could barely stand kissing her. I fucked her in missionary for as long as I could, constantly turning my head sideways to avoid the blasts of nicotine fumes from her mouth. I lasted maybe five minutes, and after I was done I started fingering her to get her over the edge. She pushed my hand away and told me she was too insecure for that. Uh, okay.

Later on we went for round two, which was to be the final round ever. She maneuvered herself onto all fours so we could do it doggy style. Ugh. That was a sight I did not want to see again. Once again, it was like my experience with Stinky Girl, now with the overwhelming smell of ass. Actually, it was more like a sewer in a bad neighborhood. I had to lean forward and bite her back to stop myself from retching. I started losing my erection, so I just faked an orgasm and that was the end of that. Afterwards I stole away to the bathroom to douse my dick in rubbing alcohol. Just in case.

I couldn’t get her out of my place fast enough in the morning, so I just lied and said I had to get to work even though I had the day off. In the days following she sent more and more sexy pics until I finally told her I wasn’t feeling things. And that was the end of that. I haven’t checked recently, but I’m pretty sure she’s joined the ranks of the other girls from Tinder and Bumble who continue to stalk me on social media. But I finally broke my year-plus, pandemic-induced dry spell.

And there were still more dates to come.

Obsessive Behavior, and an Indecent Proposal

It’s been a while… again. I’ve been laying low due to COVID, but things are finally getting back to normal. Not to mention I’m vaxxed, waxed and ready to go. Just in time, because the squirrels are coming out of the trees. And by that I mean things are nuts. By this point, I have nearly two dozen girls who continue to creep on my social media. These are girls that I’ve matched with or dated, or both. Either things fizzled out, or there was no in-person chemistry, yet they continue to like my posts or view my Instagram stories.

However, one of them suddenly came alive and asked if we could start chatting again. Oh? We’d stopped talking while back after I told her I was looking for something casual. Well, I guess time in quarantine had her thinking differently because now she was considering it. There was a catch though – she confessed that she was a 31yo virgin. That in itself is not a problem, but she was just too green for me. Had barely kissed anyone, and kept grilling me on my sexual habits and experience (interspersed with queries about my favorite color and shit like that). Then she wanted to sext and exchange videos, and to send her videos of me cumming. Red flag. Anytime I ever entertained sexting with anyone prior to meeting, it almost always was a waste of time. Always some reason or excuse why they weren’t ready to meet, so it never lead to anything. Ended up as colossal prickteases. I wasn’t going down that road again.

Then I got a Facebook friend request from a girl a I went to elementary school with. Throwback chick. We had fun catching up via Facebook Audio, but then it got to the point where she would message and then call me every time I was online, usually within minutes of logging on and most often at 11 or 12 at night. And she was married, so what gives? But for months my Facebook Messenger looked like this, and she was undaunted by my lack of response:

Finally, I got a message from one of my Instagram followers. She went to my gym and wanted to discuss something with me, so we met for lunch near my workplace. Turns out she has an OnlyFans and was looking for a guy to make videos with. For those of you not familiar with OnlyFans, it’s a subscription-based social media site where content creators allow their “fans” to see their pics and videos for monthly fee. It can and is used by all manner of artists and musicians, but is mainly known for its usage by porn stars and budding amateurs – like the girl from my gym. She actually pulled out her phone and showed me some of her… work. Believe it or not, I’d thought about doing porn since before I even fully understood what sex was. And I’d consider doing something like this with the right person (assuming I’d get a cut of the earnings too), but I just didn’t find her attractive. Plenty of other guys did, though, going by how many followers she had on the site. Whatever makes their dicks hard, I guess.

Overall, it’s funny how it’s never the ones you wished were interested in you, and the ones you are interested in don’t even know you exist.

I redownloaded Tinder and Bumble a while after that and started swiping again. That went on for a few weeks. Nobody really struck my fancy, and then I finally hit it off with someone new. Next thing I knew, I was going on my first date in a long time…

Bad Sex

Sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger for six months. I had another date indeed, which resulted in my first less-than-stellar sexual experience.

We met for an outdoor lunch, and then we headed back to her place. Unlike the others I’ve met, this one didn’t act like she was screening for a boyfriend. She gave me the cursory tour, ending it in her bedroom. Without hesitation I pulled her close and we started making out. And… ugh. She had lip injections that were terribly distracting. I was willing to overlook them, but they felt super weird. Then I noticed the bad breath. Holy shit. She had to be a closet smoker. Had to be. It was like she munched cigarette butts and gargled bleach. I decided it would be better if I put my mouth elsewhere, so I started pulling her clothes off.

That didn’t help either. She wouldn’t let me take her bra off because she said her breasts were too big. And she must have had some kind of skin condition because there were rashes and scabs everywhere. Oh my god. I hurried down south and buried my face in her. That’s when I started to smell something else. Was that… holy shit, yes it was. It absolutely reeked of ass down there. I was afraid to look. Instead I did that trick where you pinch your nostrils shut with your thumbs and knuckles so you can continue. Fortunately she was easy to get off, and I rolled over onto my back as she returned the favor. Just as I came I chanced a glance and saw her drooling yellow spit all over my dick.

I was certainly finished after that. There was no way I was attaining erection again under those circumstances, yet before long she was all over me, kissing and grabbing and trying to get me ready for intercourse. Yeah, no. I was too grossed out to continue, and I told her I wasn’t feeling well and left. And I wasn’t lying because my stomach was churning for a day and a half afterwards. Meanwhile she had lotions and potions and soaps on ropes all over her bathroom, so what the hell? I didn’t reach out after that, nor did I hear from her again, so I was spared the awkwardness of explaining why there’d be no Round 2. But we both achieved orgasm, so yay for that I guess.

I didn’t forget that we were in the middle of a pandemic, but this took place in the middle of the summer while our numbers were approaching zero. Emboldened by that fact – as well as thinking with my dick – I went on a bunch more dates over the next few weeks. There’s no need to recount them individually, because they all followed the usual trajectory: whatever chemistry or rapport we had quickly evaporated in person, or wasn’t even there to begin with. The last one in this group bluntly told me that she wasn’t feeling things and got up and left. Yeouch.

So fuck this pandemic for fucking up the great thing I had going with College Girl. She was really a rare find, and who knows when or if I’ll find something like that again. And I’m still surprised and confused that I never heard back from Pharmacy Girl. She gave me her number before unmatching with me on Bumble, but shot me down when I texted her. Why even give me your number then? So it looks like I had my first one-night stand. Not what I wanted, but nor am I complaining. Just bummed that I have to go through so many rejections and failed dates to find something as good as that, and then it never lasts. And for all the people who’ve told me that sex in a relationship is better… that hasn’t been the case for me at all. The casual, no-strings sex has far outstripped anything romantic that I’ve ever had – Stinky Girl aside.

I’d heard a lot about Facebook Dating, and most of it wasn’t positive. Nonetheless I decided to give it a whirl. I found that nearly all the users were single mothers. I went on a date with one of them, and I don’t think I’ll be going on dates with any more. I just can’t connect with people with kids. They’re operating on such a different set of values as to render us incompatible. I did find a strong prospect who was young, hot and childless and willing to come to my place. However the day before she claimed bad allergies and wanted to postpone a day, then two, and then she ghosted me. Sigh. Meanwhile she’s still following me on social media, joining over a dozen other lurkers who continue to view my Instagram stories. Women really mystify me sometimes.

By this point I’d been on dating sites for 8-9 unbroken months. As the fall approached and covid numbers started to rise, I started divesting myself of the apps. First to go was Facebook Dating. Next up was Bumble. By then both the quality of matches and the selection was abysmal, not to mention they’re fucking it up by introducing swipe limits and taking away the backtrack feature. The last one standing was Tinder. I disabled it for a time, but I’m back on there swiping for the hell of it. But I don’t plan on meeting anyone until it’s safe to do so. Plus it doesn’t make sense to try in the meantime. I’ve had a celibate seven months and I’m settling in for the long haul. Good thing I’ve had 30 years of practice at this…

All that aside, as shitty as 2020 has been for others, personally and professionally I had a great year and I’m looking forward to seeing what 2021 brings. Happy New Year everyone.

Social distance and unrest, and a little bit of sex…

It’s been sad and disappointing seeing people posting and spouting the most unbelievable shit in response to current events this year.  No knowledge of civics, no critical thinking, outright dismissal of facts in favor of conspiracy theories and junk science, and a startling lack of empathy or understanding.  On that note – if you’re so tired of hearing about racism, just imagine how tired some people are of experiencing it.  If I wanted I could do a whole post (or a whole new blog) on these issues.  Maybe someday, but in the meantime I had to put my two cents in.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.  I had a few more dates recently.  I’d sworn off dating until things returned to “normal,” but as always I listen to my dick.

This one was another waste of time – one I saw coming a mile away but proceeded anyway.  She sidestepped my flirty comments but still seemed keen on meeting me.  We ended up at the beach, and I made a joke that she was a little overdressed for the occasion.  Indeed she was – with her black pants, black leather jacket, and black heeled boots, but she got a little defensive about it.  She reminded me of my older sister, who’d go to the beach with a full face of makeup and would get equally as defensive if you ribbed her for it.

As soon as we got to the boardwalk she handed me her phone to take a picture of her.  Not just one, though, but a dozen.  She’d snatch the phone back after each one to make sure she looked good.  Once again, just like my oldest sister.  I rolled my eyes a bit, but it didn’t stop there.  We walked down to the big rocks at the water’s edge, and then it was picture time again.  And not just pictures of her in various model poses, but slo-mo and time lapse videos as well.  She showed me how she edits them all together into video montages of herself set to music.

I made another joke that I was starting to think I was only there to be her photographer, and she got defensive again.  Hoo boy.

We sat and made chit-chat and small talk while we waited for the sunset, but it was clear we were a total mismatch.  I learned she was an Aries.  Once again… just like my older sister.  Now, I don’t set much stock by that stuff, but it’s fun to think about and eerie how accurate it is sometimes.  But I find Aries women a bit high-maintenance, a bit flaky, and often a bit full of themselves.  (Teacher comes to mind; she was an Aries too.)  Then she dropped a bomb and disclosed that she was 40, not 30 as advertised.  She claimed that she didn’t know why it said that, nor how to change it.

As soon as the sun went down I called it a night and said goodbye.  She was making noises about wanting to see me again, suggesting I join her and her friends to go hiking upstate the following weekend.  I’m looking for a FWB, not a hiking buddy.  I don’t know if she didn’t see that in my profile, or just didn’t understand what it meant, but I was out.

This one lived a bit of a distance away so we picked a halfway a spot – a scenic park on the lake.  We took a few laps around the water while we made conversation, but it wasn’t until we landed on the subject of her job as a financial planner that she became really animated.  She was really passionate about it… a little too much.  After what felt like a half-hour of her TED Talk, I called it a night.  It was getting dark anyway.  I suggested a movie night back at my place next time.  Hint hint.  She said she wasn’t interested in anything romantic with me, but maybe we could still hang out.  

Sigh.  Once again I was like… do these chicks not read my profile, or understand what I’m looking for?  I told her I wasn’t looking for anything romantic, nor am I looking for people to just hang out with.  So I wished her the best of luck finding what she was looking for and we parted ways.  Another one down.

It’s funny how online dating activity ebbs and flows.  It was exceptionally quiet after that.  The next thing I knew, it looked like my theory was coming to pass – that girls would be so horny and desperate coming out of quarantine that getting laid would be ridiculously easy.  I was on track to get laid the next two nights by two different girls.  Was it possible?  Alas, no.  The first one crapped out, so I texted the other and asked, “are you still free tonight by any chance?”  Yes, she was.  I’ll call her Pharmacy Girl

Long story, it was some of the best sex either of us ever had.  The kissing was amazing by itself, so much better than College Girl.  (For the record, this one was 28).  My dick went in her mouth shortly afterward and I nearly burst right then and there.  Her oral skills surpassed anyone else I’ve been with.  She was also the first one to ride me cowgirl without it feeling uncomfortable.  PG obviously felt she same because gaped down at me and said “oh my God!  It’s like a perfect fit!”  She also appreciated that I assisted instead of just lying there like other guys.

I flipped her over and pounded her in missionary since she wanted to see what I could do.  Either she’s very orgasmic or I’ve become an exceptional lover, because she came hard with her heels digging into my back.  It was so intense for her that she was writhing and nearly bucking off the bed.  I came pretty hard myself; she felt amazing inside.  When she calmed down she said, “Well… THAT’S never happened before.”  I’d given her a full-body orgasm for the first time.  She tried sucking me off to repay me, but I knew it would take a long time after I’d just came.  I told her to get on her stomach and I fucked her from behind.  She absolutely loved that, and she got so wet that I kept sliding out.  “What’s the matter,” she giggled.  “Too wet to stay in?”  We switched back to missionary and we each came again.

PG previously told me that she’d never enjoyed receiving oral sex from any man (perks of always dating assholes), but I was determined to be the first.  I went to work, teasing my way down and working all around until she was going crazy with anticipation.  Then I buried my face in her.  I used all the techniques I’d studied and things I’d remembered from old girlfriends.  It took a while but I got her there.  She was in a daze afterwards, but I wasn’t done yet.  I used my fingers to get her off one more time.  She was on the verge of climaxing so hard I thought she was going to squirt.  No such luck, but I did give her another full body-orgasm and she left puddles all over my bed.

Afterwards she said she couldn’t believe how good I was with my fingers and tongue. “How did you learn to do all that?” YouTube, I joked.  From all accounts, I gave her the best sex and oral she’s ever had.  I asked if she was staying the night, but she had work in the morning and didn’t have a change of clothes.  Dammit.  But could we squeeze in one more round before she had to go?  I found that we could.  One last time in missionary, and we fucked so long and hard that the sweat built up between us and was dripping off my chin in the end.  And the eye contact we made… damn.  It was so hot.

We exchanged numbers a few days later so we could talk outside the app.  I asked about Friday.  She had to work.  Saturday?  Plans with friends.  I waited but she didn’t suggest a day in return, so I said I was ready for Round 2 the next time she was free.

I haven’t heard from her since.

I was flabbergasted.  How could she not want seconds when the sex was so good the first time?  She’d seemed excited at the prospect of regular sex again, but maybe she only intended it to be a one-time thing.  I guess I’ll never know.  She might still surprise me, but I’m moving on and already have another hot prospect lined up.  In fact, tonight is date night.  Stay tuned…