Profile cancelled

The uncomfortable

I decided to suspend my profile after chatting to a young man who wanted to make my breasts “work”. My first thought was that they were going to don suits and heels and head to the office on my behalf.

Um, no.

I was too curious for my own good and requested that he elaborate. He asked if I’d take a lactation supplement to see if my breasts would spurt milk as a result of some form of manhandling during sex.

Can women who aren’t pregnant or lactating produce milk? Or even fluid? I haven’t checked but the thought of being involved in whatever technique elicits production makes me queasy. I consider myself open minded but that doesn’t mean every idea is going to appeal – this was definitely one that went straight to the ‘no’ pile.

The really uncomfortable

Before I made my account invisible I left a message for two remaining men with my phone number. I had wanted to touch base with them but hadn’t been online at the same time.

Within five minutes one had sent me a voicemail confirming he had received the message. Fifteen minutes later he called and then sent a text message asking if I was free to talk. I returned his message an hour later and he returned my call within 10 seconds (can you see where this one is going?)

We spoke briefly but I got the speed wobbles when he invited me to his house that night and said that other women were comfortable with that routine. I said I preferred to meet first in a public place like a bar and he agreed, but then asked what I drank, as if to imply I’d be heading to his house for a drink and he wanted to be prepared.

I am aware that after the experiences of the last few weeks I’m prone to jumping at shadows, however, something about the words he used made me uncomfortable. I tested my gut feel and asked him to send a photo as I hadn’t seen his; he deflected my request by saying I’d learn what he looked like when I met him. A few minutes after we finished the call he sent a message and invited me to his house that night. After the quick-fire responses but rejection of a simple and normal request for a photo, I felt trapped and sent a message saying I had changed my mind and wouldn’t be meeting him.

And then it started. He sent a message saying he was a “nice guy” and I should give him a chance. He sent a similar message 15 minutes later. He phoned from his mobile number and left a voicemail. He phoned from a private number and left a voicemail. He texted again. I didn’t respond at all but he kept the calls and messages coming. I told The Drummer about my predicament and he thought it was funny for the first few attempts at contact but he, too, was becoming annoyed at the intrusion.

The following day he started calling again from both a private number and his mobile phone. I have 15 missed calls and messages from the first day, half a dozen the day after and four so far on day three. I’m glad I listened to my inner voice that said something wasn’t right, however, I wasn’t expecting a barrage like this. If he doesn’t go away soon I’ll have to consider visiting the local police station for assistance.

Edited to add: He stopped a few days later (I hope he stays away as the obsessive ones tend to return on weekends when they have more time to think)

Edited to add more: Only in the last fortnight a woman was held hostage for two days after meeting a man following contact on an online site. They apparently met in a public place and it appears that she was driven to his house afterwards or kidnapped and taken by force. The most chilling aspect so far has been the discovery by police of a recently-dug shallow grave in the man’s backyard when they rescued her. I am in no way implying the man I just described had similar intentions but it is a lesson for us all to keep our wits keen and always remember personal safety.

The tricky trickster

The last man left standing was a communicative dream. There was a pleasing and reasonable time between text messages and he offered to send a photo without prompting as he remembered that I hadn’t seen his pictures. The main challenge was that he might be relocated for work before Christmas (a military man) but I thought perhaps – if we got on well — an intense fling prior to Christmas might be good for me.

We arranged to meet mid-week and the night before he sent a message saying he had a deadline and offered me the next night or the weekend as options. My choice. All good so far, although the single-worded “sorry” at the end of his message set off a small alarm bell, almost as if it contradicted and dismissed the previously friendly words of his message. But, like I have said, I’m jumping at shadows so I filed my observation away and suggested the Friday night. He replied positively and I sent the last message confirming the plans. Again, all good so far.

I didn’t hear back from him in the two days leading up to the Friday so it was obvious by then that he had either never intended to meet or had changed his mind at some time. I wondered if I should let it go, like I have done with others in the past, or send a message. I’m accepting if people change their minds, but I verge on fury when I am discarded like a piece of rubbish. Not on.

And this is why there’s no sex

From the dating site:

Never starting

While chatting online:

Would you wear my wife’s bikini top while I fucked you on our bed?

Heh? Um, there are a few things in that scenario I’m not comfortable with.

But would you? Your tits would be bursting out of that top.

Bye.

Never ending

One of the last men left from this campaign has been texting for three weeks. Two weeks ago and one week ago I expressed interest in meeting when he was ready.

He said yes both times and returned to witty general messages peppered with double entendres.

I didn’t know whether to suggest dates or leave it to him or walk away.

I closed matters off by sending a text message saying I wouldn’t be in touch again because I couldn’t read the signals. He responded and said we could meet soon if I wanted. I couldn’t be bothered replying; I already made clear what I wanted and I was interested in learning what he wanted.

Surprise ending

I had lunch with someone who was the equivalent of Goldilocks in being just right: not too much difference in age, not too far away, not too bad on the eye and not too shy or aggressive.

All was good from my perspective and his body language was positive, too.

Lunch suits me because it removes the temptation to act rashly if there’s mutual attraction (or create new regrets if acting rashly when there’s little attraction) and there’s a get-out clause with the firm timeline to return to work.

We sat near each other, got on well, had a friendly but promising hug and quick kiss goodbye and exchanged encouraging messages a couple of days after.

And I didn’t hear from him again.

Postscript: I received a system e-mail update a week later saying he had deleted his dating account. Later that day he sent a text message saying he had met someone. I wished him all the best as he was a lovely man and I suspect would make someone a wonderful boyfriend.

It’s time to spring clean the contact list and start afresh.

Yes, no, I don’t know

I’ve made enough errors in judgement when meeting people that reality, optimism and cynicism become a lumpy mix when reading even the most normal and reasonable profiles. Yet, there’s just enough optimism left to take a chance occasionally when someone isn’t saying the right words but his intentions seem honest.

I accepted a contact request from a man somewhat reluctantly but hopefully. His profile was basic but sincere sounding and his list of interests didn’t contain anything that tickled my fancy: camping, football and hanging out with mates. But the beauty of the arrangement I’m seeking is that I don’t need to go camping, watch football or hang out with someone’s mates (unless they’re strapping, energetic lads with open minds and want to, oh, I’m ovulating and my mind is wandering).

We chatted briefly online and I tried to ignore his UR SO HOT lines in the spirit that he was just communicating in his own way. I offered him my phone number and he wrote a text message asking if that meant we were meeting. My hackles went up because I thought his tone was presumptuous so I called him to clear a possible misunderstanding. On the phone he came across as shy and awkward and I wrote my first impression off as me being tired and prickly.

The next day I had an appointment in the suburb he was working and sent him a long and vague message that I would be there but I wasn’t sure what time and maybe we could meet another day if I was messing with his schedule. His flexibility impressed me that he was still working and could be anywhere within 15 minutes of me saying I was free.

So we met for a drink. I wasn’t immediately attracted to him but there was nothing wrong apart from my attitude so I gave myself a bit longer in his company. He was just a big, basic, genuine lump of man and I thought that maybe it would be good for me to spend time with someone so uncomplicated and enthusiastic.

On the way out we kissed. And I remembered he had separated from his wife and couldn’t believe another woman would tolerate or teach such goldfish-like, pursed-lip pecking (yeah, I know that’s a bird metaphor mixed with the fish one). Dry-mouthed, ziggy-zaggy pecking, what is going on here? I tried to introduce some tongue in case he was nervous and it was almost spat back at me.

Big bear paws (I am on metaphor fire) manhandled my breasts like they were the last melons at the fruit shop in summer and I thought, well, his moves are primitive but perhaps some undisciplined fun could be enjoyable. I escaped in one piece from his lips and paws and agreed to meet him the following week. The next morning I received a message saying “send a pussy pic” and my heart sank. I couldn’t respond as I was at a work function and a few hours later another request arrived asking where the pussy pic was. 

I eventually sent him a photo and didn’t hear back. Last night I received an e-mail saying he’d left me a message on the dating site, but I haven’t logged in all week and don’t know what he said. I don’t understand why he’d choose a method of communicating slowly online over communicating quickly but I’ll log in at some stage to either sort out how we might do this or let him go. With a couple of days to let my mind settle, I don’t think this going to work.

Postscript: I received a message on my phone asking if I’d like to go to his house in half an hour’s time to ride his cock. I said no; I didn’t feel enthusiastic about it.

Dodging a bullet

Here are some subtle signs that a man on a first meeting isn’t into you:

  • He doesn’t touch or get close enough to be touched on greeting – not even for a handshake
  • He walks to the venue three body-widths to the side and half a width behind
  • He returns to talking about work when the conversation has been changed to more personal topics
  • His eyes wander to the group of office workers over there and that piece of rubbish being blown by the wind over there
  • He says he wants to drop by the office when five minutes earlier he said he avoids dropping by the office like the plague
  • He checks his phone even though it doesn’t ring or vibrate
  • He turns crushing his empty drink can into an artform
  • He says, “It was nice to meet you,” at the end

And you know what? After picking up on about the third clue and realising he wasn’t interested to the point of being repelled by me, I felt light of heart and feet and almost cartwheeled back to my car. I somewhat wish I knew why he didn’t find me the most stunning and alluring woman in the universe — just out of curiosity — but I’m not making contact again to find out.

But harking back to the truth in advertising comment in my last post, he was three inches shorter than the height he wrote in his profile, his pictures were taken at least five years ago and his gut had expanded substantially (he chose to create a user name that included an athlete-type word word in it). Physical features aren’t issues in themselves as attraction comes from the most unusual sources sometimes (an actor’s large and knobbly hands stole my attention the last time I watched gay porn), but obvious denial and bullshitting wastes everyone’s time. If I hadn’t arrived early and told him where I was so he could find me, I would have struggled to recognise him.

I never thought I’d be so pleased about being rejected.

Fish. Barrel. Shoot. Put the gun down before I hurt myself

I found my log-in details for the sleazy free web site and got to work on updating my profile and pictures.

I have to say I was tempted to use my more flattering two-year-old images as the skin around my eyes has collapsed like a disturbed soufflé over the last six months, but hey, I’m all for truth in advertising so truth the viewers shall have. I even went wild by my usually paranoid standards and placed pictures in the public gallery, which I haven’t done since my first foray several years ago that attracted the attention of a workmate. Over the last few days I’ve wondered if anyone from down at the shops or at the local gym saying hello is giving me the “Is that her?” look, however, all seems normal for now.

My old profile text wasn’t in need of re-writing as my wants haven’t changed, however, I removed some of the specific wording to reduce material for those skilled in telling people what they want to hear. As usual, many others just hit on anything that appears to have a vagina so I’ll see how this change pans out*.

I have heard and read many men complain that they do all the work in making approaches to women. Give us a chance, please! I haven’t been able to look around and set up a search because, if I dilly-dally about on my own activities, a box scrolls and blinks at me and says that people who have approached are waiting for responses. Well, tough titties, I’m busy blocking those who want to discuss anal sex in the first minute of chat and others who think my vagina is a dream match from 3,000 kilometres away. I accepted a man’s contact request when I’d hit blinking box overload and sent the poor chap a message saying, “I like your profile, have to go to bed, talk soon, promise.” He is local and has an interesting profile so he’ll probably be the one who thought I was full of crap and won’t talk to me again**.

I know having plenty of choice isn’t a terrible problem to have (and I’ve said this each time I’ve run an ad) but the 90 per cent of dick-waving yahoos online make life difficult for the minority of normal men and the few women who are interested in meeting them. I have noticed my own pattern that I’m enthusiastic about the abundant promise on day one, my mood deteriorates rapidly by day three and I predict my account will be hidden by day seven regardless if I’ve identified people to meet.

On the whole, there seem to be a couple of enticing prospects so far, even though the shadow of the Country Boy lurks in my mind. I still think I’m okay about moving on yet I know one less-confusing message from him would change many things. But I also know I want to deal with the current reality that he has higher priorities while I have time to devote to this side of my life.

*I found Mr Right For Now, but discovered he’s only available for office-hours meetings after a few days of communication and rising optimism. I had deleted the ‘no daytimes’ sentence from my ad so perhaps it needs re-instating. Oh, and he doesn’t have a driver’s licence and hadn’t quite thought through how he’d navigate that hurdle — my sense of judgement needs to get sharper a lot more quickly

** He did talk to me again and I made sure we exchanged phone numbers

Pet name man — please be gone

I complain about those I want who disappear, but those I don’t want sometimes have novel ways of returning.

Pet name man was gone — for good, I thought — for four or five days and sent me a text message asking me to check my e-mail. (He covers all bases, I don’t know, in case the internet up and dies). I was out of the office all day and experienced stabs of annoyance that I couldn’t deal with this resurgence in contact for many hours.

I got home and checked my e-mail that night. I won’t paste his message here because it’s 16 paragraphs excluding salutations and PSs. Even without meeting in person, a few days without contact has seen him elevate the perception of me from a scary prospect into a mysterious goddess perched on a rotating golden dais with butterflies and hummingbirds flittering around my perfect visage and the pores of my silken skin dripping pure honey. Or some shit like that. We are apparently meant to be.

I felt like I’d been dragged on the set of Seinfeld in the episode where the man who made Elaine a bouquet of flowers from TV guides started crafting fashion mannequins in her likeness: “TR-6?: I prefer to think of her as … Elaine.”

I asked him to never contact me again.

SL — goodbye

I must admit to being flummoxed about his disappearance.

He sent a positive text the day after we last met and we sketched a plan to meet for a car activity early the following week. I let him know the days I was free and never heard back.

Lost interest, found someone else, wants someone else, I was too experienced and wild, not experienced and wild enough, fuck knows.

I’m back to step one so I’ll resurrect my profile again. I know where I’ve made errors along the way and can exhibit better judgement, but this last one took me by surprise.

Pet name man — goodbye

A couple of posts ago I mentioned the man who was driving me nuts with using terms of familiarity and sending several e-mails a day without waiting for a response.

The crunch moment came to decide whether to meet him or send him on his way. Intuition/gut feel/experience said to send him on his way, but the logic overrider (trademark pending) I listen to occasionally told me to show some optimism and see what happens.

So I organised a meeting.

I received this message a few hours before the appointed time. If a hammer just happened to have been in my hand at that moment, I’d have smashed my logic overrider to dust.

Hi [pet name],

I am sorry but I just can’t do this. I think it is better to go through life without sex and not be a cheater.

I have dreamt about the many ways we could make love and I find it very exciting and exhilarating, but what if we do it and then I feel like this.

I DO NOT use people.

It is best I just make the most out of a bad job and not be a prick all round.

Sorry. You are a beautiful and attractive person but I gave up using girls after my earlier days. Can’t do it.

Wish you all the best,

Love

[his pet name for himself and lots of xxxs]

I called him out on his inconsistency in coming on so strongly for two weeks, which was perhaps using me to test his own waters, and possible lack of honesty because he’d said previously that he was a member of another adult site. He didn’t reply. Funny, that.

Cub – goodbye

I wandered off mentally and had decided to leave him alone when he sent a timely message asking when we’d catch up again. I was in a detached frame of mind at the time and tried to scare him off by threatening to spank his arse. He responded by asking me to bring my bondage gear.

We made a date but I cancelled and said I wouldn’t be in touch again as I needed a bit more on the contact side. Some days I wish I was more easy-going and opportunistic but I’m just not and I’m tired of being made to feel like I ought to be. I spoke to The Drummer about this and he said men (generally) would prefer to line up a meeting, get their rocks off, leave and stay clear until the next urge strikes, but I’m a bit more work than that.

I have suspended my dating account for the time being to take a break. I’m in e-mail contact with a couple of remaining prospects but one is driving me nuts by referring to me as ‘honey’ and ‘babe’ – why use pet names for someone you haven’t even met? Then again, the poor man is probably just trying to be friendly and I’m in a defensive and ferocious state of mind. The other appears more balanced but he might be lost in the fall-out of this mood I’m in.

Postscript: I was meeting the second man tonight but two hours prior to the appointed time he sent a postponement message. Car troubles. The Drummer asked me if he didn’t have any better excuses lined up. I was almost tempted to respond and wish him well with his better offer, but I just said, “No worries.” Next.

Perception and reality

I am as guilty of self delusion as any other woman when I say and write I want a respectful, normal, sane casual partner, yet I still revel in the blood-warming flush of lust when facing an unsuitable man with whom I have experienced a strong and immediate attraction.

Respectful, normal, sane men can’t win sometimes if their assets aren’t immediately evident and women can be their own worst enemies for not giving these men a greater chance. I don’t know the moral of this story yet except I’m currently trying to break the stereotype but may fall back into delusion and want things that aren’t good for me.

Perception

I met the third man mentioned in the last online dating post, and the poor-quality profile picture of a young, shit-grinned punk didn’t do him justice in the slightest. When a tall, charismatic, broad-shouldered, dirty blonde-haired, golden-skinned, hand-carved statue of a man (that might be enough adjectives …) strode towards me in his building’s foyer, every cell in my body woke and paid strict attention. He was friendly and wasn’t scared of direct, unblinking contact with his opal green eyes but I couldn’t read a single message contained in them. Even towards the end of the conversation his body language was open and interested but was no different from when we said hello. Bamboozling, and I, of course, could not have been more interested in determining when I could rip the suit from his body.

When I needed to leave I asked if he was interested in meeting again. He said yes and suggested we have lunch next time I’m in the area.

What does lunch mean? Doubly bamboozling.

Nevertheless, I was still enchanted and we later exchanged a few messages heading into decidedly heated territory. He started making more mention of his predilection for swingers’ parties and watching people fuck while having his cock sucked. I must’ve processed the conversation overnight as I woke in the  morning thinking that getting naked with strangers wasn’t my thing, and it was his, which was fair enough, but we hadn’t spoken of anything that might happen between us.

And thankfully my interest level waned; he also must have experienced buyer’s remorse overnight because he didn’t respond to my last message. I mentally said goodbye and let him be. Phew.

Reality

I met the second man from the same blog post for a drink. He is outrageously tall and had to bend markedly at the neck and base of his spine for us to kiss hello. He’s also fashion model skinny and has mad scientist-unruly strawberry blonde hair verging on red depending on the poorness of the lighting. I liked his physical differences and how we interacted, but when we left the bar I wondered if I could make myself feel a spark of lust for him. I was in a mindset of if we were stuck on a deserted island together we’d be going for it day and night rather than fetching coconuts, but in this real life I’m holding back for some reason. Oh, perhaps it’s because I want everything in one person straight away even though not many in that mould exist and I may not be worthy anyway.

I engaged in some self talk telling myself to be less critical and more open, and I spoke up and asked if he’d be interested in catching up the next weekend we were free (he has part-time custody of his children).

He said yes and leaned against my car, pulling me towards him and locking his lips with mine. After a couple of exploratory kisses he grasped my breast and I could feel the hunger building through the pressure of his hand. It was too early in the piece for me to reach correspondingly for his groin area so I felt around his bony spine and shoulder blades with fascination (I’m distracted at the most inappropriate times but my mind wandered to thinking if his hip bones would hurt if he was on top of me – only one way to find out).

But I felt some things happening inside, and one of them was satisfaction at my maturity of committing to see him again. It’s not forever if it doesn’t work out during the test ride.