I’m certainly not proud of this one. As a matter of fact I really didn’t want to document this at all, but unless I include everything, this whole endeavor doesn’t have the completeness that I am striving for.
So during a period of time after my divorce I was getting set up on blind dates by my well meaning babysitter. She basically set me up with all her single, divorced and widowed friends and I fucked them all. It wasn’t totally my intention to do that, but one thing led to another and, let’s face it, I was a catch, so these women were throwing out all the stops to make their best case. I don’t say I was a catch out of any sense of bragging, just that I am fairly attractive, although not very, but maybe a bit above average. I also didn’t smoke, didn’t drink much, didn’t do drugs (maybe the occasional joint, every other month or so) and I made a good buck and owned my own house. Yeah, a catch for some women.
So I got set up with this blind date and met her at Gilligan’s Bar. First I found her sitting at the bar and from across the room she looked cute. Short blond hair and blue-green eyes, but as I rounded the corner and saw her from the tits down, pear shaped and as I got closer, small breasts and sorta road weary, if you know what I mean. She was nice, but not really my type physically. I like curvey brunettes and they have to be somewhat smart. Somewhat is hard to define, but above average at least. I read somewhere that unless a man and woman are within 20 IQ points the relationship ends up subservient. The lesser IQ can’t compete, so they just complete. (Tasks and whatever the other tells them) And I am smart – around 135 IQ or so.
Anyway we make small talk and she’s nice. It’s very platonic, but she’s touching me occasionally to make a point, to emphasize something she’s said, and I know she likes me. I am sort of looking around and feeling awkward. You know. Like I feel that people are looking at me and thinking, does she have some blackmail item on this guy? But she doesn’t of course, I’m just being polite.
So I follow her back to her place – why exactly I don’t know, but she offered a drink at her place, so I went. And we get back there and she makes us drinks and kind of leans into me. I’ve been a gentleman all night – more out of not wanting to be seen as a ‘couple’ in public, but in private, well, I decide to just go ahead with it. Not very nice of me, because I know this is going nowhere after this evening. But it’s been a while and I am horny. Yes, I was a dick. But still that night I was nice.
She was tearing off her clothes and I was helping. She says “oh. My, what’s come over you? You acted so differently at the bar.” My reply, “I’m not into public displays.” Which is true, mostly, and it covered my lack of forwardness earlier. So we had sex sort of half dressed with her small tits pulled out of her bra, but the bra is still on, so you have that picture in your head? It was weird, and quickly it was over. And that is weird, too. Like I usually last at least five or ten minutes for a first time, longer later in a relationship, but this was quick like a couple minutes only, and then there is the real awkwardness.
I’m trying to make my escape and don’t know how to do that exactly, because I’m never in this exact situation. Somehow I get out of there, and get to my car and home. Shelly, my babysitter asks me the next day how it went and if I’m going to call the woman and I say it was alright but she’s not my type and I don’t think I ever call her. Later on she’s talking to another one of Shelly’s friends, comparing notes on how well or how badly I fuck and she gave a report like I was the worst lay she ever had (which may be true) and she was glad I never called because she would have given me the brush off (probably not true) and that I was an asshole. (also true, from her perspective and about this situation)
I’m really not like that, but we all get in these odd situations sometimes where we wear the mask of ‘the strangter’ (at least according to Billy Joel) but maybe that’s just an excuse or a line or whatever, because I think inside all of us is an asshole that occasionally sees the light of day. How good a person you are is the determined by how well you can control that asshole and keep him locked up. Woman have the same damn thing. I’ve been treated like shit a few times and used more than once, so I guess what goes around comes back around.
