After a long break from dating, I decided to put myself out there again and I figured online dating was the way to go. I started talking to this guy named George. He seemed perfect! He was tall, handsome, intelligent and we shared the same beliefs. I work at a gold mine in interior Alaska for two weeks at a time, so we decided to meet each other when I came home. Instead of a simple coffee date, George invited me to a ceremony where he was receiving an award for being the best in the branch of the military in my state. I thought it was too intense of a first date but my friends insisted that it would make a great story one day and convinced me to go. The award ceremony was a black tie affair and luckily I had a full length black dress in my closet. Unfortunately, it was a bit too big and too long, but I did not have time to get it fixed. My Nana and best friend bully me into letting them chauffeur me to my date and pick me up at the end. As we pulled to the curb, my Nana yelled at me to get out of the car when a big group was going in. I wanted to wait until the group was gone, but my Nana's persistence forced me out. After awkwardly standing near the group that was being talked to, I saw my date and stood next to him, waiting for the opportunity to introduce myself. After this awkward start, we went down the stairs for cocktail hour. As we were on the escalator, my dress got caught in it! I start to panic on the inside but I don't want my date to find out. When the escalator flattened out for the 2 seconds at the end, I yanked my dress out and somehow it came out without any rips or tears. Phew. We go into the cocktail room and my date is so quiet and awkward. To make it worse, a guy I knew from high school was also there and he was just as awkward. One of the servers took pity on me and told me that I would look so beautiful with another glass of wine in my hand. I must have looked so uncomfortable. I ended up having a longer conversation with my states Senator's husband than my own date. To give George a little credit, he was not talking to anyone else. When we got to the dinning hall, George and I were placed at a front table with a bunch of strangers. The women were very nice but kept asking if he was my husband, what we did for Valentine's day, etc. As the night carried on we had to stand up and applaud many times and my dress kept getting caught under the chair. The longest speech was about an hour by the head of the Air Force. Because of all the moving up and down, my Spandex rolled to the top of my thigh and was cutting off circulation. My leg was throbbing so bad but I felt like I could not leave from one of the front tables during the head of the American Air Force's speech! I tried to casually slip my fingers in between the now tourniquet and my upper thigh. When the man paused his speech, the Spandex slipped out of my hands onto my skin making a loud snapping sound. I was mortified to say the least. I could not stand to look at the people around me, let alone my date, so I stared at the speaker intensely. When the night was finally over, I stood with my date and waited for my Nana and best friend to come pick me up. By this point I wanted to get out as quickly as possible, but I still realized the humor of the night and asked George to take a picture with me to capture the uncomfortably. After 20ish minutes, I see them and give my date a side hug. Neither of us have talked to each other since.
Feb. 24, 2019, 11:22 a.m.
Just finished listening to the podcast, and loved it. Thought I would post you my unedited (heavily edited) version of my University Sweetheart.
Ok, so I started first year of university, in Halls, but not my own university halls. I applied late, and got palmed off to another nearby halls, for a small college campus that had massive amounts of accomodation. As one of only a few, who didn't go to the college, we had a bit of a seige mentality, and all became close. One of the girls from the flat downstairs was super pretty, and I became quite close with her. It wasn't fast, but she was way out of my league so made sense.
I actually first wasn't really that interested, but I think she had a bit if a "challenge complex" and found the fact more interesting to try and get me to like her. Anyway, clearly after I did get interested, I was blinded to any querks she had, because I was smitten.
As things progressed a bit, the guys would mess around, and noticed I rarely locked my door, when I would go out for the night. This brought on some pranks.
So one morning, I went to my closet and all of my underwear had been stolen. So I went down and said to them, funny, can I have it back. None of them laughed, which is usually an alarm bell that the prank isn't them, but this was everyone. So no one confessed, I went commando for a few days thinking I'd have it returned, but nothing showed up.
After about a week, I was chatting with one of her friends, and she told me that the girl had taken it, and didn't think that even she knew about it.
One of the querks I had been missing, was she was a bit if a kleptomaniac, which none of the others missed. It took about 2-3 weeks, but the underwear did show up, in front of my door, with no explanation. We never spoke of it.
Dec. 10, 2018, 12:14 a.m.
After my divorce, I was left feeling rejected, invisible and unlovable. Let me just tell you, as modestly as possible, I'm a sex bomb. I am 5'9, tall and slender with great breasts. I would say I'm a strong 8.5. I hadn't been single since my mid 20s and didn't know where to meet men, since I worked from home and my circle of friends are all married with kids. I figured I would get with the program and give Tinder a try. I set myself some rules one the type of guys I would swipe to meet. I just wanted to feel attractive again, after a toxic marriage. I wanted to go on some dates, something I'd never done as I had in two long term relationships through all of my twenties.
My rules were:
No selfies (too narcissistic, like my ex)
No partying / smoking pictures (not my lifestyle)
No topless pictures (clearly only looking for sex right?!)
No description or info about himself (only looking for a quick shag based on looks)
As I was only going to use these guys to get my validation that I am gorgeous and desirable, and wasn't intending on investing too much time or energy with any of them. I also swore a year of celibacy to myself, to protect my fragile emotional state. I had a few good dates and a few bad ones. All the men wanted to pursue me and see me again but rules are rules.
Then I saw him. His first photo was party photo with a big fat cigar in his hands (but dressed dapper). His second photo a topless photo at the beach. The third...you guessed it, a selfie. One thing stood out to me, his smile. He didn't take himself too seriously. His description: 6ft. Well, at least he's not short! The banter was great between us. We finally arranged to meet.
Our first date was a coffee date that lasted three hours. It felt so familiar and comfortable, I loved how 'me' I felt with him. We immediately clicked. Then we just chatted for a couple of weeks more, but he was too 'busy' to meet. I later found out, the fact that I was divorced scared him.
When I finally decided to start going on dates again, I had a few lined up one weekend, when he finally texted saying he wanted to see me again. I told him I had weekend plans but could see him that evening only (it was Thursday). He picked me up from my place and took me to one of the fanciest restaurants. We wined and dined and laughed all night. While he went to the bathroom, I matched with more men on Tinder and I checked the app. When he came back, the app came up in conversation and he opened it to show me that you can check the other person's activity on it (he had an apple, I had an android which did not show this). He saw that I had been active while we'd been on our date. Cringe! I just laughed and shrugged like a man-eater (which I am totally not).
The date lasted 5.5 hours and the staff were making it clear we'd over stayed our welcome. He drove me home and we had an intense kiss in the car. I didn't want him to come up to my place, because I was still living with very little post-divorce and didn't want anyone to see that I was sleeping on a couch. We didn't want it to end, so we drove to his place and stated there the next three days. Needless to say, I didn't see my other dates.
That was two and a half years ago, and next year we'll be married. Thank you tinder, and goes to show some rules are worth bending.
Although... I have now moved to the UK, I was born and raised in Africa, Nigeria to be precise.
This was some time in the early 2000's I was in my final year at the University. At that time, my best friend was studying at a University in Lagos (the most popular city in Nigeria ... let's just say Nigeria's 'New York City'' ). He lived at home with his Mom and siblings and if I may add, his mom was one of those '' strict, church-going mommy's''
I, on the other hand, was in at a University out of town, a small suburb about 50miles away from Lagos. Oh, I forgot to add that my friend and I are Bisexual borderline gay..lol
However, due to religion, family values and ultimately the criminalization of homosexuality in Nigeria we did things under wraps. Met and hooked up with guys with similar preferences at the most random places from church, to parties and with the advent of the internet and mobile phones in Nigeria, we got the chance to meet on yahoo messenger, hi5, and blackgaychat
To cut the long story short, we somehow managed to map out a way of satisfying that side of us with uttermost secrecy and fear.
On this particular occasion, I was back at Uni, it was mid-semester with minimal academic activities and I was bored sick at Uni, so I decided to travel to Lagos to spend a long weekend with my friend. It was the usual norm to stay over at his house as his mom and siblings knew me and we had become somewhat family friends.
Prior to me travelling to Lagos, during one of our many midnight calls (call tariffs were cheaper at midnight and often free on some networks''.... talk about the tale of two broke lads) he had told me about a guy he was chatting with and they were planning to meet soon. Ofcourse typical me was excited and somewhat jealous... my bestie always got the best guys!! and I on the other.... let's say I was always at the disadvantage.
Fast forward long weekend, I was live in Lagos before 12.noon, met up with my friend at his Uni and then we headed to his house after his last lecture. Gossiping and giggling all the way home and ofcourse trying to map out a fun-filled weekend for ourselves.
We got to his place and after an exchange of pleasantries with his family and the usual '' mummy, I'm in Lagos for a brief course research'' that was my typical lie whenever I was in Lagos during the school term. My bestie and I settled into his room catching up on life and firming up our weekend plan. He decided to message the new guy he was speaking with and asked if they could meet over the weekend. Let's call the guy John.... Well luckily for my friend, John was free as well and was happy to meet up on Saturday evening. But there was a little problem, there was no way my bestie was going to leave me at home without raising suspicion and likely getting an objection from his Mom.
We had to find somewhere for me to go.... At that moment, I could see the '' bitch why did you come to ruin my parade look on my bestie's face'' There was a long awkward silence in the room for about 10 minutes and then my friend said....don't worry I will cancel and see him some other time. That statement further made me feel guilty so I asked in the coyest manner, how about we meet him together, my friend replied... '' you are joking right?'' bitch are you suggesting a threesome?'' At this point, we burst into laughter and then I said... '' hmmm what if he even likes me better than you'' That made us burst out into even bigger laughter.
After a brief deliberation, my friend decided to tell John that he had a friend over the weekend and couldn't leave him alone, hence they should reschedule. That sounded like music in John's ears as he replied and said, ''that's perfect... I have a friend who has his sisters house to himself all weekend. How about we have something like a double date''... My bestie paired with John and Me paired with Mr Stranger whom I will like to call Mr Banger. This sounded like a perfect plan and we were both happy with this plan.... whoop! whoop!! my long weekend was going to be a ball.
Saturday morning came, we both did his chores in the house, got outfits ready.... it was the time when bootleg jeans and undersize tops were in vogue in Lagos.
I had cooked a perfect story for my friend's mom, I was going for a research at another university located the extreme end of Lagos and if it got too late, we were going to sleep over at the guest hostel at this University. She had nothing against this and bid us farewell.
Soon, it was time for us to set out, the plan was for us to meet at a popular fast-food joint, where we were to have dinner and head to Mr Banger's house. In typical fashion, we got to the joint earlier than planned, got ourselves settled in a corner sipping on a bottle of Fanta each. We usually had this rule of arriving at a date early allowing us the opportunity to ''check out'' the date before they spot us and decide to meet or to bail. ( will post another story on a later time about meeting or bailing)
After about 30 minutes, we saw 2 guys walk into the relatively busy fast food joint, my friend recognised his date as they had exchanged pictures online. They both walked up to us, we exchanged pleasantries and they both sat across us. Mr Banger sat across me on the table while John sat across my bestie.
After a brief chat, they asked if we wanted to eat and stupidly, the ''diva'' in us declined to claim we had eaten. John and Banger ordered something to eat and had their meal while picking conversations with us at brief intervals.
Soon, they were done eating and it was time for us to leave. Oh! and before I proceed, these guys were much older than us, I mean they were already working and were driving. We got out of the joint and got into a car which we later discovered was John's. We drove for about 4 miles giggling and talking about all sorts during the drive. We soon arrived at the house. It was a nicely furnished house. It was obviously neither John or Mr Banger's house. There were family pictures on the wall. It was a very pretty lady who shared a resemblance with Mr Banger and that of her husband and kids. Deep sigh!! the story was true it was Mr Bangers Ssters house!
Mr Banger asked us to settle in and get comfortable, he put on the tv and it was Aliyah's back and forth showing on MTV Base. At this time it was about 10.00pm. Mr banger went in to have a shower, while John and my friend were cuddled up kissing in the corner of the living room which was vaguely lit by the light coming from the TV screen. I glued my eyes to the TV screen trying to ignore the growing bulge in my trousers and the slopping and smacking of lips that was coming from the corner of the room.
A little while later, Mr Banger walked back into the living room, he had no shirt on and was wearing only boxer shorts with a mid-sized towel across his shoulder. Did I omit the part that Mr Banger was of a large body type and at this time I guess I weighed just over 58 stones? He sat right beside me and without any notice, he grabbed my face, knocked me to the floor which had a nicely cushioned carpet and started kissing me, I didn't hold back as I was thoroughly horny at this point. My bestie and John had started to get to business and like werewolves, it was a night of the full moon. I took my clothes off and soon I had only my boxer shorts on.
We kissed for a bit and then, Mr Banger reached for my D*** and this point I had not summed up enough courage to touch his, I allowed him to take the lead. He paused for a second and said... OMG!! you are so small and gave the most ridiculing and demeaning sigh! I was totally embarrassed. I then reached out for his and to my wildest surprise, it was the largest cock I had ever seen in my life... It was long, thick and big. It must have been about 12 inches. Now I understood why he had the guts to call me small.
My friend and John were in full bloom and had no care in the world, they either didn't hear us or probably ignored us. Mr Banger at this point had obviously lost interest and me on the hand was trying to salvage what was left of my dignity. Trying all the tricks I had up my sleeve to pleasure him and his ''weapon of mass destruction'' but Mr Banger wasn't bothered, he laid there and was watching TV. After about 20 mins of me hovering over his large body, he rolled over and said in the crudest manner '' bend let me just fuck you''. My heart dropped, it was a mixture of disgust and fear, in that split second, my entire life flashed in my eyes. He reached out for some petroleum jelly that had been used by John and my bestie and he slathered a handful into my ass without wearing a condom with his full weight and fully erect dick he reached for my ass. I'm certain the tip of his cock had not entered before I screamed out so loud. it was so painful, I felt the sting in my brain. I'm sure I must have shed a tear or two. He backed off and pushed me off like a dead sheep. At this point, John and my bestie were taking a breather from their 2nd or 3rd round. I was so ashamed. Mr Banger kissed his teeth so loudly it was deafening to hear. It was an awkward moment in the room. My bestie came over to me and asked if I was ok. I whispered in most frail manner '' I just wanna go home'' he replied, ''babe it's past 2.00am, we can't leave now'' I took a deep sigh and felt so helpless once more. I grabbed my clothes and got dressed.
At this point, I guess John had gone in to clean up and shortly Mr banger followed him. My bestie and I sat together and cuddled me in an attempt to console me. He promised we were going to leave before 6.00am.
Soon the two guys were back in the living room, John reached out for my friend and pulled him to ''their'' corner, I was sat by myself on the couch while Banger laid back on the carpet. His dick was obviously still erect. I fixed my eyes on the TV, it was still music videos showing on TV and soon I was a little calmer and carried away by the videos.
After 30 minutes, it went silent in the room, my friend and John had fallen asleep and I totally ignored the presence of Mr Banger. counting down to daybreak. I soon got a tap on my leg, at first I ignored and then he called my name. I replied in the most formal manner '' can I help you?'' He replied, '' I need to cum'', I played deaf and then he raised his voice a little higher with a slight hint of aggression. I replied asking '' so what do I do? I cannot take that'' He replied abrasively '' I know... you are a lazy girl'', I muttered under my breathe '' Thank you... Fat man''
He then said, stand up and dance for me while I wank myself, at first I felt like asking,'' are you mad, do I look like a slut?'' but then I thought me myself, the earlier this beast cums and sleeps the shorter this night will be for me.
I stood up and started to dance, again it was Aliyah's '' rock the boat'' that was playing so you can imagine the kind of steps I was bursting.
To cut the long story short, I ended up strip dancing or tease dancing or whatever you like to call it for this guy. I was making an absolute fool of myself. I did this for almost 45 mins before he finally shot out some little drops of something that looked like lime juice while making the ugliest sounds I have ever heard in my life! I felt like spitting at him.
I slumped into the couch, exhausted. At this point, it was almost 4.00am in the morning. I sat for a bit and then woke my friend up. '' Let's go I said'' We were out of their house at about 4.50am. Mr Banger was snoring heavily when we left, John stood up and saw us off to the gate of the house. I avoided eye contact with him as he kissed my friend goodbye.
I cut my long weekend short and I was headed back to my Uni that evening. That was the last time my friend and I ever tried a double date or anything of such sort. It's been years passed now and my bestie is still my bestie. He has remained my best friend for over 15 years now.
How much to put? I'll post an abridged version that I can expand upon.
It was 1981, winter. I was living and working in London - part of a polytechnic sandwich course. During the course of an average day, whilst in a London underground station I spotted a girl (let's say Jane) who I had known whilst at school some three years ago. Jane had been one of the beautiful people - the untouchables that the likes of me didn't speak to. I was a different person now however, more confident (so I believed) , and so I took it upon myself to approach her and ask her out. To my amazement, Jane agreed.
She told me she was a nursing student and suggested meeting the following evening at a pub close to Paddington station that apparently was not too far from her residential nursing accommodation. I arrived first at the chosen pub, naturally, at least 30 minutes early. I wasn't going to make the rookie mistake of keeping Jane waiting. I downed a pint of lager to help quell the first night nerves.
Jane arrived and I think it fair to say we had a terrific evening. Conversation flowed easily and to my surprise she seemed warm, approachable and gave the distinct impression that a second date would follow and a relationship, not completely platonic, might blossom. Time had passed easily and Jane looked at her watch. It was later than we imagined. She jumped up and said she had to leave as the nurses home closed in 30 minutes. ''Would I like to walk her to the gates of the home?''. Without a single other thought, the answer to such a stupid question was 'yes'. We exited the pub and starting walking in the frosty, still night air. Conversation continued to flow but I became aware that a visit to the toilet before leaving the pub might have been a good idea. We continued walking and I was increasingly aware of bladder discomfort. I considered hopping over into a local garden but concluded that urinating in public might not be the ideal way to finish a first date. We continued for a further 200 years by which time discomfort had turned to pain. Happily Jane pointed out the nurses home a further 100 yards further on. Thank the lord, I would be fine. Reaching our destination Jane turned and thanked me for a lovely evening and planted a warm kiss on my lips. Latchkey urgency is defined as 'the knowledge that you will soon be able to go to the toilet causing the bladder to contract'. A number of events followed. The dams broke as I felt Jane's lips meet mine and not only was time standing still but the dozens and dozens of returning nurses had also ceased walking and all were looking in our direction. This being a particularly cold night, warm urine quickly turned into into billowing clouds of ammonia filled steam. I chose not to pursue Jane's telephone number or to ask where our second date might take place, or indeed to offer to dry clean her now, less than fetching outfit. Instead I chose to turn and march quickly away from the humiliation, without looking back and begin my slow progress back to Paddington Station.
Skin tight jeans are never more skin tight than when soaked with urine and proudly on display in the London tube system. Two changes of rail lines were thrown in for the public's general entertainment. Definitely not entertained was my landlady who instructed me in no uncertain terms to throw the offending jeans and pants away.
Nearly 40 years have passed though the memory of that night and one particular moment in time remains vivid.
Crap dates: Racism
I'm glad to say I'm not one of those white people who think racism doesn't exist just because I don't endure it. I have parents; I've always been aware of it.
But some of the dates I've had are a cold hard smack in the face to anyone who thinks that if a tree falls in the wood, it doesn't make a sound.
Racist number one: laughing racist
He was half Iranian, half Russian, born and raised in Iran, and from out of nowhere says he doesn't trust black people. I joked that he wouldn't like it round where I live (Peckham (London)) and he agreed no, too many Africans. The mad thing was, he found this hilarious! Calling black people "untrustworthy" was all just japes to him. "lol"
Racist number two: deceptive narcissistic racist
This one didn't go well from the moment I saw him and realised his photo was from the 80s. In his late 40s? My arse. I ended up cornered in a coffee shop listening to him bang on about how great he was and then he said he liked where he lived (Hampstead) because you don't have to be scared of "the blacks". I was shocked and said for starters, don't call black people that. He agreed, apologised, but then soon after used that phrase again, "the blacks". I've never wanted to headbutt a date before. He was an Indian immigrant who voted Brexit (and was very proud of it "of course I voted Brexit"!) because there's too many immigrants. I'm an immigrant too - having terrible trouble with my border.
Racist number three: local racist
From out of nowhere (presumably as it's a question on OK Cupid) he announces "why is it black lives matter? All lives matter." And then...again from nowhere said "Piers Morgan: he's just saying what we're all thinking." No, he's not. He then started banging on about Brexit and how it's good to be taking back control and spouting "facts". I was working at the time for a company that does political analysis, and had a festoon of actual facts ready for him. I had stats. Percentages. Forecasts. Consequences. You'd never fit it on a bus. He looked...blank and disappointed.
Racist number four: Fake views - local racist no. 2
To begin with, I didn't recognise him from his photos. Never a good sign. He was very loud, confident (read arrogant and rambunctious) and dominating the conversation. As in, I was sitting there being talked at, with a look of horror on my face. To be honest, I'm not even sure what he was on about - it was all a bit "us" and "them" and I did think to myself, is he being a racist? Who are the "them" he keeps referring to? What's happening here? Then it came out: "I'm not a racist...my ex is Jamaican." Ah. So he was being racist.
And the monologue continued ... he said something about how police have big guns in the US and I attempted a joke that "it's ok for us, we're white". That's when he brought up "fake news" and how no more black people are killed (which is numerically correct - but doesn't quite ... hang on I don't need to tell you it's more complicated than that. You're smart people!). He was suggesting I got my news from Facebook and had gone down the route that I was a gormless idiot.
He then announced "I'm not telling you what to think". That's when I snapped. "You can't tell me what to think. You are not entitled to tell me what to think." I said I wasn't comfortable with the conversation and he said ok, how about another drink. I said nothing (I actually just wanted to cry) and he offered a lift home. I joked that that's breaking one of the top 5 rules of dating: don't get into strangers' cars. That's when he snapped, got up and made a big scene that he was "walking out on this date", pointing at me for good measure. Knob.
Racist number five: science racist
My best friend is Czech and she told me that it can be a problem there, how people are openly racist. Well I met one of the bad ones. I had just been made redundant from a job where our positions were offshored to the South Africa office. He said the company he worked for had lots of South Africans who preferred to work in the UK because the company has a "one black for one white" equality hiring programme. Oh that's a good idea I said, completely oblivious to being what a massively racist t**t he was.
Then (and you'll notice a pattern here) it came up out of nowhere about how some people just don't try in life. And having difficult life circumstances/poverty is no excuse. He mentioned black people not doing well in UK society despite all they are given. I made some attempt at being the bleeding heart liberal I am and suggested there's a bit more to it that than and he said ... actually, snapped at me:
"So you're telling me the [insert really long name of gene] that Chinese people have that make them better at concentrating and do better in life doesn't exist then, hmmm?" I got "hmmmmd?"
What? You're polarising black and Chinese people against each other, the Chinese being superior because they have a particular gene? Is what I should have said. I don't think I said much really as I'm ill prepared for these situations. I had no science back for him. No counter argument of the genetic merits of black people. Because I'm not a eugenics-toting-racist.
Any pointers on pertinant questions to ask to avoid meeting racists welcome!
Oct. 22, 2018, 10:38 a.m.
I'm going to tell you a story. it's not a pretty story but it's the only one I;ve got! and you can laugh at me and think I'm a nob. I have no solid media connection with anybody mentioned. and my facebook name isn't even my real name, so I;m thinking its not going to embarrass anybody other than me (Daze is what my godson calls me cos he cant say Dave...the little idiot)
the start is a bit sad but bear with me, you'll laugh later....
I was going out with this lass...wonderful lass and astonishingly beautiful. after about a year together she dumps me...its not you its me, at this point in my life I cant be in a relationship with anyone...nobody has ever heard that before! "with anybody" does mean "you specifically"
I heard, from her directly that she was now back in a relationship with her ex fiance...who she had left because of his multiple affairs...he had then emptied their joint bank account and left her stranded penniless in a foreign country (Mexico). she managed to get back to madrid and started to get her life back together slowly...then he arrived back, stricken with grief and intent on getting her back, which meant constant phonically and insistence on meeting because ge was so depressed and wanted her back so much. she even cried on my shoulder once due to his constant attempts to get her back. so she was lucky that she met a (not so) handsome (not so English) Englishman (me, you idiot!). she dumped me in march....though possibly was earlier...I;m a bit slow and we didnt see her as she was a bit ill and work and the ex fiance was taking up a lot of time. so she told me recently that she was now back with the ex fiance. so...I felt...not so good...this guy treats you like shit and yet you'd rather go out with him than me. thanks.
so, I tend to apply SOP_B after a breakup (Standard Operating Procedure for Breakups). Block and delete on phone and social media..try to forget about them, help this by getting back on the horse as soon and as often as possible until that person or those memories that hurt you are distant and innocuous. to help get back on the horse, I use dating apps. hey! they've worked before...I was a massive slut before I met the girl I;m talking about. and basically...if you meet someone in reality its just incredible luck that you were in the right place at the right time. I spend my life at work or at home. I don't meet people at home cos I live alone and that fella I see in the mirror on the odd occasion I shave...well, he's not my type. and I dont meet people at work...cos I;m not mental. and I dont meet people between work and home because I;m looking where I;m going...I dont want to bump into people or step in shite.
I;m registered on a dating app. I;ve got the search engine set to 35-55 as I'm 47. although I look 46 in the right light. I suddenly get a message from a 27 year old nurse. we have a chat and arrange to meet. maybe I didnt look at the profile because was a bit of a surprise. we meet one Friday night. she's a fairly good looking lass but tall, almost my hight...with broad shoulders and blimey she can put away the beer. but a really nice girl. date ends earlier than she seemed to want as I was falling asleep...I was up at 06:30 and at work at 07:40 and hadn't had a siesta. second date was much the same...I felt a bit of a paedo as she was so young and told me her first concert was Britney Spears! but at the end of the date I take her to the station so she can get the metro back to her home in the suburbs. we have a bit of a snog. mouth, tongues, she's a really good kisser. so next day she has sent me a wink or something on the app and I actually read her profile and right there it says "chica trans de madrid"...so that would explain the broad shoulders and the beer drinking.
now I felt awful. not because I had kissed a trans person...but because I thought she was a really nice girl,,but suddenly I didnt want to see her again. maybe I am a conservative and closed minded piece of shit. but to be honest, I didn't particularly fancy her and because she didnt have a word of english, after two long dates I was running out of things to talk about easily in Spanish...I have to think what to say and then how to say it...and I;m pretty rubbish with those in English.
What did I do? I partly lied to her. always a good option. I sent her a message saying that she was a wonderful girl and I was really glad I;d met her but that I;d met someone else. the someone else wasnt better in any way but was closer to my age and we had a lot in common and I thought we had a future. she responded well, I;m sure my charms hadn't made her fall in love with me or anything and she was very nice and said she had enjoyed spending time with me and wished me luck with new girl.
I didnt feel disgusted that I;d kissed someone who was born a bloke. she was a really good kisser and she was attractive as a girl. not like she had a deep voice and I thought she might beat me up
I just felt stupid because its probably the main reason I read the profile....they are almost always the same...love life, love laughing, travel, travel, travel, I;m so happy, no ONS, love life....but I;ve already swiped left when they write "chica tran" before my brain decodes that they had written "china tranquil"
and the trans thing...its still leaves out a bit of information...if your trans it means you live your life in the gender you weren't assigned at birth...so you have no idea what is going on down there until you come across it...so to speak. I'm not penis-phobic...but I dont really want to have much to do with one that isn't mine.
so thats my story. I suppose the moral is to read profiles a bit more carefully. I told the woman I;m spending the day with on Saturday the story...and she laughed...but I asked her to wear a skirt rather than jeans or trousers just so it will be more obvious if she has a cock