About two weeks ago, I met a man. Let’s call him Tony.
Tony and I met for a drink on our first date and he had me laughing and smiling for the whole two and a half hours, while I finished three rose sangrias. I took the laughing to be a good sign that we would have an easy connection, filled with light and fun.
Date 2 was lunch. Short, sweet, fun. More laughing, but we were only together for about an hour and a half before we both had to go do other things.
Date 3 was dinner. There was still laughing but a bit less as some of his joke were borderline inappropriate and embarrassing. I chocked it up to his possible nerves and language barrier, and ignored it.
Date 4 was very elaborate. It started in a small village in the North where we had coffee and a brunch snack. Then, it moved to a secluded beach which was absolutely stunning. Then, it ended with dinner on the coast at a very fancy seafood restaurant. He was pulling out all the stops and I was flattered. I wish the dinner wasn’t as fancy as it was because after a full day, I was not dressed appropriately and I was tired. But I appreciated the effort and made the very best of it. I tried to have meaningful conversation with him and he just seemed uncomfortable and made jokes.
Date 5 was supposed to be a movie but he canceled the movie because he had worked later than he thought he would that day. I was disappointed that we weren’t going to the movie but agreed to see him anyway. He picked me up and ordered a sandwich. And here was the beginning of the end.
I knew that we needed to have sex that night to see if there was something there. I was hopeful there was and thought that if we have good chemistry and a good connection in bed then, I can work with the rest (his inability to have a serious talk and his seeming lack of intelligence). First, the kissing that happened before we even got to the bedroom was awkward. It hadn’t been awkward before that so, I’m not sure what happened, but it was pretty bad. He would slobber all over my bottom lip and chin and then pull his face back a little and just breathe on me with his mouth WIDE open, mere millimeters away. Then, annoyed I would pull my head back completely and he’d come in for the kill on my face, teeth first.
I asked him not to bite my face. I hate it when people bite my face (thankfully this is something that doesn’t happen all that often). He laughed, of course, and continued to try to bite my face. I asked him not to breathe into my face. He laughed and kept doing that too.
Then, when we got on to the bed, his foreplay was unlike anything I had ever experienced (see: like a virgin). He very aggressively took my pants off, then my shirt, nearly ripping it, then my bra. My bra, though, he tried to pull off of me like a pair of pants before even attempting to unclip it. I thought he was probably just really excited. So, there I was, lying there in only my thong panties; what does he do now? He starts attacking my sensitive bits hard through the fabric of my panties with his left hand. I can’t stress this enough. It was HARD and ROUGH. He was rubbing just over the opening with his full palm HARD, scratching me with the fabric of my underwear. It was not pleasurable. Then, he’d stop and like cup my vagina and shake my whole pelvis, a technique that sort of works when there’s a finger or two inserted, but without fingers actually does little save for making your partner uncomfortable. His fingers were on the front of my pelvic area (like if you’re looking at a woman head-on) and he was flicking and tapping in the front, where no woman has pleasure sensors, while his palm pushed and rubbed uncomfortably in the sensitive area.
I tried moving his hand, no luck. I commented that he was hurting me through the fabric. “So take them off!” He boldly declared. Well, buddy, you had no trouble ripping off all of my other clothes, I just thought you’d maybe finish the job.
All the while, he was on top of me, sweating, dripping, biting my face, and doing that horrible pull-away-and-breathe-on-me-thing. He was grinding against my left leg, and I could feel through his boxers that he was…ummm…on the smaller side, shall we say. I tried moving my head to get away from the dripping, breathing, awfulness, and the face-biting. Everywhere I moved my face to, his followed. It was borderline nightmare-ish.
Finally I started to feel him getting harder against my leg. “Put a condom on,” I insisted, wanting this all to be over. He did, then he took my hand and put it on his freshly condom-ed dick and said “can you help me out a little bit?” Now?? You already put on the condom! Ugh..Yes, girls just love jerking men off through a gross lubricated condom…
Eventually, the sex happened and it was terrible. Short, sweaty, face-bitey, breathe-y, and uncomfortable as it was. It finished and I quietly resolved never to do it again with him.
Now, let me clarify. I know that awkward sex happens, especially the first time you do it with someone new. However, I am VERY sensitive about my face, thanks to James and his psychotic tendencies. I really hate it when people bite my face. I also really don’t like it when I’m breathing in the air that someone else is exhaling. I don’t do shot-gun hits for this reason. This, again, is thanks to James. It’s not something I want to negotiate on. I just don’t like it. There are enough other things we can do in bed; we don’t have to do these two things.
tangent: And it’s not exactly like I’m the most delicate and sensitive sex partner… Ben used to call me “durable” and I always took it as a compliment.
Tony was not listening to me. He wasn’t a considerate lover. He did not pay attention to my not-so-subtle clues that I was not happy. He didn’t follow my lead when I tried to guide him towards what to do instead, and he made me extremely uncomfortable.
The worst part of all of this is that when it was done, he clearly thought it was the greatest thing that had ever happened between two consenting adults. He tried to cuddle, he tried to re-initiate. I just wanted out of there. I was so unhappy.
That was Tuesday. Today is Saturday. I haven’t seen him since and I’ve barely spoken to him. I really don’t want to. The next conversation will be the “it’s not working” conversation.
Re-reading this post, I see that it’s difficult to convey through words how horrible of an experience it was. I don’t know how to fix this, so you all are just going to have to believe me when I say that it doesn’t matter how open and adventurous I am in bed, because I am. What happened on Tuesday night is an experience I never want to repeat. It’s not like I was raped, I just have no intention of willingly going through that again. He’s not worth it. No one is worth it.