S, 37, German
So basically this chap and I matched on Tinder towards the end of July 2016, shortly after I signed up again. I can’t remember the exact date now. His Tinder profile depicted a rather quaint scene of suburbia using emojis. It didn’t really work, but it was funny and cute, so I swiped right.
He was in Panama at the time, but lived and worked in London ordinarily. He messaged first and portrayed a larger than life personality. After a little chit chat he asked if I had WhatsApp. As ever, I took the opportunity to make it clear that I had absolutely no interest in sharing naked pictures. He professed to be all innocent in that regard. Yeah, whatever dude! He was very keen to meet up when he returned to London a few days later. I was feeling a bit meh about it. Following on from the previous date, my horny levels were still rock bottom.
On Sunday 31 July 2016 he returned and straight away he wanted to meet. Despite his long journey, he seemingly had bags of energy. I did not. I asked how tall he was. 5’9” was the answer. Bummer! So I had no energy, no sex drive, wasn’t massively attracted to him, though he wasn’t unattractive and he was a bit over the top. However, he was also nice and funny at times. After asking how tall he was, the conversation went like this:
S: We could have fun tonight. How tall are you and your little friends?
— I’m 5’7”
S: Nice. And your friends, or should I guess?
— How is this question relevant? I’m surprised you didn’t get laid in Panama. Or did you?
S: Haha because I am curious. Sure I did. (No, he most definitely did not.)
— About the height of my friends?
S: Haha the size of your breast.
— 36FF. How big is your dick?
S: Come on. My dick, he is flexible.
— What’s the difference in these questions?
S: How do you mean?
— Are you going to answer it?
S: I don’t know how big he is to be honest.
— Haaaaaa, Ok then. But don’t be shy. You asked how big my breasts are, so you shouldn’t be afraid of an equally personal question in return. Works both ways.
S: Sure, should I measure him for you?
— Sure. Might as well know what I’m potentially dealing with.
S: It’s about 16cm (nope) haha but maybe you can make him big for me (an impossibility).
— Maybe one day.
S: You are really funny. What’s your size then?
— Size of what?
S: Your boobies, you remember?? I asked a question as well.
— But I’ve already told you. I told you first.
S: Double ff??
— Yes. 36FF, as above.
S: You have to show me.
— No, I don’t.
S: I am so exciting.
— You’re starting to irritate me. Please don’t. I liked you much better when you made me laugh.
S: Haha but why shouldn’t I not be exciting?
— You mean excited, right?
S: Irritating? How? Ok excited, sorry haha.
— Let’s not do this. Happy to meet you at some point, if you’re going to be charming and nice.
S: Doing what? I am always nice and funny.
— “You HAVE to show me” (your breasts). That’s not cool.
S: You could if they like. (What?) You are really excited as well I bet. Sorry maybe it’s the jet lag.
S: And maybe I have never had the pleasure with someone nice like you and double ff, but I am staying cool now.
— Well let’s just meet and see if we like each other first.
S: Sure, that’s what I am saying.
S: And I’ll behave always. Not always OK?
—You won’t be coming back to my bed if you don’t behave.
To be honest, I’m exhausted and irritated just typing that conversation out. Why did I ever agree to meet this guy? Well, I didn’t know what would happen, of course. I’m a skeptic for sure, and also a realist, but I also like to give people a fair chance. He’s not a native speaker and texts really aren’t the best way to converse, without intonation and body language. I didn’t want to mis-judge him. Also, I was feeling quite down at the time and I was really hoping for something magical to happen, to brighten up my day.
The next day, at around midday, he was back in touch. Long story short, I said he could come round that night. I had no intention of going anywhere, particularly for him. If he was so enthusiastic, he could make all of the effort, otherwise I wasn’t fussed. And he did. Of course he did! He was super keen and I’m betting he hadn’t gotten laid for quite some time. I think he’s one of those people who are a little delusional about their accomplishments – they like to embellish and be super confident, otherwise they’ll shrivel up. Anyway, I asked him to pick up a lime on his way over. He asked what brand *scratches head/tummy chuckles*. I sent him a photograph of said limes – you know, the fruit? OMG, this is exhausting. He delivered.
S was actually a lovely guy in real life. We sat on the sofa for a while chatting away. Appearance wise, I made little effort that evening. He was edging ever closer to me as the night progressed. I could sense the desire to have sex in him and I felt a bit sorry for him really. I’ve been in that situation when you’re so horny you can’t function. He wanted me A LOT. We kissed and it was fairly nice. He didn’t have thick enough lips for me really, but his technique was ok. I enjoyed it.
Eventually we made our way to the bedroom, but I’ve got to say I was feeling so “meh” about this. We started to have sex and it was terrible. Pretty sure it’s the worst I’ve had in my life. With his little dick and his generally small frame, coupled with his terrible rhythm, I was completely numb – not enjoying a single bit of it. I got the impression that he was very much used to wanking (absolutely no surprises there), the rhythm that goes with it and was using my body to effect the same result. I could not take a single second more of it and called time on the encounter. Awful, awful sex. I could tell he was disappointed and probably embarrassed, but I like to think I’ve learned some lessons on this journey (ha, I say that now!), one of which is not to have sex with people when I’m really not in the mood or who I don’t really fancy. I was lying there thinking “Why should he get pleasured and not me? I really don’t care about him as much as some of the others, who I would want to pleasure.” Even if I was horny, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it.
As he got dressed, he had a little smirk on his face, probably trying to make the best of things. He said “It happens sometimes.” “Not to me it doesn’t.” I responded, referring to the bad sex and calling time, not the lack of climax. He left. The next day I text him just to thank him for coming over and to say that I enjoyed his company. I didn’t want to end things on a completely sour note and I also didn’t want him to feel bad about himself. I wish him all the best 🙂
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