Adventures in dating: part 3

This is NSFW/NSFL for some friends and family who may prefer to think of me as pure and virginal.


I’m not sure if you worked it out from the last cliff hanger (“did I want to date someone who couldn’t drive?”) but we did continue dating.

I don’t know. It was something like dating. I think the problem with modern dating (I’m sure that I’ll expand on these thoughts later) is that it’s a game of who cares less. If you tell someone that you like them or you want to actually be a “thing” then you lose. You’re not supposed to care.

And if you’ve had a long, dry year of hand cramps then you’d probably Alien face hug all over the first person who showed any kind of interest your way. I wasn’t at the point of concocting romance stories about me and the guy who made eye contact with me at the shops but I wasn’t far off that.

Oh, grocery boy. The way you tenderly shelve those buns and rolls just lets me know that you’d tenderly caress my buns and rolls. But we can never be.


Maybe it was because Andrew had a better knowledge of bars and restaurants but I left it up to him to plan this date. I think I wanted to be impressed. To be wooed.
“Hey, I know you like this so I thought we should go to this awesome place that does it! Remember your childhood dream of receiving a library just like Belle? WELL, HERE’S A LIBRARY AND A SUITCASE FULL OF CASH JUST FOR FUN!”
This is a lot of pressure to put on a man that barely knows you.

I did the complete opposite with Steve where I planned our first and third dates. And let me tell you, if we had seen Zoolander 2 (his choice) over Deadpool (my pick) on Valentine’s Day then I wouldn’t have been so willing to hop into bed. Seeing Ryan Reynolds’s penis on screen for a split second* really does things for a girl.


Andrew picked where we would go for dinner. I was happy to go along with any plans. I felt like I should have been saying “it’s an honour just to be here!” any time I was with him.

But then he messaged me earlier that day. Since I was trying to be healthy and he liked to cook, he was going to make me dinner.

I immediately freaked out.

At his house?

He was trying to get into my pants, wasn’t he?

I picked up my phone and messaged our mutual friend.
“Andrew has just changed our date so we can have dinner at his house. He’s trying to get hanky panky, isn’t he? I’m not going to sleep with him.”
“Noooooooooo, he’s a great guy! And a good cook! You should go, you’ll enjoy yourself! And if he tries to get into your pants then so be it ;)”
“I’m not taking my pants off.”
“Okay. Whatever you say ;)”
“I mean it! These pants will stay on!”


At this stage I should probably explain why I hadn’t had sex for a year and why I was so sure that I wasn’t going to take my pants off.

After losing 46 kilos, I had an extremely attractive apron of skin hanging over my vagina. That’s pretty much the easiest way to explain it so everyone gets a visual of it. I had to literally lift my stomach up to wave hello to my vagina. I would get awful sweat rashes because of how the skin rubbed together. My stomach would make loud clapping noises when I ran or jumped. I was paranoid that people would ask “what’s the sound” and I’d have to respond with “my stomach”.

I basically never got naked.**

I was a few months away from having a tummy tuck to remove the loose skin.

I was terrified of baring myself as I was to someone. For fear of rejection. For fear of being mocked.

This was something about myself that I hated. I had worked so hard to lose weight and now I was stuck with a reminder of what obesity had done to my body.

If I could bring myself to take a knife to my stomach, I would have cut it off myself.

You know what’s the easiest way to not get rejected?

You don’t put yourself out there.

You don’t even try.

And now I had tried. But I was sure that I wasn’t going to take my pants off. I could reveal a little bit of myself but I couldn’t do that.

So those granny panties were staying on. I considered taking a change of clothes to Andrew’s house but decided against it. I would have one glass of wine, my pants would stay on and I would go home.

Easy peasy.


I was impressed by Andrew’s bachelor pad. The guys I had seen before had house mates or lived with their parents. I was less impressed when I spotted the dead cockroaches in the bathroom after he had told me how hard he had cleaned that day.

I cracked open the bottle of wine and we chatted as he cooked dinner. At some point, my one glass of wine with dinner became a bottle and I knew I couldn’t drive home.

But I was still going to keep those high waisted dark denim pants on.

At some point during our Joss Whedon-esque back and forth quips, I realised we were both talking a lot without saying anything. We had both started these quick snappy comebacks as a way to deflect bullies. Now we didn’t know how to have a conversation without these quips.

I saw a sailor hat in the corner of the room. This hat had recently been heavily featured in Andrew’s snapchats. I shoved it onto my head. An attempt to show how sassy I could be, I guess.

After dinner, we moved to the couch to watch movies and drink wine. And when I say we moved to the couch, I mean we didn’t move from where we ate dinner on the couch because there wasn’t room for a table in the tiny apartment.

At some point during the movie, there was a point where we locked eyes. And you feel an electric charge pulling you towards that other person. We both leaned in for a kiss when the sailor hat got in the way. You see how I cock block myself without meaning to?

As the movie credits rolled, we leaned in again. I made sure to remove my hat. What’s the point of making mistakes if you don’t learn from it?

Andrew moved to take my shirt off and I broke the kiss. There was no way I was taking my top off. Taking my top off would reveal the top half of my stomach. I felt like removing any articles of clothing was a slippery slope to taking my pants off. I still had my boots on, for Christ’s sake.

He shrugged and took his top off instead. Maybe he was trying to make me more comfortable. “See, I’ll take my top off too!” but I was just jealous of how comfortable he was in his own skin.

I realised he had an erection.

I was so proud of myself. I had made him hard. He wanted me! In retrospect, this wasn’t such a big achievement. The thing about straight men is that most things will make them hard. A breeze rolls by and they’ll jizz in their pants. They’ll see an empty yoghurt container and think about how they could stick their dick in there. If you’re going to be proud of yourself, there’s a lot bigger (heh) and better things you’ve done with your life than make someone (who thinks Kim Kardashian’s butt is real. So many straight guys think this and I want/need to burst their bubbles) horny. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s nice to feel attractive. That’s what I’m getting at.

I didn’t take my pants off. Another reason why I refused to is because I was wearing my granny panties and I hadn’t even thought about grooming my pubes. If I were going to have sex for the first time in a year, then I was going to be freshly waxed, I was going to wear nice undies and obviously there would be candles providing soft lighting.

I think women put too much pressure on sexy moments to be perfect. In my experience, most guys won’t care what kind of underwear you’re wearing. If they’re seeing your underwear then that means you’re going to take it off which is what they’re most excited about. Most guys are not going to care if you have a stray pube or haven’t waxed in a while. If they’re seeing your freshly waxed or “Oops, I should have waxed 2 weeks ago” pussy then that means they’re going to get some pussy***. Like I said before, straight guys will stick their dick in a yoghurt container.


We moved from the couch to the bedroom. Andrew was only in his Superman underwear and I was still fully dressed from head to toe.

If you’re wondering how any kind of hanky panky can go down without taking any clothes off or making sure no one sees or feels your stomach then wonder no more. It can’t really happen.

And that’s how I ended up with a dick in my mouth.

A year away from dicks left me feeling like I needed to learn joy stick control all over again. But it’s like riding a bicycle. Plus, it’s a dick. There’s only so much you can do with it.

For trying my best, I was rewarded with a mouthful of hot, melted, garbage tasted semen. I’m no semen connoisseur but it still stands out as the worst that I have ever tasted. I’m not swilling around glasses of jizz, wrinkling my nose and announcing that I can detect notes of oak.

Straight men, please try to drink some water and eat a vegetable or two. It’s only polite.



Andrew went into the shower to clean himself up. I thought it would be funny if I joined him- completely clothed. Who else would go into a shower with their clothes on?

Sometimes I think that I do things just to have a funny story to tell people.

I took off my boots before I went into the shower. A bitch is not going to ruin a pair of black suede thigh high boots for nothing. But the pants stayed on.

I told you I was going to keep those pants on.


To be continued…








*I mean, I think it was in the movie, right? I feel like my eyes aren’t fast enough to keep up with this or the Ben Affleck peen in Gone Girl.

**There are DOZENS of us!

***There are some guys (and even girls) who will be like “EW A GROWN ADULT MAMMAL HAS GROWN HAIR ON THEIR BODY?? THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!” But they’re fuck boys and you should stay away from them.


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