Adventures in dating part 5

Guess who’s back. Back again. Chantelle’s sad dating history- tell a friend. Guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back.

Now, resilient is not often a word that is used in regards to giving blow jobs or relationships. In fact, when it comes to relationships, maybe that word shouldn’t be used. Maybe you should just know when to bounce. But Milennials are always criticised for not being resilient so yeah, I am going to take the title of resilient blow job giver. I go to town. I tie my hair up, I stay there until the job is finished or until my jaw falls off.*

I mention resilience because at this point of this story, I feel like other people would have given up long ago. Not this girl.

Because I had completed a job and now there was job to be completed for me. One that I could not accomplish for myself without removing a rib ala Marilyn Manson urban legend style. It was time for quid pro blow.


I’ve mentioned my resilience. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned my ability to completely put myself out there in the most embarrassing way possible. You know, you’re kind of maybe sort of who knows dating someone and it’s going terribly…you’ve got to spice it up, right?

So, me being me I thought that I would head over to his place wearing nothing but a gorgeous negligee. With a jacket on top, for modesty- of course.**

I was heavily inspired by Marcia Cross’ character Bree in Desperate Housewives rocking up to her estranged husband’s hotel room in a coat and red lingerie.  Looking back, Bree and I should have saved our time. If you’re going to show up on someone’s door in lingerie and a coat- make sure it’s someone that will appreciate it. Make sure that they’re worth it.

Marcia Marcia Marcia.

You might be thinking “ah yes, putting yourself out there and getting rejected is embarrassing” when I haven’t even told the whole story yet. I can always find new and unique ways to embarrass myself.

Going over to Andrew’s house on a weekend wasn’t an option since he worked weekends. If I drove home, I could get changed and head over to his house. But I’d drive by his place on my way home. Fuel wise, it doesn’t make sense to have a longer journey. Quid pro blow wise, it doesn’t make sense. I wanted what was owed to me and I wanted it now. It was the least that I deserved.

So…that leaves me with one option (since I was going to rock up at his place all va va voom). Getting changed into my negligee and coat at work.

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the rule that you should bend over and squat in your work clothes to make sure that they’re “appropriate” aka a titty won’t pop out. Well, you should also test run a coat and sexy knickers test. If, like me, you grab a coat that you think is knee length but actually skirts around your clitoris- you’re gonna have a bad time. I only realised this as I left the change room and tied my coat up. At that point, there was nothing that I could do.

I was a woman on a mission. I had ummed and aahed for 2 weeks whether I should tell Andrew that I just wanted to be friends. But I was too cowardly to pull the pin and have that conversation. This was a last ditch attempt. I’d tell him afterwards if I still felt the same at the end of the night.


I don’t know if I can put across how bitterly cold it was that afternoon. How the winds were strong enough to lift up a house so it could land on a Wicked Witch. I trudged down the hill- one arm hugging myself to prevent the coat from flying up and the other arm was blocking the rain from my eyes. I’m sure I must have scarred some children that day. One swift breeze while I wasn’t looking and that’s the whole birds and the bees talk done.

It would be worth it, at least. Standing on someone’s doorstep, as I slowly revealed what was under my coat. It would be nice to feel desired, for once.

Because I’m a little bit psycho, I knew how I wanted to stand in the doorway and what I wanted to say. Because I’m not that much of a psycho, I hadn’t practised this beforehand.

Again, if I can warn people, I need a Jackass style warning. Do not try this at home.

As I drove, I tried to perk myself up. Sure, my hair wasn’t as immaculate as Marcia Cross’. That doesn’t matter when you’re being spontaneous, exciting, sexy, dangerous.

I had given Andrew an estimate of my arrival and I got there pretty bang on time.

This was it. Spontaneous, exciting, sexy, dangerous, yes!

I knocked on the door and quickly draped myself sexily in the doorway.

No response.

I knocked again.

Slight hiccup, he could be in the bathroom.

Another knock and nothing.

I waited.

I waited 5 minutes and rang his phone. I could hear the phone ringing but obviously there was no attempt to answer it.

Gently pressing on the handle, I found that the front door was unlocked.

My whole reveal could still be salvaged. Except for the fact that he was snoring heavily on the couch. When he knew what time I’d be coming at. I was peeved. I would never nap before expecting a guest, and if I did, I would set an alarm beforehand.

Didn’t he know that I was being spontaneous??

I waited for a few minutes but calling his name did nothing to wake the sleeping beauty. Tapping on his shoulder did nothing either.

I flopped down beside him. The whole thing was ruined. I started scrolling through gossip websites on my phone when he suddenly awoke.

“Oh, how long have you been here?”

“About 15-20 minutes.”

“I fell asleep.”

“I saw that.”

“Do you want to play Minecraft?”

No, I did not want to play Minecraft. Turns out that I wasn’t able to play Minecraft (I don’t know, there was only one control or something, I don’t get Minecraft now get off my lawn) so he was happy for me to sit there and watch him play. It’s boring as fuck to sit and watch someone play a game.

After 15 minutes, I just threw my coat off. The whole fucking surprise was ruined. “Ta da!”

He barely turned to look at me as he replied “I’m pretty tired. I don’t think I could do anything.”

You just had a fucking nap. Do you need to sleep 16-18 hours like a koala does? How do you have no energy on a day off?

Wake the fuck up, you dozy cunt.

I’ve always been pleased with myself to say that I’m quick with my tongue*** and I can always fire off a quick comeback.

“If you’re tired, you can always rest your head in between my legs.”

“I don’t even think that I have the strength to lift my head.”

“I think all you need to move is your tongue.”

No word of a lie, I’m not making up snappy quips later in order to pretend that I said that.

The look of horror he gave me told me that 1 of 4 possibilities was happening:

  • He didn’t have any experience in any sexual or romantic areas and this was as far as he could fake experience without being caught out.
  • He’s gay.
  • He’s asexual.
  • He’s super gay.


I knew then that I shouldn’t ignore the alarm bells in my head anymore. Clearly, this wasn’t going to work out. Not when all he wanted was to lose his virginity. I was nothing more than a sock to him. Something to cum in and throw away.

Look, if you just want sex then be upfront about it. Don’t lead people along and pretend that you want a relationship if it’s beyond your abilities.

But I’m more than a cum dumpster. I deserve more. I’m not a conquest to be bragged about just so you finally have a sexual conquest to brag about.

I’m not going to be ghosted because we’re both too afraid to talk openly and honestly.

My actual thoughts when I got ghosted.

And I think partly, that I let it drag on far further than I should have because I thought it would be exciting to have that sexual conquest to my name. At 23, I wasn’t going to have much hope of deflowering anyone else.


I let those alarm bells ring in my head. I sat there in disgruntled silence before I finally packed up my stuff and left.

I never did have that “I think we should just be friends” conversation with him.

But I should be thankful to Andrew. In the midst of our adventures, when I was going backwards and forwards on having that conversation with him- I reactivated my tinder profile. And I created the profile that would eventually land me someone who I could rock up in lingerie for. *****

And that’s the end of that chapter.









*You might be thinking that if I did the job properly, that I wouldn’t need to be resilient. Gurl, you don’t know how many erectile dysfunctions I’ve been witness to. That and whiskey dick.


**More like it was winter and I wanted to prevent the nipple fripple that would be so bad that my nipples could actually steer my car.


***Aaaay, my sapphiric skills are wasted on straight boys.


***** I once talked to a Straight White Boy (TM) who enthusiastically told me he’d love it if a girl randomly showed up in lingerie on his door. He literally said “wow, you keep putting yourself out there only to keep getting knocked back.”
I said “I get knocked down but I get up again”


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