And she ran away.
There’s a first time for everything, right? I’m actually surprised that this hasn’t happened until now, but finally someone has managed to make me feel uncomfortable. So take this as a guide for how NOT to talk to me. And if YOU happen to come across this post, I will explain, in detail, what you did wrong.
Backstory: I met a couple for drinks. The date went well in my mind. At that point I would’ve been ok seeing them again. At the end of the night, we mutually agreed to schedule something for a couple weekends out.
Fast-forward to last night. This guy messages me. (The following messages are paraphrased.)
Him: “So I see we have a date set up. Are you a go-all-night type of girl? If so I’ll get a decent hotel actually worth staying at.”
Me: “No, my dates are usually just 2-4 hours.”
Him: “Shame, that’s just our warm-up time.”
Me: “Seriously? What do you do for that long?”
Him: “When we have sex, we go at it 10-15 times. She’s very multi orgasmic.”
Ok, stop here. I’m all for having as much sex you can, but that seems a bit absurd. And even if that’s normal for you, you honestly can’t expect that to be normal for me.
Me: “I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.”
Him: “Ask her. I used to make her count each one and say ‘Thank you, Sir’ until one night she had over 100 and I said she could stop.”
Let’s stop again…I call bullshit. Even if this girl is capable of having that many orgasms, why are you bragging about it to me? You already get to fuck this girl, you’re supposed to be impressing ME right now. Talking about your frankly ridiculous sex life isn’t turning me on to you. It’s actually doing the opposite.
And another thing, you made her say “Thank you, Sir.” Does that mean you expect me to behave that way too? Because let me make one thing clear: Only MY Sir is Sir. Not you. Not anyone else. Got it?
Him: “…I’ll start fucking with you on our next date.”
Dude, hold up. That is just creepy.
Him: “Have you seriously not had that before? You do have more than one orgasm when you have sex, right?”
Me: “I really don’t do the all-night long thing. And I typically don’t cum at all.”
I realize at this point that I’m probably not what he’s looking for. I am not everyone’s cup of tea.
Me: “I’m starting to think this won’t work out. I don’t feel like I’m what you want.”
Him: “You’ll be fine. Can’t know until we try, right? I’ll see you soon. Cool?”
This is when my alarms go off. I need to stop this now.
Me: “I am not comfortable with this idea anymore. Thanks for your time.” AND BLOCKED.
On the surface, this conversation might not seem too bad. But you need to understand my perspective. I am constantly on the lookout for any little sign of threat. You are supposed to do all you can to make me feel comfortable. You’re supposed to make me trust you.
Instead, you ridicule me because how I like to have sex is different than how you like it. Differences are fine, but there’s a much better way to discuss them. This is how you came across to me: “This is how we do sex, what do you mean that’s not how you do it?” Instead, you could have been more inviting, taken the time to understand my preferences, and then we could have discussed how we might have been able to create a mutually satisfying experience.
Second, when I expressed my concern about the truth of your story, you just kept on pushing it. Giving me even more exaggerated details doesn’t help. It makes it worse. It makes me take an even bigger step backwards. And your sarcastic reply of “I’ll start fucking with you on our date” was timed horrendously. Sarcasm only works when both parties are on the same page. We were NOT on the same page. At that point a creepy unmarked van suddenly appeared in my mental image of you.
So now I’m about to turn around and walk away. And instead of being nice and trying to get me to come back to you, you resume your mockery of my sexual preference. “You really don’t fuck all night long? Please tell me you have a bunch of orgasms, right?” Again you’re coming across as if your way is the only way to have good sex. We’ve reached a point where I would normally need to explain my weird thing about how I often don’t cum, but you have not given me a safe space to do so. I know that I’d probably be hitting a brick wall if I tried to talk about that, so I don’t even try. I start to call it off.
This is your last chance to reign me back in. And you blow it. “I clearly don’t care that you feel insecure about this, we’re gonna do it anyway. Cool?” No. Not cool. You’ve reached classic asshole wanna-be alpha dom territory. One of my magical unicorn powers is having state of the art radar for this shit. I want nothing to do with it. And I want nothing to do with you. End of story.