A hard date’s night: Getting a firm grip.

This story has been donated by an anonymous author, thank you!  If you also have a story to share, please email contact@datingstories.me. You might guess that there are some adult themes.

The moment our eyes locked, it was clear we had a strong mutual attraction. We were at the birthday of a mutual friend, and by the time we began to interact I was quite well socially lubricated by means of wine.

Conversation flowed easily and naturally, as it always does when I am wined up. There was just enough flirting to communicate interest, but not enough to indicate desire for what later occurred.

An hour or so passed, and it was time for me to move on to another event. Though I was sad to leave the intriguing gentleman, I’ve never been one to bail on friends for a man.

He offered to walk me out, and I thought, “How sweet!” My friend was to stop out front and pick me up.

Had I been less intoxicated, I may have grown suspicious by his request that we duck into the dark by the building and kiss. But I was quite drunk, my friend was still on the way and naively I followed.

We shared a passionate kiss as he pressed me against the wall and himself against me. He grabbed my hand and guided it down to his erect dick, that had been pulled out of his trousers.

“I think I just heard my friend. It was so lovely to meet you,” I called as I ran off.

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The Interview: A man with a plan.

This story has been donated by an anonymous author. Thank you!  If you also have a story to share, please email contact@datingstories.me

I’ve dated a lot of men with lists. Men who string a bunch of women along until they can decide on the best one to meet their essential selection criteria. We’re not really people to them, rather one of a few products with similar specifications.

There’s one particular guy who stands out, and I’m going to tell that story.

I saw him from across the road at the place and time we’d agreed on via the dating site, a pizzeria at 5pm. He was nice to look at, though his face lacked expression.

His first words to me were, “You’re just on time. That’s good.”

We awkwardly introduced ourselves, then took a seat and looked over the menu.

“There’s a special starting at 5:30. Let’s do that.” Those were his next words. Before I’d had the chance to agree, he had called over a waiter. He asked if they would be okay with starting the special early for us. They weren’t.

After briefly ridiculing the waiter for not changing the time for us, we spent most the next half hour on chit chat, waiting for the special to kick in.

Skip forward and we’ve ordered, the food has come, and we’re conversing between bites.

Out of the blue, the chit chat was over and he went full serious.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I like younger girls. It’s not like that, it’s like this. Girls my age are ready to have kids. When you get to my age, you’ll be ready. That’s when I will be ready.”

Conversation improved as the night went on, but I mostly answered questions and asked a few standard ones, as I was quite off put by his behaviour and rigid plan for both our lives.

At the end of the evening he offered to drive me home. He gave me some parting words before letting me leave the car.

“Well, you were a bit quiet to start with, but you got better toward the end of the date. Now, I’ve got a few more lined up, but once they’re out of the way I’ll let you know if you’ve made the next round.”

I didn’t look back.

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Irresistible first date suggestions

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Hilarious first date suggestions abound in the wonderful world of online dating, from men claiming modestly to be “possibly the nicest guy you’ll ever meet” to  a slightly more realistic “best damn cook in this part of the world” (perhaps a cul de sac in Cannon Hill?)

Some highlights that caught my eye have included: doing Tough Mudder 2015 (hardcore!) planning world domination while walking on a beach (a must!), buying $25 worth of scratchies for a “scratch and chat session” (novel), exploring the “unexplained” (too metaphysical for me!), grabbing a cold ei (I assume he meant coldie?), and believe it or not, a trip to Uluru. Now that’s a looooong first date! My  favourite though had to be… sharing a McDonald’s soft serve cone. Hey big spender. At least there’s no pig fat in the soft serve, (apparently), unlike the urban myths suggest.

What’s your most memorable first date? 

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Smoking out the bookworm

It seemed like a promising start. He was a social worker, solid values, similar age, funny, sits on my side of the political fence, and a literature buff. (Might I also mention  pretty cute too).  Turns out Mr. Bookworm is a frustrated literature academic and a copybook nerd (i.e. a good thing).

Our first email was around the books we were currently reading. We bonded over Marquez (on my “must read soon” list, on his “favourite evers”). Not only could he spell and construct sentences, which is not to be taken for granted on online dating, but he watches YouTube docos on Einstein for a Saturday night’s entertainment, is doing a Classical Mythology course in his spare time, and liberally sprinkles beautiful poetry and quotes through his emails. Despite a minor scuffle over JM Coetzee and spirited disagreement over where Jesus actually appeared in Coetzee’s book “Childhood of Jesus” (in contrast to Mr. Bookworm, I was on the completely confused and disappointed team, along with many others), I was intrigued.

After a few days of emails back and forth, I suggested meeting up on a school night for a beverage of some description. Mr. Bookworm seemed surprised. Shocked, even. “A drink? You do live life to the full! I live a life of the mind and usually like to chat a bit, but I think I can manage to meet you half way. In my true Pollyanna style, I cut him some slack. Those who work from home, like me, are often more eager to leave the house on a school night (is that living life to the full or just leaving the house?); those with regular jobs probably enjoy cosying up at home.

We kept chatting, discussing everything under the sun, past lives, monogamy, divorce. I learned that he’d love to be a visual artist if there was “world enough, and time” (quoting Marvell). After another week of back and forth, I’d had enough. I deliberately planted that I was around in Brisbane this weekend (how lovely!) and didn’t have much planned (how convenient!). He didn’t take the bait, and replied in return that he also was around, with not much going on. 

That was it. I dared him to meet with me. A dare, not a date. He dodged the bullet. When I called him on it, he answered “Hehe, I am quite reticent aren’t I? Oops, that was probably my attempt to develop a prior level of comfort falling flat, being an introvert and all I will get up the courage by the way! I will challenge myself in this regard.” He asked me to be patient and give him more time.

I was starting to have doubts. Does a shy social worker actually exist? Isn’t he dealing with tough cases all day?  Why is so much courage to be summoned in order to have a cup of tea and nerdy chat about books with a girl? Perhaps he was traumatised by his divorce? I sounded him out.

He wrote, “I find profiles on here that are very strong in saying that a potential friend/partner should be free of baggage, as though if you have ever traveled you wouldn’t have collected a trinket or two. Since I consider myself no more or less weighed down than anyone, I avoid these people as it says more about them. Someone of this persuasion awhile ago suggested we meet and when I asked to chat for a little while first, was blocked without response. I would wonder who has the baggage.

Length of commitment is wonderful. I think if you process significant emotions and events, one perhaps is left with impressions and questions about self, about forgiveness, and about who you are and who you thought you would be in certain situations in life. Divorce perhaps provides all of this in a compressed state and time period. Perhaps you are right and problems are there at the start, but the fact that second marriages are even more likely to fail is an indicator of what, I don’t know? Failure to process and learn?”  There was an Auden quote in there as well (of course),  “remember your best self, forget the rest”.  I do have a soft spot for men waxing lyrical over long term commitment, so I kept the door open for a while longer. More emails. Zero mention of meeting. Was he juggling conversations with six women and waiting to see which looked the most promising? Does he have severe social phobias?

After three and a half weeks of regular emailing, I was out of patience. The stamp which I had purchased allowed us a month of contact, and that was running out too. Writing to the Bookworm every day had become another thing on my already full to do list. The closest he came to asking to meet me was asking if I was going to see Counting Crows at the Tivoli that night. Not would I like to go with him.

In one of the last emails, he wrote “Maybe the trouble is that people don’t learn how to handle unsuitabilities and so gloss over them as not to hurt feelings. If there isn’t a certain something, best that it isn’t taken personally, because years later, it certainly will be!

Well dude, I don’t think I can be with someone who needs a month of daily email contact to sit down with a stranger and have a chat. No hurt feelings, but for once, I’m all over recognising this unsuitability. George Bush would have had a hard time smoking this guy out. Hasta la vista. Bookworm. 

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