I’m dating a new man. I use the word dating loosely, an umbrella-term for any activity wherein two people who might want to fuck go out and figure out if they do indeed want to fuck. Also, the subsequent forays for nourishment or fresh air because you have to get out of bed and stop fucking at some point.
Third date, yes, let’s make with the fucking.
I drive 2 hours into god’s good nowhere…scary. Don’t know him That well, no one can hear me scream, he’s capitol H huge (noms), could easily overpower me etc… welcome to being a woman and dating.
Louis CK does a bit about how brave women are for going out with men because statistically speaking the leading cause of harm to women is men.
Truth. Himself included.
We both knew why I was there, mostly because I said it. I am not subtle. In search of ‘morning after’ coffee, we stop at the grocery store, a man (not mine) subtly yet aggressively gets in my space. Every woman I know has an automated response…big girl panties up, defensive posture, 2 seconds later, we’re on guard. This time something wonderful happened. My date looked at me, looked at other dude and proceeded to put his shoulders back, and move ever so slightly to block me.
His body spoke in a calm, clear tone “I am right here”. I tucked myself into the safe space he made for me, and was overwhelmed with relief. I am the reigning Queen of ‘I Got This’, but do I always have to “Got This”?
We went back to his house and I fucked him, a lot, in a rather wanton manner because I felt safe. Anyone picking up what I am putting down? Trust=sex, and lots of it.
Outside of strip clubs, I cannot name one workplace where I was not harassed or abused in some way. The one I am citing now, the abuse was criminal. I worked with my ex at the time, he left me to the wolves, preferring to ‘console’ me privately and keep me leaning on him. I finally stood my ground, I was fired. He quit in what appeared to be a show of solidarity, but really, quitting jobs was a hobby of his, so the lustre flaked off that quickly. We didn’t fuck for 8 months prior to splitting. Now you picking up what I am putting down? No trust, not interested.
“Well I didn’t know what to do”, seems to be the theme of this latest great Canadian sex scandal.
Do what my new guy did.
The metamorphosis that old school chivalry must finally make.
Stand BESIDE me, not over me.
How do I express the relief in the arrival and actualization of something I had no idea was even possible but that I yearned for? In gratitude I channel my 50’s housewife and make him sweet potato pie and suck his cock like I’ve got the poison and he’s the remedy.