dating, life, men, sex

Jimmy-hat, Rubber Johnnies or Cock Socks…long forgotten

I must be living on a different planet. Like “the planet earth II” or something.

Here’s the thing. I met a dude, at my local gym, I know, right?! Skipping forward slightly, I’m less keen to show my face there again, which will only mean that all my chances of achieving peachy buttocks will NOT happen now. Bums are for sitting, not for squatting some might say – valid point.

This guy is almost a decade younger, totally laid back and pretty confident. I’m quite an outspoken and social person but I actually find online sexting not that exciting. I grew up in 80s for god sake; no mobile phones and everyone knew that if they wanted to meet someone they had to go out to look for that someone. What you see is what you get sort of thing. And it did work.

Now, in my mid-thirties and four years of being single (not far from living like a nun, shit! that’s bad) I find myself in this ridiculous situation. Firstly, this guy is too young, swears too much, can’t keep a decent conversation going, yet I giggle like a stupid teenager when around him. I even put some mascara on the other day when going for a work out…hello??!

Moving forward, we kissed in a car, which I used to do like twenty years ago. Then we had some dinner together, which we ended up splitting (OK, that’s kinda ok since women are screaming from top of their lungs how independent they are, not needing a guy to look after them – shame on you feminists, could’ve saved a bit of cash there. Joke.

Back at my flat I kept on saying that I couldn’t have sex without a cock hat. That bold statement was lost in the air the minute I saw his giant stick. It was like when someone puts your favourite chocolate or a cake in front of you knowing that sooner or later you’ll lose all your will to resist … you are just left with that crazy feeling of utter mouth-watering satisfaction afterwards.

I couldn’t stop thinking about this twat since then so a couple of days later I had another, this time morning bedroom workout, which helped to get rid of my hangover from the night before. No sign of a cock hat again.

Then it hit me. He’d never used condoms and would never carry any round. I should get some if that was so important. He could’ve slept with half of the city, stupid girl! Very reluctantly and brainfogged (as I still wanted more sex) I messaged that we’d either get condoms or we go our separate ways. He had no issues to bluntly say that I went all MUM on him and separate ways might be better! WTF?!

My vague and maybe totally incorrect theory is that such boys spend most their free time jerking off whilst watching a hard core porn, thinking that women are just happy to be shagged with no form of any protection neither any kind of a foreplay or sensual build up whatsoever. More ridiculously, these young guys are not even caring about their health and risks they put themselves and others into.

I’ll just have to stick to my values and self-respect rather than dealing with a toyboy cock who doesn’t care where’s he’s sticking it into. It’s time to get my pink rabbit dusted off!