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The public train ride

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Categories: DATING, Misadventures, Sex

Sex train

When the sex train pulls in. Recently we’ve been celebrating 20 years since university which has meant a flurry of photos of a slimmer, more confident me. I know right? All that teenage angst and I never had to worry about what I ate or wore. EVERYTHING fit. But I digress

The Boyfriend

In one of these photos I spotted an ex. I thought 15 weeks of therapy and a marriage had exorcised all of my demons but apparently I can still hold a grudge? Hey, I’m a Taurus. Once you really piss me off then you may as well just move countries. Which he did. He moved to Scandinavia.

He was a cute guy and initially we were friends as we were both into sport. He was younger than me but somehow we ended up dating each other. I don’t know how relationships at university ever started but I don’t recall an official ask out. Just one day our names were joined.

Things were fine until we had sex. 9 minutes after we started he was done. Was I being punk’d? Youthful inexperience I guess.  Initially he was apologetic but then he got all cocky and he thought he’d done something special by being in my bed? Like he’d blessed my life with that 9 minutes? Oh dear god! But I was young and didn’t know how to tell him he was shit without damaging his rather large but fragile ego. His cock wasn’t so large sadly. But again, I digress. I should have just hurt his ego.

The train

A few weeks later there was a group picnic up a mountain. You had to take a train up this mountain. Everyone broke off into groups and pairs. We wandered off, started making out and he suggested we go hide out on the waiting, empty train. I’d not gotten much spontaneity out of mr mediocre and missionary so this was surprising. He shocked me by suggesting the cowgirl. Wow. A change is a coming!

What I didn’t know is that he’d told ALL his hall of residence mates and we had a group of spectators who gleefully brought friends. So dude couldn’t last more than 9 minutes but he thought literally exposing me to the elements was a good idea? Before we got back down the mountain later that day the story had spread like wildfire and I was labelled a slut. Having sex with my boyfriend on a train was a sinful act apparently.

And thus began a campaign of idiots thinking it was ok to approach me on campus and ask for sex. Guys are stupid when presented with a sexually liberal woman at the best of times but this? This became group bullying. Sadly the women on campus were worse because apparently some women deem themselves to be the moral compass for all other women. It’s not nice to be pariahed for any action but especially one that wasn’t of your making. But I don’t know any of those people now. They don’t influence my life. You learn to get on with your life and move to the chugging motion of your own train I guess.

The result

Needless to say when some women told me what had happened we broke up.

9 minutes contacted me on Facebook a few years ago and I’m not going to pretend I was pleasant. I have come to understand that I don’t have to forgive or be pleasant to everyone from my past. He’s a father with daughters apparently. I think I’m meant to care?

Yeah, it’s been 20 years but I’m nowhere near forgiving him and his nonsense. Sue me. And not all #tbt photos from the past evoke pleasant memories. But sometimes, when I’m on a train I think of that time and smile. I think, fuck, he lasted a whole minute longer!

© Chelsea Black 2017

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Digging Deep male gold digger

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Categories: BLOG, DATING, DATING TIPS, Latest

Digging Deep – the male gold digger

Dating is a glorious activity but, like all fairy tales with quests there are villains. So recently the question of gold diggers has come up. The Male gold digger.

They exist! Remember Mel B’s ex? Not Stephen Belafonte the other one? No, the other one! Jimmy G the Dutch dancer? And the indomnitable ex of Britney Spears? Kevin F redefined the smash and grab male gold digger. Yes they’re both dancers but, if I’m honest I don’t think it’s related to a whole career. Maybe just

No my precious, the average dater has to contend with a more mediocre type of digger. But, diggers they are. The dating digger. There are varying levels of digger but essentially these are men who date for financial or social gain. Not so much the rinsing of online women, no, these ones are interviewing for a Sweetner Mummy to help them through to the next level of life. These men aren’t ready to adult and are happy to prey on women who may not have that much themselves.  Be careful. I’ll take you through the obvious ones:

Dinner Digger

You go out on a date and he doesn’t put his hand in his pocket when the bill comes? Dude ate a storm though and was even deliberating between starters and desserts because, this may be his last decent meal this week. Dude was all about, ‘Shall we order another bottle of the Italian red? It does go well with Wagyu beef.’ This guy dates to live.  If you play the bill staring game then, pay the bill then grab your purse and run, he’s too pathetic even to date. This man is not for you. A new trick is for guys to throw in £30 after they ascertain you’re paying by card when the bill is clearly over £100. Selfish lover. Move on

Date Digger

Forgets his wallet, doesn’t ever pay for anything but is happy to suggest a trip away, hotels, plays he wants to go to, seminars he has to go to to make it to the next level. This is basically a professional student looking for a bursary and mentor. The implication being that he would like to adult but doesn’t quite know how. Dude is 43.  He has a job. His lifestyle is not your financial responsibility.

Den Digger

Too any questions about your living situation are the red flags. Who you live with, if you own or rent, how much you’re paying, how many bedrooms etc. It’s interview 101 and you may think it’s because he wants to shag (there’s a possibility that this is an access question because he lives with a wife or parents question, true) but to be honest you need to work out if you ever saw yourself moving your clothes out of your spare room so that you can move him and his comic and trainers collection in.

If you’re happy being dug and this is how you get your relationship high then fine but, let’s just accept that the dating recession has led to a lot of diggers out there looking to milk. You’re not a cow.

Happy Dating!

© Chelsea Black 2017

 

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Roadrunner aka the leggings

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Categories: Latest, Misadventures

Disclaimer: I’m not hot. I just have a butt and a penchant for wearing leggings. Roadrunners are a new phenomenon. Unfortunately the leggings of 16th March 2017 have special powers and have not been reduced to house only leggings. Men act like leggings are an invitation to fuck. They’re just leggings. Here’s how it went down:

So I was on my way to French class and about 3 minutes from my house. I had just passed the spot where I’d gotten mugged in 2010 and was thinking about how I was going to explain in French that I hadn’t done my homework (again) due to sheer laziness. As I was listening to my music I spotted a black guy in a diarrhoea brown leather jacket running in the middle of the road against traffic. This was a one way street? Where the fuck was he going? I watched as he nearly got run over by a delivery scooter as he looked to cross over to the other side. Cue Chicken jokes.

Turns out he was jogging to me. He came over and a conversation ensued

Me: Are you ok?

Roadrunner: Yeah.

Me: Can I help you?

Roadrunner: Yeah I saw a gorgeous young lady so ….

Me: You better go find her then?

Roadrunner laughs like Ricky Gervais. Am I a comedian though?

Roadrunner: Hi I’m Roadrunner

Me: OK

Roadrunner: Can I chat to you

Me: Regarding?

Roadrunner: [sensing that he’s losing me] So do you live around here?

Me: Yeah

Roadrunner. What’s your name

I tell him. He asks if it’s short for anything. I lie and say no. I don’t have the energy. And now he’s making me late for French. Grrrrr

Roadrunner: I’m in Wembley. I’m just on my way to the gym because, you know. That’s how I live my life?

This confuses me. Are we about to have some sort of metaphysical / existential conversation? On a THURSDAY?

Me: Ok Dude I have to go

Roadrunner: Wait! Where are you going.

I explain French class. He has a weird accent

Me: What’s with the accent

Roadrunner: I went to an American school but grew up in Europe.

Me: I see.

Roadrunner: So where are your parents from?

Why Black Jesus are you bringing all these thirsty men to me?

Me: South Africa. And yours are from Nigeria right?

Roadrunner: Yes! How did you know?

Me: A strong guess

Roadrunner: Can I get your number so that we can chat later.

I give him my number. Maybe he IS my person. You never know.

Roadrunner calls me immediately to make sure I had his.

Me: Why? I’m not going to call you ?

Roadrunner does his Ricky Gervais laugh and asks me what I do. I lie.

Me: What do you do? I

Roadrunner: I’m a broker. But also I work as an administrator in a hospital.

So, he’s a broke broker who needs a side job? I sigh and go to French. This one is just a liar. I see. He said he would call me about French but it’s already after ten. I blame the leggings. It was too soon for Spring attire. The men aren’t ready. And for those that don’t know, that’s sarcasm.

Aw lawd he’s started whatsapping about my figure. I may have to block him. Sigh

Night all!

© Chelsea Black

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