Flying without wings
Sometimes the joy of internet dating is like the joy of eating out. Sometimes you want a good home cook meal that someone else has cooked or a fancy restaurant and sometimes you just want a take away. You know it’s not going to be that good for you but it’s filling and you can’t be bothered to cook for yourself. Quite often I just can’t be bothered to cook for myself some nights.
So one night feeling unlike cooking I jumped online and found something that looked good and sounded reasonably healthy too. 36, lived alone and had never been married so wasn’t nursing a divorce hangover. We’d spoken before and he suggested that I come round that night for dinner. His profile said London but it was actually Romford. I figured why not when he offered to pay for the taxis. Arriving I tried to ignore his body which was considerably more out of shape than the photos suggested and we talked. He seemed interesting if a little more nervous and reserved than I had imagined. He revealed that he had been a club owner and best friends with the members of a boy band I loved.
OMG my chance to finally meet them was closer than I’d ever imagined! At first I was intrigued but as he ordered pizza (what’s with men and pizza?) his story became a sad tale of a luxury lifestyle lost and a drinking problem he was still battling. I was disappointed to hear that part of his 12 step programme was to cut himself off from that life and work for his brother instead who when I quizzed him couldn’t sing.
After pizza the sex was…….awkward. He seemed to need to concentrate a bit too much and couldn’t relax. It turns out that he hadn’t had much sober sex and he was still learning how to do it. I realised that I was going to have to endure it as I didn’t think suggesting we pop to the local off license was going to be well received. So I lay back and ran through my favourite boy band members and before you could say New Kids On The Block, it was over.
Satisfied I turned to sleep. But then he reached across the bed and brought out a dodgy back massager. Maybe he had pulled something mid stride? But no he wanted to massage me with a back massage but ……not on my back. He had read that all women like toys. Surely toys aren’t for the fainthearted? And should only be used by those who have mastered the basic techniques? So I did what any self-respecting woman would do and I faked it so that I could go to sleep.
I left early the next day with promises of calling soon. But, not only is Romford too far for this chick to trek but he had killed a boy band dream. Besides I think I pulled something trying to fake it for the back massager.
© Chelsea Black