Tired of internet dating in my search for Fubo (future boyfriend) I figured why not take a time out and try out these adult sites. So I signed up and was astounded by the response. Unlike match.com I got loads of interest. Apparently not only were there few women on there but few black women and fewer still with a photo of their butt as an avatar. Don’t judge my precious, it was a great photo.
After weeks of false starts and men who thought sending a video of them wanking was cute I met a guy. He lived in Kilburn, worked in engineering and was 38. He was 5’8 so regrettably I put the Betsey Johnsons away. Oh and he thought I was sexy. OK they all call you Babes, Sexy and Darling so as to keep the names straight. But then I spotted that he had 8 inches where it mattered most and without hesitation responded to his email.
We chatted briefly and agreed to meet at 11pm at Kilburn station. Proper FB timing there I believe. I left another party early to meet him and patiently waited outside the station…..11.15 and he called sounding groggy like he had just woken up. He said that he was 5 minutes away. I contemplated going back to the party but I couldn’t go back without at least seeing this man. As I listened to my iPod I saw a short guy bouncing up the road and ignored him. This wasn’t my guy. Besides he had said well-built on his profile and this guy looked like he was wearing an inflated Santa suit.
Turns out it was him and his 5’4 self. I couldn’t hide the dismay as I looked down at him from my 3 inch heels. He didn’t smell right either but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. Smoke? Surely he had ticked the non-smoker box.
We walked back to his all the while I was thinking about ways of extricating myself from the situation. Well I walked he bounced along like a Gummi bear trying to make himself look taller and younger. He was actually 48 and even under flattering street light he looked it.
Back at his and this wasn’t the flat he had described. It had a whiff of a crack den and he gave me a story about subletting from a friend who had really high housing allocation points. I sat on the edge of the couch getting increasingly dubious. The whole place stunk of drugs and cigarettes and the bottle of Hennessey on the table didn’t look like it wanted to be shared. It was practically empty.
I was just about to put on my best Hyacinth Bucket voice and make my apologies when he lunged. Tongues, hands, bellies attacked and pinned me to the couch. This wasn’t good but I kept saying to myself….maybe the 8 inches would be worth it. I tried to squirm encouragingly whilst gasping for deep clean breaths and trying to remember what time the Bakerloo line stopped running.
Then he took his pants off. Now, I’m no mathematician but that wasn’t no 8 inches. Halve that. I was fuming. He lunged again and I gave him the universal ‘talk to the hand ‘sign. I told him I wasn’t going to do it. He asked why. I shouted “Because You LIED!!” He seemed surprised that I thought anyone would tell the truth. I guess I too would lie about 4 inches.
It was an awkward walk back to the station but no regrets. I have my standards my precious and less than 6 inches just isn’t going to meet them. Hmmmm, I wonder if I should post that photo of my butt on match.com?
© Chelsea Black