As I sit typing this I ask myself ‘is it right, or in fact normal for a woman to enjoy and express sexual desires as much as a man?’ You see, I struggle dearly with sex being so taboo and believe it to be such a natural and positive act that should be experienced and openly discussed. So, you can understand the ultimate predicament I faced when I dated a human who felt none of these things. Some might say I was in a bit of a pickle… and oh boy, that pickle was real!
As we are all aware, dating today is a different kettle of fish than it was some years back, I mean the effort, consideration and consistent compliments men would dish out for just a wee glimpse of an undercarriage was highly impressive. In our new technological age where finding a shag is as easy as buying our lunch, men’s approach to sealing the deal is a little below par but is it ultimately us females that have created these men with their half-arsed attempts? No longer does the average woman need dancing and romancing or hours with flowers, it would seem a bit of affection and a strong erection are all that are needed for a bit of ‘how’s your father’…and of course, if we’re too quick to lie on our backs with our legs akimbo then why would they feel the need to try?
Anyway, before I forget my initial reasons for writing this, let’s jump back onto topic, which begins with a sexless situationship I found myself in not so long ago. Like many dating scenarios, this started with some flirty messaging on the ever so popular Instagram. He was hot, I was flattered, drinks were had, tensions were flying, sweet nothings were spoken, and urges were REAL but being the gentlewoman that I am, I plonked him in a taxi and sent him on his merry way home. Date number one was completed and boxed off and in all honesty (without sounding like a dog with two —) I couldn’t wait to feel those feminine flutters again
Date number two was unusual, a daytime, sober setting with a natural brow and a tit covering top. Those of you reading this who know me will instantly imagine how alien and downright awkward I would naturally feel in such a set-up…however, I oddly enjoyed it. So, after my jolly but sober skip home, I had intense and high hopes for date number three being a passionate whirlwind of hot sex and spontaneous positions.
The date, date arrived and I could barely contain the sauce of my imagination. The legs were shaved, the dry bits moisturised and the knickers a sexy upgrade from Primark’s one-pound specials… this had to be my third time lucky! As you’d expect, the day was a hoot, the chat was exciting, the drinks were flowing and the kissing was sensually thrilling. You’d think with a few more bevz and a private location, things could get magical We held hands as we approached my apartment, I cuddled him slowly with an encouraging nudge towards my open door of wonder, when just like that his tight embrace loosened with a “Goodnight Laura, I’ll see you soon”. What the shit!? So off to bed I toddled with my unappreciated lacey smalls, my fake tanned arse cheeks and the smoothest pins known to man. Dammit!
This exact scenario continued for another five dates, YES FIVE! Post calculation this would be EIGHT dates, a great deal of confusion and a growing wash pile of wasted G-strings.
Some say I should have appreciated his kindness, sensitivity and gentlemanly ways …but others like myself would say “guuuurrrrlllll he just wasn’t that into you” OR “sweetie you were barking up the wrong tree” OR my personal favourite “Maybe that shit was micro man”. Whatever the reason behind my unfortunate dry spell, I’ll look back at it with fond memories of abstinence and remember the good old time I couldn’t get laid. For that short period, I was given an insight into the dating life of men worldwide and felt pure sympathy and admiration for their patience and persistence. You poor buggars!
A quick tip for you ladies though, if he’s not putting out or at least tickling your left nipple by the fifth date, you’ll be waiting for rain in that never-ending drought, with a pile of questions and insane self-doubt. So, save yourself the hassle of washing your best bras daily and dehairing those intimates because past experiences have shown me that those boys don’t ever make it rain (and I’m not talking notes here dears)