Week of Debauchery Date #2 - Tuesday Was Rough

                                       [via malloreigh]
Hi everybody!

Ready for Date #2?
 This one could take awhile.
Here we go!


After my date with Taylor where no sex was had and everyone felt good about themselves, I went home.

I laid down on the couch and checked my mail. 
I was looking for the series of emails from Cindi, my date for that night. 

Specifically, I wanted to take another look at the photo she'd sent me.

You know - make sure Cindi looked like a legal adult.

Because now I was paranoid.

 I couldn't have a repeat of Tuesday afternoon.
It was fun and all, but I was supposed to be having a Week of Debauchery!

Tuesday was almost over, and no debauchery had been had.  I was batting zero.


Looking over her picture again, Kelly and I decided that Cindi was definitely over 21.


Mmkay, all systems go.


Grown-up: Check.
Cute: Check.

Date time!

                                                               [via shotgun-season]
I drove to Vivace and spent 15 minutes trying to find a space to park. There was no parking because it was downtown.


Fuck meeting people downtown.


It's possible I'm more Midwestern than I think.


Completely late, I banged into Vivace. So much for being composed and early.

                                                                                        [via Maya Kirill]
I could see Cindi sitting alone at a table out of the corner of my eye. She was definitely an adult.
10 points!


I went over to her table to say hi.



Cindi was a sturdy boi-type. Good-looking. She had a hat on, plugs in her ears, and brown cords on. She looked like she was in the 28-30 range. She had short, dyed-blond hair and gray eyes. She was toying with her drink.

                                                         [via Linn Heidi Stokkedal]

She said, "Hey" and didn't get up to greet me.


I said I'd just be a minute, I was going to order a drink.
I got my chai.


The cup was very full.
I had too many things in my hands. A pocketbook, my keys, my messenger bag, and my drink. Too many things!

I slowly, slowly, teeteringly made my way back to the table, eyes on my drink to make sure it didn't spill.


Cindi was watching me the whole time.
I obviously needed help, but she never got up.

I should have known right then.


If there is one thing I can't stand, it's bad manners.


Bad manners in public = bad manners in bed.


I think I did know right then, but just chose to ignore warning signals.

Cindi and I commenced our talking.
I found out lots of things about Cindi.

She was nervous. She didn't do "things like this" a lot. She worked downtown. She had saltwater-fish tanks.


I also found out that we had absolutely no chemistry. None at all.

Again, I should have just left.


But I'm kind of twisted like that.


As I sat across from her, I started thinking, "What would it be like to sleep with someone I have zero chemistry with?"

I had never tried it.


I've slept with people I wasn't physically attracted to with no problem - but always because they had something about them; an indefinable sort of sexiness I couldn't put my finger on.

Cindi was not unattractive - she was cute. But there was just nothing there.
Nothing between us.

I pondered it: Was it possible to fuck with no spark whatsoever?


Could I, essentially, get it up?

It was now or never.


I made my decision.


Cindi got in her car. I got in mine.


And I followed her home.


As she unlocked her front door, she said, over her shoulder, "I hope you like lizards... "


and let me tell you something, I DO NOT like lizards, I fucking hate lizards


"...because I have 20 of them."

Fucking lizards.


"Huh," I said, backing slowly out the front door again.


And then, because I can't trust my own mouth, I heard my mouth say, "Are these lizards in cages?"


Cindi laughed and said, "Most of them."

MOST OF THEM.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Twenty fucking lizards in one apartment.


It is in these moments that we must learn to listen to our quiet, nagging doubts.


A sane person would have left.


But I thought to myself, "I am going to need to see the inside of this apartment."

This is always half my problem, btw. I like women so much that it's almost as if I want to consume them.
I want to see inside their houses. I want to pick through their bookshelves and quietly judge their music collections. I want to see them naked and I want to see what kind of toothpaste they use and find out what kind of spices are in the spice rack and find out what it feels like to have their arms around me. I want to try women on. What if I was your girl?  What if this was my life?  What if this was my house?  What's it like to be you?  Who are you?  Why am I in your space?  Why are you allowing me to see you in this incredibly vulnerable way?  What are you getting from this?  What are we to one another?  What does all this mean?


So you can see how much I needed to see the Lizard Apartment.
It was stronger than me.

                                     [via arrachecouer]
Y'all.  There were lizards everywhere.
Big lizards under sunlamps. Tiny geckos with their toes suction-cupped to glass cases. A very scary iguana as thick as my thigh, blinking slowly on a piece of driftwood.


To her credit, you couldn't smell them. Cindi took meticulous care of her 20 lizards.


Cindi also had a pug, (the only kind of dog I hate) a snake, and a whole case full of stick insects.
Unacceptable.


I walked around her place, looking at all the lizards, stalling for time. Now that it was obviously time to screw, I didn't know how to start.


We had no chemistry. Zip. Zilch.
I had no idea what to do.

Fortunately, Cindi solved the problem for me.


She put her arms around me, leaned in, and....


licked my face.


You guys, she licked my fucking face! She licked me! Waaaay before the lips met, way before anything! She licked me! A big, wet, tonguey lick!!


Who does that? Who does that?

Where do you get off trying to kiss someone like that? Especially someone you don't know????


Easy fucking does it.  Go gentle when you've never kissed someone before.

See what your new date likes before you do your special "my-ex-girlfriend-loved-this" move.
Jeeezuuus.


I pushed her off of me and onto the couch. I was completely irritated.


Sitting on her lap, facing Cindi, trying to keep her hands from rolling my dress up, it seemed to me that I was the one taking charge, here.

And that was not what I had asked for in my ad.
Or what I had asked for when we talked.

I wanted to be topped.  All week.  I wanted other people in charge. Sheesh.


Me: (kissing her neck) So how toppy are you?


Cindi: I can be.


Translation: I'm not at all.



Fuck this.



I let Cindi lead me into the bedroom, hoping against hope that the sex would be better.


Gayelles, I know you must be thinking, "After all this, you still had sex with her???"

And I wish I could tell you I didn't.
I wish I could say I pulled my dress down and flounced out of the apartment in a huff.


But I stayed.


Curiosity killed the cat.

It was already going so badly that I wanted to see what was next.

So, OK.


Cindi pulled me onto the bed.  We undressed me.  We undressed her.


She fucked me halfheartedly.
It was fine...meh...it was fine, I guess.

We had no spark.
I'm not sure either one of us was there.

Cindi was most definitely not a top.
I was waaaaay more of a top than she was.


Faggots, in real life, I'm pretty aggressive.
In sexual terms, I'm what you might call a femme top.
I like to be in charge.

So I decided to top Cindi.

I decided to wake her the hell up.

I vowed to fuck her into the ground.


I was mad at her.  She was rude. She had lizards and no manners.
I was fucking pissed.


I wanted her to remember me.


And so - Tuesday night was the first time I ever had sex out of aggression.
With anybody.


It was kind of...hot.

I ended up enjoying myself immensely.
I think Cindi had fun, too.


Cindi got me a glass of water when we were done.
She even walked me to the elevator and kissed my cheek as the doors closed.


Nice.
Why didn't she do any of that stuff before?

Women are complicated.


I was left with all sorts of new questions.


*Why did I stay?


*Where did my anger come from?


*Who was I actually mad at?


*If I start off fucking someone out of aggression, and end up really enjoying myself, is that bad?


*I didn't fuck with the intention to hurt, but...how close to that line am I?

Help me out, here, homos.
What do you think?