Down the Toilet
After breaking up with an ass of an ex, my best friend persuaded me to give Match.com a try as she’d had success on it and thought I would too. I met a few really nice people off the site and managed to filter most of the booty call-type messages, but it seems one slipped through the net. His photo was good, his profile was well written and although I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to go out with someone who was separated with three kids, I thought it wouldn’t be fair to be picky and he may just be right for me. We messaged a couple of times over the site and as I favour meeting up for a drink rather than spending months chatting online only to be disappointed scenario, we swapped numbers and arranged an after work drink and meal in town.
He rolled up late, which was fine as I knew he had a 30 minute journey in rush hour, so I’d bought a book loosely relative to the degree I am studying (criminology). He ordered a coffee, asked me if I was okay with him smoking (I smoke too, but usually make a rule of not smoking on a date) and lit up. He noticed the book I was reading and asked the normal, utterly unfunny questions about whether I was studying to be a criminal, etc. After about 40 minutes, with his coffee gone and my wine pretty much on the dredges, he asked me what I was up to that evening. I said that I thought we had arranged to have dinner, to which he remarked that he’d spent most his money today buying an XBox. He said he wasn’t really hungry but could we go back to mine?
I have a general rule that I never ever get into a car with someone on the first date, much less show them where I live, so I declined. He then spent 10 minutes assuring me he wasn’t a murderer like I read in my books, that he just wanted to drop me home. I still declined. Then he came out with an utter bombshell:
“I was hoping to get a blow job and stick my cock up your arse,” he said.
WTF? He started nervously laughing and I laughed so hard I nearly cried. When he realised I wasn’t laughing with him, but at him, he stood up to pay the drinks bill. Me, being polite, felt it was only fair to “thank” him for the date and drink so I waited for him. Five minutes turned into 10, and then into 15, and I figured he’d made a run for it, so I collected my stuff ready to leave when he appeared at the doorway. He said he’d paid for the drinks and asked me once more if I’d like a lift home.
I discovered why he had been gone so long.
“I just had a wank in the toilets, thinking about your tits,” he explained.
I thanked him, then laughed the entire way home. He rang me a few times, and texted me once to ask, “Was I a bit full on?” I never gave him the grace of replying – I’ll let him mull that one over.
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