It’s just a little crush

Crush

(noun)

A strong but temporary feeling of liking someone

(verb)

To upset or shock someone

To defeat someone completely

* * *

Our first date was the best date I’ve ever had.

We went ice skating at Ally Pally ice rink. We got there too early, so walked around the gardens first. I fancied him as soon as I saw him, and I could tell he fancied me too. We were flirting like schoolkids – playful, and teasing, and physical. We held hands on the ice, and at one point I fell onto my knees in front of him and told him I was ‘just practicing’ in a provocative way.

He kept trying to push me into the wall, and one of the times he decided to stop me from going too fast into it at the last second. That part of the wall turned out to be a door, so I would have fallen straight through it and out of the ice rink. He joked for the next few months about how the date would have been even better if only he’d actually pushed me through that door. I agree – it would have been hilarious (you know, as long as I didn’t have to go to A&E afterwards).

After ice skating we went to the Jolly Angler pub for drinks and there was karaoke on. We had our first kiss to someone’s bad version of ‘Hallelujah’ and I was happy to discover he was a great kisser. I decided to sing the classic 90s one hit wonder ‘Crush’ by Jennifer Paige and he took a video of me singing on his phone. I probably knew even then that singing it was ‘just a little crush’ was a case of the lady doth protest too much, that I would end up quite liking him, and that would be my downfall.

After karaoke, we got takeaway, and he came home with me, (we didn’t have sex), we just watched Peep Show and stayed up until 6am talking. It was exciting getting to know someone new.

He was funny, and smart, and sexually open minded, we got along well, and played chess (which he usually won), and I could be myself with him and I enjoyed us spending time together. He remembered which days I was doing certain things, like hosting my quiz, and would text me to ask how it was. We went for bagels on Brick Lane, he bought me presents for my birthday, we played pool, he poured milk on me in my shower in a kinky way, he came to watch my blog reading and my stand-up gig, and I fucked him with my strap-on. Great sex and awesome date activities. It was exactly what I wanted.

I waited for him for 6 weeks because he went travelling to Madagascar and then away to his sister’s prom.

On our next date, we went for dinner, and then had amazing sex where I tied him to my bed and dripped hot candle wax on him. (He said he’d never seen me look so happy). He had a very high pain threshold and I found that so sexy about him.

It’s so precarious at the beginning. I feel as though you are skating on thin ice, making sure they don’t think you like them too much because they’ll get scared and run away. My problem is I’m not very good at holding back or playing it cool. So when he started not texting me as much, instead of chilling out and letting him come to me, I started texting even more and went a bit overboard with it.

On our last date, we went to Ally Pally Summer Festival. I had a bit of a go at him for not texting me that much that week and he said he would text me more. Everything seemed fine and he introduced me to some of his friends. He text me later that night, but then after that went a bit AWOL again. I didn’t really understand what was happening, but we eventually met for lunch today and he explained.

That day, I’d asked him if he’d spoken to his ex-girlfriend recently, because I knew he’d been there with her the year before and it was on my mind, and he said that made him realise that we were getting ‘serious’ and he got scared. I suddenly realised when he told me this that he’s not totally over her, and maybe didn’t take enough time to process what happened between them before meeting me. It seems like he repressed those feelings and hasn’t dealt with them fully yet. I also think that sometimes even if a man likes you he can get freaked out if you come on too strong and/ or he’s not in the right head space for a relationship. 

Today was weird. It didn’t feel like a break up in the traditional sense because he was saying things you wouldn’t normally say like ‘I really like you’, and still being a bit flirty. He also said conflicting things. When I asked him what he wanted it sounded like he wants the same things I do (play chess, have sex, and go out sometimes). But he said he thinks I want something more, and he can’t give me that right now. Then the next minute he said he doesn’t know what he wants. Then he made a joke about meeting up in a year and going ice skating. Then he said he had a really fun day with me at the Summer Festival. WHAT A HEAD FUCK.

I wish I hadn’t been so needy, and put so much energy into wanting him to like me, and I wish I hadn’t asked him about his ex, but it’s hard to know whether it would have made a difference or not. Perhaps we just met at the wrong time. It’s so frustrating when you meet someone you have great chemistry with and so much fun with, and you can tell that they were really into you at the start, but now they don’t want to continue seeing you. I feel sad, and angry, and rejected, and deceived, and disappointed, and confused all at once. I could probably spend hours thinking about what I could have done differently but I’m going to try not to torture myself about it too much.

I wanted to say to him thank you for all the good times we had together, for the best first date ever, for coming to my shows with me, for the milk, and the candle wax, and of course, the pegging.

But I couldn’t find the words to say all this, so I just said bye and we hugged and I watched him walk away, turning round once to look back at me, like a fucking tease. Talk about mixed messages.

Towards the end of the conversation, I told him I’m going to give him some space for him to miss me, and perhaps we can text each other in a month or so and see where we’re at. Maybe I will have met someone else by then, maybe I’ll have forgotten about him, or maybe we’ll meet up again, and play chess and go ice skating, and I’ll push him through that door. I don’t know what the future holds, but for now I’ll just have to focus on being creative, and doing stuff for me, after I’ve listened to Jennifer Paige…

 

So how did you two meet?

One of my friends, who has mostly dated people from OkCupid, asked me recently whether I thought I would meet someone IRL, and if that’s even possible now. So I decided to make a pie chart of all the men I’ve dated/had sex with since University and how I met them. The good news is that most of them I did meet in real life. The bad news is that almost a third of them are comedians.

pie-chart-2

Some extra facts for you:

One of the men in ‘comedy’ was a non comedian, but he was friends with a comedian and we met when he was in the audience at one of my gigs (the only time I’ve ever dated an audience member)
The one on holiday was coincidentally friends with a comedian I know
The one from the bar was working behind the bar
The one from the dating event was also working behind the bar
‘Other’ was this guy I met at Erotica one year, who was helping his dad sell Botox

Comedy

Comedy seems to be the main way for me to meet someone, but now I’m not as keen to date another comedian. It was new and exciting at first dating fellow comics, and getting to meet so many new men, but now I’m kind of over that, and want comedy to be my thing, rather than our thing. I’m obviously not going to rule it out, but that’s just my preference.

I do wish that more male audience members would chat to me after gigs though, and not just to say ‘I don’t usually find women funny, but you were great’, I mean actually chat to me. I did a gig the other week and made eye contact with a man both while I was on stage, and afterwards from across the room, but a few minutes later when I was going to find him to talk to him, he had left.

I’ve heard a lot of female comedians say that they don’t get hit on by audience members, possibly because some men find it intimidating. Perhaps in my case men are scared off by my kinky sex jokes. But if that’s the case then it’s good they find out sooner rather than later. 

A few months ago I did sort of get offered a threesome after a gig in Buckinghamshire – there was a couple, and the woman was trying to get me to go out with them afterwards, and then said I could stay at their house, but she was really drunk and I couldn’t tell exactly what the situation was. The 21-year-old me would have stayed out with them anyway and just seen what happened, but I just really wanted to go home to my own bed and sleep. Clearly I’m not young or cool enough to have threesomes anymore. 

Through friends

Through friends is clearly by my statistics also a great way to meet men, but this has almost always ended badly for me, so I’m a bit reluctant to try that route again. Having said that if you’re my friend and you have any friends you think I’d be a good match with, that I haven’t already dated and/or fucked, then let me know.

The problem with online dating

One of the many problems I have with dating is time. In that I probably don’t actually have enough time to date even though I want to, and this is amplified when it comes to online dating. If I’ve met someone already in real life and I already know I like them, then I’m way more likely to make time to meet up with them, but if it’s just someone I’ve been talking to online, even if I think we might get along, then it’s hard for me to sacrifice time I would spend with myself or seeing friends, to meet them.

I cancelled a date today as I needed time to write a monologue to submit to something as the deadline is Friday. But if I’d already met him and knew I liked him then I might have been more willing to try and do both in one day. (I am half way through the monologue and now I have writer’s block on what to write next. Hence writing this blog).

What I’d really like

I wish more guys would talk to me in real life, and I don’t mean the man that said ‘hey baby’ at 11pm the other night on the street. I wish guys would talk to me in coffee shops, or at bars, after my gigs, or in the supermarket. I hate the fact that this happens all the time in films but never actually happens in life.

And before anyone says that I can make a move first – I do sometimes (both in real life and online) and it’s usually met with horror, disinterest, or initial interest leading to fear because I’m interested, and so ultimately disinterest.

Maybe when I find a guy who does genuinely like a woman making the first move (not just says they do), that will be my ideal man and we will fall in love and have hundreds of babies. (JOKE).

So why don’t men talk to us in public?

Perhaps because women are more vocal about sexual harassment now, men are scared of being accused of this, so some of them just avoid talking to us altogether. Weirdly this hasn’t stopped actual sexual harassment. But there’s a big difference between starting a friendly conversation with a women and seeing if she wants to talk too, and being that annoying guy who won’t leave her alone.

Perhaps another reason is because a lot of the time I don’t make an effort. I’m pretty low maintenance. I often don’t wear any make up. Sometimes I don’t wash my hair, and dry shampoo is not as effective as I want it to be. Basically I look rough as fuck about 50% of the time.

Yesterday I put on some make-up and did my hair, wore one of my favourite dresses, and a necklace everyone seems to love. I went to host my Tuesday night quiz. One of the teams drew a heart on their answer sheet with ‘quizmaster’ inside it, I was bought a drink anonymously by an ‘Irish guy’ (that’s all the barmaid would tell me), and I caught a random guy at the bar checking me out. 

So maybe if I want to be chatted up like in the movies, I need to look more like I could be in the movies, not like I just woke up and couldn’t give a shit (even though some guys do find that look more sexy). I guess part of this also has to do with feeling more confident about myself, and therefore coming across as more attractive. 

The last reason is that a lot of the good ones are taken. I was standing at a bar the other night ordering pizza and briefly spoke to a cute guy. Then the bar person handed him two drinks and he walked away. Bye cute guy who probably has a girlfriend or boyfriend. 

What now?

Dating myself has been going well. I went for pizza alone the other day and had a great time, as I didn’t have to talk to anyone else. In terms of meeting someone, I am going to make an effort to approach men in real life regardless, I will re-arrange that internet date I had to cancel, and I’m going to go to some dating events this year (and hopefully it won’t just be the barman I fancy this time). 

Top image from izquotes

Why I gave up casual sex

I re-joined OkCupid a few weeks ago. I’m not sure why. I think I was probably bored. Or maybe I just wanted some attention. I guess I thought maybe it would help me get laid. ‘Why do I need help getting laid?’ I hear you ask – well there were a few guys I know that I could probably have sex with, but for whatever reason, I’d made the decision not to – maybe I didn’t fancy them enough, or maybe I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction (you know who you are), or maybe a bit of both.

OkCupid is different to Tinder in that anyone can message you, even if you don’t have a match, so as a woman looking for men, you get inundated, mostly from men who make you recoil in horror and/or can’t string a sentence together. After spending a lot of time deleting messages, blocking guys, and despairing at the world, you start getting a few half decent guys messaging you. I started talking to one, a student architect. He was 26, looked kind of cute in his pics, and it said something on his profile about how he was looking for a girl to corrupt him. Just my type, I thought.

We moved to WhatsApp, and talked over Christmas. It was discussed that we might go home together if meeting up went well, then he started sending me really weird questions such as:

‘Are you good at sex?’

‘Was that (bikini pic on my profile) recent?’ – I told him it was from 2014 so it was followed up with ‘Still got a slim body?’

‘How tall are you?’

‘What’s the height of the mattress on your bed?’

‘Have you got nice feet, do you think?’

‘Are these questions too weird?’

And then finally my favourite of them all:

screenshot_20170104-202235-2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DO I LIKE FOREPLAY??!!!

I was transported back to my younger days when I didn’t realise why sex didn’t feel that good because I (and some of the guys I was with) didn’t know that you’re supposed to spend lots of time on the pussy (and other places) before you stick your dick in it. I told him I like having my nipples pulled (hard) and being slapped in the face. He said he probably wouldn’t be comfortable with the latter, which reminded me of my most recent blog post.

I said I wasn’t sure about us still meeting up, I didn’t know if we would be sexually compatible, or that he was sexually experienced enough for me. He said that he’s different in real life, and we should at least go for a drink and see.

So against my better judgement, I went to meet him at the tube station and we went to The Duke of Edinburgh (shout out to old Wood Green work colleagues). He was cute, but there was something really awkward about him, and although we had a bit of a chat and found some common ground, (we both went to Uni in Leicester, although he’s a De Montforter, so I win). I really didn’t like him as a person, and there was barely any actual chemistry, just two bored people, slightly attracted to each other, sitting in a pub together.

We had a couple of drinks, then I suggested we play pool, as I thought this would bring some excitement into the evening. It was fun, and I very almost beat him, but then I potted the white ball, while potting the black, so lost by default.

After we finished, he said shall we go and play chess? (It says on my profile that I’m looking for someone to play chess with). The pool game had created a very small amount of tension, so I agreed, and we began to walk home. I thought this would be the perfect time to ask him about his political opinions, since I don’t remember him answering those bits of the OKCupid questions.

Me: So if you’re from Barnet do you vote Tory then?

Him: Well it’s more Chipping Barnet who are Tories, and I have voted for different political parties, but yes now I do vote Tory.

My head: Of course.

He goes on to fanboy over why Margaret Thatcher was so great, because she made it so anyone could better themselves, no matter whether you were a shopkeeper, or a lawyer. (Or something similar).

If anyone would have wanted one of those busts from that Sherlock episode, it would have been him.

Me: Yeah so basically she made it better for self-employed people, but not if you’re a single parent with a part time job.

Him: Yeah.

(No further discussion on this).

Me: So did you vote Brexit?

Him: Yes.

My head: Seriously…

Me: Why?

Him: *gives me a convoluted explanation which suggests that Germany want to become a superpower again and we should have no part of that*

Half way through this conversation, I nearly fall over because it’s so slippy and icy on the pavement, but he does not seem to find any humour in this. Just like earlier on in the pub when I told him his glasses looked like Harry Potter glasses.

Me: But how is leaving the EU going to be better for Britain?

Him: *avoids the question like he’s practicing to be a politician*

Me: Just give me ONE GOOD REASON why you voted leave?

Him: Well I can’t remember that far back – it was in July.

Me: It was June the 23rd actually.

We go into my flat. It turns out he’s OCD about tidiness. If you’ve ever been to my flat, you’ll know this is not a good mix.

It becomes apparent that he does not want us to play chess, which honestly I was quite disappointed about. We start kissing and I’m glad to discover he’s a lips-only kisser. We start doing other stuff, and at one point I end up sitting on his face. He’s doing quite well, I’d probably give him a B plus, but doesn’t seem to be enjoying it, so I ask him if I need to go and wash my fanny, as I have been out all day. He unconvincingly tells me that it’s fine, so I go to the shower and have a quick wash. I’m not that sensitive! If I blatantly ask you if it needs washing, then it’s fine to say so. I’ve stopped sexual activity before to ask guys to go wash their dicks real quick.

We end up having sex, but he’s one of those guys who can’t stay fully hard the whole time in a condom, so that’s annoying. I don’t self-lubricate loads usually anyway, but it keeps drying up more than usual, so we have to use a lot of lube. Probably because there’s no real connection between us, and my pussy knows the truth, and is not cooperating.

He keeps telling me what to do, but not in a hot way, and any time I get even a little bit rough with him he acts like a total pussy about it. Eventually he ends up cumming on my tits, which I haven’t had for a while, so it’s nice for nostalgia. I get out my vibrator, but my clit is also refusing to play ball, so I decide to give up.

I start to feel a little emotional, I’m not sure if he notices, but he immediately gets up to go and have a shower. Which NO ONE HAS EVER DONE TO ME AFTER SEX BEFORE, and it feels a bit rude. But given his logical architect OCD Tory personality, I’m not massively surprised.

After he comes out of the shower, I go to pee (determined not to get cystitis from this experience), and let myself cry a little in the bathroom, and when I come back he’s already got dressed. It’s obvious now that I’m upset. I sit on the bed crying and he leaves, and I realise I have not yet learnt my lesson about leave voters.

Awkward as fuck.

I think the whole experience reminded me of what happened with Tory 1, and the rejection that I felt from him. The fact that the sex I’d just had was devoid of any intimacy made it all worse, plus the fact that I hadn’t cum, and he had, and that’s why I got sad.

I’ve had some great casual sex experiences in the past (more with people that I already knew though), but I think now I’m a bit older, I need something more, or at the very least I need to be more into it to in future, if I do ever do that again, and not just doing it for the sake of it.

In short:

If your pussy ain’t pulsing, then there’s no point fucking.

Stop sleeping with Tory Brexiters because clearly they have no soul.

My favourite part of the night was playing pool, so I obviously need to do this more.

I’ve used the word ‘pussy’ in this blog a lot. But for some reason I always call it a ‘fanny’ when I’m talking about washing it.

No one seems to have a good reason as to why they voted leave.