Home now from my date with Bryan and his sideburns, nose hair and five o’clock shadow. Also, one extremely long curly hair on his cheek. Don’t think I’ll be doing that again in a hurry. Apart from his lack of effort, he was rather judgmental as I was already seated at a table when he arrived, he was twenty minutes late, but he, after a perfunctory hello, decided he wasn’t happy with my choice of table, as it was too close to a table that had six women at it. He said he can’t stand constant raucous talking and loud performance laughter. Also, when I was on only my second glass of wine he told me I shouldn’t drink so much. OK, great start.
I asked him what he does for a job, and he said he’s a research assistant, and so spends his work week pushing back the front ears of science, the nong. He called everyone he was talking about Wotsisname. Also, somehow all of his shouts were cheaper than mine. When I asked him if he’d had a long-term partner, he said he hadn’t, so I said maybe he was frightened of commitment, so he said he didn’t think so, as he doesn’t want Brussel sprouts either, but he’s not frightened of them. What was he talking about?
Anyway, I still had sex with him in the back of his car afterwards. I was a bit worried at first, as when I told him I needed a safe word to get him to stop if he was taking things a bit far, he suggested ‘Himalayas in the Caribbean’, including the correct accent on every syllable.
Turns out there was no need for the safe word, all quite regulation, but now I’m feeling a bit nothing. Why do I do it? Seemed like a good idea at the time, I suppose. Maybe I do drink too much. Still, no harm done, and I did enjoy seeing how excited he became because of me. It was kind of sweet, as even though he seemed to expect it, it also seemed that he couldn’t believe it was happening. I wonder if he’ll ring me.