It’s Wednesday night at 8:00 and I am writing this in bed, while eating a cookie and all I can here in my head is the Bert and Ernie screaming match about Ernie eating cookies in his bed, which would cause crumbs to get in the sheets, which would get in his pajamas, which would cause him to itch. So, Ernie wisely went and got into Bert’s bed to eat them there and Bert just rolled over and took it, like I am sure he did off camera many times, but that’s another story. Luckily I sleep naked and there is another bed in this room, so fuck that, I am eating.
Anyway, I promise I did not decide to write a post about repressed homosexual muppets but that thought just hit me. What I am writing about is this week, I had a date. Now, don’t get all excited, he was as vanilla as they come but very cute and we had a nice time, but since I apparently was a Victorian woman in one of my past lives and cannot easily open my pants, he left disappointed. This all happened when I arrived at my hotel, I was doing a reconnaissance mission for Thumper which involved flirting with a man on Scruff who was using Thumper’s name, though who, allegedly, had no idea who Thumper was or that there were blogs about him and his perversions. It is a GPS based app and I had left it on and received a message from a cute, mid 40’s daddy type who just happened to be 263 feet away in the office next door from where I was staying. After a few polite chats and a multitude of dick pics sent by him to me, he decided it was time to make his move and announced that he wanted to come over and fuck and I politely declined his offer. Now, I love to be chased, especially by attractive salt and pepper haired men, but there was no way I was going to give in to him, cause my dick just doesn’t work in conjunction with my mind like that, and I made it very clear to him that he should zip up and go home because he was not going to win. He said he understood but then asked if I would at least meet him for a drink, which, for whatever reason, I decided to do.
We met, had a few drinks and had a delicious conversation about life, love, and vodka and somehow the discussion about piercings came up and I volunteered that I had one. Of course he asked to see it and of course I had a picture, so I showed him and he reacted positively but very kind, you know, as it often happens when I flash my dick pic at strangers. He was a bit fascinated by the story of why I got one, did it hurt, etc and I then found myself telling him the story of how all you need is someone to hold your hand and then started telling him about Thumper, the boyfriend, holding mine while I had it done for Axel, the husband. This guy had to have thought that he had stumbled upon a crazy dude with a hole in his dick and brain or something at this point, but in case he didn’t, I then started showing him pictures of the chastity cage and how it attaches to said piercing. He was drinking it in and I was marveling at myself for being so weirdly open and uncaring as to what this stranger thought about my kinks and endeavors. This was not yesterday’s Drew, and I smiled at that.
I had to take an evening conference call so we wound up the drinking date quickly, but he never swaggered or swayed after that story and, if anything, his interest grew, but I again locked my legs just like Mrs Garrett alway told those Facts of Life girls. He was a gracious loser and we parted as friends.
In fact, we actually parted as Facebook friends, which I find kind of cute because it’s just another one of those hidden relationships within the context of a normal friend list. I am very lucky too, because for me, that mixed list of muggle and kinky is growing and I feel very secure in knowing that. He and I parted ways with a nice hug, a peck on the cheek and that was that. We have chatted a bit since then but schedules didn’t allow anything more and, while he truly is a great guy from all appearances, I still have no interest in having sex with him so I assume he has no interest in me, which is dandy.
As for that, the timing was just wrong because I can’t say I want to have a fling with a stranger while my husband is on a walker at home having to rely on my mother to help him put on socks, but, more importantly, I think it boils down to the fact that I didn’t really have an interest in sex for the sake of just sex. At least not Monday night. I know I am very lucky to have an understanding spouse who allows me to indulge in my kinks, but I also know better than to push the boundaries for something meaningless and vanilla too.
Now, days later I am left wondering if that flies in the face of my new attitude of not needing a relationship to have sex, but I don’t think it does because, deep down, that guy did not push that button he needed to push and my punch card only has so much space that I am not willing to waste a slot, if that makes any sense. Of course, tonight I spent about an hour skyping with our old buddy Kiwi who thinks I am crazy for not immediately stripping, even though he pretends to tell me I did the right thing, but that is his inner whore talking, so I have learned to ignore him at times such as these (seriously, Kiwi, thanks for the advice).
But, the best part about that this week is just the experience. It was a fun and unexpected way for me to boost my confidence in my kinky self and to have realized that I have no shame in discussing what I do or don’t do. It’s funny, because it was even fun to talk to Axel and Thumper about it after the fact without any guilty feelings because, despite the lack of action on my part, this is exactly what would have worried yesterday’s Drew and it’s good to see that going away.