Lack of connection? Chemistry? Or is it me?
Recently I slept with a woman after four dates. I really liked her. We connected in many ways and shared a great number of similarities. Then, we had sex… During our romp, I began to feel different. My feelings couldn’t even wait until after the deed was done to change — they began to change during intercourse — to the point where I wanted it to end and I wanted to leave. Internally, I was shocked to feel such an uprising. I bemused myself. How could this change occur so suddenly? What’s the matter with me?
I couldn’t come, no…
I find them so sexy— is that weird?
There’s something about finding feet sexy that is considered weird and freaky. There’s a level of embarrassment attached to this for me, and for many other people who ever mention it. I have felt the puce red colour surge to my face when I’ve mentioned that I think feet are pretty, and the face of a lady recoils with the expression, “Huh?” plastered across it. It seems that you are thought to have devious and strange sexual desires if you find yourself gawping at a pretty pair of feet. Why is this so?
I understand that feet aren’t sexual organs…
Sexual script theory and being influenced by porn.
I was living through a period of sexual drought in a small town in rural England, piecing my life together after some traveling and family grief. I was bound to a small room in a small cottage, working a small job and saving small amounts. Dwelling in that damp room droned on for the winter period and my goal was to leave in the spring for London.
I was young at the time and to get me through these difficult months I watched an awful lot of Netflix, swiped through an awful lot of Tinder (with very few people within…
After a certain age, public sex on a first date isn’t good for the soul.
How did I meet her, you ask? Tinder, of course.
I felt hollow as I drove toward her house. We hadn’t spent much time texting or getting to know each other, and from what little interaction I had with her, I sensed an absence of any tickling electricity. I probably shouldn’t have been dating anyone as my mind was intensely occupied with the vision of someone else. But, boredom and loneliness will eke out enough desperation in anyone— enough to say yes to a date to nowhere.
I picked up this Latina lady in my car and we drove to…
Is romance even possible in an online dating world?
“Hey, how are you this evening?”
The female recipient is already bored because the opening line wasn’t zany or attention-choke-holding enough. Glances at the message once and is already over the exchange. Three-hours later…
“Hey, I’m good, you?”
The male recipient is disappointed it took so long for a reply, knowing that she saw the message straight away as that little green light showed that she was active on Tinder. But he convinces himself (lies to himself) that she was busy and is actually interested. He tries further…
“Not bad at all, thank you. I’ve just been relaxing after a…
I think we built the tension up too much.
I met her in an elevator and was immediately struck by her presence. Her scent gently filled the four-walled chamber as we lowered toward the ground floor. She was with a friend and they were chatting excitedly about their day ahead. I was in the same boat. This was a relaxing weekend away for me too. I was to ramble about the city of Dublin and do whatever I pleased. In that moment I’d hoped she would talk to me, but as soon as the elevator opened they split off in a different direction. Moments later she was out of…
I was never comfortable with anyone going down there.
It’s funny, as a teenager and in my early twenties; anal play of any kind was rarely on my mind. And by the time I reached thirty, its allure was humming away in my brain on a daily basis. With regards to sex, it’s almost an obsession. An ever-present juicy apple being teasingly dangled in the forefront of my fantasies. It’s not just me, either.
Amongst straight males above a certain age, the female bumhole is like the promised land. For some reason, it’s just so appealing to play with. To see, to touch, to lick, to go inside with…
Poetry Sunday
Am I paying penance for the darkness of my past?
I sit alone again this evening, my head slumped in my lap.
Mouth just a touch ajar, eyes are small and bleary,
I’m losing will by the hour like sand slide through a clearing.
The weight of this empty room grows thicker by the day,
I’m hearing voices in my head, a humdrum agony.
To slow dance with suicide under glistening stars,
Where heroes are unborn and ballet on graveyards.
Damaged and destitute from the war of yesterday,
When a beautiful tree becomes a tempting resting place.
On nights that…
Improve your dating app finesse.
Yes, I mean it — stop swiping!
You know those lonely evenings when your soul feels vacant and you’re swiping incessantly on Tinder? And then before you know it a few hours have passed and your mind feels frazzled and that Netflix show you had on in the background barely penetrated your concentration. You’ve spent most of the evening swiping left but occasionally you see a profile that makes you go wow! Or should I say a face that makes you feel that way, let’s be honest.
But the accouterment associated with the face are sufficient to produce a right…
When you bury your emotions — you bury them alive.
I didn’t want to do it — but my body exploded as my guitar was smashed to smithereens all over my sitting room floor. My beautiful, black acoustic Fender guitar. I had been trying to practice but my frustration got the better of me. The thing is, I didn’t have a normal level of frustration. I was livid. The instrument got macerated into chips.
After I cooled down and felt sufficiently depressed, I decided I had to go out and replace it. After all, I really wanted to be a guitarist so I needed a guitar. …
