I had a private chat with chick on Twitter recently, and we spoke of men who’ve made rather over-the-top “requests” before first meetings with us.
Well, with her. I’ve never actually followed through with plans with any of those guys. But that’s how I roll. My Spidey senses are on the job 24/7.
I’ve been “dating” for forever. But, now and then, I toy with the idea of trying to find some simple, convenient, mostly-for-sex thingie with some worthy fella. It’s always a big fail, but I keep the search open.
Recently it involved chatting with a fellow that would’ve been remarkably convenient in the just-a-shag capacity, as he lived five blocks from my home.
We did the whole MSN thing that I so often hate. And I got creeped out. He kept bringing up stockings. It wasn’t just that he liked stockings. He began insisting I wear them, even stating he’d buy them for me if need be. I’ve just not chatted with him again, no matter how much the inner perv in me relishes the idea of a Five Block Fuck to turn to in times of, um, need.
Because when someone’s so insistent on their fetish, it’s all about the fetish. Sorry, but a little of it’s got to be about me. In fact, call me crazy, but I’d like a lot of it to be about me.
My big concern wasn’t that he had a fetish, but that he was so comfortable demanding it of me, and not asking. And we’ve never even met.
A dominant personality? Obviously. Unfortunately, when it comes to this sex thing, people are too comfortable with describing someone as dominant or submissive, and not accepting that these traits can be really unattractive in people in real life if they’re a little overabundant.
There are people who want to be around dominant, controlling, bossy, demanding folk. Maybe they’re into that shit.
But then there are those of us who expect a little respect and flexibility, a little give-and-take, in real life. There are those of us who understand some roleplaying needs to end at the bedroom door, and adulthood needs to take over in the outside world.
And there’s a difference between stating your fetish and demanding it. When it comes to “playtime”, I can have fun with “demands” as much as any pervy gal can. But when it comes to me in real life? Just fucking try it. I don’t do demands. Ask me. Sweetly.
In the love-and-sex realm, where things can get dangerous fast, instinct is one of the only things you got on your side. This fellow may not be dangerous, but my instincts told me I’m just not right to go there. I felt awkward, uncomfortable, and like I was an afterthought as long as their were stockings. It made me feel like a whore, and all I did was talk to the guy.
But I was really creeped out by the persistence, repetitiveness, and urgency. It seemed a little off.
And in a reality where one in four has experienced dating/relationship violence, and I have not, fear and instincts should be respected. Bad things happen to people in the world. Instinct is supposed to be that sixth sense of self-preservation. I follow my instinct, and I have never been harmed.
Is this fella in particular a danger? No, probably not. Do I regret walking away? No, definitely not.
If someone’s making demands of you before you even meet, if it’s all about a thing or a way of dressing and not about you at all, if they’re seeing you as more a thing for their enjoyment and not a person, well, it’s probably a good time to ask yourself if you’re really comfortable going there.
Because I sure wasn’t.
No related posts.
Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.