The joy of no sex

I had my 4th date with the Great Scot on Thursday.

The morning after our 3rd date was lovely. We woke up in the small hours and things got heated again, but we couldn’t decide which primal urge was stronger – sleep or sex. I chose sleep.

We dozed restlessly for a while. He was a bit melodramatic about his asthma but it was generally nice. It was so nice having him in my bed.

A bit later we woke up and had sex again.

Fucking hell it was good.

It seems like his default way of doing things (e.g. which parts of the body to focus on, how much pressure to use) perfectly match what I like. Plus, he’s incredibly generous. He’ll pause the penetrative bit to pay more attention to me, even if I’ve already had lots of attention.

I get the impression he’s very experienced in relationship sex (rather than someone who’s just shagged about) and he knows his way around a vagina. And I love his combination of being gentle and self-deprecating outside the bedroom, but being confident and cocksure as soon as he has a boner.

The night before, I’d been impressed by him not caring it was my period, but in the end my period didn’t make much of an appearance.

In the morning, it was back with a vengeance. In the after-glow, I realised he had blood all over his thighs, I had it all up my arm and the Official Period Towel had seen better days. He still didn’t care.

We had a lovely cuddle. I liked the way that after he’d sorted out the condom both times, he took a huge sip of water and then earnestly handed me the glass, even though I had water on my side.

This time, he noticed there were some chocolate coins on my bedside table, left over from Christmas. He asked if he could have one, and I said “yes, I think you’ve earned it!”

He said “it’s not your usual post-coital treat,” as he unwrapped it.

He then slept sounded for over an hour, and I wrote that post.

When he eventually woke up, I said “I’d like to say – I’m so glad we went out last night. I felt gloomy but I knew you’d cheer me up, and you did, and I’m so glad we had sex. Because I hadn’t had it since May, and you’re really good.”

He said “yeah, I hadn’t had it since June.”

“Really!”

“Yeah, because I feel like it’s kind of a big deal. And I’m not really into dating more than one person at once. But it’s fine if you are!” He said.

I gave him lots of compliments about his techniques. He commented on how much I was dishing out compliments, and I said “well, I always do that. If I’m thinking something nice about someone, I’ll say it unless there’s a good reason not to. I just think it’s nice if it makes them feel nice. And sometimes you don’t have the opportunity to tell someone nice things anymore so it’s better not to regret not having said it.”

He stroked my shoulder really affectionately as I said this, like he liked what I was saying.

Eventually he left, and I realised we hadn’t mentioned another date. I felt ok about it, as he’d said a few things that made it seem like he expected we’d keep seeing each other. Like, he said he found it hard to sleep in other people’s beds, and I said “that’s a shame, I like having you in my bed.”

He said “you won’t be saying that when you’ve had loads of sleepless nights because I can’t sleep.” (This obsession with asthma and sleep needs to be nipped in the bud.)

Then, that evening, he texted me saying “would you like to go out for dinner on Wednesday or Thursday?”

I loved this. After other people I’ve dated, where there was so much dicking around when it came to arranging dates, this blows my mind every time.

I was running an evening therapy group on Thursday, and we arranged to have dinner afterwards.

I really looked forward to seeing him again, and on Thursday at work, I realised I was counting down the hours.

In the break of the therapy group, I checked my phone and he’d said “see you at 7:30” but he’d said the wrong tube station.

Where did he get that from! We never mentioned meeting there!

I hastily replied “Not that station! This one!”

Then he replied “oh ok, see you then. My battery’s about to run out.”

Then “I’ve lost my bank card but it’s ok, my boss has lent me his.”

By the time I was waiting for him at the tube, I thought about each date we’d had.

  • 1st date – he was 20 minutes as he got lost
  • 2nd date – he inexplicably went to Waterloo instead of Marylebone
  • 3rd date – I texted him saying I’d missed my train and wouldn’t be there til 8:30, and he said “oh, I thought we were meeting at 8:30!” It was a good thing I missed my train!

And now this one, where he nearly went to the wrong station and had lost his bank card and nearly run out of phone battery.

Nevertheless, he still came through the barriers at pretty much the right time. I felt pleased to see his face.

We hugged and I said “I like the way there’s always a slight element of peril when I meet up with you.”

In some ways it could be annoying, but actually, he always ended up in the right place in the end. And even though he didn’t seem able to read a tube map and a clock, and then plan his actions accordingly, he did seem a good problem solver. I know people who would’ve cancelled the date because of losing their bank card or going to the wrong place.

We walked to the restaurant. We both seemed a bit overexcited, like teenagers on the first night of a school trip, and were ‘bouncing off each other’ as my friend Tess would say.

I feel like I’m at my funniest with people I’m very comfortable with, because I say my riskiest jokes without filtering myself or worrying, and he came across a bit more relaxed and even funnier on this date.

In the restaurant we kept having to ask for more time before ordering, as we were talking too much instead of looking at the menu.

We talked about how all of our dates had been meeting in a pub or a restaurant, whereas some people do ‘exciting things’ on dates.

“Exciting things are great, but only when you’ve run out of conversation.” I said.

“We’ve probably got one and a half dates then before we need to do anything exciting.” He said.

I laughed and said “yeah, I think I’ve got about three stories left.”

Last time we saw each other, we spent most of the time post-coitally half-naked. On this 4th date, I was conscious early on, that I really wanted to touch him again. We were sitting across the table from each other, and hadn’t really touched apart from a quick hug at the tube station.

I find his hands very appealing and wanted to at least hold them, if not lean across the table, grab him and eat his face. However, I know he’s cautious about public displays of affection and it didn’t seem like that vibe. Often when he was talking, I was struggling to listen as flashbacks of shagging the shit of him kept coming into my mind.

Our food came. I was concerned I wanted to seem like a normal eater. On our last date, I had told him I hadn’t eaten all day, and he had correctly picked up that there was more to this.

I had anorexia as a teenager, and it came back a few times in my 20s. It was never that severe – I never had to be hospitalised or anything like that – but it was bad enough that I was under the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service for 2-3 years. My body mass index went down to 15 (it should be between 19-25) and healthcare professionals couldn’t believe my periods didn’t stop.

These days, my appetite is still the first thing to go when I’m stressed, but I don’t want to lose weight. I want to eat, I just find it really hard. I forget to have meals, and when I remember, sometimes I start eating and then think I can’t! and feel like I’m going to gag.

It’s been getting better as the week has progressed. The Scot really seems to remember everything I’ve said on our previous dates, and I knew he’d remember I didn’t eat on Saturday.

I had ordered a lamb burger and when it arrived, I thought I must try and eat this with the carefree abandon of a normal person. 

It sort of worked. Ish.

He told me some stories that really made me laugh. I talked about being overpaid once, and he said “I got overpaid once as well.”

He said “I was working at a restaurant – I don’t know if you’ve heard of it – it’s called ‘The Burger King’? It’s a little family-owned one.”

It made me laugh so much because obviously Burger King is the huge fast-food chain. He spent less time on this date saying “Sorry that was really stupid wasn’t it?” or things like that.

I went to the toilet. First I thought I’ve been a bit nasal tonight actually and spent ages ferreting around in my handbag for my allergy nasal spray. Then I went into the toilet and the thing I was planning to do took longer than I expected.

Then when I was washing my hands, I realised a spot I had done quite a good job of covering earlier, was now peeping through, so I spent ages faffing around with 3 different concealers.

When I came back, he said something indirect about never knowing at what point to start worrying, when someone’s been gone a long time.

I thought I was ages actually. Shit, now he probably thinks I’m bulimic.

Getting towards the end of the night, he asked me to look up his route to get home, as his phone battery was low.

“Oh, you’re definitely going back to yours are you?” I asked, firing up Google Maps.

“Yeah, I haven’t got my inhaler so I can’t stay over.”

Fuck sake. I shaved my legs for this. 

However, within a few seconds I realised he had made a 3-hour round-trip to sit and eat dinner with me for less than 3 hours, knowing there was no sex on the agenda. That’s actually really lovely.

Then he said “are you doing anything on Saturday? I was thinking maybe you could come round to mine and I could cook us dinner?”

YES. 

After dinner, we walked back to my car as we’d agreed I’d give him a lift to a tube station, as one of the nearer tube lines was down.

We sat in my car.

“Now you’re going to see me with my glasses on for driving.” I said. Then, when my glasses were halfway to my face “actually, can I just kiss you first?”

“You don’t have to ask!” He said.

We kissed, but only for a few seconds. When we broke away, he said earnestly “that’s nice. We should definitely do more of that.”

We drove off. Since our in-depth conversation about Dr Dre on Saturday, I’d been listening to 2001 non-stop. I put some Dr Dre on and we both rapped along as I drove him to the tube.

There wasn’t really anywhere for me to pull over outside the station, so he kind of bundled himself out of the car when I paused at a mini roundabout, so there were no more opportunities for kissing.

In the car home on my own, I had a serious lady-boner. I wanted him so badly. I realised that the sexless date was actually not a bad thing, especially as we were seeing each other again on Saturday. It would have been lovely if he’d come back to mine that night and put his penis back in my crevices, but it felt even more special that he had travelled so far to see me without sex on the menu.

And if he had even half the hunger for me that I had for him in that moment, that could never be a bad thing.

Also, it was nice to spend more time talking. In the past, I’ve thought an ex and I had loads in common, but then I’ve looked back, and realised what we had in common was being in the same bed a lot. At the time, I think we had some great chats, but then I look back and can’t remember what we talked about besides sex.

When I came home, I chatted to Joe about the date.

I said “one thing I was disappointed about, though, was that we didn’t kiss for longer in my car. Maybe it was because loads of people walked past at that exact moment.”

“Yeah, or it could be because it’s really stressful getting on the tube when you’ve got a massive boner.”

22 thoughts on “The joy of no sex

  1. I agree with everyone else! Go the Scot! I keep forgetting he has a lovely accent as well! (So I assume). Loved this bit: “I find his hands very appealing and wanted to at least hold them, if not lean across the table, grab him and eat his face.” Classic Dater!

    Liked by 1 person

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