I feel almost guilty to be bumping my strap-on post down so soon. I worked like mad on it, and it’s all inni’lectul and such. Seriously, if you are currently choosing between reading that and reading this, go read that. It’s got a thought process, and this is just silly stories about my hilariously strange date last night.
So I mentioned a bit back in my sex post how I was maybe-just-a-little-bit avoiding an extremely nice man from the sex positive community. And then we got thrown into a bunch of social situations together, and I realized I was also maybe being a bit of a dipshit for rejecting a man because he likes sex too much (shut up, I can be clueless too,) and we decided to have dinner. Which we did, last night.
He picked the restaurant. I wasn’t expecting that, used to meeting on a street corner and then hemming and hawing about saying things like, “Well, I’m really up for anything you’d like . . .” and “I mean, lots of the food is good here,” and “no, I’m okay with Indian really, I just had it two nights ago but I do like it quite a bit . . .” and such. If making social plans is a test of domliness, I fail. I totally flunk.
But he picked it, and it was good, and I remembered after a few minutes about the thing where my generation is socially stunted in the dating scene because we never go on actual traditional dates. At least that’s the case with everyone I know. So having him do that was sweet and very nice in a masculine “grr!” kind of way, except I totally wasn’t expecting it and the generation gap kind of threw me off my game.
Oh, did I mention he’s a top, by the way? That’s important to the story.
And then it was super loud. We had noodles (I had pad thai, dear god, I love pad thai. If I’m ever stranded on a desert island, just air drop pad thai, seriously) and the restaurant sat us at a long communal table. So that was funny, because I was trying to not-quite-shout “I like blood play a lot” while the girl next to me quietly choked in her soup. Him: “What?” Me: “Blood play!” Him: “Sorry, what?” Me: “Blood!” Girl next to me: *choke*
But conversation flourished along, helped out generously by him asking tons of leading questions in a very clever way which I totally noticed and was quietly amused by. (I also flunk at getting-to-know-you conversations, by the way. I’m totally resistant to getting to know people. It’s like a disease.) And we had a lot of fun, and talked a lot about the difference between the East Coast and West Coast communities, which was fascinating, and I reaffirmed my earlier suspicion that he is in fact a very nice, very articulate man. And very open, and very laid back in just the kind of way I find to be lovely, because it means not putting pressure on me. I get the feeling that this man has literally built up years of experience learning how to not put pressure on people. (Can I also mention as a sideline that I find that hilarious as well, because he was an interrogator? In the armed forces? Talk about putting pressure on people.)
And we turned to kink stuff, and he asked me what I liked, and I laughed and mentioned I’d just written a whole post about some of the weird shit that I like that I don’t tell people about when they ask me what I like. I ran the list off, and we chatted about fear play and emotional play for a bit. And then he said, “Are you the same way when you bottom?” To which I replied, “I don’t bottom.” To which he reacted, “Oh.” And conversation moved on with nary a hitch.
Now although I will occasionally kick and scream a bit over being pinned as a bottom because I wear dresses (note to me, write a post about subliminal orientations expressed through clothing) I wasn’t expecting that from him. (And bless his big burly heart, he didn’t even blink. Good for him.) Because, see, he’s seen me in kinky contexts before, and I’m just . . . not a bottom. And I’ve told him before I was a top, although I hadn’t realized that saying “I’m a top” is apparently not the same as saying “I’m not a bottom.” The term for that is switch, by the way. Which I am currently not.
I won’t kick and scream over being pegged, not this time. Because I actually think he asked me that because he’s the type of guy who just doesn’t assume things about the people he meets. (And okay, yea, maybe he wanted me to be a bottom, but seriously, plus several thousand points for not losing interest.)
Eventually we escaped the loud restaurant and the choking girl and sat on a bench in Union Square. After some chatter I figured to bite the bullet and said, “So, I have to tell you honestly that I just don’t see us being sexually compatible.”
Seriously. I actually said that. I’m so proud of myself. (In case you haven’t caught on, I’m actually not as blunt in person. In fact, I am maybe a bit obsessed with not offending people, but that’s an issue for another day.)
He didn’t blink at that one either. Instead, he talked about tops learning from each other, and expanded experiences. The he started in on a thought about wild horses. I think I can remember it pretty close to verbatim:
“And as for sexual experiences, y’know . . . I like to think of wild horses coming together, in such an incredibly strong beautiful union. And you see, the mare’s not the weaker of the two there, she’s just as powerful a being.” Although no, he said it better than that.
People actually say things like this! I now have proof! I find that amazing. And not in a scornful kind of way, but in a gratified, amused sort of “I can’t believe you just pulled that off and didn’t sound ridiculous” kind of way.
At this point I was thinking, Holy wow, that’s a great line, and you’re a great guy, and that’s so incredibly not arousing. And also Too bad you’re not submissive.
Which caused the logical part of my brain to step up for a moment and think, Eileen, that very attractive man just compared you to a mare and offered you wild-horse-style sex. Have you not been paying attention?
And I thought back, Um, yea, but . . . not submissive.
And the logical part of my brain went, SO??!
And then I realized that I have never in my life been sexually attracted to a man who wasn’t, in some way, submissive. Which was an amazing revelation I probably should have made several years ago, but for some reason hadn’t actually figured out. It was like watching part of my brain gel.
And the date ended with a hug, and we wandered off to separate corners of the night. He’s kind of an awesome guy. I think we’ll be friends.
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