Guest Speaker: Dating a Real Man

Everybody’s too busy, depressed or medicated to come to the blog today so I’ve been invited to take up some space and why not base this talk on a personal encounter with the opposite sex? This blog could do with some titbits about real sex instead of moans about Graphic Designers, how to build imaginary boyfriends and soppy tributes to UniCorn (and Graphic Designers…).

So not another word about J-Men or Aces or UniCorns. Let’s get down and dirty instead. We have now reached the point of no return:

Once upon a time…an Arab man wrote me and included several pics of himself, and we liked. We liked a lot! Not too tall, appropriatedly clothed and brown eyes. Everything you want in a man. Shortly thereafter he phoned and he had this wonderful voice, going dark and deep and woof!

So we liked him even better.

Days passed. Nights passed. Regularly. Long distance calls were made in the middle of the night. Irregularly. On cell phones. Two words: expensive calls.

Excerpts:

ArabMan: What are you wearing?
Me: I’m under the covers.
ArabMan: And?
Me: Well, I’m naked under the covers, so nothing, I guess.
ArabMan: Ooooooh!
Me: You think?
ArabMan: Yes!
Me: What are you wearing?
ArabMan: PJs.
Me: Oooooh, sexy!
ArabMan: Shut up!
Me: No, seriously. Are they flannel?

Later, same conversation:

Me: I can purr like a kitten, wanna hear?
ArabMan: Of course!
Me: *purring*
ArabMan: *whispering* I’m so hot!
Me: You should take off the covers, perhaps strip from the PJs if you’re hot.
Silence
Me: Oh…you’re hot!
ArabMan: Yes, silly!

The next step from dirty pillow talks is meeting on neutral grounds and see if sexy conversation can only be carried out over the phone. So we decided to meet in a very public place. Lots of people, children and dogs (for some reason) and loudspeakers and crackling voices from the aforementioned loudspeakers. And also trains. But that goes without saying. Trains are mandatory in a good story about sex.

We agreed that we should go slow, talk at random and then decide if we’d like to hang out. So I went to the place, a bit late, and there he was, looking for me and I saw him and… We forgot about going slow. Being a coy woman I waltzed straight into his arms and planted a big smackeroo on his lips. Two seconds later tongues were involved. For the life of me I couldn’t remember his name, but vital information is bound to be lost in the heat of action.

ArabMan: Honey.
Me: Darling.
ArabMan: You look so young!
Me: I love you!

And then we went on a train home to my place. Because he was truly interested in seeing my stamp collection.

Giggling and groping we finally made it up the stairs and he immediately went to the restroom. So I pretended to be busy hanging our jackets in the closet but really waiting to show off my place.

Me: Oh my god!
ArabMan: What?
Me: You’re naked!
ArabMan: Of course I’m naked, honey. Where’s the bedroom?
Me: Right here! But I mean…god, you’re…naked…
ArabMan: I’m up here, honey.
Me: *giggling and blushing slightly* And you’re deliciously brown!
I ran fingers down his spine and thought of milk chocolate – the greatest kind.

Afterwards we went for Chinese and he bullied me and made me laugh and giggle and I was completely and utterly besotted.

The next day he cooked for me in the evening. He bossed me around in the kitchen, told me to peel onions, garlic, chop-chop. He sat down on a chair while stirring the rice. He only had on a T-shirt and shorts. And he knew exactly how insanely good-looking he was.

After dinner and a detour to the bedroom, we switched on the telly and watched the news. He demanded that I lie next to him on the sofa and I tried to make myself comfortable.

Me: You need to move your elbow. There’s not enough room for me.
ArabMan: That’s not my elbow, honey.
Me: Whatever it is, it takes up too much space.
ArabMan: *looking me deep into my very blue eyes*
Me: Oh god…

We also did the great goodbye scene at the airport:

ArabMan: Honey.
Me: Darling.
ArabMan: I’ll miss you.
Me: I’ll miss you terribly.
ArabMan: I’ll text you.
Me: I’ll call you.
ArabMan: I love you.
Me: I adore you.
ArabMan: Kiss me.
Me: Try and stop me!
And then we went to Smoochville for a while. In public.

On this note I’ll love you and leave you. And bear in mind: there are real people out there. And some are great. Some are not. But please please please: get over those men who are not interested in you. Whether or not they are brilliant with a Mac. You deserve so much more.

Guest Speaker: Anon