A random text came recently from a time I had given my number to a guy on line. It was over six months ago when I was pinning my hopes on dating sites again. No dick pics, which, if you have read me, you know is a deal breaker from someone I haven’t met. so I figured, why not see what this guy wants. Except, in our one and only phone convo, he focussed on telling me what I want. Or should want. And what I should and shouldn’t do about it.
He even pretended to want the same thing I want.
He said he wanted one person to come home to every night to cuddle and have sex with. I added monogamy. See, I’ve pretty much been there and done all that, romantically and sexually. (Maybe I’ll use a pen name to write about it someday.) I’ve reached a place of knowing what I want, most of the time. I’ve seen all the strange penises I ever need to see.
But, I see someone long distance, and it’s complicated. Very complicated. Dating site guy asked about that for one second, then went on a rant of how I would never get what I want from this guy, and that he would never move to be with me. DSG (dating site guy) also predicted I would never leave the relationship, or that if I tried my guy wouldn’t let me go. Mind you, the guy on the phone was also long distance. And he didn’t know me.
That didn’t stop his being adamant that I wouldn’t get what I want with the current situation. In the past, I’ve actually given guys’ opinions of other guys some credence. After all, I’m clearly not a guy, and there are some brain differences. So I’ve let guys with no skin in the game try to talk me away from other guys because, “Hey, I know how guys think.”
This time, when I felt the beginnings of letting myself be told all about me and what I want, I decided to turn the tables. First, I asked, “Are you saying you would be monogamous with me?”
He answered in the affirmative. Without even having met me. I mentioned that then, we too, would be in a long distance relationship. He quickly jumped back on the topic of how stupid I was to be in the situation he thought I was in. To his great credit, or perhaps a sense of self preservation, he didn’t use the word stupid.
Then he asked, “What is the freakiest thing you’ve done?” Ah ha! There are only ever two reasons a guy asks that. Either they want to be freaky with you, or they want to justify why they can be freaky with you and then leave, because you aren’t worthy of committment.
By now, psychotherapist that I am, I was starting to have a little fun. Boy, did I unleash the beast. I mentioned a couple of my escapades and then sat back and listened to him brag.
He had been in threesomes. (Always with two women, of course. No other men. He’s obviously an alpha male). He had pleasured five women in a room together. I presume not all at the same time. But he does have two feet, two hands, a penis and a mouth, so, maybe. I didn’t ask for details, and couldn’t have if I wanted because he was talking non-stop. He had had women in every port when he was in the military. He had slept with a porn star, although she said no to doing what she did on screen; anal. She informed him the guy in her movie had a pencil dick, and DSG had a dick too large for that. So he reported her saying. Sneaky way of telling me how big his dick is.
He said he had been with couples, husbands and wives, where the other man watched him have sex with the woman. This is a theme I’ve heard from other alpha males. They are usually Black and the couples White, although any combination is possible. They are so proud, and I think they are being used as a fetish, but hey, to each his own.
As he talked, he became more animated and manic. It was apparent that these were more than memories and conquests. It was his preferred lifestyle. Even at age 56. Not that there is an age limit on freakiness. And I don’t have a problem with how freaky you are. Just don’t try to pass yourself off to me as a holier than thou dude, better than other guys, who will be faithful and committed, when you know damned well that’s not the case.
Moreover, don’t try to tell me what I want. You have no way of knowing. Hell, half the time I’m not really sure. But that doesn’t mean you get to dig around in my psyche and mansplain it to me.
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Previously published on medium
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