Meeting people in L.A is tough, wait, that’s putting it mildly. It’s fucking near impossible. The city is not a commuter culture and as an Angeleno, I don’t come in contact with people secluded in my fancy car, unless I’m going to stare into someone’s car long enough for them to notice me, therefore, my options are limited.
The 405 flashes “dater beware,” and I am always questioning “is there parking in your neighborhood” which is a mandatory first date question. The fact is, it is so hard to meet someone, makes the dating dynamic even more odd. People tend to stretch whatever semi-decent relationship they find, long past the expiration date.
When I commit myself to trucking across town, in a city that is not commuter friendly, should be a sign that I am willing to put forth the extra energy to make the initiative for a potential relationship. When a man holds out on me for a long period of time, my expectations is that all the plumbing is working correctly and about to blow my mind.
The situation I found myself in recently after a couple months of accommodating schedules and convenience – or inconvenience rather - we still hadn’t had sex and Larry had not even made a move - we barely kissed. One aggressive night, I decided enough already and I stripped down and made my move. We started making out on the couch and he lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom. He tore his clothes off and things are progressing - or so I thought. We are both naked and he is doing amazing things with his tongue. Thirty minutes of going down on me, I’m ready for more. I pulled him up to indicate it’s time to get this show on the road. He asks “Do you want some water”? Water. We haven’t done anything to make me out of breath. I said “no, I’m good.” He says “K, I’m going to get some, it’s in my car downstairs.”
At this point I simply couldn’t hold my tongue, forgive me for pointing out the elephant in the room, but weren’t we about to fuck? This is when I made the discovery that his dick was not on board with my plan. Yes, he was flaccid as ever. I had waited this long to discover this? Oh gawd. He then proceeded to tell me he felt intimidated and that was likely the issue. Now, at this point, there really is nothing to do but get dressed and exit stage left.
The take away from this experience: waiting for sex may work for some, but sometimes it just leads to disappointment. I’d rather leap sooner than later. I could have saved myself months of anti-climactic anticipation. To avoid putting all your eggs in one flaccid basket, be aware of the signals ahead of time. Men are animals, they want to get down almost instantly, and if they don’t, most likely their plumbing isn’t functional.
Monica Santa :)
The 405 flashes “dater beware,” and I am always questioning “is there parking in your neighborhood” which is a mandatory first date question. The fact is, it is so hard to meet someone, makes the dating dynamic even more odd. People tend to stretch whatever semi-decent relationship they find, long past the expiration date.
When I commit myself to trucking across town, in a city that is not commuter friendly, should be a sign that I am willing to put forth the extra energy to make the initiative for a potential relationship. When a man holds out on me for a long period of time, my expectations is that all the plumbing is working correctly and about to blow my mind.
The situation I found myself in recently after a couple months of accommodating schedules and convenience – or inconvenience rather - we still hadn’t had sex and Larry had not even made a move - we barely kissed. One aggressive night, I decided enough already and I stripped down and made my move. We started making out on the couch and he lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom. He tore his clothes off and things are progressing - or so I thought. We are both naked and he is doing amazing things with his tongue. Thirty minutes of going down on me, I’m ready for more. I pulled him up to indicate it’s time to get this show on the road. He asks “Do you want some water”? Water. We haven’t done anything to make me out of breath. I said “no, I’m good.” He says “K, I’m going to get some, it’s in my car downstairs.”
At this point I simply couldn’t hold my tongue, forgive me for pointing out the elephant in the room, but weren’t we about to fuck? This is when I made the discovery that his dick was not on board with my plan. Yes, he was flaccid as ever. I had waited this long to discover this? Oh gawd. He then proceeded to tell me he felt intimidated and that was likely the issue. Now, at this point, there really is nothing to do but get dressed and exit stage left.
The take away from this experience: waiting for sex may work for some, but sometimes it just leads to disappointment. I’d rather leap sooner than later. I could have saved myself months of anti-climactic anticipation. To avoid putting all your eggs in one flaccid basket, be aware of the signals ahead of time. Men are animals, they want to get down almost instantly, and if they don’t, most likely their plumbing isn’t functional.
Monica Santa :)
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