[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o, I had met a Montreal Comic, watched him host a show, and now we were at the docks in Old Port.
In all honesty, it was a pretty great idea for a first date-second location. It was novel (he got to point out things because I’m new here, show me the river, there were boats – and who doesn’t love boats?!?). It was private and one could argue romantic, but without being pressure-filled and presumptuous (like say, going to someone’s apartment might be). And it was just kind of fun.
We walked along for awhile, hand-holding etc. The first kiss came and went and it was pretty good (I’m starting to wonder about the science of race and kissing at this point given how few black men and how many white men suck at it). I was wearing my magic dress (the one that makes my boobs look huge, my stomach look small, and my ass look great) and feeling good. Things were going swimmingly.
The night wasn’t, however, without its flaws. For example, he definitely got a bit too handsy out there on the docks. I’m all for a secluded public makeout sesh at 2am when no one is really around but these DDs don’t make public appearances for anyone so it did kind of annoy me that he kept trying to get at ’em and even tried to put ’em on display. Like, we’re on the docks here not out in the middle of the desert dude, people could come by. Plus, he kept feeling all over my body, so I spent a lot of time petrified that he’d feel my spanx and it would be like that scene in Bridge Jones’ Diary.
After awhile, the night started to cool off quite a bit (my first respite from the 30+ humid heat of Montreal that had been constant since I’d moved there at the end of July) and so he took me home. When we arrived at my apartment, I assumed that would be the end of our date. A quick kiss goodbye and something about doing this again and I’d be off. But, that’s not quite what happened.
Detour: Do most men feel like only teenagers get pressured into doing things that they didn’t want to do? Do most men think that it’s either black or white, you want to fuck immediately or not at all? Because, I have to say I feel like that’s the case, and it’s just not true.
Because even me, this supposedly strong, bold, self-assured, take no prisoners, suffer no-bullshit no-nonsense, woman, gets pressured into shit from time to time and I’ll tell you how and why it happens. It happens, because sexual activity can be a slippery slope.
In my experience, guys are almost always pushing for a bit more, for things to go a bit faster, and AS FUCKING IRRITATING AS IT IS THAT I HAVE TO HOLD THE REINS AND GUIDE THE PACE, that’s usually how it happens. It’s generally the girl trying to slow things down. But, this isn’t to say she doesn’t want the same things to happen (as I often do), it’s that she needs more time, more connection, more whatever. And it is this reason that she doesn’t just jump up and say fuck you and bolt. Because she wants things to progress, just at a different speed, and so she doesn’t want to spazz out on the guy, but he keeps pushing and pushing for just a little bit more. And he doesn’t do it in a scary way (usually), it’s mostly done in an annoying way, so that by the time I’m “making eighth grade love to him” (read: giving him a handy in the front seat of his – what I now think is his parents’ – car outside of my apartment, and letting him give me a somewhat sloppy pearl necklace, I’ve started to lose all that passion I had when we first started making out on the docks. Suddenly, I’m thinking about how I’m almost 31 and just got pressured into giving a handjob I would’ve rather saved for our second date and cleaning his jizz off my collar bone (and silently laughing that he also got it on his mom’s upholstery). Suddenly, I’m not so into this comic who seemed nice and fun and though he’s managing to smooth this over a bit by praising my digital skill set, I’m still mostly focused on the fact that I feel a bit icky for having been pressured at all and I’m feeling a bit sad because now I’m thinking about other girls who have really been pressured and even forced to do all kinds of things they didn’t want to do by shitty guys and how I’ll get over this but will they be able to get over the horrible things that happen to them and now I’m thinking about how I can help those women hurt by those shitty men instead of being hot and bothered for this weak guy who – and maybe it was just the way the street lighting bounced off the dashboard or the way the shadows fell but I’m pretty sure this guy – has the most terrifying O face I’ve ever seen.
So yeah. That’s how our date ended. A handjob in a shitty car on a brand new street under the lamps and the possibility someone might see you cum. The lights of Montreal a little dimmer in my eyes.
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