Random encounters of the counting kind…….

50 shades

 

This is the story of The Count…….as told by The Countess…..

Hell’s Kitchen, NYC, 47th and 9th: An English bad boy sits in an Irish pub with his dad, buying round after round; I walk in and catch his eye. I strolled over, claiming the spot next to Dad and Junior at the bar. Just as I finished ordering, Junior leaned over to comment on my choice of vodka and lime, deeming it “serious”.

“Oh, I take everything seriously,” I smiled. I just couldn’t get enough of him. Seriously. Physically, he encapsulated everything I adore: tall, lean, dark short hair, piercing eyes, naughty twinkle.

“I’m Mark. This is my dad, who’s visiting from London,” he said, shaking my hand. Us American women…in the right situation, we appreciate handshakes with subtext and Mark’s over-squeezed with subtext.

Hell, his name could’ve been Phyllis and that would’ve been seriously fine. He knew that, too, which is why he kept touching my shoulder, the small of my back, getting me drinks because my GOD I downed that first one. Dad finally excused himself to the bathroom, patting Mark on the back before leaving.

“Take it easy on the pretty thing, Mark,” he smiled. As soon as he disappeared, Mark kissed me. We arranged to meet at the bar a few days later. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, just something hot. It’d been too long.

What an incredible kisser. He’s going to be incredible in bed, I thought.

***

God, Mark sucked in bed. I’m usually good at telling if a man is going to be good in bed, but the few times I’ve been wrong qualify as spectacular failures.

Mark qualifies as one of those spectacular failures.

We met at the bar as arranged, flirting over a few drinks before heading back to his place. He lived in a stylish, modern doorman building. As the elevator doors shut, I saw the doorman looking at me like, “Run, honey, run: like Forrest Gump, girl!” A bad feeling bubbled in my stomach. Doormen know a lot about the people who live in their buildings, especially in NYC.

Once inside his apartment, Mark began grabbing at me like a three year old grabbing at an ice cream cone. He came off like a playground crybaby more than a hot guy. Sloppy. He pulled and tugged at my clothes. I found myself on my back in a matter of minutes with even my breasts covered in salvia. I hung in there, not ready to give up hope. He pushed in with a groan that sounded like an old man passing a kidney stone, or like a sailor suffering through a shit with a massive hemmoroid. All hope was gone.

However, the worst was yet to come, because Mark liked counting.

Let me explain. As Mark thrust away with all the excitement of oatmeal, he whispered something in my ear. I wasn’t paying attention, as the thought of oatmeal proved to be much more enjoyable than sex with Mark.

“What?” I asked.

“How many men have you slept with? Because if you say like 20, I’ll be ok.”

Really, I didn’t know how to respond. I thought he might be some kind of misogynist that gets off on putting down women who enjoy sex. He might slap me if the number’s too high, I reasoned, gearing up to knee him in the groin and bite him on the jugular. I figured I could grab my clothes and run down the hall, get dressed in the elevator, then apologize to the doorman for not heeding his warning before asking him to alibi me for murder. Surely he’d understand. I saw how he looked at me, full of dismay. He knows all about Mark. I bet Mark doesn’t even tip him at Christmas, I told myself. Mark interrupted my happy murder plot fantasy with more whispering.

“So if it’s 20, like I said, it’s ok. But say you’ve been with like, 121 guys, and I’ll love it. It really gets me off.”

Well, why didn’t you say so, I thought. Made me furious to know that I could’ve just been shouting numbers and he might’ve already suffered a calculator overflow.

“121. I’ve slept with 121 men. Last week. And I plan to sleep with about 145 or so. Maybe even 121 more. I dunno; it could be 131. But there’s gonna be a lot more, I can tell you that…121!”

121 is not only an odd number, but an odd fixation. It’s like saying your favorite color is tan, or you just can’t get enough of celery Jell-O (Yes, such a flavor did exist!) The number did the trick, though. In no time, he rolled off then paced the floor, lighting a cigarette.

“Guess I’ll go. Need to be up early,” I muttered.

He handed me my clothes; I dressed, wondering where I should go for a drink. About 121 of them. As I exited the lobby, the doorman nodded. I bet he’s given that same sad nod 121 times, I thought.

When I told my friends about Mark, they gave me the nickname “121″, but I guess it’s better than “69″.

How do you feel when someone does the numbers game? Tell us all about it!

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When Prince Charming turns into Prince Harming

prince charming

I’m sure we’ve all been there before. Meet a guy and everything just seems too good to be true…..he’s attentive, he’s complimentary, and then all of a sudden there are slight comments or suggestions about your appearance, what you are wearing, your body shape, how you do your hair. Suggestions about how you should behave, socialise, etc etc.

But initially you ignore it as you are so head over heels you are keen to please them. And then all of a sudden you’ve gone from being an outgoing confident person to a nervous and neurotic wreck who has totally lost all self esteem and is second guessing everything.

But when does wanting to please your partner cross the line and turn you into a doormat who is being controlled?! The switch from Prince Charming to Prince Harming isn’t always that obvious.

What do you do? I can speak from past experiences where I did not have boundaries and allowed this sort of behaviour and ignored the red flags that were waving about in front of my eyes.

Having personal boundaries is so important. And the confidence to recognise such behaviour and red flags and nip it in the bud. Or alternatively, move on! There is most definitely someone out there who wouldn’t dream of trying to change you!

Thoughts? Been in a relationship with a control freak? Tell us all about it!

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She works hard for the money!

money can't buy love

The dating scene in Sydney is always a hot topic of conversation for various reasons – mainly due to the lack of suitable partners that are available, single, aren’t commitment phobes and don’t involve having a hidden spouse and a few kids on the side that they ‘forget’ to mention.

Now I’m not being jaded, but more ‘realistic’. I can’t even begin to recount how many conversations I’ve had or overheard about the Sydney dating scene and how difficult it is to find that ‘right’ person.

A friend recently told me about a dating agency that specialises in introductions. Two girlfriends of his joined up to this agency and for a paltry $5,000 each they would receive not one, not two, not three but 4 introductions to potential suitors.

I was gobsmacked. Initially that there is a market for this sort of thing but that people pay for it?! I mean $5k is a hefty sum and for no guarantee that you will actually meet someone you will even like, let alone potentially be in a relationship with?

I recall last year being at a bar with a girlfriend and a okay-ish looking chap came over and we started dancing. Less than 2 mins into the dance, a younger, much hotter female swooped over and dragged him away from me. It was clear from the look on his face that he had never met this woman before. I was left on the dancefloor a bit shocked but also couldn’t stop laughing that people actually resort to such tactics!! It reminded me of a scene out of The Batchelor or something. It really is dog eat dog out there in the dating world!!

What are your thoughts on paying an introduction agency such a hefty sum to potentially meet your Mr or Mrs Right?!

More money than sense if you ask me!!

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When you can smell your date before you even meet them

bo

I was chatting online with a guy and we’d arranged to meet for a date nearby his office.

He was running late from work and I decided to wait outside the bar for him, even though it was snowing outside. I just have a ‘thing’ about walking into bars on my own and waiting for people by the bar.

About 20 mins after we were meant to meet I get a text from the guy saying he was waiting for me inside. I walked in and was looking for the ‘tall’ dark haired guy that was described in the profile and the pic.  There was an awful strong smell of BO near me and this guy turned around and looked up at me . It was my date.

Jeeeez……so he wasn’t the 6’2 guy he described in his profile, more 5’8. So I looked like a giant in comparison in my high heels. But I quickly realised the strong BO smell was coming from him. Fark.  It was the middle of winter and he was stinking like he was in the middle of the Sahara…..

The conversation was less than riveting, he was talking about politics. Now I’m no airhead but I don’t really follow what is going on with politics as it bores me senseless. He clearly didn’t see how bored I was and was rabbiting on and being rather critical of me not being up to date with all the current goings on of the world.

All of a sudden a guy he recognises from his office turns up, and they start talking. I saw an out. An escape from the political humdrum I was being subjected to. I was bored stiff, it was my only night free that week and I was losing the will to live.

I politely said, oh I don’t want to interrupt, it seems like you have work stuff to talk about, I will just leave you both to it.

No please stay and let me buy you another drink he says! Hmmmm……..

After an awkward pause, I said, really sorry I’m just not feeling that we are ‘meshing’ very well this evening. And before he could say otherwise I was out the door and on the tube home……phew!

Now maybe I’m being picky but a bit of deodorant doesn’t go amiss when you’re trying to make a good impression? If he smelled that bad in winter I was too scared to imagine how bad he would have smelled in the height of summer……yuk.  I love the manly scent of aftershave mixed with their natural scent, it gets the pheromones racing!

Have you been stink bombed before? Tell us all about it!

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Sexpectations

sexpectations

According to a survey conducted by the Daily Mail – men expect sex after three dates and one in five men expect to sleep with their date if they spend 100 quid on dinner.

Surely an expensive dinner is not a guarantee that you’ll get laid? Everyone has their different ideas about how many dates to have before doing the wild thing and it all depends on the individual, but it would be awful to think that a guy is just going through the motions of the actual dates just to get you in the sack?!

I like to test this theory out, not because I’m a game player, but to see how many dates I can have with a particular person to see if they are genuinely interested in getting to know me or are they just going through the motions in the hope of some booty action. I had 4 dates with a particular chap once and they all went very well (or so I thought). I was tempted to sleep with him after the third date but it had been awhile and I was a bit nervous. Fourth date came and went and ended up with a snogathon on his sofa for a good two hours…….

He dropped me off that evening and I never heard a peep out of him after that. He removed me from Facebook and that was the end of that! I don’t generally play games but my theory of testing out the ‘sexpectations’ proved me right with him.  I like the whole courting procedure, and dating, I don’t see the rush to jump into bed together so early if the time isn’t right for both parties? But that is my perogative….. and it can take me a few dates to see whether that person is worthy of some bedroom action!

One of my guy friends once said to me that if he didn’t get a girl into bed after three dates he would have given up altogether!

Different courses for different horses I guess?!

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Do Strong Women Scare Men Off?

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thesearethedatesofourlives:

I really like this article by Single Dating Diva……about strong women. Do they put men off?! Well worth a read

Originally posted on Single Dating Diva:

So here’s the dilemma – gender roles aren’t what they used to be. For one reason or another, women are much more fiercely independent than ever and that’s not such a bad thing. Not at all. Women are in positions of power, they are gainfully employed, they own their own homes, they travel on their own, they live fully happy lives without the assistance of a man – women do it for themselves. They CAN do it so they do it. No one is disputing how significant this is. It’s awesome! But, how does this really affect men? How does it affect dating? My question is: do strong women scare men off?

Do Strong Women Scare Men Off?

strong-womenI recently had this discussion with some good friends of mine. We’re all strong, fiercely independent women who never had anything handed to them in life. We’ve worked hard for what we have…

View original 1,157 more words

Liar liar pants on fire!

liar

So I met a guy online and I didn’t really like his name……Tony. Just didn’t ever imagine myself with a ‘Tony’. Sounds stupid I know but I have to like the name……..

The night of the date arrived and it was going really well! Tony was good looking, engaging and really funny, he had me in stitches.

Drinks turned into dinner, and then icecream after.

The conversation was flowing……I said, so tell me, is Tony short for Antony? I was thinking how I could make the name more acceptable.

There was total silence from Tony. His face went as white as a sheet and he starts stumbling, ohhh I have something to tell you. He looked stricken.

My name isn’t really Tony……its Matthew. I gave you the wrong name.

My reaction was, oh thank fuck for that I HATE the name Tony…..

and then, um why did you lie about your name?!! That’s really weird.

Oh there are heaps of stalkers out there he said…….errrrr ok…..

And he lied about his age. 3 times.

Seriously, what is the point in that?! Honesty in relationships is so important and if you are going to lie from the get go, then what hope do you have for the future?!

Experience with exaggerators of the truth?! We want to hear all about it!

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