Jennifer is a 28-year-old actress who lives in Forest Hill. She describes herself as “an eternal optimist,” and says she will go on a first date with almost anyone who has the guts to ask her. “Guys think there is a secret formula to get a girl to go out with them,” she says, “but only one in 10 guys who flirts with me asks me out on a date.” Jennifer likes to work out, read, go to museums, and fly to far-off destinations for some sun and sand.” She met Nick at a café.
I had been dating Nick for over a month, and we still hadn’t had sex. Our relationship was going great—he was smart, interesting, successful, and very chivalrous. I find that few guys know or care how to really treat a woman. He picked me up and dropped me off at my front door, planned wonderful dates, and always covered the bill. He blew me away, but I wondered what was stopping him from taking it further. Both of us travel a lot for work, so after six weeks we had only been on about five dates, but I felt ready.
I decided it was my turn to plan a date. I invited him to see a movie and come over to my place for drinks afterwards. I fancy myself a bit of a mixologist, so it was a chance to show off. I also ended up planning a late-night snack of salad and fish tacos, so I guess I was trying to show off all my skills.
Back at my place after the movie, Nick took a long look through my bookshelves. It fuelled a great conversation about which authors and artists we liked. We hadn’t gone that deep before. The mood, combined with the effects of the alcohol, and his hotness, led us into the bedroom. We fooled around for about an hour, and eventually I started to get what I’ve heard guys call “blue balls.” He seemed apprehensive about going to the next level until I basically told him it was time to do this.
The sex was horrible. Never before have my feelings for a guy dropped from 110 to 25 per cent in 10 minutes. Not only was he a basic pumper with no skills, but Nick had the most unattractive sex face I’ve ever seen. It was all twisted up and pained looking. And he was a talker, but not of the hot variety. More like, “You’re so hot. You’re so hot.” Really!?
He must have sensed my disappointment and noticed that I wasn’t enjoying myself. He kept asking, “Why aren’t you coming? When will you come?” I couldn’t believe that it was happening, that he was making me feel bad about his horrible moves! He finally stopped without attempting to do anything that might make me feel good and seemed really frustrated with me. This was all so different than who he was on our date. I started to wonder if the reason he had been reluctant to start having sex with me more than a month in was because he didn’t know how.
When he finally left, he attempted to make plans to see me again, but I responded half-heartedly. I think he got the message.
Jennifer rates her date (out of 10): 3
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