Early afternoon lunch.

Hold me.  I need a fucking hug.

He texted me every day for two weeks.  Parried and played with words, flirted and flitted about my little phone screen.

I told him I could be free either Friday or Saturday nights, but it all depended on Pey and my parents and which night they wanted to spend together.  He said he preferred Saturday and then it all worked out.  Saturday it was.

No, he didn’t need help picking something to do because he was brand new to town.  He’d be happy to figure something out.  Yes, he’d follow me to the table to check out my sexy rear end because he prefers meaty women like me.  Of course he’s certain I look cute every day.  Wow, he thinks I’m really pretty!  Morning darlin, he said practically every morning.  What are you wearing today?  And we’d joke at how filthy such an innocent question sounded.

And then on the bright, cold morning of our date I read the following text:

Early afternoon lunch

No punctuation.  No context.  No more anything.

I responded with question marks and confusion and lots of space so he could play with the rope.  By late afternoon I couldn’t help but send one last text to at least acknowledge the event that was occurring:

I get the feeling we’re not having our date tonight since I haven’t heard from you since that 8 am text about an early afternoon lunch…

*More silence*

All the words, all the darlin’s, all the flirty, flitty, parrying, and playing amounted to one big fat fucking black hole of my energy and hope.  And a last minute appeal to a girlfriend so that my rare Saturday night would not go to waste.

Thanks a lot, Mr. Forgettable.  May you get a nasty rash and wake up 30 minutes too early for the rest of your selfish and impolite life.  Now excuse me while I go deal with my quiet, impotent rage over the betrayal of a simple social contract: do what you say you will and if you cannot then you say so.

Have a nibble on that for your bitch time slot early afternoon lunch, why don’t you?

 

February Photofest

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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15 thoughts on “Early afternoon lunch.
      1. Being my blunt self I will ask. Do you check these guys out with a agency on net? You could check around and get a short or even ‘by the guy’ contract in order to find out if they are listed in this dimension and what is known about them. There are even these sites that give a personality rating. Probably specious, but all the same add a couple together and you might find out just what you might expect to be getting into.

        Just so you know. None of this comes from my personal experience. If I had to start looking around I would be totally out of my depth. There is a person that I have known for decades who has a 2/3 rating. She deserves it. She uses rationalization to cover her tracks. She may even believe her own bullshit.

        1. If I found myself single and looking. I would check the person out on line. Maybe a couple of places. I just don’t want to be jerked around or played.

          PS I would expect the same.

  1. This is why I have never had any interest in meeting anyone who lives out of town…he can bail at any minute. In my mid 30s, I was smitten with a guy who would send me lovingly texts every day for a couple of weeks….when we finally met, it was so awkward and not meant to be, that I have refused to allow this to happen to me again. And it hasn’t happened. I now want to meet a guy within a week of contact…my soul deserves respect and so does yours.

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