#60 THE HOT JEWISH DOCTOR: THE TIME I HIT HIM IN THE FACE DURING SEX (ACCIDENTALLY) AND HAD DIARRHOEA IN HIS HOTEL ROOM (BATHROOM)
#60 THE HOT JEWISH DOCTOR: THE TIME I HIT HIM IN THE FACE DURING SEX (ACCIDENTALLY) AND HAD DIARRHOEA IN HIS HOTEL ROOM (BATHROOM)
In my desperate attempts to impress the ‘most impressive’ date, I did anything but…
There are pivotal people in your dating journey and Hot Jewish Doctor was one for me. First of all, I’d never dated anyone as ‘grown up’ and second of all, I’d never handed out blow jobs. Hope that didn’t make anyone spit-take.
Also, side note: today my beautiful niece, Caroline, turns 12!
Trigger warning: Some of this post has NSFW material and contains dairy entries/thoughts I had then which include sexual references so click away now if that’s not your jam – or you know me too closely and those sorts of details will make you squeamish! I usually put all of this more ‘juicy’ stuff behind a paywall but I’ll share this one today. Also, one small section has a TW about someone taking their own life so skip if that is not something you want to read (no details, though).
As I write about in my posts about high school sweetheart (HSS), I had some ‘interesting’ ideas about performing fellatio on men. I’d give handjobs all day long and enjoyed sex, but for some reason, I thought putting a dick in my mouth was ‘degrading to women’ and negated feminism. Who knows how I formed my ideas?
Maybe it was going to high school in the Bible Belt in the era of Bring It On and Varsity Blues and Cruel Intentions where women who gave blow jobs (and had sex) were slut shamed. Women were meant to be the gatekeepers of sex and pleasure and men were supposed to chase it. It was unladylike either to want sex, to know about it, or to give in to base desires. (I can’t help but think everyone would’ve been a whole lot happier having consensual sex with people they cared about but I digress!)
Hot Jewish Doctor was one of my top five sexual partners at the time and I was even willing (as I was ever so desperate to please) to suck his cock and learn how he liked it (I even journaled about the experience in this bonus material, which also discusses the first time he came inside me which was my first time with anyone…).
Just as back in my university days, I’d been obsessed with Bramwell (the red haired sex god as I’d nicknamed him), I was very much into having sex with Doctor. As in my post about Captain Cotillion – my perceived ‘dream man’ at the time – I compared his sexual know-how unfavourably (and unfairly) with Doctor.
I’ve also said before that I got lucky with High School Sweetheart, losing my virginity to someone who was very good in bed. Still, as our relationship became a rollercoaster of toxicity, I continued to sleep with him on and off (for the D not for his companionship, although he was lovely and intelligent), the emotional strings attached were in desperate need of their final snip.
Oh and I thought I could write my previous post more organically and not refer to my copious notes but then I realise that my memory is fallible and his wife's story was even more bloody dramatic than I recall.
Here’s what I wrote in an email to Brittany (who is one of my grad school housemates, bestie, and later we lived together in Columbus, Georgia which is where I met Doctor) after things with Hot Jewish Doctor had ended (which isn’t really a spoiler in a whole Why We Met saga which is about meeting my amazing second husband, who is a Yorkshire postman not a blonde Jewish doctor from Florida). Also, this next bit has another trigger warning.
TW: Talk of someone taking their own life, skip to the next heading if you need to.
Then the whole wife thing. His wife left him after becoming a drug addict after her brother, and [Dr P’s] best friend, who was normal but then got into drugs, took his own life. She couldn't handle being apart from her brother and family and would ask [Dr P] to fly her to New York on a regular basis, but he was in residency and only made $50k/year and he couldn't afford it. He said it was like mourning two deaths. Also, she had a shopping addiction and spent all of her money that she earned from teaching.
So, yeah, poor guy. It was clearly worse than I recalled – and it explains why he was a little fucked up and my journey explains why I was. Also, why was I an excessive note taker, journaler, and documentarian of my own life if I didn’t take the opportunity to use the notes? Sorry, readers.
Plus, I love (hate) in my memory how I just focused on how beautiful she was but didn’t fully recall the anguishing story details that would have made it so difficult, perhaps, for Doctor to move forward. He’d lost a wife, a best friend, his life had been turned upside down. I think I dated him a few years on from the experience, but still…I think I was so young then and my frame of reference was narrow so, as with Captain Thor, I didn’t understand the full spectrum of all the ways relationships could be nuanced and heartbreaking – but boy, I’d learn myself later after my first marriage ended.
I also found the post-first-date notes to myself, which means the date must have been on Saturday, the 10th of September – and the 12th of September happens to be my husband’s birthday (of course, half a decade before I’d meet him).
All of the bits I later found in my emails and diaries make me want to delete the previous post and start over but sigh! The details are here now.
Details of our first date
Monday, 12 September 2011
Next day I probably woke up too late and ran some errands – getting internet set up – and I found the coffee table.
I found a cool solid wooden coffee table on the side of the road that Brittany actually kept for years. It looked like an old trunk and you could lift up one side and store things inside it. Brittany re-stained it or painted it and added casters because it was heavy.
Anyway, I was late getting back to get ready for my date with Doctor. I texted and said I was running late. I wanted to look really nice. Good thing I did most of major grooming – eyebrows and controlling other stray hairs on face – the day before for our 15 minute meeting. I selected my $200 black and white polka dot dress, which is classic for our "casual" outfit.
My Mama bought me this dress. I had zero budget for clothes outside Target or TJ Max (in England, interestingly – or not – it’s called TK Maxx).
We had such a fun time. He was really sweet and very entertaining. We went for drinks first. I got a Long Island and he got a beer. He seemed familiar with the bartender, who was very pretty, but he wasn't flirty; he paid attention to me the whole time. After a drink – and I had some water because it was hitting me pretty suddenly – we went for sushi and he had some plum wine, which he let me try and it was very tasty. I told him I didn't like mayonaise, and he didn't either, but I pretty much let him order the sushi. I got the Rainbow Roll, but I don't think he liked white fish, so I ate that.
Long Islands were my party trick in grad school days where I thought I didn’t drink all that much because I ‘stopped at four drinks.’ I think four Long Islands is like drinking twelve shots…sometimes on a practically empty stomach. And with the sushi, I’m even bending over backwards to impress him by eating what he doesn’t want. Rolls eyes.
We had pleasant conversation over dinner. I probably had to pee too much because of all the water I was drinking; however, since he's a urologist, he probably understands about one's need to pee. Anyway, after dinner we went back to the bar until around 2 am. And then he took me home and I said something like I'd show him my book collection but my room was messy and he'd said something about his book collection earlier and I said I wanted to see his collection, so he took me to his place. We progressed from him showing me around his place to making out to almost having sex before realising I wasn't on birth control and he didn't have a condom (why is it that men in their 30s don't have condoms?).
Why did I have no restraint? Or am I slut-shaming my past self even now or just anticipating what readers might think? I enjoyed sex and I want to own it and be unapologetic about it.
So, basically we went down on each other and went to sleep. He was really sweet; he basically touched me in some form all night whether it was hugging or simply touching me. His bed was uber comfy and he was sleepy in the morning but continued to touch me and kept asking if I was okay and if I needed anything. He finally woke up and started touching me and fingering me and we got each other off again. The way he touches me is really amazing. There's crazy good sexual/physical chemistry. He has a really soft and gentle touch and he's good at oral and very good at kissing.
OMG! If I use the word ‘touch’ one more time it could become a drinking game…
Plus, he might be the most muscular guy I've fooled around with. He's very bulky muscly. His body is very, very hot. And he has a handsome face, very funny and fun to be around. He gave me a drink and then he took me home; he said he had to watch some game with his downstairs neighbour. Before we got out of bed – after we'd both gotten off in the morning – he started touching me again and I jokingly said that I didn't want to make him late and if we kept this up we'd be in the bedroom all day. Not that I would've minded, but I had stuff to do – stuff that I never really got done, unfortunately. I guess, in retrospect, this means he's attracted to me even if his profile specifies that he likes "thin, athletic, or average" women. I guess I'm more "average," but I'm curvy. I have a slight tummy and some extra on the thighs and arms. Anyway, I guess he was into me.
Oh body dysmorphia/millennial women problems. I thought I was fat because I didn’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model, Paris Hilton/Nicole Richie, and not even Bridget Jones. I have never been thin thin but I wasn’t fat back then either.
He said that I have a very pretty face. We had a conversation that asked what we "typically" go for and he said that he likes pretty faces. Anyway, he dropped me off and asked what I was doing Wednesday because there was this painting class, so that should be fun. I texted him – after learning he was a Leo and spending time Googling him – and told him that I really enjoyed what he did to me in bed; he said he'd enjoyed what I did too.
I seriously emailed him a Gemini-Leo compatibility thing and then he probably thought I was nuts.
I guess I'll just enjoy it for now.
Spoiler: I never seemed to ‘just’ do anything. I had to overthink and overanalyse.
Palm reading on our first date
Notecard dated 21 October 2011, 1.53 am, on Dr P
Where will I end up in life?
Will I be successful?
[Dr P] read my palm on our first date. It was cute. He said I’d be successful because I had an “M” shape on my hand like his. I should ask if it was all bullshit. He also said I’d have one child (at which I grimaced). Just like his! Theme?
Aww, do you say that to all the girls, charmer? He said some other stuff too but I was concentrating on his holding my hand and how damn charming he looked and how his eyes crinkled when he smiled. His wide, appreciative grin.
I seriously wrote this stuff to myself in green ink on a standard-sized note card which I have now binned. I also wrote a note about Bramwell (red haired sex god) and Air Traffic Controller. You know, just in case my mind wasn’t thinking about enough men at one time.
Raunchy email exchange
Friday, 16 September 2011, four days after our first date
I emailed Dr P because my phone had died yet again (theme?) letting him know in case he’d ‘texted something important.’ I should have played it cool and kept him guessing. I was just not that kinda gal. I also told him he was sexy and (cringe moment) I liked putting his cock in my mouth and tasing him cum (let me tell you, no one likes cum – not even if like him you drink lots of pineapple juice – which actually de-bleach and de-oysters it).
I just realised a cooler reference for Doctor would have been calling him ‘Dr Cox’ because it would have been both a reference to Scrubs which is the show that most closely represented what being a doctor was like and it sounds like ‘cock’ and he was a urologist. Again, I missed a trick here.
He replied:
I'm glad to know you are alive. I texted a few times. Figured you were either driving or napping.
I really enjoyed the way you looked last night. Huge turn on. Feeling your pussy squeeze me when you cum will serve my memory well as I'm trapped in a boring hotel all weekend.
I replied:
I'm glad you liked the way I looked when I came over; I did it for you. You didn't make my 18 hour lipstick last long, though. That stuff isn't supposed to budge. Ha! Anyway, I'll make sure to surprise you 92% of the times I come over.
Hope you're having fun in boring hotel room with thoughts of me. I'm thinking of you...
He used to do some ‘moonlighting’ doctoring in a hospital about 45 minutes away. If my memory serves me correctly, he was mostly on call which meant he got paid to hang out in a hotel all weekend and sometimes he’d be paged to go in for an emergency – which is also how I ended up in a hotel room with him one weekend…
Email to myself entitled “3 minutes on [Dr P].” Not sure why three minutes and if I was doing some sort of weird journaling exercise.
My thoughts on Dr P almost two weeks after our first date
Thursday, 22 September 2011, roughly a week later
[Dr P] said I'm more visually oriented than most women. I asked how he could tell and he said because it was important for me to look at him, etc. Well, I'd agree. I am visually oriented. He's super hot. I love looking at his body. His muscles feel amazing. Plus, since he's muscular and strong he has a really strong thrust. The way he fucks me is amazing because he can move and lift me easily. It's hard to describe. I love grabbing his arms and chest muscles when I'm on top of his. Sex with him is pretty damn amazing. No complaints yet and I could totally fuck him as many times as he's up for it – which is usually about two or three times a "session." I've never seen so much cum. But his cum doesn't even taste bad. Even though I've never been one to get cum in my mouth – one bad experience too many on the salty, bleachy taste factor – I let him cum in my mouth and it was actually sweet. The problem wasn't so much the taste as the fact it projectile-shot into my mouth, almost making me choke and the first time – I felt bad – I had to go to the bathroom and wash my mouth out. I've tried to be more subtle since. I think I need to learn to be sexy about discarding or swallowing. I swallowed it once. It wasn't terrible. I guess I'll get used to it.
Can you tell I was only 24? I was so eager to please that I didn’t even consider if I wanted to do all this. Not the sex part. That I wanted to do. Now I’m just picturing cum everywhere. Anyone else? I’ve never been a big porn watcher but I imagine that’s what some scenes are like…
He's really good at going down on me and he acts like I taste good to him. He likes to use the word "pussy" a lot. I think that he thinks it's hot. Since I feel comfortable with him I don't mind when he says, "I love the taste of your pussy" or "Your pussy's so tight" or whatever he says.
Again, it didn’t occur to me to tell him I didn’t want him to say these kinds of things to me. For some reason, the P word always made me a little squeamish. Goodness knows why!
I think with someone else I'd be weirded out. However, I like what [Dr P] does. When we were fucking last night – before we quite literally passed out on each other after cumming – he asked (rhetorically) – "Do you like the way my hard cock feels in your tight pussy?" I didn't even mind. It was hot the way he said it. I think I also need to start [dirty] talking to him. He likes it. He says he also wants the verbal nod for him to cum. He has a mission – it seems – to make me have at least two orgasms a night. I'm used to one then pass out (if one at all) but he makes sure I orgasm EVERY time.
We were cuddling up to go to sleep and I started rubbing his body – because he's fucking hot – and I grabbed his penis and he got hard and wanted to fuck me again. Of course, I was game. The sex was uber amazing and he made me cum again (which seemed to make him happy). Also, last night was the first time we had unprotected sex because he had just [prescribed] me birth control and, even though I hadn't gotten tested yet, he said it was okay – and, oh boy, was it hot. He came and I'm pretty sure it went all over me (like the side of my face, all down my body, etc), but we were soooo tired that we passed out in each other's arms.
Yes, I slept with cum all over my body. I also can’t help but think – now that Michael and I shower/bathe pre-sex every time – how gross past sexual encounters are/were. Did things taste like wee? Sweat? Goodness knows what! I think I read once that when you get turned on the ick factor gets dialled down.
I like the way he cuddles me all night. I lie on my side with my back to him with his arm tucked under my head, encasing my neck and grabbing my right breast. He sleeps with his hand cupping my tit like in that scene from A Very Long Engagement. It makes me feel peaceful to have him hold me all night – if not a tad sore. I like him a lot so far.
And, after sex, we talk and we have really fun conversations. Then, he always announces he's really "hungry" and goes and makes food that usually consists of eating Reece's Peanut Butter Cups and some Cheez-Its, the fat-free kind for kids (ha!). Then he watches television whilst he eats and I cuddle up to him and then we go to sleep, entwined.
I wonder if he thinks I'm too naive or childish or immature. I think he thinks I'm smart, but I don't know if he feels so much more grown up than me. Obviously he likes me; otherwise he wouldn't continue to see me, but I wonder how he views me in general. I hope he thinks I'm fun and pretty and smart and enjoyable to be around and not just someone he can fuck until something better comes along.
Oh the crippling insecurity of a young 20-something. Do you actually like him? I mean of course I was in awe of him and how impressive, funny, and intelligent he was. I loved the sex and his mission to make me come (which when he couldn’t get me off later would become a sore point, no pun intended). But for two people to be compatible, they have to be comfortable around each other. I couldn’t relax fully. I was being myself but realising that he didn’t really like that and you distinctly need someone who is into your personality for it to work.
Two weeks after our first date
Saturday, 24 September 2011, two days after the above
I emailed him because my phone had died because I forgot the charger and my old Sony flip phone had a very specific type of charger that was not universal. I said I’d dropped off my laundry at my mother’s – as a full-grown-ish adult, I was asking my mother to wash my knickers. Sigh!
I got a Facebook message from my eldest sister announcing that I'm going to be an aunty. When you were talking so fondly of your nieces and nephews the other day – and I found the FB pics; they are very adorable and you look really happy to be spending time with them – I thought to myself that I would never have that because I didn't think Jae would have children and I'd be too old to enjoy Hannah's children if she had them. My uncles were a big part of my life growing up and I often went to visit them in the summers – and still do. I felt a little sad to think that I'd never have any nieces or nephews to come and visit me as they grow up. But now I will. Yay!
He replied:
Good afternoon. You will have a few texts come up when you charge your phone. How's the thesis coming along?
My Saturday's are pretty much: laundry, college football, gym...
Any big plans tonight?
My reply is far too boring to share. It includes a diatribe about going to lunch with my friend (now Dr) Kristy (I give the background of Kristy and Cole here in the post about the guy who fucked me and wrote about a poem about how it meant nothing), buying more underwear at Victoria’s Secret so I could discard the knickers I didn’t like (as if he’d care), how I wasn’t going out even when I ran into a friend who asked if I was going out because I promised baby sister Hannah I’d spend time with her (taking her skating or to the movies), how it was questionable if I’d get my thesis work done (or Dr Elliott would kill me and I hated to let him down), how my cat Jack-Jack was being standoffish and I was upset about it (he still lives with Brittany and very happily into old age now), and a play-by-play of my actual moments when emailing him (Hannah was going to a neighbour’s house to swim in the mermaid tail that our mother made for her – Mama is a really amazing hobby seamstress and used to make some brilliant costumes for Hannah which she will find very embarrassing that I’m sharing).
I didn’t write everything down (readers will thank me) but at some point, he also came over to my house for an awkward dinner I cooked and insisted Brittany come to as well which she didn’t really want to do. He also came over to my house a number of times and we had sex in my much tinier bed in my very messy bedroom. Once when he came over he joked, “I see you’ve cleaned up for me” – as he surveyed all the clothes and books strewn about the room – and as with my first date guy, I thought that doing too much sent the signal that I was too desperate or cared too much and this was my sort of rebellion that I was nonchalant but nothing about what I did what nonchalant so that theory was just odd.
Three weeks after our first date
Monday, 3 October 2011, 1.42pm
Email to myself to analyse (I suppose) our weekend together in his hotel room in Carrollton, Georgia – where he was moonlighting.
Having issues on Saturday night and decided to stay in the bathroom for an inordinately long time so that [Dr P] wouldn't know that I was "having issues."
There’s no way he didn't know I was “having issues.”
Ran the taps for a long time, washed my hands about five times, probably made unsavoury sounds
Then stayed in the bathroom for a long time using [Dr P’s] fancy tweezers, which worked a lot better than mine, but I was too lazy to really tweeze enough of my eyebrows to make a difference.
Wondered where he got said fancy tweezers.
Then I decided to reemerge and hope that he wouldn't go to the bathroom any time soon as I thought it would be rude and wasteful to use his fancy cologne as an "odour neutralizer."
Must have my own perfume/body spray on hand for future potentially embarrassing situations.
Opened the bathroom door and he asked, "Everything okay in there?" and I replied in a rather harried and hushed tone, "Everything's fine."
Then I talked about the rash on my leg that had emerged – ugh! Why am I such a disaster?
Would like to be perfect Audrey Hepburn/Grace Kelly-like being and am, instead, clumsy disaster.
i.e. I literally have ended up hitting him in the face during sex. Who does that?
And yes, I whacked him across the face once when I was on top and then I think once I poked him in the eye. I have no idea why I was all clumsy, nervous energy sometimes.
Later that same night
Monday, 3 October 2011, 6.10pm
Anxious email to myself…still no word back…
So, I feel overly anxious today and I felt it last night, like a big vice is squeezing on my shoulders and stomach and I can barely breathe, but it's probably mostly self-induced.
I went to spend Saturday night/Sunday morning with [Dr P] at his hotel in Carrollton and when I arrived he was in the shower and didn't answer the door, despite the fact I rang and knocked several times. I could hear the television through the wall and it was deafeningly loud as was his ringtone. He finally answered the door and I put my stuff down on the bed and greeted him with a long kiss. He said he'd timed everything perfectly and was going to be ready for my arrival at 7.45 pm, but I'd arrived a few minutes early.
Who gets thrown off by someone arriving a little early, especially when back then I was mostly late to everything?
The game wasn't due to start until 8.05 pm so he asked if I wanted to engage in pre-game activities, which I did. I went down on him and he went down on me, which he hadn't done in a while because I was still spotting the last time we'd had sex. The sex was good, but we both got really sweaty and I got really really close, but couldn't orgasm, which I think [Dr P] found very frustrating. I got him off with my mouth and swallowed his cum. I think he's also frustrated by my lack of dirty talk sometimes, which he likes. Then he talked about someone he'd dated with ADD – which apparently didn't last long, which made me feel like "Oh, fuck! Now he's going to want to chuck me” – he said that it made a lot of sense and that it was probably mild ADD if I had it. He said that if the prescribed medicine works then I might have the condition. He also said it makes sense because I have a harder time getting off, because I sometimes delve into odd conversations during sex, et cetera, but he said I wasn't all over the place like his sister or the person he dated, who would get up during sex and do something and then come back to it. Which, again, he said did not last long. Ugh!
Maybe I do and did have ADHD but I can’t decide if it’s helpful or insulting to tell someone. Heh!
Then we lay in bed watching the game and I tried to do a little bit of work and we got dressed to go to dinner and watch the game at a Sports Bar/Restaurant. We went to O'Charley’s and watched the game and ate. I ordered the same thing he did – steak and chicken with some sort of bruschetta topping. I drank a load of water and diet Dr. Pepper at dinner, so when the game was over – the Gators lost, unfortunately, and I don't think that put [Dr P] in an awesome mood, but he handled it well and didn't take it out on me – I went to the bathroom. I'd told [Dr P] that during dinner I'd felt nauseous. I get nauseous whenever I eat dairy or something and what turned out to be a routine trip to the bathroom turned into a bout of diarrhoea. Oh no! I'm really not sure what I ate, but it wasn't good. It wasn't the worst bout I'd had, though. [Dr P] waited at the table by my bag, but when I returned he said he needed to go to the bathroom. I needed to go again too, so whilst he was gone, I returned.
Here’s the diarrhoea bit. Maybe it was stress or IBS or whatever it was back then my digestion was not great. My Dad (or late father) and sister are lactose intolerant so I may be a touch lactose intolerant too but I refuse to give up cheese, dairy, and chocolate, which are all foods I love. But really I have them in moderation now and, you know, drink kombucha (that I wrote about here).
We had a fun conversation at the restaurant. We brought up our "Brownie-nuts" debate and "Pride and Prejudice" is now our buzzword for "boring conversation." Yeah, I'm so glad I entertain him. Hmm. And he talked again about the whole ADD thing and I told him that he shouldn't "doctor" me and that he wasn't allowed to tell me that.
I’m not sure which side of the fence he sat on with brownies but I’m guessing his stance was he preferred brownies without nuts because I very much love a brownie with pecans or walnuts. And one time I talked about Pride and Prejudice and bored him to tears (which I alluded to here).
When I got out of the bathroom, obviously [Dr P] couldn't find me and I found him and he'd put my to-go box in the car and said he hadn't known where I'd gone. I told him I'd had to go to the bathroom again. I guess at this point I should've just said that my stomach was upset, but I never did tell him. We returned to the hotel room and had sex again.
Also, no shower. Did I have poop caked on my arsehole? Let’s hope there was no doggy style on this day…
At one point, I got so clumsy that I hit him in the face and I'm pretty sure another point I poked him in the eye. What's wrong with me? Why am I such a disaster? When I accidentally hit him in the face he got up to pee and then we resumed when he got back. Again, he got me really close but I couldn't get off, but he thought I did so he came and then was disappointed to hear that I hadn't gotten off. Maybe I should've lied at this point? So I had frustrated him twice for not getting off, which I think – as he said – made him feel like he'd failed at sex.
I guess my mind was distracted by the fact I’d just gone to the toilet up to four plus times to shit my guts out – and also in a whole meta situation, I was worried about impressing him when now I clearly wasn’t. Also, I never lied about having an orgasm but I think many women have/do so whilst he did genuinely get me off all those other times, I wonder how many times women had lied to him. Although, he was genuinely skilled in bed.
Then I disappeared in the bathroom during "tv time" and I stayed in there an inordinately long time since I still had diarrhoea and it would've been a good time to tell him, but instead, like a weirdo, I just disappeared. I turned on the taps at full blast, but hotel walls are thin and I'm pretty sure he had to hear me having intestinal issues. Charming. Yuck! After I'd finished on the toilet, I spent time in the bathroom plucking my eyebrows with his fancy tweezers, washing my hands a lot, until I felt some of the pungent odour would die down. Um, should I be embarrassed by bodily function? Is he the kind of man that likes to believe or be led to believe that women do not have bodily functions? I have no idea, but I acted weird about it. When I clicked the door handle to open it he asked, "Everything okay in there?" and I answered with a sort of harried and meek, "Yes, everything's fine."
Of course, I gave you the short version just above with my note card note. No, you’re not going mad. Yes, you’ve read these lines twice in two variations… But this is the longer version and the other was the TL;DR version. My whole post might be TL;DR.
He stayed up watching television and we conversed on and off. He cuddled up to me and asked me to turn the television off when he fell asleep. I like how he cuddles me at night.
I woke up the next morning far earlier than I should have since I have this stupid internal body clock now instead of running on enough sleep. We eventually got around to having morning sex, which felt amazing up until the point I couldn't get off again when I was sooo close – sooo frustrating. And we "took a break." I think we were both overheated. Then he went down on me. Obviously at this point I was figuratively losing my appeal and I tried giving him a blowjob, this time from a different angle and then he went down on me at the same time, which I probably should've gotten off from because I probably could have but I assumed we'd have sex again.
Ah, the classic hold back (which I think is called “edging”) because I preferred to get off during sex but then that didn’t happen and then this is why it’s very bad if you do not communicate with the person you’re having sex with which I wouldn’t learn until many years later. Also, this position is not called “different angle” but we all know what it is called. Heh!
I changed positions again and gave him a blowjob whilst he was on his back, but before we'd started sex he'd been called into the hospital and he wanted to get off. So he said he wanted to cum on my tits and he got himself off onto me, but when he said, "I want to cum on your tits." I said, "You don't want me to get on top again," puzzled. He said after he'd gotten off that he wanted to get off because he didn't know how much time we had left. Again, I'm a big disappointment. I hope my personality is good enough to give me a second chance because it doesn't seem like he puts up with bad sex for long. Shit! Except, should I blame myself entirely?
The moral police here will be all like ‘this is what you get for having sex with someone practically on the first date’ – although I never counted ‘oral’ as sex…
After that we watched television and cuddled up and talked and lazed around until he had to get ready for work. I asked him how long he'd be at work and what he wanted me to do. He said he wouldn't be back until late and thought that I would drive home which was why he was spending the morning with me. When he was getting ready I watched, unsuccessfully, some YouTube videos on the slow internet and read some PostSecret.
I don’t read PostSecret every Sunday like I used to but I loved it so much back then.
I flicked through every television channel twice, but I couldn't find anything I wanted to watch (at some point the day before he told me that the ADD explained why I did not like television). I think he was having intestinal issues in the bathroom too, except I couldn't hear anything unsavoury. I just heard some heavy breathing and then he showered. He got out and got dressed and he looked really sexy and I asked if I could take a picture of him and he let me take a picture of him in his underwear with his unbuttoned blue and white striped shirt on top, his hot body displayed as he stood by the the window, one curtain opened to reveal the afternoon light. Then I took a photo of him with him removing his sunglasses. Each time he stopped me to look at the photo and wouldn't let me take as many as I wanted. I think I almost withheld his phone from him which was a bad idea, but I wanted to take more photos. I asked him to email the photos to me. He still hasn't.
He had an iPhone and I had a flip phone so that’s why I was using his phone to take said photos… I came across them but I won’t share.
Then he helped me carry my stuff to my car and he kissed me goodbye.
I know that he had a lot of work to do at the hospital. He was running late and he had to "irrigate" some man.
I went to fill up my car with gas at the station near the hotel. I was feeling pretty positive on the drive home. The weather was cold and it was a nice day.
I texted him when I'd gone part way down the road, "I feel I was sexually disappointing to you this weekend. But I'll make it up to you next week. Promise. P.S. You're so sexy." (Sunday, 1.08 pm)
Rolls eyes.
An hour later it occurred to me to ask, "How difficult would it be to get provigil this week? Or would I have to be prescribed it?" (Sunday, 2.02 pm). Maybe I shouldn't have asked him for drugs, but he had suggested that it was an awesome concentration drug.
Yeah, I don’t think taking a stimulant would have been great for me. I never did take anything for ADHD. I just learned to be more hyper-organised and focused and be a better planner, so if I do have it, it’s not as debilitating to me as it is to others.
When I'd settled in at home, I texted, "Made it home. Hope you have a good day :)" (Sunday, 2.33 pm)
I'd usually hear from him at some point later in the day, so I asked, "Make it home ok?" (Sunday, 9.09 pm)
Reply: "Driving now" (Sunday, 9.10 pm)
"Aww. Long day! Was it ok?" (Sunday, 9.11 pm)
Reply: "Busy" (Sunday, 9.11 pm)
Was this "Busy" as in I'm busy now or busy as in the day at the hospital was busy? Either way, he didn't respond again.
"Wish I could scratch your back to relax you :)" (Sunday, 9.12 pm). No reply.
"Wish you could fuck me. I want you right now. So badly." (Sunday, 9.30 pm). No reply. Did I sound too needy?
Yes, you do sound too needy…
Then, later on, I tried to ring him. He didn't answer, so I texted: "Going to bed early. Just wanted to say goodnight and I hope you have a good week." (Sunday, 10.50 pm)
LOLs was 10.50 pm ‘early’ or am I just middle-aged now?
No reply. Am I being what he considers "clingy" now? Or was he just tired or driving or any number of things? Either way, I couldn't sleep after that so I went back downstairs and took more attendance.
I’m guessing ‘took more attendance’ is to do with teaching at the time but I have no idea why I’d do that on a Sunday – although I was emailing myself all this on the Monday.
Then, I texted again later, even though it was probably a mistake: "Ugh. Can't sleep. Your stories of all these women you dated are kinda making me anxious, even though it's ridiculous since I'm just enjoying my time with you, casually seeing you. But the stories kinda make me feel like a short-lived fling, like I wonder when my time's up. Maybe that sounds silly because we just met but I enjoy your company? I just want to have fun with you and whilst I find the stories entertaining at the time, I have a tendency towards analysing so I wonder what exactly you're trying to reveal to me or are you simply conversing?" (Monday, 12.37 am). No reply. Oh fuck!
Again, I was the opposite of the cool, casual girl I wanted to be. Or, more accurately, I was that person with people I wasn’t invested in but if I’d ‘latched onto’ someone and really liked them then I was just full on and clearly a little – now, what’s a nice, polite, and less negative connotation word for – unhinged.
I woke up the next morning. Still no reply. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I fucked up. Shit. Fuck. Ugh!
Yes, I typed all that to myself…
Before I showered, I texted: "Anyway, I'm not trying to get too serious too soon. I just don't want to see the impending end at the beginning. Things should be light and fun, I think. I feel so sleepy this morning. Hope you're having a better morning." (Monday, 8.45 am)
It's 12.11 pm and still he has not texted me.
Is it over?
Part of me thinks yes. Part of me thinks he's probably busy. Part of me thinks that if this scares him off then it's not worth it. But he's always texted me everyday in the past. And now he has stopped and it followed a sexually frustrated weekend.
I kinda feel like it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Telling me of many of the women that didn't work or were short-lived is almost setting me up for failure. "Look how easy it is to fail with me," he screams.
It's 1.10 pm and he still hasn't texted me. Oh well..
Elaine, you have a thesis to finish, personal training to go to at five, and lots of essays to grade. You'll be okay. Sad if it's over, but okay.
We form our opinions of dating from so many sources. Back then for me it was magazines, films, TV shows, old movies, books, literature. I was hoping for this great, impressive love and I tried so hard to fit the figurative square pegs into the round holes because the person looked the part or, often back then for me, was good in bed and that seemed like one of the most important factors.
Of course, all those things are nice, but besides the sexual compatibility, with my husband Michael, I feel I have the most wonderful friendship. We work to make each other’s lives easier each day but mostly, we just have fun together. We genuinely could spend hours, days, weeks in each other’s company. So, whilst I do feel sad for 24-year-old me and all she put up with and all the ways she felt lesser, I always do frame the narrative in terms of ‘look at all the lessons I learned that led me to where I am now.’
Next up, the final chapter of things with the Hot Jewish Doctor, but despite the disastrous last weekend, it wasn’t the end of things just yet…
Also, I hope that didn’t make anyone’s toes curl. Eek!
Don’t forget to check out the other fifty-nine posts I’ve written, including the one on why I’m writing this newsletter/blog in the first place – and the odd “present day snippet” of what I’m up to lately.
Did you ever try so desperately hard to impress someone of the opposite sex? Naturally, I seem very pathetic in the emails to myself but I’d like to think I didn’t project anything like this in the ‘real world’ but maybe I did.
