My first date with Chad was a memorable one.
When we had agreed to go on a date the week before, I got daily text messages from him; sexual updates, pleas for naked pictures and much more. This guy wasn’t shy about his libido or letting me know exactly what he wanted to do with me.
Normally, my lady parts and I are flattered. We like a man who has a healthy sexual appetite but prefer to actually go out before the guy starts begging me for nudies.
Most people would take this as a sign to cancel, but not me. I looked at this as an opportunity for a great (awful), but freaky dating story. I’m always up to see what a penis will do to get some quality fucking time in, so I didn’t call the date off.
During the week, a radio show asked if I could come in to do a show. They said I had my pick of days but my schedule was already booked with different dates each night. Someone was going to have to get pushed back but who? Just then I thought about Chad and our date for Friday night. Bingo! Since this guy was so desperate to see me, my natural reaction was to make him wait. I had to keep this overzealous horndog on a tight leash. He had to know who wore the pants.
We were supposed to meet at nine, but I showed up a quarter to ten. Chad had texted me during his wait, saying he looked like a loser waiting for an online date. I laughed thinking that even eHarmony had standards that this certifiable sex-addict probably wouldn’t meet. I responded and told him he just looked like who’d been stood up for a date.
He waited forty-five minutes for me. I had a feeling he was doing some heavy penis thinking. He would’ve waited four hours if it meant he was going to get the chance to bump nasties with me.
When I got there, I knew I looked good. I was wearing a super sexy red number. It was tight and short, perfectly accentuating my lovely lady lumps. I could practically see the boner in his pants leap out to greet me.
We started talking, and it was clear this guy thought he was God’s gift. He laughed at his own pathetic jokes (of which there were plenty). He snorted through the gap in his front teeth. And he stared at my breasts like a deer caught in the headlights. God, he was annoying.
I started talking just to get him to shut up. I said something joking about Santa Monica, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. Chad was born and raised in the town (which explained a lot). He was visibly agitated by my comments, and his reaction only made me want to egg him on. (When I first meet people, I like to test the waters out. Especially if the date isn’t going well, I spice things up by lashing out with my smart-ass personality. I enjoy making jerks squirm in their discomfort.)
After a few more Santa Monica–related quips, I finally stopped talking. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. I stared him down like Larry David just to add to the awkwardness.
I decided it was time to leave. I reached for my purse and pulled out my credit card to pay for my drinks. The next thing I know, he gets up and sits beside me. His penis must’ve been talking to him, “Chad, she’s getting away! Don’t let her leave!”
He tried flirting with me. He pulled me close then grabbed the hair on my head and gave me a noogie. Was this guy in fourth grade? I wondered.
“What the hell!?” I said, pulling myself away from him. “You don’t do that to a girl unless she’s your fuckin’ sister!”
I straightened my hair out and got out of my seat.
“So we going to your place or mine?” he asked.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “But… I thought…”
“I seriously felt like I was just molested by an eight-year-old with that noogie you gave me.”
“Well, it won’t feel that way in the bedroom if you know what I mean.” He slowly licked his lips as though he was demonstrating his talents to me.
I stormed out of the bar leaving him with the bill. This guy just gave me a noogie for Christ’s sake. I sure as hell didn’t want to discover his idea of foreplay.
When I got home he left me a message, apologizing. He said he wanted to see me again. Needless to say, I did my vadge a favor by dodging that bullet.
- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide