I blame my sweet pussy for getting her jollies on when I
browsed his online dating profile. He was cute, mildly interesting, completely
fuckable. Why not? I thought. We had exchanged a few emails and a few texts,
and he finally asked me when I was available.
“Saturday,” I replied.
“Okay, let me check to see if I’m free then…”
My vadge isn’t a very patient lady (as we
all know), so I’m not going to wait around for
some online guy to make up his mind when he wants to take me out. Contrary to
the male mind, women aren’t lounging around on the couch
waiting for you to give the go-ahead to give some head.
No,
I don’t need a man. I want your
penis (I’ve got needs), but I’ve also got two dildos at home with enough vibrating action
to help a sister out.
So
I strapped my big-girl panties on, and I laid down the law. “Listen, if you can’t give me a definite answer… let’s just reschedule.”
Two
milliseconds later, he responded. “I can definitely do Saturday.”
Saturday arrived and I was ready for
a good night.
“Running late! Hope you’re not already there,” he texted.
Clearly
he doesn’t know my dating finesse; I
wait on no man. I’d never go the bar before I
knew my date was already there. My time is only your time when you’re jackhammering me in the bedroom. Any other time, I’m going to pretend to be running late.
I
wasn’t upset he wasn’t at the bar yet. More time to
get ready is an extra inch on the dick for me. I love looking my best,
especially for the first date when sexual tension is as tangible as Kim
Kardashian’s ass.
Finally,
he texted me and said he was there – aka it was time for me to
leave my house.
“I just came from kite surfing so I’m dressed very casual,” he said.
I
rolled my eyes. Here I am in my high heels, headed to an upscale bar, and my
date felt it necessary to tell me he’s casual… very casual,
last minute.
When I get to the bar, I immediately
noticed his feet. He was wearing flip-flops! Here’s
a tip, men: if you’re wanting me to abuse your
walrus, don’t show up to our first date
wearing flip flops like you’re about to go to the fucking
beach. Normally, I like my men in thongs… but let’s be clear, I want it to be the kind that parts your ass not your
big toe.
"Wow, you're dressed up," he said.
Pretty sad of a guy to think I'm super dressed up when I was wearing my most "casual"
dress for the night. Coming from a guy wearing flip-flops on a first date, he'd
probably think wearing a potato sack with heels was the perfect attire for
meeting the fuckin’ President.
I shrugged. "Nice to see you're not trying to impress
me on our first date."
Of
course, I was livid. My pussy and I are pretty rational ladies. I get that he
was out kite surfing all day, but you're not a girl. You don’t need to fix your hair for hours, agonize over what outfit
to wear, and meticulously put on makeup. You're a guy for fuck sake! Getting
ready consists of scrubbing your armpits, combing your hair with a wash cloth
and cleaning your ball sack (I hope!) – a whoppin’ three minutes. He had obviously gone home to change, so
what’s so hard with putting on a nice pair of shoes?
Clearly,
he could have cared less about our date. I don’t
want some guy who half-asses on a date with me; I mean, think about how awful
he’d be in bed with that attitude!
I sat at the bar and he grabbed some drinks. He stood
beside me, but it was clear his mind was a million vaginas away. He’s looking all over the place as we’re talking, locking eyes with all the other girls there. I
mean, I love taking in the scenery of a trendy place, but when you’ve got a ridiculously hot girl in front of you – can’t you pay attention? I even
wore my push-up bra for this shit, and you can’t
give my girls a lingering stare?
Then he started shifting around… One second he was leaning over the bar, the next he was
facing me, and then he was leaning with his back up against the bar, but
looking out at the crowd. God, I hope he doesn’t
switch sex positions this fast, I thought.
When
someone isn’t into me, I can easily take a
hint. I wasn’t exactly into flip-flop guy
either. But damn it, I took time to get ready so I’m going to enjoy myself on someone else’s tab. It was the least this casual loser could do. I
decided to order one more drink, two’s my limit for this date. We
kept talking, when he confessed.
“I didn’t think I’d like you, but I really do find you beautiful and smart.”
Was
he even talking to me? This guy has barely looked my way the whole night. How
did he even know what I looked like?
“I
wore flip flops,” he continued, “because every time I see a hot chick online, she’s dumb as a doornail. I always end up leaving after thirty
minutes. I kinda thought you’d be another one of those
girls.”
What an idiot. The dating coach in me wanted to slap him.
When you go out on a first date, you take your time to get ready because first
impressions are big. I don’t go out thinking this guy
may be sexy but I’m sure he’s dumber than my first boyfriend’s dick, so I’ll just come from the gym in
my workout clothes. I go on dates thinking this may be a great guy, and if he
turns out to be a flip-flop wearing frog… no big deal.
After his confession, he whipped out his phone (I know the
old phone trick, very immature, just tell the person you have to leave) and
asked for the check. Guess this date is over.
“I’ve got to head out now,”
he said. Guess to another date or a booty call.
I got in my car, and he told me again how much he likes me and would
love to go out again. He even tried groping me up; his “shy” personality suddenly out the
window.
I let the “fuck you” expression on my face speak
for itself as I started the car and drove away.
If you can’t take the time to dress up on
the first date, you sure as hell don’t deserve a second.
- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl ®: Your Naughty
Lifestyle Guide
