February Dating Update

February has been a strange dating month. I was slightly discouraged at the end of January, and was debating dropping out of the game entirely. Rejection hurts, even when it has to do with someone else's baggage. Yet I managed to pull myself off the floor and back onto OKcupid.

I started chatting with someone based on their interests, not actually assuming it would go anywhere (because, at least for me, 95% of the conversations are duds). Turns out he is almost seven years younger than I am: from early-thirties to mid-twenties. Quite the age gap. Yet we met up to grab coffee and seemed to have some chemistry.

Since I do love to give everyone nicknames, lets call him Abram. After coffee, Abram never really left. He brought me dinner in a snow storm, takes me on dates, complimented the tacos I made for him for a week and is generally a nice guy. We are compatible to the level of lying on the couch for a night binge watching Jinx and talking until the middle of the night. Which is secretly a fabulous night in my books.

But there's one catch. And it is kind of a major one. Abram is concerned by my age, and justifiably so. He made a comment about how it bothered him on our second or third date. And I assumed that I'd never hear from him again after he said that, and I was okay. But he still kept coming back. And texting and calling and all the normal things that people rarely do.

The last time I saw him, a couple of nights ago, we were drinking a bit, and the subject of dating came up. We were talking about what we wanted in a partner, when he asked me if I considered us dating. My response was purposefully vague, because I don't want him to feel pressured. He then made a comment about have been drinking too much and changed the subject. We talked for a few more minutes before he realized that I was cold, and proceeded to pull me into his arms for the next several hours.

And the problems get deeper. Because it wouldn't be a Candi story without problems. We've fooled around exactly once. And it didn't even get that far. Since then, we've kissed and we've snuggled. But all clothing has stayed permanently attached to our body. It doesn't matter what type of seduction technique I've tried, short of sticking my hand down his pants and pulling his cock out, nothing has worked. And I'm rapidly approaching that point.

All of this makes me assume that I've been put safely in the friend zone. But at the same time, he continues to show up at my house every other day and takes me on dates. I talked to Howie about it yesterday (yes, it is quite odd to be talking to my old lover about my new problems. But he's turned into quite the good listener) and he hypothesized that Abram could possibly not be that experienced and that I should keep trying. I find it hard to believe that someone in their mid-twenties could be inexperienced, but it is possible. He also reminded me about how pissed off I'd be if all Abram wanted was to fuck and leave, rather than building a relationship first.

All of that said, I still don't know. I know he's been on OKcupid since we met, which is totally fine because I don't even know if we are dating. Chances are good that he is still looking for someone else since he's been logged in. And I also know that I haven't heard all that much from him since the dating conversation a few days ago, which is slightly unusual for him.

This whole situation reminds me of myself when I was slightly younger than Abram. I met Sean in my mid-twenties when he was in his mid-thirties. Sean was ready to settle down, get married, etc., when I met him. I was so not ready at the time, and eventually drove him away with my immaturity. He ended up cheating on me and then shacking up with someone for a few years, before finding someone else who he married and eventually had a child with. I couldn't be more happy for him. Fast forward almost ten years and there is me, ready to at least have a stable relationship, and a mid-twenty-something living in a rented room. Chances are good that Abram looks at my life and isn't ready to be part of it. In which case, I don't think I can blame him.

Beyond the positive of having a few weeks of good company, I've also learned some interesting tidbits about my sex drive as part of this. If I have someone to be attracted to, my sex drive returns with a vengeance. I had an amazing drive when I was with Howie, even if we didn't see each other for months at a time. The dirty pictures and thoughts kept me going and feeling good about myself. I've always had someone like that in my life, from the time I started thinking about sex in middle school. The last six months was the first time that I haven't had a willing sex partner or plaything. And the lack of that person made me feel so unattractive to myself that I didn't even want to get off. As soon as I started getting turned on by Abram, my sex drive came back. I've watched more porn in the last three weeks than I have in the last six months combined. I hope that I can keep feeling good about myself even if he is no longer in the picture.

This may be the February wrap up, but I have a feeling that there is more to come with this story. It could be spectacularly bad, with me sticking my hand down Abram's pants and not getting the response I was hoping for, or it could be spectacularly good, with a steady sex partner who also will take me to dinner. Stay tuned!!

Sexual Cravings

I crave rough sex more than anything else. I'll never forget the first time a lover introduced me to pain in the bedroom. I was on a business trip to a desolate Southern city, and was eating dinner solo in an Applebees's bar...which alone is a sign of trouble. A regular sat down next to me, and, in typical Candi fashion, I had him taking me for post-dinner drinks at the hillbilly bar next door. I was a good girl that night- and insisted on returning to my hotel room alone. The next night was different. He invited me to his apartment, and cooked what I later found out was the only thing he knew how to make: spaghetti and meatballs. One bowl of mediocre spaghetti later and I was hooked. It didn't take long before our clothes were off and we were rolling around the bedroom. At some point that night, he reached up with his mouth and bit my breasts hard. At first, I was shocked, but then realized that the pain amplified my orgasms. He kept biting and I kept cumming. For the first time ever, I had to wear a scarf at work the next day to cover the bruising. 

My relationship with this lover, we can call him Sean, lasted for about nine long-distance months. It was a relationship of firsts for me: my first long-distance love, my first romantic vacations, and most importantly, my first vibrator and my entry into the world of rough sex. I don't think Sean or I realized that we would become serious, and I headed home a few days after we met. The next few months were filled with talking on the phone and quick weekend visits. Between one of these trips, a surprise package arrived for me with my very own Rabbit, and instructions not to use it until Sean called. That began a period of intense phone sex. In those days before FaceTime and naked selfies, I had to rely on his words, imagery and instruction to get myself off. I found myself enjoying the direction more and more as the weeks went on. Our in-person sex became rougher as we learned more about our interests and fantasies over the phone. Hair pulling, spanking, minor breath play, and of course more biting became the norm.

My relationship with Sean eventually ended, but we stayed in touch for a couple of years after that. We fooled around a few times in between other relationships, and I always relished the sex we had, because I intrinsically trusted him to stop before I had too much. I participated in much more intense scenes during this time, including one memorable occasion where I got fucked in the ass while being choked (within reason) with a partners' tie. So incredibly hot, but it didn't reach the level of what I had with Sean.

All of these other hookups and scenes were missing something, and it took me a long while to figure out what it was. Sean may have been rough and always had his way with me, but he would never do it if we didn't have the time for him to care for me afterwards. He would make it a priority to hold me or snuggle me and make sure that I knew that I was loved and cherished. I wrapped that feeling of security and safety up with the rough sex, and relished the pain because I knew that it was all part of the feelings of safety and love I would get afterwards. Although Sean and I didn't necessarily know what subspace was at the time, he took care of me for as long as I needed. 

I also had very similar experiences with Howie. I knew that I could ask him to do anything to me and he would gladly do it. I could be as hurt and exhausted as I wanted to be at the end of a day of sex, and I always knew that he would help hold me in the shower, and that I'd have a spot ready to snuggle up under his arms.

All of this leads me back to my current craving. I need to get fucked. I have been desiring and wanting and dreaming about rough sex for months. I miss every part of it: my head jerking back as my hair is pulled, someone squeezing my ass so hard that I can't sit the next day, rough stubble dragged all over my tender skin again and again, bite marks covering my body, my hands tied behind my back, spit and cum covering my body, and my head being held down as someone fucks my mouth. 

But entering that headspace for me comes with a cost. I need to be held after and made to feel cherished. The feeling of being loved is wound tightly with the feelings of pain. I've been toying with the idea of getting more involved with fetlife. There is no doubt in my mind that within a week I could have whatever I wanted done to me...except for the aftercare. I'm sure I could find someone with the decency to hold me or shower me, but there is no way that I we would have the level of trust, respect, and understanding that I built up with previous partners over a period of time. 

To me, this doubt could be different things. Part of me wonders if I'm not ready to trust anyone yet. Maybe I need time to heal and have more vanilla sex? But the other part of me just wants to throw myself back out there, to hell with the danger. Everything that happened with Sean and Howie happened because I was lucky to find them. I have had plenty of partners over the years that haven't been able to provide the full package, but have been able to enrich my life in their own special way. Maybe by continuing to play musical partners I'll find what I need? 

All I know for sure is that I'm going to get into bed tonight wishing that I had to sleep on my side because my back had been so torn up by a partner's stubble that the feeling of my soft sheets is too abrasive. Ah, to dream...