The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me – please be aware that the posts contain explicit language and sexual content. Guidance for those under 18 and for those of an easily offended, delicate nature.

Turning thirty:

Turning thirty was a shock to the system. My life hadn’t panned out as I had expected. I thought I’d be entering my 3rd decade of life with my long-term partner, looking to buy the house together in the suburbs with a view to get married and pop out sproglets. A text one day changed that. After a messy night out with the girls, consuming my weight in gin, I returned home to an empty house and a new beginning.

The break-up was for the best. We were no longer in love and were plodding along, hoping one day the spark would re-ignite. Who were we kidding? Sex is not the most important thing in a relationship, no. But to not have it at all?! I became asexual during the last year of our relationship, forgetting I had sexual needs.

Was I sad post-breakup? Sure! For a week. As hard and cold as that sounds, the relationship had been over for many many months before we got to that point. I felt excited about potentially meeting the man of my dreams…

I soon learnt that although the grass is greener, I was going to have to hack my way through a shit ton of weeds to get there!

Names have been changed to protect identities!


“Online dating is just as murky and full of lemons as finding a used car in the classifieds. Once you learn the lingo, it’s easier to spot the models with high mileage and no warranty.”

— Laurie Perry


Getting back on the horse


They say that if you fall off the horse, it’s best to get back on it. My problem is I didn’t exactly fall off the horse, I got my foot stuck in the stirrup and clung on for dear life. So, I put on my jodhpurs and riding helmet (I’ll leave the riding crop for later) and got ready to saddle up!

I haven’t dated in ten years. I was an actual child the last time I went on a date! The game has changed! When I first ventured into dating, it was messaging the boy you liked on MSN Messenger. It was simple and easier.

A friend of mine recommended a way to ease myself back into the world of dating, was to join a Dating Site. I felt a little too young for Match.com and a little too sophisticated for POF. Tinder was the site of choice! I dutifully created my profile, making sure to use recent pictures and minimal selfies, as apparently the latter is off putting.

After creating my Tinder profile whilst hungover to the point it took me six hours to eat my delivered McDonalds, I started to begin the trauma of the ‘swipe’ After swiping right and superliking men I meant to swipe left for, I eventually got the hang of it. Here were hundreds of men at my fingertips, who were viewing pictures of me looking at my best, whilst I was sat in my dressing gown, stinking of stale booze and sick. What’s not to like?

The first ‘you’ve got a match’ arrived within minutes. I was filled with excitement hoping it was ‘Tim  – the Chef’ but no, it was ‘Barry, the Brick Layer’ who I’d accidentally swiped right for. His message “Hey hows u? Ur fit” arrived soon after in my inbox, setting the tone for the first of many awkward introduction messages. (In the early stages of Tinder, I would always message back and explain it was an accident / it’s not the right fit. By month two, I learnt that being my usual polite self would be too time consuming. Tinder is essentially, just cruising for cock. Manners are left at the door)

Within 24hrs I had 70 matches. I felt like a Pokemon trainer! I was collecting them all and feeling extremely hopeful. Being single wouldn’t be for long. I was ready for love, but love wasn’t ready for me! I shortlisted suitable candidates to take things further with. Three days later I had my first ever Tinder date..


50 Shades of Graham


My first ever Tinder date! I was so excited, I rushed out and bought a brand new outfit, which I changed into before leaving work. Asking my male colleagues if I looked ok, I was told I looked “bang average” I’d take that!

Graham and I had been chatting for a couple of days as he was making his way to the UK from a country in Europe. I asked him if he was on the run from Interpol. He never confirmed or denied this. At 38, he seemed mature, older, wiser and pretty damn fit! I thought someone like him would be the perfect way to break the famine! I had high hopes, but then again, I always do!

So the night arrived. I chose a bar near to my place of work, just as a precaution. If he was an actual serial killer, I would increase my chances of survival by being in a place I was very familiar with and he wasn’t. I’ve binge watched those crime shows. I felt ready and prepared. I even sent a friend my GPS location to be on the safe side.

Walking into the bar, I see this tall, dark and slightly older version of my Tinder date. He hadn’t used recent pictures. That’s fine, I get it. He was still more than passable! The Canadian accent didn’t particularly do it for me, I could work with that.

He bought me a gin and we sat down to talk. I say we…he talked about himself, non-stop. After thirty minutes I realised he was not for me. As the gin flowed, he started to get a little more flirty. Awkward flirty. He told me he was writing a book about his sexual experiences as he loves nothing more than BDSM. He enjoys being bitten, punched and violent sex. I’m rather ‘vanilla’ so I found this all rather overwhelming.

He decided to tell me about the time he cheated on an ex-girlfriend and contracted Chlamydia..  By this point 90 minutes had gone by, so I thought that was ample time for me to have given him. I made my excuses and left.

Next day..

Sat at my desk I receive a message from Graham. It started well “Hell beautiful, it was really nice to meet you yesterday. I hope a second date is on the cards” Shortly followed by the above pictures of a box of ropes with the caption “I couldn’t’ stop thinking about tying up that little body of yours and hurting you”

I decided wisely to leave 50 Shades of Graham and his murder box in the archived section of my WhatsApp.



“I’m watching my sister give birth”


Date number two! I was determined to plough on with my adventures in online dating. My next match was a chap in his mid-thirties who worked within the Energy sector. He seemed to have what the kids call ‘banter’ and ‘chat’ and was extremely easy on the eye. We arranged to meet on a Thursday evening at an indoor golfing venue. His messages often looked like they were typed out with his dick, but I let that slide because he was very pretty. This should have been a warning sign!

The evening of the date, I checked in with my colleagues to see how I looked. Got a grunt and a bitchy “she’s off on another Tinder date again” response, so grumpily I headed off. Cock blocking bastards! I felt nervous. Really nervous. He messaged me to say he had a dry mouth. I presume that was down to nerves, rather than him pre-warning me about an existing medical condition. I didn’t want to clarify.

So I arrived to see ‘Mr Perfect’ (as he was later nicknamed – firstly as a term of endearment, then later becoming a sarcastic slur) with some seriously epic beard-game going on, standing at the bar waiting for me. I turned into a spaz and started nervously giggling. He thought this was cute (again, warning sign!)

After a few rounds of indoor golf, we decided to go and play ping-pong and pool. He said if I lost, the forfeit would be that he had to kiss me (Again, warning sign! What grown ass man has to invent a reason to make a move?!) But short story, sport that involves balls in general, I lose at. Including dating.

Fast forward a few weeks of dating and things running smoothly. He lived with his Mum…I could get past that. I paid for most of dates, again, I could get past that. I’m a modern woman after all! He also only ever spoke about his family, never mentioned any friends. He met some of mine! Things started to seem a little off. He invited me one evening to stay at his. Well his Mum’s house, which thoroughly weirded me out. His bedroom looked like it belonged to a Computer Science student, without the computers and with more mess! For a man so impeccably groomed, his bedroom didn’t reflect his appearance. My mother used to use the phrase “all fur coat, no knickers” to describe people like this. As per usual, our date involved alcohol, rapidly becoming predictably average sex and him becoming inhumanly sweaty. I’m not even kidding. No human can sweat that much and not die immediately from dehydration. My hair would turn curly after giving him a cuddle due to how permanently damp he was upon the most basic of physical exertion!

After inviting me to multiple family functions – more often than not he’d claim it was a party and I’d walk into a full on family gathering. All this seemed way too much too soon for me! Yes we’d clicked, but still! I avoid spending time with my own family, why would I want to spend this much time with someone else’s?! Fast forward a week after the latest family event and my friend spots his profile on Tinder. This wouldn’t be an issue, but he told me to delete mine and that he had deleted his. By this point, we’d spent a fair amount of time making the beast with two backs, so naturally, I grew concerned for my sexual health. How was I to approach this without looking like I was being a needy little millennial? I spent a solid hour trading voice notes with a friend and decided to make it super casual. I was very impressed with how casual it was – even included the line “Well I don’t want to catch STI’s like Pokemon lol” – apparently that was the straw that broke the camels back. Have you ever seen anyone go apeshit over WhatsApp messaging?

He was furious! He turned it all back on me. Apparently, I’m the one who is in the wrong for not introducing him to my family and for going on a planned holiday. Personally, I thought as adults, discussing safe sex was a completely normal thing to do. For him, it was part of the unattractive side of me as he called it. He said he doesn’t like assertive women. I may be new to the dating scene, but even I have read about Gaslighting!

Anyway, fast forward a few days and him telling me that it was moving too quickly for him and he felt that I wanted to progress things too fast – I casually pointed out that my family didn’t even know he existed, but I’d met ALL of his. (He literally introduced me to a Great Aunt in addition to the sisters, parents and cousins!) and that resulted in another bitch fit from him! So anyway, we were moving too fast, so he said we just chill a bit. Then he invited me to his Step-Mum’s birthday meal. Yes, yes, I know!

I started a tactical withdrawal. Leaving it longer and longer to respond to messages. Then one day, he sends me a WhatsApp (he literally NEVER called. Even if he was stood outside my flat in the rain for twenty minutes, he never called. He’d WhatsApp “answer the door babe” repeatedly) to say his sister was in labour. Cool story bro. But anyway, I’m a fairly decent human being, so said congratulations and left it at that. Later, I get a picture message of a birthing pool. He’d left work to go to his sisters house and watch her deliver her child from her vagina with a front row fucking seat! He’d angled the sofa for a better view and stuck on a movie for some background noise.

By this point, I just deleted him from my life like boy, bye! He sent another picture message of his sister pretty much naked, with placenta floating about the birthing pool. I blocked him.

The Hobbit


I feel a little mean writing this one, as he is such a nice bloke, but not for me. Date number three! Again, Tinder!

As usual, a quick swipe and a match. He seemed nice, not as dominant as I like them (as I’ve eventually come to find I LOVE) but a solid human being. So after a few days of meeting, we arranged a date at a city centre bar. Somewhere I’d been before, have to be on my guard and all that! He was a kickboxer in addition to running his own business, so could easily kill me and then has the funds to dispose of my body.

I walk in and see him sitting there. He doesn’t stand to meet me. I realise that’s because he is already standing. I’m short, but he’s positively hobbit like! Hairy as fuck too! So we spend the next thirty minutes making small talk. It’s awkward. He has none of the banter and chat he had in messages. I’m not vain, but he is punching! I’m just waiting for the moment to dart or for there to be some sort of spark. The only spark comes from my lighter.

As we go to leave, he offers to link with me. I feel like I’m escorting an underage child out of an adults only venue. Whilst waiting for my taxi and for him to summon an eagle to take him back to the Shire, a group of drunk lads staggers over to us. One goes “Mate, she can’t be your missus. She’s smoking hot” I secretly agreed with him. My date answers “No, she’s my sister” What the fuck?! Your best answer was incest?!

After Gandalf collects him on an eagle and I get in my Uber, I’m starting to wonder what it is that is I’m getting wrong. I know it’s only date three, but I’m sure this used to be easier. I get home and update my Tinder settings to a minimum age of 36 to a maximum of 45. Playing with fire? I hope so!



Give up the Ghost


Date number four. He Superliked me and I hovered over the swipe right as I tend not to swipe for those who superlike. Rule of thumb is that it screams desperation! And they tend to be 2/10’s. This guy, seemed a solid 7/10, in his late thirties and although arrogant, something quite sweet about him. I swiped right.

We got chatting and met before I left for a holiday. No instant spark or connection but agreed to meet him again.

During the hiatus between our first and second date, he’d call me in the evenings and we’d facetime. I started to grow to like him and felt the first flickering of a spark / connection / voodoo magic or whatever you want to call it.  After meeting for date 2, there was something growing there. I dared allow myself hope, stupidly. By now reader, I’m sure you can tell my heart falls faster than my knickers!

Date 3, he took me on a picnic. He put so much effort in, I actually felt my ice cold heart begin to melt. He kissed me. It wasn’t magical, the earth didn’t move. There was a sexual reaction though. I went back to his to meet his cat and his dick. Despite my colleague telling me to never trust a man who lives on his own with a cat, I went there anyway.

I fell into Dicksand.

Fast forward a few dates later and he stays over at mine. I don’t often let people into my home. Not because I’m ashamed, it’s a pretty awesome flat. I just can’t be arsed eagle eyed watching where people put their cups or passively aggressively staring at the shoes they’ve not taken off! Anyway, as per usual, he was a gentleman. He’d said a few comments that had made me step back a little, but as I mentioned earlier, my vagina was in love, so I ignored. (Think – “You’re laddish humour makes you unattractive” and “If you want to meet in bar, then I’m not the guy for you” etc) Yes, I definitely seem to attract the same type of men who want me to be the gentle, easily controlled woman. I’m not. I’m a bit of a prick. I don’t know how I’m giving off this impression of being super sweet and malleable. Note to self – work harder on resting bitch face.

I digress! Brilliant evening together again, kissed me goodbye in the morning. Then nothing. For two days. Message gets ignored. I’m dead to him. I’ve been ghosted. First thought was ‘oh, he’s a film Director, he’s probably just busy’ He eventually messages day 3 after I give up “sorry, don’t mean to be rude, just taken on a lot of work so really busy at the moment” Me with the ice cold exterior (gutted interior right now FYI) messages back “Ok, I understand. No worries. Hope it all works out” He responds a day later with “Hope your days been amazing” and I follow with “Thank you 😊 hope yours has been too”

This apparently triggers some weird reaction! I get a “Ok…I get it. Good luck too then” Da fuck!!! After he ignores me again asking for clarification and completely ghosts over the massive fucking teenage girl style elephant in the room, he goes into my archived file. I don’t know why there was a need there for games. I’d told him I liked him, he knew where he stood. There was no need for a play for control. Several more dates later, he could have had me (not in the sexual sense. He’d tapped that!) I’m just perplexed as to what happened. Did I do something wrong? I clearly didn’t come on too strong. Was that the mistake? Starting to feel quite dejected at this dating game. It’s pretty brutal. I need a man. A man who doesn’t let his insecurities and then pride ruin what could have been. I hope he Directs a Ghost film next and thinks of me!

Lesson learnt. Again! DON’T FALL!!!!! Play the game.



Date 5. We matched on Tinder months ago and have traded the occasional WhatsApp and Instagram message, but have never met. We all have those. I decided to unfollow a bunch of people, him included. Awkwardly, he noticed! I got a WhatsApp asking why and I gave him a bit of shit about how I don’t owe him an explanation. We got talking, really talking and then he called. We clicked. Really clicked. Despite him being old enough to actually be my Dad, he is next level FIT! Think George Clooney if he hit the gym all day everyday. Just WOW! I made a joke and called him Daddy. Somehow, this turned us both on. It’s gross so it shouldn’t but it does. We spent a few hours talking, with the conversation getting more explicit and arranged to meet. He told me what to wear. I hate that usually, especially as he dressed me like a stripper, but you don’t say no to Daddy!

So Daddy took me out. Fuck! In person, even more just mind blowing! Although he has dated reality TV stars, he seems to get off on the fact I’m a bit of an arsehole and will give him shit. And I’d just whisper ‘Daddy’ and he’d get an instant erection. Oh the power!

In the lift in the carpark, he pounces. Pushing me against the wall, kicking my legs apart and pinning my arms behind me back, letting out this knee trembling growl. Damn!

Driving me home, his hand wanders to my crotch and he starts touching me through my ridiculously tight stripper jeans. He wont allow me to look away from him as he touches me. Even he can feel how turned on I am. I’m proud of myself for not giving in to temptation and inviting him back to my flat. But if he had ordered it, I’d have to do what Daddy says after all! The way he can easily manhandle me and him totally dominating me, turns me on way too much!

I’m aware this is not a healthy dynamic. I’m thinking with my vagina yet again, but I will be seeing Daddy again. Booked in to go to his. He sent me a picture of a riding crop and how he wanted to use it on me. I’m a little scared, but sexual desire is overruling this. As a friend ordered me “Girl, you go get that dick!” And he has a LOT of dick!

He’s not going to be ‘the one’ but he’s going to be that sexuality defining ‘one’ The one where you’ll think about it years later, glad you let go of your inhibitions and dated your very own Mr Grey.