Yesterday morning, a man asked me out. It wasn’t at a kink party. It wasn’t even on Fetlife. Nope, there are still men who ask women out in the real world, with no swipes or pixels to speak of. There’s one pro and one con to this kind of set up:
Pro: You don’t know what his cock looks like.
Con: You don’t know what his cock looks like…
… or if he ties it in a knot or ties you in a knot. Or with a belt. Or if he prefers missionary sex in the dark, or maybe missionary sex with a spreader bar. It can be done, you know. What if he wants you to attach him to a spreader bar? Is there even a reason to attach a man to a spreader bar?
I’ve been in the kink community so long that the idea of going out with someone who doesn’t arrive with a public list of sexual deviancies seems too great a hurdle for my unbruised ass to leap over.
However, about a year ago, I put this on my profile:
What if we treated one another like people instead of roles? What if he chose me because he likes my head full of books and not because I’m a sub? What if I chose him because he likes Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain instead of because he’s a monogamous D-type?
Yah. If I’m to keep my integrity, I guess I have to go on that date. I do like the guy—what little I know of him, anyway, but suddenly, he feels a bit light on the… well… everything. It feels distinctly odd to have agreed to get to know a man starting from his career choice and ending up with maybe a cock shot or two. Today I realised (to my great disappointment) that I’ve begun to sexualise men—something I can’t bear being done to me because I’m a good feminist, and I have serious beliefs about… stuff.
In other words, I’ve become a dudebro.
It’s completely true. I have an actual problem with getting to know someone on a vanilla level without knowing how he feels about penis glitter. I feel I really need to know if he even gets the glitter thing before I sit across a table from him. And what if he doesn’t like blowjobs? I will have to throw him off the edge of the bed, then, and that might be considered rude.
The last man I went on a date with was into rope and humiliation. I only found out later that he wrote satire. This is the order in which we do things on Fetlife, and it’s definitely turned me into a fuckboi. Maybe I should send him a cock shot of my favourite buzzy toy. Yes. That’s an excellent idea for breaking the ice.
Should I send the cute pink rabbit or the terrifying magnet-type thing that causes earthquakes all the way to Kyrgyzstan?
Yes, I knew you’d say the earthquake creator. This is going to work great.