My smile faded, despite my best efforts to coax happiness. The clock struck twelve, signalling the start of a new year. I held onto the railing, admiring the fireworks shooting above the skyscrapers. Although in the distance, the raucous from the crowd pervaded to my balcony. I wished to share their joy.
Another year passed that I had spent by myself. The few dates I had were mostly a waste of time. The wealthy guys couldn’t stop bragging. The nice ones were too bashful to say anything that would challenge me. And the mediocre ones were just that.
I tried the dating apps. I wish I hadn’t. Within an hour of completing my profile, I received about twenty messages, mostly from perverts telling me their sexual desires. Ugh! Disgusting. What happened to the good men? Probably married or gay.
Sometimes, I wish I had been a lesbian. Men have more options in women than women have in men. They’re so lucky. Women lead much more stressful lives than men. We have to be well-dressed, always smiling and avoid promiscuous behaviour at all costs. Men don’t have to worry about any of that.
They pee in bushes, overtly cheat on their wives and act like drunken sailors. Most of them are drunk, but don’t possess a sailor’s bravery. Where in the world am I going to meet the man of my dreams? It’s so frustrating searching for him. I wish he would present himself. What is he waiting for?
I slumped onto my couch and exhaled a deep breath, folding my arms. I considered going to the town square to enjoy the festivities, but the cold front dissuaded me. Although I dress warmly, some parts of me are invariably exposed to the weather. There’s nothing worse than a cold breeze blowing onto my face and reddening it. It’s such an unpleasant feeling.
Tamara, my bestie, flew to Malta to spend New Year’s Eve with her hubby and newborn. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t slightly envious of her. Josh is perfect for her. And her baby boy is adorable. I wish I had my own.
At varsity, the men admired me and barely took notice of Tamara. I slept with quite a few of them during our three-year studies. She remained a virgin until marriage. I never grasped how she could withhold from sex for that long. She was twenty-five when she consummated her marriage. Wow.
Whenever I had an itch downstairs, finding somebody to scratch it wasn’t a challenge. Indulging in debauchery was off limits locally. That was reserved for solo overseas trips. Wink, wink. I didn’t want a local guy to spread gossip about me performing unspeakable sexual acts. That would completely ruin my chances of finding a stand-up guy. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him or me.
The bad boys were fun in my twenties, but now that I had peeked over the three-decade hill, I find gentlemen intriguing. Their suits exude maturity. Their language communicates class, and their lifestyle oozes opulence. That’s the kind of man that I want and deserve.
I considered changing my profession to increase my chances of finding a man. The fashion industry exposed me mostly to women and gay men. The few straight men I work with are too old or married. Some are both, yet they hit on me and believe they stand a chance. Yeah, right.
Before Tamara gave birth, she accompanied me to cocktail bars and steakhouses. The men I wanted frequented those places. I noticed a few gentlemen staring at me, but they didn’t approach me. Tamara mentioned that they were discouraged by her presence. They would’ve preferred that I were alone. I agreed with her, so I went out by myself a few times.
I felt awkward sitting alone. The men staring at me seemed judgmental. They probably thought that I was a slut or desperate for company. I didn’t stay long enough to give them a chance to start a conversation with me because I left a few minutes after arriving.
Soon after walking out of the venue, I always considered going back. I knew that I had sabotaged myself by protecting my ego.
At home, I would try to convince myself that I had made the right decision by leaving, but logic always overruled my feelings. I always consoled myself by finishing a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. Then, I’d feel even worse for cheating on my diet, and I needed to train twice as hard to remain slim.
That scenario repeated for several months until I gave up on dating. It was much easier for me to stay at home on Friday nights. I thought that the gym was an ideal place to meet men, but only a few shorties approached me. It’s always the small ones who have the most confidence. Apparently, the good-looking guys are focused on training. They’re not there to meet women. At least, that’s the message of the guys in videos on social media.
I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on men for not approaching me. The whole MeToo movement got them trembling in their boots. The word sexual harassment has been completely blown out of proportion in many cases. Some women yell that word when a man catcalls or whistles at them. I also believe those actions are in poor taste, but they’re not traumatising. I’m not going to call the police or consult the HR department.
I’m starting to believe that women played a major role in discouraging men from approaching us. Their dismissive attitudes and shaming of men and reporting them to the authorities have distanced us. If I were a man, I’d also think twice about approaching a woman. With certain women, they risk their freedoms by engaging them in conversation.
But I’m not like those bitches. I’m friendly, even to unattractive men. I don’t give them my number, but I also don’t berate them for expressing their desires.
I always felt that having an open mind was important. Rejecting opportunities before trying them may lead to depriving yourself of happiness, wealth and even better health.
I remember when my ex pulled over on the side of the road and told me he wanted anal sex.
I said, “When?”
“Right now.”
Gobsmacked, but also excited by the prospect, I said, “How?”
“What do you mean, how?”
“I’m gonna bend you over the bonnet and bang you in your ass.”
While considering the consequences, I bit my lip and smiled. The possibility of getting caught encouraged me to try it.
We got out of the car and waited for the coast to clear. After the last car passed us, my ex grabbed my hair and pushed my head forward.
I bent over the bonnet, and he pulled down my jeans. I thought he would lick my pussy to arouse me, but he shoved his dick into my ass. Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my eyes shut as he penetrated.
I spread my arms on the bonnet and rested my face on it. He grabbed my hair as he ramped up the penetration. I squealed, feeling a mixture of pain and pleasure.
My anus excreted a small amount of fluid, hardly enough to lube it so I could enjoy the penetration. He kept telling me that I was a dirty whore who liked it rough and in the open.
My ex spanked my ass as a car drove past us and hooted. He found it arousing, prompting him to speed up the penetration.
Honestly, I didn’t enjoy that intercourse. Strangers watching a dick in my ass and possibly taking photos wasn’t my idea of fun. To finish off, my ex demanded that I get on my knees and suck his dick. Yuck. But I did it to please him, although I’d never do it again.
When I got home, I scrubbed myself in the shower for half an hour, feeling dirty.
Two weeks later, I found out that my ex had been cheating with a stripper for several months. I tested myself to make sure that I didn’t have any diseases. Luckily, I was healthy.
That experience made me take a break from dating bad boys. I stayed away from them for several months, but eventually veered off the straight and narrow when I met Rocks. His nickname should’ve served as a stark warning that he was a loose cannon. Not only was he a drug addict, but he also abused his previous girlfriends.
I don’t know why I thought I could change him. After the second incident, I reported domestic abuse to the police. He vowed to avenge his incarceration by slaughtering me. Wonderful. I always meet the good ones.
After surviving all that drama, I’m ready to settle down with a good guy. I deserve him after everything I’ve been through, and I know that he’ll thank his lucky stars for meeting me. Of course, he’ll have to go out of his way to prove that he deserves me.
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