So I went on a date last night. Yay me. But this was the date of dates. I’m desperate to get this one off the market, and he says nobody shows him any interest, but I don’t buy it. If what he says is true, then women need shaking, because they are missing out. I had to grovel to get this date and I abandoned every feminist rule and opinion just to make this happen and it was great. I think I might officially have a boyfriend. I asked him at the end, like, so are we, like you know?
He winks at me smiles so white teeth, “we’ll see”, he says. I got an amazing long kiss, one hand on my cheek, one at the base of my neck, no grabbing boobs, he was in complete control, perfection. I’m fucking buzzing no word of a lie. It was the hardest damn date ever though. It was like a job interview.
Lets go back.
I have known this guy for a little while now and he doesn’t take any of my shit. He is not scared of putting me in my place which I need. I have some sort of ADHD or autism thing. It is not diagnosed, but I am a right pain in the arse to everyone. I am a fucking horrible person and I know it. I can’t help it. But this guy he settles me. He calms me. It’s like I know I cannot beat this man so my brain is like fuck it give up. He has spent the last few weeks leaving me on read, dodging my calls and the other day he was like, are you going to play nice? because I will just ignore you another two weeks. I don’t know, there is something in the way he treats me that drives me wild. My flirty sexy demeanour doesn’t work on him. My bottom lip wobble just gets ignored. I said to him, why are you so difficult with me?
He sits back and sighs. It’s not just you. I am like it with all women now. I have been married. I have done the nice routine, given them everything I could. It is never enough. They will still cheat, still go after other men. The more you give them, the more they lose respect for you.
My feminist blood starts boiling. I go to speak. He is like “NO!” playfully, “shut up.” And I calm, tamed on the spot, and I’m not joking, I fucking loved it. My knickers were wet right then.
I ask him a genuine question, if say we were a couple, lets just say hypothetically, you would treat me like a pet?
No he replies. You will get absolute freedom I just will not take your shit.
I am getting wetter.
So I ask about his ex wife, like what is she like?
No he says.
Why, I ask.
You will never have to meet her. You will not get on. I barely just about get on with her myself with everything that happened. She does not like you.
Does not? She does not know me I say. I do not know who she is.
”I will keep you apart as much as I can.”
”So how will I know if you are sleeping with her or not. I bet she still wants you even if just sex.” I ask, partially serious.
He smiles. “Relationships are fun, are they not” he says.
I am not going to lie, when I first met him, he did not really do it for me. He is not my normal choice. He has grown on me like a wild fire and it is not his appearance, it is the way he treats me. I desperately need someone to put me in my place. Not someone to beat me up and abuse me. I genuinely feel he is not that way because he does not seem to get angry like most men. I just need an owner. I need to be a guy’s beloved pet. I need training and this bloke really does it for me. It is totally against everything I believe but it really works for me. I need this. He has told me he wants to keep his job. He does not want my money. I offered to buy him a really nice watch because here in the city watches are everything. They are status. No, he does not wear watches. He knows the time like he has got a damn clock in his head.
It is our first date. I am in my place. The rules are set and I will be honest, I am laying here at eleven in the morning and I have never been happier. Go me.
That is the short version. Most blokes I have dealt with fold the second I turn on the charm or the wounded look. This one just stared at me like I was a child having a tantrum and waited for me to finish. I hated it at first. Then I could not stop thinking about it. I sent messages that would have had anyone else jumping. He left them sitting there for days. I called. He let it ring out. I started to feel like an idiot which is not a feeling I enjoy.
“I’m sorry” I text. I sent the other day, and I really meant it.
Then he replies. “Good girl!”
I begged for this date. Like I said. I know it’s not in my character, but that’s the whole point. I’m not a good a person, and I can’t help it. I need to be owned, not treated like a princess because I’ll just take the piss. I’ll take him for granted, I’ve done it a hundred times, I’m the enemy in every relationship I’ve ever had.
Eleven o’clock. I am still in my pyjamas. The bed is a mess because I did not sleep much. I keep picking up my phone and putting it down again. No message yet. I don’t mind. For once I’m okay with it. I made coffee and sat on the windowsill with my feet on the radiator and thought about the last few hours. How I had spent years telling other women not to shrink themselves for a man. How I had just spent an evening doing exactly that and felt lighter for it. I do not know what that makes me. I do not care this morning. But I have a new thought. No, you shouldn’t shrink for a man, it’s their job to shrink you. And if a guy can shrink a left wing feminist, a crazy moody hormonal crank like me, then I’m all for it, because I certainly need it. I blow up and destroy everything I touch. I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of being lonely because I’m a wanker.
I should feel ashamed. I don’t though. I feel settled in a way I have not felt in years. Like someone finally turned the volume down on the constant noise in my head.
He will text when he feels like it. I will wait. I will not send the first message. That is the new rule I set for myself last night while he was still in the room. Play nice. See what happens. For the first time in a long time I am willing to find out.
And no, we haven’t yet, but that’s okay. I’ll wait until he’s ready.
Go me.