“I’m off to the cafe! To start my essay!” I exclaim to my friend. But when I leave my abode I know a part of that’s not true. I have things on my mind – and whether this is a form of procrastination, trying to make sense of the world – or just simply spilling my heart out to a world – that hardly ever listens… well. It’s probably easier than starting my essay right now (I’m currently studying an MA in Human Rights at UCL which is intense to say the least but hey! I know what Jus Cogens means now! )..
So back to procrastination. Dating in a large city. And well dating at all – can sometimes feel like a pull push situation. As an independent woman – I feel I’m consistently trying to understand what it actually is men want. Swinging between submissive and dominating I tend to find most guys these days pretty fucking lazy if I’m honest. But then these recent years I’ve generally attracted guys who are younger than me. Maybe that’s it.
After getting a little too emotionally involved with the last guy (who I’m not even sure is properly gone), I do believe it’s better sometimes to just move on and date someone else. Quick.. quick! Quickly. Push those feelings underground! Eurgh. Feelings. Is there anything worse. It’s good when it’s good. But I’m not afraid to say I am not that keen to to feel the rubbish ones. I DEMAND EUPHORIA! Hmm.
Plus apparently due to my age – I’ll probably want babies soon – so might not be a great choice for him. I was pretty furious the assumption that was made on my age.
Oh yes. I obviously want babies and am hormonal.
So I was swiping on Tinder.
Nah. No. God this is shallow. Wtf is he doing. I am so shallow. I am going to hell.
“Tinder is all about sex Becki” my friend whatsapp’s me.
“No. No it’s not – lots of people go on Tinder dates.. it’s not all about sex!”…I adamantly reply to my friend. Who is a young 53 year old. But obviously a little old fashioned. Obvs.
I have had only had one previous Tinder date. And he is simply a Facebook friend now. Nothing happened. The end. So I wasn’t too intimidated.
“Do you want to come out for a few drinks?” a guy. A cute guy – looking the spitting image of Billie Joe Armstrong.. asks. OMG IT’S BILLIE JOE.. my subconscious screams. Fit.
“Can’t. Broke lil next week” I reply.
“I’ll pay to go out if you like” he offers. Temptation knocking at the vaginal wall. Can I come in..
Wow. I could hardly even get the last guy to buy me a coffee. Hmmm. Hmmmmm.. hmmmmmmmmm “ok… ” I reply.
My friend texts me – “careful it could be dangerous!” he says. Don’t be silly I reply. This is London – it will be a public place – lots of people meet people online..
I get ready. But haven’t heard from him. I look out the window. It’s fucking cold outside. I remember the last guy I dated. And I start to feel too tired. God what’s the point I start to ponder. I look at my phone. Can I actually be bothered with this. I question myself. I get into my bed.
“You want to meet central?: He queries. “hmmm. I think actually sorry but I’m going to cancel…sorry”..
The Billie Joe lookalike texts back. “Ok he replies… “I think you would probably disapprove of me anyway.’
“Why!?” I ask… “I like to stay out late and go wild!”
Oh I laugh. Thinking nothing of that. “Well that’s normal isn’t it on a weekend”
He sends me a picture.
“OMG” I reply. Yeah naive. Feeling comfy and relieved that I am in my bed. Shit. That’s a lot for a first date. I think.
So that was left.. then the next day..
Vanilla. Interesting. I think to myself. Is that sexual bullying I ask myself. I mean. So fucking what if I am Vanilla. Ice ice baby.
I remember a guy I dated when I was about 26. We were only together for 3 months – when he decided he wanted me to get a strap on. I thought about it. For a second. And I decided that. If I did it. I’m not sure I’d be able to look him in the eye again.
So I got really drunk. Snogged his female flatmate in an ‘anti man!’ moment. And legged it in the middle of the night.
But I do find it rather much when men (when dating) are only interested in one thing. My vagina. Ok – so men like to have sex. So do women. And not every guy you sleep with you want to marry. But still. Do I tell you about my sexual needs pre first date?
And.. isn’t life painful enough without whipping on the first date. Or indeed something shoved up my arse. And I question. In today’s society do we really let intimacy grow? Sex is important. But what about the rest. Friendship. Bit of romance. Then let the whipping commence? Hmmm.
So enough procrastinating. Enough I say!
I delete Tinder. And think.. fuck that. Fuck him. Fuck that one. Fuck him. In the non sexual sense.
And lastly. Be good – stay safe. And remember – whatever you enjoy – it’s cool – as long as you both are consenting adults!
Just maybe some flowers and a whip?
Becki has been taking group therapy at the NSPCC for adult survivors of #CSA through #napac and has only three weeks left. This has been the most powerful heart wrenching experience I have ever had – and I’m so sad to say goodbye to a lot of powerful women who have shared their stories of rape and abuse. This therapy should be rolled out across the country and provided to all survivors. I feel this dating diary has grown over the last few years – and where once I never wanted to use the word sex or admit to much – I feel it has helped me find my voice and self reflect.
Thanks for listening!