My sincerest apologies dear readers, the combination of a bank holiday and a busy work schedule meant that I didn’t get a chance to finish off my last post. But here you go… the second installment of ‘What Happened to Football Guy.
Where had I left off? Ah yes, I’d told Football Guy that I really liked him and hinted that if he’d changed his mind about not taking things any further I’d be amenable. He’d said he liked me and thanks, but no thanks – or at least that was the strong message not so obliquely hinted at between the lines.
So what’s a girl to do when she kind of hints at putting her heart on the line? Well invite him round for one final night of carnal passion of course! Except I didn’t tell him that.
We arranged his coming over much as we have done in the past, lots of hot sexting beforehand about all the things I want him to do to me, and what I’d do in return for him. I picked him up, brought him back to the house and we hung out for a while before leading him upstairs. Now I should mention if I haven’t already that no man has ever gotten me past the magical ‘hat trick’ of three orgasms in a row. But that was before the Pelé-esque bedroom skills of Football Guy!
Five times!!! Let me repeat FIVE TIMES!!!
Alright now perhaps that may not be many or just par for the course for some women, but for me? I felt like a small miracle had just taken place between my legs! It was like a sexual epiphany. The Holy Grail of repeated orgasms and I had borne witness to this most miraculous event. Okay I know I’m waxing somewhat lyrical here but DAMN! The man knows what he’s doing.
After such a bed-shattering event, one might easily have been swayed into thinking it was worth delaying the inevitable, perhaps even deluding oneself that something more must come of such a fantastic sexual match. But no, not me. I’m done with fooling myself and pulling the wooly hat of wishful thinking over my eyes, shouting “you can’t see me, you can’t see me” at the top of my lungs.
In fact I’d go as far as to say that it only reinforced my resolve to nip things in the bud. But I will admit it made it harder. You see sometimes we can end up thinking that there’s more to something than there is, just because there’s chemistry. But the more volatile the mix, the more likely the whole thing’s gonna explode and someone’s always left cleaning up the mess of broken test tubes and chemical burns. Did I just take that analogy too far? Is that even possible? Surely not…
So at the end of the night, fully dressed and most definitely sated, I drove Football Guy back to the station. But before we got there I told him that this was to be the last time; that we wouldn’t be meeting again. He asked why and I told him – it simply came down to the fact that I wanted more and I knew he didn’t. I was cutting my losses before I got too much more emotionally involved.
He said he understood and we agreed that we wouldn’t just stop talking, we’d keep in touch, but I told him I wouldn’t be meeting or seeing him, at least not an time soon. He said he was sad it was ending but that he respected my honesty and I like to think he was telling the truth.
After I dropped him off I cried all the way home and for a while when I got home. And it made me realize what a close call that had been. Had I left it any longer I might not have had the common sense to walk away and I’d have been in a much worse state. As it is I’m glad I’ve cut things when I did, I know it’s the right decision. If I was younger perhaps I’d be willing to take the chance that he’d end up falling for me. But if I’m honest, it’s not often that a player changes his gameplay, I’m old enough to know that at least.
But enough of the sad songs and ice-cream comfort binging – I did that the next evening and to be honest although the sex was admittedly worth mourning, the rest wasn’t.
I’ve taken myself off the bench and I’m back in the dating game. I’ve got a new guy I’m talking to online and a girls night out to tell you about and it involves male strippers and a pornstar!