I was stood in front of several people in a café today waiting to collect food when I got a What’s App from a guy called Kyle. Kyle is a ‘head guy’. Someone who loves to please women without expecting anything in return. Kyle and I met on Tinder about 3 years ago. He’s very nice looking, he’s got a really sweet, kind, rugged face. He’s tall and well built. He’s a proper man’s man. He runs his own company and he owns his home. On his Tinder profile he said he was looking for a woman for love, marriage, babies, and commitment. He is the kind of guy who would make a good solid husband but we never really had a spark, he did nothing for me but I wanted to meet him because he wanted to settle down and that’s what I wanted too.

We went to a really nice steak restaurant for our first date and he did not stop giving me compliments from the second he laid eyes on me to the second I went home, and even then it carried on by text. Kyle was very clearly interested but it was a bit too much. It fucks me up when someone really likes me really quickly. It makes me feel suffocated, I start to panic like shit, actually I don’t know if I’m ready to stop being single yet, it makes me want to run. When someone likes me too much it puts me off but when guys are emotionally unavailable to me I chase them. What is that about?! Well in my case it’s likely to be about the fact that I associate love with rejection because of my childhood, so when someone is too keen I don’t recognise that as love. I recognise blowing hot and cold as love – but I’m working on that.

One of my Insta followers told me to watch The School of Life ‘Why Do We Go Off People Who Like Us?’on You Tube. The video says that the feeling of someone really liking us seems suspicious as it’s not what we are used to. We are not convinced of our own lovability and so we seek out those who feel familiar and give us what we are used to. If guys (or our parents) have made us feel like we are undeserving of love in the past, then no matter how much we go around shouting about how much we love ourselves, deep down something inside of us doesn’t understand how a guy could really feel that way about us for any other reason than he’s a desperate keeno. That’s the shit I’m currently working on, remembering what an intellectually spectacular buff ting I am and accepting keenness because yeah, you should be keen on me, I’m a fucking delight.

Kyle and I had another date, I sort of liked him, he was a really nice person and I knew that he would treat me beautifully but the chemistry was just not there for me. I wanted to want what he wanted though so I was trying to fight the feelings of wanting to run. Following the second date we were in constant contact until it came to arranging our third. My last text to him was something about trying to confirm a day so it was definitely his turn to respond next, but he didn’t. I waited a few days, quite relieved to have a little break from him, but also starting to realise that I didn’t like the thought of him going off me. I got mad that he was blanking my text, how dare he make me like him by ignoring me.

Anyway, to cut a long story short we ended up having an argument about his lack of communication, he said that he was waiting for me to respond and he thought I’d gone off him, I believed him and he begged for another chance, but it was a good excuse to end it all and we didn’t arrange any more dates after that, but he’d text me every now and then. A few months later we bumped into each other at a festival, both absolutely mashed, and my friends and I spent the rest of the night hanging out with him and his friends. We all went on to an after party together and as the night wore on one by one our friend’s flaked and left.

I was happy in his company, he made me feel great, but I was just not that into him, I never had been. I went back to his place once the party finished because I didn’t want to go home alone and after a shower and some food I got into his bed wearing his tracksuit. Kyle was stroking my hair and he just came right out and asked if he could eat my pussy, I was well up for it to be honest, I was fucked and horny it sounded like a fantastic plan; but I had to lay out a few ground rules first. I said:

‘I am totally up for that but I just need you to know that this doesn’t mean anything, I’m not going to touch you, and we are definitely not going to have sex’.

Kyle was seemingly very excited by this and he spent the next 2 hours going down on me whilst fully clothed (him not me). Kyle was very, very good at vagina licking, very good indeed. It’s always those ones who love and adore women who are the best at it, we must cherish them, but it doesn’t mean we have to have a relationship with them, you can’t force these things just because someone is good at finding your clit.

And so that is how Kyle became a ‘Head Guy’. Kyle just really fancied me, I was his type and he was in lust with me, and even though he knew nothing was going to happen between us he was satisfied with just making me cum, I didn’t even have to touch him. He seemed to get off on the whole being submissive thing so he liked the arrangement. Over the last 3 years I’ve probably seen Kyle 6 times. It’s nearly always after a festival or a party when I’m on a wavey, free love vibe. I want company, and I want the party to continue and Kyle always jumps at the chance to join me on that vibe.

Please do not sit here reading this and think it is Fuckgirl behaviour, it would be Fuckgirl behaviour if I led him to believe that I was going to fall in love with him, but I never did, he absolutely knew the score and he absolutely loved it. It’s not the score anymore though. That all ended about a year ago, we still have sporadic contact now but there’s no more casual vagina eating. I always felt a bit sick and regretful afterwards. I would be loving every second of the whole night right up until the moment that I came, and then I’d come crashing back to reality and I’d want to be as far away from him as possible. Lil Wayne says ‘soon as I cum I come back to my senses’. Me and Lil Wayne have a lot in common. It’s a horrible feeling. I’d always want to say:

‘I don’t want to cuddle, I want you to disappear immediately, and stop grinning at me, and breathing loudly, stop breathin, you’re making me feel ill.’

But I never would, because I don’t like hurting people’s feelings and I certainly wouldn’t want to hurt Kyle’s. Anyway, after the last time I saw him I stored his number in my phone as Yuck to remind me of that feeling in case I get drunk and decide that it’s a good idea to sit on his face again. Yuck must have felt that his time was up because he strategically left his jacket at mine that night. He’s messaged me a few times over the past year and we keep making loose arrangements to meet so he can get his jacket back but it’s not happened yet. It’s not even a nice jacket, I don’t know why he cares about getting it back so much…….

Back to the whole point of this story which is that when I was standing in a queue waiting to collect my lunch today when Kyle WhatsApp’d me the following, completely out of the blue:

Kyle: I’ll never forget that night when you kept saying my name, I’ll never ever forget that memory. I hope you remember that night too. I haven’t been able to get it out my mind all morning so I hope this distracts you from your day too…..’ (FYI I have literally no idea which night he is talking about)

This was followed by a video, which I opened without thinking, in the café, with old people all around me. The video contained Kyle’s very own attempt at soft porn. He was stood in a shower looking really intense and biting his lip (men fake biting their lips is fucking cringe, especially if they squint a bit and rub their chin, or do that thing where they wipe the corner of their mouth and bottom lip with their thumb, it’s sexy if you can tell it’s natural but a staged lip bite just turns me off). Anyway, Kyle was naked with his massive semi erect willy in full view, and after wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, he kind of slapped his dick so that it bounced up and down. I quickly shut my phone down and looked around to see if any of the elderly people around me had died. It goes without saying that I wasn’t suddenly feeling an intense rush of lust, quite the opposite in fact.

I was quite puzzled really, we haven’t spoken in ages and this bozo thinks it’s appropriate to just jump right in and send me homo erotic looking shower porn. I cannot think of one time in my life where I have thought ‘Ooh I haven’t heard from *insert name* for a while, let’s surprise him with a video of my vagina in the bath’. If I’d filmed a really cracking video of my vag and was just really desperate for someone to see it (which wouldn’t happen because firstly, I’m not just randomly out here filming my fanny, and secondly if I did it would be because I had a specific person to send it to) but if I did, I would at least start with a few back and forth conversations, find out if he is still single, gauge the mood a bit. Not just shove it in his face while he’s waiting for a chicken and haloumi wrap surrounded by senior citizens. Now he has killed it, now I can only deliver his jacket to him in a well-lit public place, otherwise he’s going to think that the video inspired me to finally meet him again.

I think people who send nudes with their faces in are absolutely insane. I’ve got tattoos and I wouldn’t even show them in a nude picture in case I could be identified. You never know where those are going to end up. Unless I ask for a nude, which I won’t, I do not want to be sent a nude, I’d rather my man call me and tell me what he wants to do to me. I hated getting into those conversations with a guy I’d just swapped numbers with on Tinder asking me to send a picture, they’d never actually say ‘nude’ but you knew that that was what they were angling for, I’d usually suggest following each other on Instagram and Snapchat instead because it’s awkward sending pictures. This is a key time for establishing whether they are a fuckboy.

If they say they don’t have Instagram it means they have a girlfriend. End of story. Everyone has an Instagram account. Another fuckboy signal is if they give you their Insta but say something like ‘I want to see the ones you don’t put on Instagram’ and continue to pester you for more risqué pictures even after you’ve said no. Fuck off.

I once met a premier league footballer on Tinder and he was the absolute worst for that. I think it was because English was his second language and he was still learning, so a lot of the time he didn’t have a clue what I was chatting about and so he just responded to pretty much everything I said with something like:

‘lolol so you says u were in bed, take sexy pic for me in your nightgown bby (tongue emoji)’

I’m not going to lie, if he wasn’t a footballer I would not entertain this nonsense, but this guy was not only one of the sexiest men I’d ever laid eyes on, he was also earning about 40 grand a week, he made my fanny flutter. Footballers are to women what page 3 girls are to men. I love footballer’s legs and bodies, I think a lot of them are hot, and this one in particular, JESUS CHRIST.

When I matched with him on Tinder I didn’t know what he did for a living, even though he played for a big London club, I didn’t recognise him. I just fancied the absolute fuck out of him, we spoke on the phone and he had a very strong accent which would normally put me off but this guy had enough bonus points going for him that his poor attempts at humour, dead conversation, and constant demand for pictures were put to one side. I had been single for a long time and although I was looking for a relationship, I wasn’t against finding an appropriate person for a booty call because I really did want someone to sleep with and get attention from, someone I wasn’t going to get infatuated with and end up heartbroken by. He was looking like an excellent option for that. There was no way I was going to fall in love with this guy.

I found out that he was a footballer when we swapped Insta’s and it definitely upped his hotness levels. I spent a lot of time googling him and watching videos of him scoring goals and I actually got turned on by him sliding across the pitch. This guy was absolutely spectacular, his conversation levels were atrocious but I had already made up my mind that I knew exactly what I wanted from him and I was sure that he wouldn’t object. I would never make that clear before meeting someone though and I would never arrange a first date at someone’s house, you never know how you are going to feel when you actually meet.

Meeting someone in person is very different to interacting with them online, the chemistry might be off in person, so you don’t want to be in a situation where you’ve basically guaranteed to fuck and you meet at their house or yours only to find that you really don’t want to anymore, that’s awkward as fuck. It’s important to stay neutral about your intentions, and to meet somewhere safe and in public. Don’t make up your mind about feelings based on the character a person displays on social media, wait to see how you feel when you meet them before getting carried away with what you see online.

We went for coffee in a posh part of North London one Sunday afternoon. It was dull. He’s very knowledgeable about coffee and so we spoke about that for quite some time, we also went through google images for about an hour looking for design ideas for the bathroom in his house in the South of France. It was riveting. But despite how boring he was lust had taken over and I was a 100% sure that the Universe had answered my prayers for sex by sending him. He was the human equivalent of a blow up doll. I actually can’t even write about him without reminiscing on his absolutely incredibly beautiful face and body. He was divine. I wish I could show you a picture.

In person he was not flirtatious at all, he was quite reserved and a bit shy. I could have a conversation with a hedgehog and make it work, I talk a lot, and so I often end up letting Fuckboys get away with being dull because I carry the conversation to help them out without really realising that I’m doing it. I’m sitting there thinking yeah this is some good banter but actually if I check it, the banter is all me, the guy is only going ‘lol, is it? (Or something equally as nothingy)’ every now and then and I’m there carrying the whole thing. I carried this date fully. I thought his reserved behaviour meant that he didn’t fancy me and so I was a bit gutted as well as bored. After a couple of hours we ended the date with a peck on both cheeks and went our separate ways. So I was surprised when he text me 15 minutes later:

‘Am home now, cant stop think about u bby. Send pic when you get in’.

I told him to send me one, and I was surprised when he obliged, dick, balls, face and all, because I had no intention of reciprocating, but now I felt I had no choice but to send my tits. I wanted this to turn back into us planning to become friends with benefits so I had to do my bit. I didn’t show my face and I found the whole thing quite annoying because I had to take 147 pictures of my boobs from 147 different angles before one came out OK. How do these men just take one pic and go yup, dick looks banging, I’m sending that? It’s not as easy as that for me.

I got talking to another Footballer once on Instagram, we swapped numbers and we got on well, we had one date but he played for a team up North so it wasn’t really going to go anywhere. For some reason he used to randomly send me videos of himself wanking all the time, wanking in the bath, wanking on the sofa, wanking in the car, this guy was a compulsive wanker. I say randomly because I never once asked for them, I never once sent him anything in return, and I never gave him any positive feedback, but none of that deterred him on his mission to let me see him wank as much as possible.

I didn’t stop him, the group chat was on fucking FIRE every time I dropped one of his videos. All my friends were disappointed when the wank vids fizzled out because they were hilarious. I’d never expose him publicly though so don’t even bother messaging me to ask who either of these players are, snitching on people you’ve linked or had something with is the lowest of the low, neither of them did me any harm. He was a nice guy, gorgeous looking, just a bit of a sex fiend. I think something happens to a lot of these men who have women throwing themselves at them, I think a lot of them lose all rational thought and just end up wanting to fuck everyone and everything, a lot of them seem to develop sex addictions and they need their egos and their dicks stroked all the time as a way of distracting themselves from their underlying issues.

Anyway, back to the London footballer. He and I had another boring date with limited conversation over dinner but we went back to his apartment together after. I fancied him more than ever. He lived in a penthouse with views overlooking London, the view was insane and it just added to the lust that I felt for him. We sat on the sofa having a coffee and he introduced me to his cat, I felt that it was quite a formal introduction considering that it was a cat, but this was no ordinary feline. His cat was beautiful, some carefully bred crazy coloured cat with fur made from what looked like real gold, and he was completely in love with her. The feeling was clearly mutual as the cat was all over him, I do not blame her, I really don’t; he is so incredibly sexy that even cats fancy him, I get it. She really hated me though, I felt like a side chick being introduced to wifey. I’m sure that she kept giving me dirty looks, she was staring me dead in the eye while he stroked her and she was rubbing herself up against him while looking at me with a smug grin. This cat was out here trying to beef with me over the footballer, and I was actually getting involved with the beef and giving her dirty looks back. I wasn’t having it.

We eventually got rid of pussy galore and started kissing on the sofa. He was a bit too bitey for me, I like a light bite but I don’t want a man to actually hurt me when we kiss. He was too much. It all progressed quite quickly and we ended up having (safe) sex, which also progressed quite quickly and was all over in less than 3 minutes. I’m really not exaggerating. It was pathetic and disappointing. No romance, no attempt to think about my pleasure. It was sad sex and I am sad that back then I tolerated this kind of sex. I sort of didn’t expect any better. The cat had returned at the point of his climax and was rubbing her tail along our legs, I’m an animal lover but I really wanted to boot her across the room. The footballer kept apologising for cumming so quickly, he said it was because he’d had a game that day and he was tired. I obviously hadn’t cum but he wasn’t fussed and had returned to mainly talking about coffee and tils. The cat was stressing me out and he was boring me to tears and so I decided to call it a night.

He apologised and suggested dinner in the week as I was getting my shoes on by the door, I was talking to him about which nights I was free when I opened the door without thinking, accidentally allowing the £5,000 gold plated cat to go running free. He panicked, we were on the top floor but he hadn’t been living there long and he was afraid of the cat getting lost so he never let her leave the apartment. I’m absolutely certain that she was trying to set me up. She wanted him to hate me so she pulled this stunt, I was fuming and also panicking. He spent about 5 minutes on the verge of tears frantically trying to locate his cat, before she came trotting back looking very pleased with herself. He said it wasn’t my fault, but you could see the rage in his eyes as he held the cat in his arms while she nuzzled his neck, I could have sworn she winked at me, but I can’t be sure.

Later that week I decided to give him another chance, I wanted to see if it was a bit better the second time around and I also wanted to see the look on the fucking cat’s face when I walked in. The second time around was not much better, there was still a lot of biting going on despite me telling him I didn’t like it, and it was all a bit mechanical. I think the lack of an emotional and intellectual connection meant that our sex was forced, it didn’t flow. I fancied him beyond belief but that was really just a visual thing, I had no desire to go deeper with him. It all felt like a waste of time but it was an extremely short amount of time so I guess I didn’t lose much.

I’ve learnt that it’s better to just go for ages without sex rather than trying to fill in lonely times with an inappropriate partner. I decided that night that I wasn’t going to pursue it any further. I didn’t regret sleeping with him because there is no way I wasn’t going to sleep with this beautiful guy, I would have regretted not doing it way more than I did doing it. But it wasn’t fulfilling what I needed and so it was time to walk away.

When I got home I was pissed off to discover that I had left my earrings at his place. I text him the next evening to let him know and he replied:

‘I throwed them in bin’

I could not believe what he was telling me and my first thought was that the cat must have done it and he was covering for her, because no normal person would find jewelry and throw it away. They were £7.99 from New Look but he did not need to know that as I unleashed my rage on him about his disrespectful behaviour. I was so angry, he apologised and offered to give me some money but I wasn’t going to go to his house and get £7.99 off him like some dickhead, it was just the principal of it. We both knew that we weren’t going to sleep together again, we weren’t a good fit, but he could have messaged me when he found them to ask me what I wanted him to do, and I probably would have said bin them!

He messaged me some stupid badly spelled text a few days later telling me he missed my ‘titis’ (that actually made me want to heave) so I told him he better go earring shopping then, he followed that up with a What’s App audio saying:

‘I want to fingering you sweetie baby, you so sexy for me, please forgave me’

I blanked him, my google translate wasn’t working and I just couldn’t cope with him any longer. So I guess that the moral of this story is don’t jump into bed with people you don’t really, really like. It sounds like basic common sense but I think a lot of us do it. We ignore the chemistry and energy signals and we try to force situations because there’s nobody else around and we’re lonely, or because we think this person is what we need regardless of the lack of spark. Like I said, I don’t regret the footballer, it didn’t hurt or damage me in anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. But that feeling of regret when it does happen, like with Kyle, is just not worth it. I’m contentedly single now and open to meeting new people but I know what I want and I’m not going to try to fill in the gaps with guys I’m not fully into because of horniness or loneliness. I’ve learnt my lesson now.