Tinder 6: The guy who got horny very quickly

Mostly, you swipe left. Sometimes you swipe right with reservation. Occasionally, you swipe right and hope they deliver the guy to your door. Josh fell into the latter category. There was something about him that resonated immediately.  He was easy on the eye, he had that cute American sitcom vibe going, the guy who wasn’t outwardly dirty and dangerous but who, after the first kiss, would reveal a filthy side and a huge appetite for sexual exploration and you’d soon end up doing it in cupboards and everywhere else. And afterwards, you’d order club sandwiches and trade one-liners. He was in fact American, 41  and here on holiday. Well I say he was ‘here’ but by the time I swiped and we matched, he was not here. He was in fact there, and there was Geneva. I was mildly disturbed. Geneva? For fun? Or indeed for anything.  Unless of course he was visiting his money, but then guys in possession of Swiss franc accounts don’t use Tinder; they really do get their girls delivered. Mostly all at once, and usually by express to a yacht somewhere in the Med.

The week that Josh and I matched up, I’d matched with at least seven other guys. I was becoming wise to the ways of Tinder so I knew that four of these would not talk. They would just sit on my matched list doing sweet fuck all and annoy me. Let me tell you how annoying. Imagine the same thing in real life. You are in a bar and you smile at a guy. He smiles at you. He comes over to sit next to you. You say hello and he does not reply. But he is still sitting there, taking up room and making you think he will speak eventually. You continue waiting until three days later he has not said a word. You say hello again and he says nothing. You need to block him. In actual life this might mean ordering some concrete and pouring it over him so you don’t see him anymore.  Tinder makes blocking much easier and far less of a crime, but you get the picture. Seriously, people, what are you playing at with your swiping and not speaking?  Anyway, drawing on earlier experience I was sick of being the one to initiate the conversation so I’d decided each guy had two days to speak up or else they were dead, figuratively of course. Josh had missed the first day and I’d lost four but he came good on the second. He was in Geneva for work. There was no more holiday. He was going back to LA tomorrow but he was anxious to make up for lost time. Very anxious as it turned out.

“Sheesh you are sexy.”

Look, I get this said to me a lot. It sounded a bit lame but at least it wasn’t that most seductive of lines, “Do you swallow?”

“Thanks.”

“No seriously. I’m hard right now. I’m lying on my bed in the hotel.”

I then received a picture of the hotel room.

“You’re hard? It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“I wish our paths had crossed. You look like trouble.”

He was correct. I can be trouble, in a good way of course.

“Well yes I think we’d get on.”

He sent me a picture of himself. Just the top half. Naked. Nice body.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve already made me come once.” I hadn’t done anything. It was the work of his own hand, obviously

“Do you do this with everyone on Tinder?”

“No I just think you are really hot. I want to see you. I’m hard again imagining your body. But I have to go back to LA tomorrow.

And then he went quiet. He disappeared and I guess he was coming again. There was no further sign of him.

He was on WhatsApp the next morning. “I just made myself come again thinking of you.”

“Look this is silly. You know nothing about me. And those pictures aren’t even me without my clothes on.” Oh fuck why did I say that.

Predictably. “Can I have some without your clothes on?”

‘No.”

“That’s ok, I don’t need them. You just look like you get it.”

And then Josh left town.

A few days later he sends a text.

“I fucked a girl last night and pretended I was fucking you. It was great.”

“Why didn’t you pretend you were fucking her?”

“Well because you and I understand each other.”

“Wasn’t she hot.” Oh please don’t disappoint me Josh and have an ugly girlfriend that you have been with since college and love deeply.

“She was fucking gorgeous. But she wasn’t you.”

I didn’t understand a thing. I understood less than I’ve understood about men in the past 25 years. I wasn’t flattered. Nor was I insulted. Fuck me, I was baffled. I was now the top of mind visual for a guy when he was fucking even though he had never met me nor seen me without clothes.

Perhaps that is the point of online. You really don’t need anyone else to participate. You don’t even need a webcam. You sit there with your clothes on, thousands of kilometres away and it all takes place without you.

Two days ago he texted again. He was with the girl at a party. He was thinking of taking her home to fuck her. “I would rather she watched you and me.”

I was pragmatic. “Josh, that’s all very well but what if despite our individual trouble ratings, we don’t click?”

“Oh WE will. I’ll see you in October.”

And, having shown me the future, a future where most of the banter and sex took place without me (or you or anyone) he was gone again.

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