He Didn’t Make Me Cum, so I Made Him Leave

The guy who came ‘too fast’, and left even faster

This specific one-night-stand didn’t end on a sweet note, it did, nonetheless, end rather abruptly.

Less than a few years ago, I didn’t have the guts to kick a guy out because he was being selfish in bed. In my story, Sex 2.0, this is how I handled the situation back then:

When we got to his place I was bursting with excitement.

What followed was a mere ten-minute quickie before my bad-boy yawned and passed out. Grudgingly, I accepted that there was no more bursting in the cards for me that night.

Hot, bothered and somewhat befuddled, I rolled over:

— After all of that build-up, that was it?

Basically, I sucked it up, thinking that being treated like a human masturbatory tool is simply part of being a woman.

Thankfully, now I know better.

I didn’t plan for it to be a one night stand

I started out with the best of intentions, not necessarily of meeting Mr. Right—I’m not sure I believe in the concept anyway—but he seemed like someone I wanted to get to know better.

We met through a dating app and he sounded promising; also an artist—but not the starving kind, a couple of years older, tall, handsome, smart and funny.

Check—check—check—check!

When we decided to meet, as opposed to the standard drink-date, he suggested going to the pop-up amusement park.

Extra points for originality!

He was better in person than in his photos

He looked taller and more handsome in real life, and he started out talking about how he loves to spend hours cooking nice meals from scratch for his friends.

Plus five points!

We strolled around, chatting, while drinking beers, and realized we had a bunch in common, from work to interest. The conversation was flowing effortlessly.

It was smooth sailing.

We played a few games, and he won a gift for me to take home to my daughter.

Thoughtful!

We jumped on a ride that was so fast that my hat flew off. My caring date further proved his gentlemanliness and made sure it was retrieved immediately.

He kept adding points in the margin.

We talked about sex

I insistently breach the subject early, for many reasons: Firstly, sex is a big deal to me (duh!), and I could never (again) settle for an intimate relationship where that part is merely mediocre.

Secondly, I have a few less-than-vanilla preferences, and while I don’t need them all to be met (at least not with the same partner) I must know that I’m with someone who’s above average experimental and open-minded—and who won’t be taken aback by my forwardness.

I’d rather scare someone away on the first date than on the fifth…

Gentleman seemed promising here too, and by the stories he told, combined with the obvious mutual attraction, I was convinced we’d be a good match.

I gave him the green light

Call me a slut, but it’s not rare that I have sex on the first date, or at least shortly thereafter. There are a few reasons for that too, one being that as a single mom and solo parent who lives thousands of miles away from my family—and my kid’s father—my evenings off, outside my apartment, are few and far between. This also means that there aren’t that many first-dates to begin with.

I simply don’t have the capacity for multiple rendezvous before I find out whether or not we have sexual chemistry. If you pass my meticulous pre-screening process and I think we’ll eventually end up in bed, I get straight to the point.

I invited him to have a glass of wine at my place.

We didn’t have much wine

I don’t think we made it to the kitchen to get glasses before our clothes were off. After some hot kissing, he started going south.

Bonus point!

It was all going swimmingly…

Until after a bit minutes, when I requested that he changed his moves up a bit:

—Can you use your hands and mouth at the same time? (I’m a mixed-orgasm kinda gal and adding some finger-action always does the trick.)

—How about you do that to me?

—Eeeeeehm? Sure…but we’re just getting started here…

I’m more than a keen giver, so I was happy to return the favor, thinking he’d eventually resume where he left off.

I saw where things were headed

As we made our way to the bedroom, I suggested again:

— How ‘bout you make me cum first?

I didn’t assume—with a new partner and after a few drinks—that this would be an occasion where I’d orgasm during penetrative sex. And while most men seem to be pretty finished once they finish, this isn’t the case for me (and, I believe, most women).

He assured me I’d be taken care of, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and proceeded.

This is where the story should have ended

In hindsight, I should have put the breaks on right there, but being both horny and in the flow, I went with it, trusting his vow.

But alas: The fucking was fine, but done too fast. Done was also my apparently not-so gentle-man, who’s high scores were rapidly dropping.

Yawning and rolling over on his back, he sighed and exclaimed how tired he was:

— I could pass out right here. That was nice!

— Yeah, for you it was…

I gave him a cold shoulder so frigid, he felt it immediately:

— What’s up? Are you ok?

— No, I’m not ok! You dismissed my requests, got off yourself, and now you’re leaving me hanging?

—Oh, I’m sorry, he stuttered.

— You’re sorry?!? Can’t you see that I’m still naked? I’m here, lying next to you, all riled up and ready to burst, and you’re sorry? Up until a second ago, you still would have had the chance…

His last comment had just eradicated all of the accumulated gold stars.

—Ehhhmmm, yeah…I’m sorry…do you mind if I stay?

I don’t know where I’d gone wrong in my personality assessment before, but the guy was apparently dumb as a doorknob.

—Are you kidding me? I have a very important date with my vibrator, pronto, and you’re not invited!

At that point, I was fuming and the stooge was on my stoop in a zippy!

Epilogue

Now, I’m not one to keep scores: It’s not tit for tat (…). And while I certainly enjoy getting off too, I never obsessively rush to the summit. I truly and wholly relish the whole shebang, from start to end.

But this wasn’t one of those long, stretched out sessions of mutual give and take. It was the case of a lazy and selfish jerk, who, whether or not he knew better, wasn’t willing to take well-meaning instructions when served to him on a platter. And frankly, those qualities quickly outweighed all of the plus points acquired at the start of the date.

Riddle me this

This brings me to the part of this that I still don’t understand: Why is it that some will spend time and energy on reeling you in; put care and consideration into a nice date—and then—sex is on the table, and they’re so impatient to blow their loads that they don’t have the time it takes to order a beer, to make sure their date’s along for the ride?

I’ve encountered this before: I’ve been disappointed a few times, but back then I was never this vocal with my wishes during the act. It’s taken practice and some courage to learn how to unabashedly ask for what I want—to expect and demand pleasure, too. So when my requests were dismissed and ignored, I simply couldn’t stay silent:

Sex (with another person) is not a solo-ride: If you’re simply looking to jerk off, you better stick to your own hand!