I Can’t Find an Affair Partner

My Picker is Broken

Is my “picker” broken? I can’t find a good lover for the life of me this time around.

From time wasters to flakes to terrible conversations to strange kinks, I can’t get a break. Last time I looked, a year and a half ago, it felt relatively effortless, at least compared to now.

It wasn’t effortless, of course.

The search sucks.

But I met maybe a half-dozen men and then “the one” and breathed a sigh of relief.

It’s over. Thank God, I don’t have to look anymore. Please be good in bed. Please.

My ex was.

I couldn’t have wished for a better lover. He was the best I’ve ever had. In fact, he was so good that it was bad. Because the bar is too high now. No one else will measure up.

And I don’t mean literally. I mean figuratively. His dick was an average size and thickness. It was all the rest. The sheer willingness to do whatever to please me, make me cum. His unabashed desire. His inventiveness.

“How’s this? Is this good?” watching my body.

“If that’s not great, let’s try this,” he’d say.

I try not to compare potential lovers because they will all fall short. And I gave myself plenty of time to “get over” him. A half a year. I’m looking without his shadow looming over me, even though I remembered his every touch.

Having conversations via text with unfamiliar men is leaving much to be desired.

“Hey, I love that thong pic in your profile.”

“What thong pic?”

“I thought you had one,” he texted trying to recover.

That would be the other women you are messaging.

“I have modest pics up,” I said.

“Mine are modest too,” he quickly pulled through.

Should I quit while I’m ahead? His profile was good…

“Have you met any women from here?”

“No not yet. Just looking.”

That’s obvious.

“You?” he asked.

“Chatting with a few. Have met one or two guys.” I should burst into flames at this point. I’ve met about twenty. I try to block them out in my mind. I’ll never get the hours back. Caffeine buzz, yes. At least I got a coffee for my misery.

“I have long-term affairs, so I like to take my time looking,” I text. Lie. I am striking out left and right. If I could find a suitable partner, I’d jump in a hotel bed STAT. It hasn’t happened, though.

“What makes you want to look?” I ask.

“My wife has lost her libido and we have nearly no sex.”

Nearly no sex. That could mean once a week, once a month, once every couple of months. I wonder what this guy qualifies as “nearly no sex.” I bet his wife thinks they are “just fine.”

I don’t ask for clarification. I don’t want to know. Let me hold on to this tiny sliver of a dream for a bit longer. My hopes will be dashed soon.

“I don’t have sex at home. ED. He won’t get help.”

“How did you make it through those years of abstinence?”

“Lots of masturbation and toys. 😛”

“I seem to find videos of women masturbating very erotic,” he replies. Really? You and the other million men on the internet watching cam girls strip and fuck themselves with dildos. I’m shocked.

“I think toys can be fun,” I said.

I have a treasure trove of toys. It’s close to a porn shop in my bedside drawer. A small understatement.

“Have you ever had a remote-controlled toy in you?”

This is a new one. This guy wants to test drive my clit before he meets? Woah.

“Sounds interesting.”

The issue was whether I wanted to be on board for this new kink parade. I’ve heard so many. “You want me to dominate you.” “I’ll make you crave me.” “You have never had a man like me.” “You’ll enjoy it and ask for more.” “I want to punish you, bad girl.” “You will remember me.” “I’m going to make your head spin.” “Get back to me when you want a real man.”

Err, no.

I’m out.

My “picker” broke. I’m sure of it.

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