30 Days of First Dates
The Frotteur come Swinger
*All names have been changed and any connection made is purely coincidental*
Arranged to meet Harvey in a pub in the town centre; I rushed because I thought that I was going to be late, however no need to worry as he was 15 minutes late anyway but at least he had the decency to text me and inform me of his tardiness. I went inside the pub alone and windswept, looking like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards and I ordered myself a pinot, briefly considered getting him a pint but the thought disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. Good job because he was enduring Dry January and drank 2 cokes, 1 latte and 1 pint of lemonade. Yes he needed a toilet break in between. I had one glass of wine and accidentally knocked it over when he informed me, about 20 mins into the date, that his last date dragged him to a swinger’s sex club and stripped down to her bra and pants!
He said, ‘I will leave you with that thought’ and scooted off to the bar to replace my wine. He returned with a small pinot and continued to inform my horrified face that he didn’t partake in the frolics and only indulged in a little voyeurism and I think he was testing the water, especially after his last beverage when he literally reached out and grabbed a handful (my bottom!) I punched him on the bicep and thought never again. This bloke did not need Dutch courage and I dread to think how forward he would have been had he been drinking his usual drink of choice, JD and coke.
Now don’t get me wrong I am open minded and so not a prude but come on! My punch was delayed by a few seconds because I think that I dissociated immediately (my coping mechanism) but then when I realised that, yes this bloke has just copped a feel, my fiery side kicked in. Not only had this guy subtly suggested that I nip a few streets down to partake in some kind of far-out fornication (where women were honoured with free entry but men had to pay £25) but he had also touched an intimate part of me and I don’t mean my heart.
When I punched him I thought, wow his muscles are hard and then banished this thought because my future choice of man can in no way be influenced by the old me and what I would have deemed acceptable and possibly fooled myself into believing was endearment (hence another reason I am single at 40). Bottom line the jerk felt me up, he was a frotteur and that is actually illegal. I could go as far to say, in this politically correct world that we find ourselves in, that it was sexual abuse, I certainly didn’t consent to it but I won’t because he could have me for assault and I will probably get threats via the trolls.
So needless to say this date is definitely going down as a loss and puts my score at -1. Great start!
Downside: My love for this charming City has been ruined with the thoughts of every other door being a ‘swinging’ one.
Upside: If I change my mind on the above I now have the address.
*By the way I am in no way suggesting that I am all that and were he to write about his first dates I would no doubt have come across as frigid and stuck up, especially when he asked me my opinion of sex clubs and I looked at him like he had shit on my great grandmother and sat with my arms tightly folded around myself for the duration; however he did text me afterwards asking;
‘What do you want?’ I replied.
And as if the caressing cruiser had not left enough of a sleazy impression he texted;
‘A cheeky pic would be nice!’
‘You have just lost my respect!’
Hopefully he has got the message and will lose my number too.
Onwards and upwards.
Link to my book The Unconventional Life of Jenna Jaghe: