Exquisite Torture.... (pen-pals from across the pond, part2)

Exquisite Torture

McDreamy and I made a date for the night he arrived in the states.  I have to admit I was half wishing that the chemistry wouldn’t be there and my Catalyst would be right, “British men ARE Tossers.”  Yeah, Catalyst isn’t a big fan of his fellow countrymen.  We agreed to meet at a restaurant downtown, neither of us had been there of course, but I had heard about it from a Friend.  It turned out that it was a quiet, small and groovy kinda dive with a very eclectic venue and crowd…it was perfect!

I walked in the door and McDreamy stood up when he saw me…all 6 foot, 4 inches of him! I try not to be a height snob, I really do, but a tall man just does something to me…I think I like being towered over and I have no idea why.  Oh, he was so much dreamier in person, in fact, his hair was different than his pictures and he looked even more handsome and younger than portrayed.  His fitted tshirt and jeans, his glowing perfect skin…oh, I digress…anyway, after some British-English to American-English menu translations we figured out what we wanted to order and could now concentrate on just each other.

Before the drinks were even served, the chemistry was the most intense of any date I’ve been on, yes, even better than with Catalyst!  There was a lot of flirting, a lot of referring to past emails and also a lot of heartfelt conversation too.  His eye contact was captivating…it astounds me how poorly some men are at it in general.   I have to be honest, by the end of the meal, I was literally having the inside shakes you can get from something other than being cold.  I’ve had them after a really good orgasm or a highly emotional event but there was no sure explanation from these except the intense connection and chemistry we were feeling.

He paid the check and we walked around downtown, neither of us familiar with where we were actually going.  Suddenly we happened to look at each other, stop walking, all of that pent up desire through dinner just poured out and we were kissing passionately before we knew it. It was a great kiss, it was delicious and I wanted so many more.   We found an English pub on our walk and he wanted to go in, which was kinda cute since he had been in Britain just a few hours before.  It was not a popular place that night, just us and another couple, but we didn’t care and acted half our age.  We were so into each other, couldn’t sit close enough, or in that moment, experience enough of each other…mind, soul or body.

Before we knew it, our time was coming to a close and Jet lag was starting to set in on poor McDreamy as it was nearly 2am his time.  We got in my car so I could drop him off at his hotel and well, it was on.  The most impeccable kisses I’ve had in such a long time, hands everywhere and a keen awareness of how aroused we both were.  I didn’t exactly keep my first date/first base rule, our situation was so unique, but I did not go into his hotel with him which took tremendous restraint, I assure you.

When we got to the hotel, we both got out of the car to get a proper hug and kiss goodbye. His long, lovely arms just wrapped right around me. Being an arm and eye gal, those arms were perfectly how I like them.  We both talked about the torture and temptation we were feeling…wanting something so badly but realizing there are obstacles between us, like the Atlantic Ocean for one. 

There was such a bittersweet awareness that we only had THIS time and THIS place and THIS amazing chemistry, such a secret treasure we’d found.  It was all somehow beautiful, despite unmet desires and possibilities we could not entertain.  Although there are no adequate words for our unique experience, “exquisite torture’ is the most accurate description I can find.  Yes, exquisite torture both erotic and arousing, pleasing and yet, frustrating too.

He sent me an email the next morning telling me his first impression of me and said “I thought you are lovely, with SUCH sensual eyes and this loving caring nature which felt like you would REALLY look after my sexual needs .... does that make sense??”   It made perfect sense because it IS who I am and who I truly aspire to be!  It’s also proof positive that these wonderful British creatures I find so irresistible, with seemingly little time together, just “get me!”

So once again, an Englishman fits me so much better than local friends, therefore, I really must start saving for a trip to London to further my “purely academic" research.   Knowing it was well worth it, I’d happily take more days like this perfect one…. yes, sign me up for more days filled with possibilities and desires that can only lead to exquisite torture.

Pen-pals from across the pond

Pen-pals from across the pond 

It started innocently…I was trying to get through having my heart a little broken and wasn’t quite ready to go out and date a lot even though I am really looking for a full blown relationship. So I thought it might be fun to place an ad for a pen-pal in London.   I don’t know why I can talk to Englishmen so easily about most anything, but it just is.  Granted, there are some American men that I can do this with, but they seem to be needles in haystacks and who has the time for that when you know you have Brits just waiting to send emails?

The ad read something like this:

“I am looking for an email friend only. I am an American southern belle who has previously dated a couple of expats. I find they really know how to speak to a woman's mind and I miss the type of great conversations I've had with them.   I'm a divorced business owner and mom and enjoy talking about any and everything. I even like it when someone thinks the opposite of the way I do bc that is how I learn.

So if you want some quality conversation, fun banter and a friend, please reply.

Put your favorite drink in the title.”

I got a bunch of replies, but eventually it was weeding down to three, then two.  One was a slightly older gentleman who truly makes a great, platonic pen-pal from another country. I will call him “dear John” as he is sending me long and copious emails each day, detailing the current happenings in the UK, whilst giving me history behind so many things.  He’s a lawyer, an avid photographer and cleverly includes all sorts of links and pictures for me to learn more.  Sometimes the emails are quite long, given my much shorter replies, but for me but they are fun because he puts so much into them. 

The other man I continued to chat with, I will call him “McDreamy”…if Grey’s Anatomy can have one damn it, I can too.  Boy was he dreamy…absolutely gorgeous, especially for a British man, and quite successful too.  We sent a few emails back and forth before exchanging pictures and I honestly thought he was too good-looking to be real, so the picture must be a fake…hey, I watch “Catfish!” 

After another few emails, he stated that he was coming to my state soon for a conference and was it near where I lived.  Turned out it was just an hour away.  At this point, I was still fairly certain he was not who he said he was, but we continued to chat about life, work and then, my favorite subject, sex.  I will admit it wasn’t long before our emails got quite steamy. 

With the time difference, both Dear John and McDreamy had a typical pattern to when they would email, but my favorite time started being 3:30pm when I knew McDreamy would start emailing me for the rest of his night.  Before the end of the our time together that day, we would find ourselves in a highly aroused state and I think we both enjoyed this element between us. Okay, I have proof we did.

Now, when I ran this ad, I entertained no thoughts of actually meeting anyone from the ad unless some year I decided to conquer my dislike of long flights and fly across the pond to fully immerse myself in Englishman bliss! But as McDreamy and I continued to email knowing he was soon visiting my state, it meant that I could further my “purely academic” research on my chemistry with Brits.  But I was also more nervous than even when I’ve meet online American men.  I guess feeling more removed (proximity wise) I wasn’t sure I could read how sincere he was, if he was a con artist, if he was just after sex, if he had a girl in every city he traveled to and finally, if that picture of this beautiful man was actually a picture of the McDreamy I was getting to know through email. 

Thanks to watching a lot of the ways Nev and Max check people out on Catfish, I did a google image search.  I found another picture of the same gorgeous man to what seemed like a legitmate twitter account with a first and last name.  I googled his full name (which I did not know at that point) and found his LinkedIn account. Ding-ding….my favorite form of online positive ID!   

He had a very impressive resume and I told myself this was still too good to be true.  LinkedIn has a feature where you can see who has viewed your profile and I noticed he had looked at mine too. However, because he didn't mention my savvy detective skills, I convinced myself there was a strange man in London who clicked on my profile, puzzled that a girl in the US, in a completely unrelated line of work had been viewing his profile. In fact, I even tried to trick McDreamy into taking a pic of himself during our regular chat during his lunch time. I explained how I loved  a man in a suit and asked for a snapshot so I could see a spur of the moment pic and if it was really him.  He resisted several times but when I pushed, he said “you’ve already seen me in a suit today…on LinkedIn!” 

Did I win the Englishman pen-pal lottery? Was there such a thing and I was unaware? Oh there really should be a lottery like that…I’d go poor buying up tickets!

Was he really McDreamy in person?  To find out, read tomorrow’s blog...

My real-life episode of Sex and the City

This experience could totally be an episode of Sex in the City.  It was one of those times that you are scrolling an inner dialog thinking, “Did this just really happen, or have I been slipped a mickey and imagined it all?”

For whatever reason, I tend to attract and get on well with British men, my BFF says I’m a Brit magnet.  My own theory is because they know HOW, and more importantly, WANT to get to know a woman’s mind.  Or at least find out what you really think about things and then say great lines like “You have a brilliant mind!”  Hey, it works on me.  I find most American men don’t care at all what we think and it drives me crazy.  If I could find a way to only date expats I would be a happy girl, no not because of the accent, but let’s be honest, it is definitely a bonus!

I happened upon “Brit2” online.  We actually had sent long and frequent emails and texts off and on for weeks.  He was more reserved as all Englishmen are,  and therefore took his time before setting up a lunch.  (I now have my own policy not to talk to anyone longer than two weeks online before meeting in person, but hey, I was still a rookie.)    He, like catalyst, requested we not exchange photos, which on the upside makes you feel like a kid on Christmas morning when you are about to meet. 

I asked him to meet me at my Indian restaurant for lunch.  He was extremely laid back, very British-looking, very interesting to chat with and we were having a brilliant time.  He suavely came over to my side of the booth and sat next to me and that’s when I started feeling sparks. 

Unfortunately, I had an appointment with my trainer about an hour and a half after we met so there wasn’t a chance to linger.  However, he did a very sweet thing, followed me to the gym and then we talked and kissed in the parking lot for a couple of minutes and went our separate ways.  Overall, I felt we had a very good date and I was looking forward to seeing and kissing him again.

We texted more that day but I actually had a dinner date too.  My dinner date, who I will call Mr Green, had met online just a couple of days before.  He had been honest enough to tell me he hadn’t quite left his wife yet and seemed to be a big mess.  Call me a softie but I remember feeling helpless at first so I offered to meet him for dinner, but made it very clear I was just paying it forward and wasn’t interested in anything more than being his friend.  He agreed and then picked a very nice restaurant for us, actually.

Honestly, I let him do most of the talking.  And boy did he spill his guts, including telling me he had barely had any sex in 15 years because he couldn’t get it up because he might be attracted to men and was confused.  This was a little more than I bargained for...this man didn’t need a friend, he needed a therapist!

My safety friend checked in and I replied “I’m fine…he’s harmless.”

We were about an hour into it when I say “I really wanted to go ahead and meet you b/c someone paid it forward to me, he was my catalyst and I want to be able to do the same for other people.”   Then I happen to mention right after that my Catalyst was British and he immediately hops on it and it says “Your British friend doesn’t happen to be named ‘*******’ does it?  He’s in a science occupation and lives in a xyz town?”  He perfectly described Brit2…my lunch date!

I’m an open book, an honest gal, as real as they come so I replied, “No, catalyst name is ****, but I had lunch with ****** earlier today!”  I sat there, mouth gaping at how odd this was turning out to be…I mean I was already inwardly gasping at all the crazy personal sexual stuff he shared and now this!

Mr Green then says “Oh, well my wife had a fling with him {Brit2} years ago!”  Then he went on to tell me details of that and he and his wife’s situation and that she also might be gay.  I’m not a judgmental person…the only time I tend to have opinions is when people won’t just be who they are and own up to their flaws and mistakes. 

Shortly after this, he went to the restroom, during which time I did what ANY girl would do…I texted my two best girlfriends and said “Meet me for coffee at 8:45…I am having the craziest experience and will ONLY tell you in person!  You are NOT going to believe it!”

We ended the date and Mr Green wanted to know what I was going to do about Brit2.  I said I wasn’t sure yet, but told him I would not tell Brit2 any of what he told me. 

So I sped to where both the gals were waiting for me with coffee.  I was about to burst because I wanted to laugh and roll my eyes at myself.  We get through the preliminary hi’s and they had all kinds of grand ideas about what I had to tell them but of course, who the hell could guess the truth?

I start relaying the story of the date and then I said “And then he tells me that Brit2 and his wife had an affair years ago!”  They gasped and then guffawed!  This could only happen to me.  What are the fucking chances that I could meet two men in the same day, from two different dating sites, and end up going out with men who had that kind of coincidence?  Life is stranger than fiction.

As we sipped our coffee and ate our blackberry cobbler while laughing at my day, that’s when I knew I was in my very own episode of sex and the city, only I was wearing slightly more comfortable shoes.  

Sex and Spice and everything nice

I had only tried Indian food one time before I met Catalyst.  I went with one of my friends who is a vegetarian figuring she would know all about I but it turned out that it was her first time too, so we ate some mighty tasty spicy food that we had no idea how to pronounce or interprets!  Even before “meeting” Catalyst in person, he talked about curry coma’s and naan bread so much that I found myself going to the Indian restaurant just so I could have a point of reference.  I would get stuff off the buffet, text him a picture and he would tell me about it with great flourish and detail.   I even got invited to a birthday dinner to a upscale Indian restaurant…he was so kind to look online at the menu and help me place my order.  That was quite a day, now that I recall…not only furthering my Indian food education, but the beginning of so much more for us. 

We texted about everything and yes, we started texting loads about sex too.  We talked about our past experiences, both good and bad.  His ex-wife had been a lot more adventurous than my ex, so he would share about things I’d never heard anyone talk about and sadly, how he had only received one blow job that ended terribly and never had another.  We talked about what we liked and didn’t like or would like to experience.  We talked about safe sex and getting tested for STD’s, birth control and more. 

Eventually, we even sexted…in fact, the first time we did was the very day of that birthday dinner.  It all started when I mentioned that I was going to read a book that everyone was talking about called “50 Shades of Grey.”  He said he had just gone to lunch with folks from work and they were talking about it.  At this point, I genuinely had no idea what the book was about, but he had learned on his lunch break and there, started our natural flow of conversation that led to my first experiences in sexting.  I was noticeably hot and bothered during that birthday dinner because we just couldn’t stop the naughty talk.  If only those gals knew why I was so attached to my phone that day, even I would have been blushing!  Although it was all new to actually type some of THOSE words, it felt exhilarating, freeing and honestly, natural somehow.

  There seems to be a lot of misconceptions about what sexting is and is not, and I supposed it can be different for each person.  For me, it is talking about what you wish you were doing to your guy and him in turn, talking about what he wishes he was doing to you.  Sometimes it ends with mutual satisfaction, sometimes not.  For some reason, sexting is just a little,well, a lot more exciting when you know at least one of you is in a crowded place or meeting, etc.  We’ve heard a lot about “sexting” recently because of Anthony Weiner.  However, they’ve only mentioned sending pictures and being that women aren’t visually stimulated for the most part (no, guys, pictures of your finer parts do not make us want to instantly jump you), I find this to be a very incomplete definition.    Regardless of the definition, everyone should give it a try with your significant other…”try it Mikie, you might like it!”

Finally the day came where Catalyst and I were both ready to make all those fantasies a reality, or something to that effect!  The good point of sexting before actually being with someone new is, you get a fairly good idea of what they really like and what might be a turn off to them.   For instance, I knew what had went wrong with that BJ (too much teeth) and wanted nothing more than to change his negative experience into a positive one. 

Both of us took off from work to have our first time together.   As soon as my kids were on the bus, I drove about an hour to his apartment.  I was so excited, so nervous, but yeah, more excited than anything else.  Okay that’s not totally it, after weeks of sexting  I was also horny, really horny. 

From our sexting, I knew Catalyst liked bra and panties but not necessarily lingerie, so I had bought a very sexy lacy pair of panties and a lacy bra.  It’s funny when you know you are PLANNING to have sex…especially when it will always go down in your history book.  Remember this was my first time post-divorce and second person ever, so there was some pressure building!  

Well, we did a quick little introduction, we were still standing just inside the doorway.  Catalyst gently grabbed my face started kissing me and I believe that it was maybe 4 minutes before he was approving of my lacy undergarments!  Remember it was just 9am…and being a bachelor, he had blinds but not curtains, so it was complete daylight!  There was no way to hide my lumps and bulges, the signs of gravity, all of the imperfection…yikes!   Lucky for us ladies, men have a tell-tale physical sign of their approval, so there’s no second guessing there…whew.  I did have to learn that when a Brit says “Nice” it’s not the same as an American one.  Nice is the kiss-of-death from an American man, but for a reserved Englishman, it means “wOwZer!”  But they would never say that. 

I won’t go through all the explicit details, but it was way better than my honeymoon…way better than even my best experience with my ex-husband…way better than any of that sexting and so much better than I had imagined.   Yes we did a lot of things we had talked about…he introduced me to new physical experiences guaranteed to be added to my repertoire…so again in another way, ever earning the moniker “Catalyst!”

Can we say SEVENTEEN ORGASMS?  Well I probably couldn’t when he got finished with me.  It was like something hidden away for so many years, broke inside of me.  Now, my ex-husband was good to me…I always got one, maybe two orgasms on occasions.  But let me just say, he could never find the g-spot, although I’m pretty sure if I had put a field goal pole there he might have tried harder but nope, he was never patient enough to really try.  However, Catalyst knew just where to find me, he knew just where to touch me, he knew just where to put his hands, use his mouth, make me feel every bit as sexual as I always knew I was and he made orgasms roll out of me over and over again.  I had no idea my body could even respond that way!   

After three hours of intense pleasure, we had to do what any reasonable, curry-loving, post-orgasmic people would do.  We took a break and went to the Indian restaurant.   I sat across from him, enjoying our food, listening to him tell me more about what I was eating, all the while wondering if the other people in the restaurant could see any signs of what had just happened to me.   Could anyone else see that I had just had this life-changing sexual experience?  Did anyone look at my messed up makeup and semi-mussed hair and then give Catalyst a knowing glance or thumbs up?  Wait…what did Catalyst just say about Dahl?   My mind was mush.

Catalyst had coined a term “curry coma” for that endorphine release you feel after eating very spicy food.  We got back to his apartment and lay on the bed…content.   But before we left our happy little bubble where he would return to work and I would go back to suburbia and mommy world, we just had to have more of each other.   There was more kissing, more touching, more all-things-oral, more completion of pleasure and more contentment for both of us. 

I drove home in a blissful daze, giggling and smiling all along the way.  I sat on my own couch with my mind and body completely exhausted in the best way possible.  I don’t remember a lot more about the rest of the day, but I do know this…now every time I have sex, I have this overwhelming and certain craving for Indian food. 

 I’ll admit I’m addicted…to curry, that is, okay and maybe earth-shattering orgasms too!  If only those were as easy to acquire as good Tikka Masala!