Kinky is as kinky does

Strictly speaking this is a blog about my current dating experiences, but I feel compelled to share a few other stories from my past here and there which can only be described as very odd. This may lead to you draw the conclusion that I am a weirdo magnet (it takes one to know one so they say) and it’s probably true, but these are simply too good to be kept in the closet, so here is one particularly brief but true story (Barumba! But this little joke won’t pay off till you’ve read to the end).

In my 20s I dated a nice young chap with good prospects who my mum adored. He was OK looking, had a good income and drove a very nice car. Oh say no more, except that I’m always suspicious of guys my mum likes. Anyway, cut to the chase, he invited me away for the weekend and paid for us to stay in a swanky hotel in a cool little city not far away, separate rooms of course, and as ever mum was pleased. Once at the hotel we made plans to go out that evening and went to get changed, he came to collect me from my room early to go to dinner and as usual I wasn’t ready, so he hung out in my room watching telly while I finished off my make up in the bathroom. Fair enough, nothing kinky here, so off we went for a really expensive meal followed by drinks and dancing at the nightclub. Lovely.

I was having a great night and was starting to warm to the idea of going out with a proper boyfriend who was charming and polite and bought flowers and opened doors etc etc I mean what a novelty? Maybe Mum was right after all? Anyway at about 2am Mr.Smooth leans in and kisses me and asks me if I’m having a nice night? “Yes” says I (weak at the knees) “Good” says he “Because by the way, I’m wearing your knickers…” “I’m sorry what was that? It’s so loud in here that I could have sworn you said I’m wearing your knickers ha ha!” “I am” said he and matter of factly pulled down his waistband and flashed me, my own, plain, white, Marks and Spencer cotton knickers with a little satin bow at the front. “I’ve been wearing them all night.” he said with a cat’s got the cream smile. Ding dong weirdo alert. Oh shit, one of them again. I didn’t really know what to say, one of the few times in my life I’ve been stunned into silence. So OK he was a bit kinky obviously, he’d rummaged through my bag, stolen my knickers and put them on while I was getting ready. But the thing that always tickles me is that he didn’t pick any of the sexy little, black offerings I had stashed away in the bag but the boring old workaday white knickers. I mean if you’re gonna do it, do it in style right?

Needless to say he got the elbow pretty quickly. I mean I don’t want a guy who literally wants to get in my knickers! When I got home and told my mum, who let’s face it was secretly a little bit disappointed that Mr.Smooth had stuffed up, she valiantly countered with “well at least he wasn’t wearing your bra as well”. Yes Mother…. I kid you not.

marilyn and toni

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Footloose and fancy free

It’s not all bad out here you know, I did once meet a witty, charming guy online. We chatted for a while, turns out he had worked in London for a few years so we had some common ground. He was intelligent and funny, and told great stories about his time in the UK.

I was quite into his vibe and was really flattered and a bit surprised that he’d actually read my profile (tick) and remembered stuff like my love of art and shoes (double tick).  He mentioned Northampton and a really well known shoemaker, which kinda put me to shame because I’d never heard of them before! And there was me thinking I was a shoe aficionado… d’oh.

Anyway we agreed to meet for a drink somewhere quiet and romantic with sweeping views, I won’t deny I had high hopes for this one! I turned up bang on time with the usual waves of sickness and clammy hands and made my way to the bar. I sat at the bar and waited.. a few minutes later he breezed in all clouds of aftershave and ruffled hair, he’d made an effort and thrown on a jacket, he looked quite dapper actually, things were looking up! As he sat down he glanced down at my new green and black wedges dangling off the bar stool “Wow, lovely shoes. Size 6?”. I nearly fell off my chair. When has a man ever, I mean ever, noticed my heels? No matter how pretty or ridiculous? And whatsmore how did he get my size spot on? Weird but also kinda nice. This must be one of those metro men right? And when he mentioned getting his daughters some fake Burberry dresses from Asia on a recent trip I was pretty impressed. I mean he didn’t look gay…

And so we had the second date. Let’s face it, it’s the make or break moment. We had a nice couple of drinks and some food and then he invited me back to see his chandaliers. No it’s not a euphemism, well at least I didn’t think so at the time, I know it sounds dodgy but his business was round the corner and I’m a sucker for a gorgeous chandalier. When we got to the shop he flicked the light and it was like Aladdin’s cave I mean there were all sorts of pretty lamps and lights. I guess I must have been a bit dazed, like a rabbit in the headlights, with all the pretty glowing things, because I agreed to go upstairs for a tea (he lived in the flat above). I remember climbing the stairs and thinking “shit no-one knows where I am…” oh well in for a penny.

His flat looked like a tramp lived in it, there was stuff everywhere and old, baked on food all over the counters, things piled up in the corners and stuff chucked out on the balcony. It was like the apocalypse. Hmmmm not quite what I expected. Anyway tea made, he came over to sit next to me on the couch and promptly swung my legs over his knee, took off my shoes and started massaging my feet! Yew! My feet were hot and sweaty and I really didn’t want a massage. What’s worse he took one look at my toes and muttered “Naughty, naughty you didn’t paint you pinkies!”. I had been in a hell fire rush to leave for the date that night and I did that lazy trick of only painting the nails you can see… well that kinda did for it me, the guy was obviously a foot fetishist and it was weirding me out. I don’t normally have virtual strangers vigorously kneading my feet, I mean I look back on it now and I’m grateful he didn’t try and suck my toe! Yuck. I made my excuses and sprinted out the door. This time I got no escort to my car, even though it was midnight and my car was parked quite a distance away (cross).

Not long after that night I got text asking me to do a lot of walking around so I could “wear my footsies out ready for another massage”. Euch! My foot fetish radar was going off loud and clear. It brings a whole new meaning to the Cinderella tale, I mean Prince Charming would be nice, but as long as he stays well away from my feet and my shoes. Knowing my luck he’d be one of those that wanted to wear my shoes out himself!

footloose