Baby, Can I Hold You

The First Time

April 29, 2025

dating

The first time I met you I liked you immediately. I had just gotten my haircut that day and it was about half an inch too short. It felt like my hair that short just highlighted how round my face was, I was self conscious about it. But you were quick to say you didn’t think it was too short.

I was wearing that dress that had a deep V neckline. And you were fairly obvious in your interest as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from my cleavage. You even said early on that it was a great dress and that I looked good in it. And I felt good when you said it. I felt good as you looked at me.

I liked you from our messaging. I liked that you understood how (over) emotional I am and responded to it in your typical few words with a bit of humour thrown in. We always had things to talk about and in person, conversation flowed pretty naturally too.

I liked that you brought your dog with you. That we sat at that table with our knees bumping against each other. I don’t remember everything we talked about that night but I do remember you complaining about something. The way your body aches and you can’t do things you used to do when you were younger perhaps. I remember I said ‘are we at that part of that evening where we talk about our failing bodies and how we’re so old?’ and you said with laughter in your eyes ‘Is that not appealing?’ And it absolutely was. So appealing. There was an easiness to the way you could make me laugh.

I remember looking at you thinking I love your face. And your eyes, the shape of your mouth. The way your face went a little red in a blush sometimes. I remember trying to subtly look at your hands, that I liked the shape of you. And I knew I wanted to touch you. I wish I could remember if I touched you that night. My hand on your arm or your thigh. Or if I just thought really hard that I wanted to put my hand there.

Eventually the date had to come to an end. You needed to get your dog home. You walked me back to my car and when I pointed out which car was mine you said ‘oh nice’ in a way that I still don’t understand what you meant. But it’s such a small thing that I would have been embarrassed to ask.

I wondered what a kiss from you would be like all evening. And when it happened, I think I was fairly stunned. It was short, close-mouthed. And all the full body contact that I was hoping for never materialised and as I got in my car I thought ‘that was a very respectful kiss’ … and I thought we need a second kiss. A better one. Luckily we got it.

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Dates Gone Wrong vol. 2

April 28, 2025

sex

What dating does is that it starts to make me question my own ability to judge a person’s character. A person that seems so with it and considerate and really respectful ends up being the worst kind of person. Or at least that’s what happened in this case.

I had met him online. His profile was interesting, engaging. Definitely showed off his personality, that he was funny. Messaging that confirmed that too. And it wasn’t one-sided. He asked me questions, paid attention to the answers. I was feeling really seen in our interactions.

After several weeks of messaging, we decided to meet up for a drink. We decided on this cool space halfway between both of us. I told him that I’d never been before and when I asked him about the parking situation he seemed to understand the underlying anxiety I have about driving new places and specifically for parking. He gave me really detailed instructions on how to get to the place and suggested that we meet at the top story of the car park (where there was more space for me to park!) and he’d walk with me to the place. I wholeheartedly agreed.

And we had a great evening. I thought so at the time. Looking back on it? There was probably a red flag I missed about how much he talked, how much time he spent telling stories. Stories that were long, detailed and told to elicit specific responses. But I thought he was funny and interesting. We kissed in the car park at the end of the evening and it was nice. Maybe didn’t set my world on fire but it was nice. He was nice.

We carried on messaging but hadn’t had a chance to meet again for another few weeks. When I mentioned my birthday was the next week he offered a birthday ‘gift’ in the form of getting a day use hotel to spend the day naked in bed together. It was unusual but I was in a period of time where I was saying ‘yes’ to more things so I said ‘yes’ to this.

And it started well. We talked for ages lying next to each other on the bed. Catching each other up on things going on in our lives. When things led into sex, he asked me about my boundaries. What things do I like, what do I not like. What can’t be done, what should absolutely happen. And while it felt a little clinical and unsexy, I at least liked the intent.

And things were nice the first time. I felt we both really enjoyed each other. Then as we laid next to each other catching our breath, he started talking. And he did not stop talking for the next four hours. No exaggeration there. Four hours. And while some of that talking was interesting and funny, some of it was concerning.

There was a lot of complaining that at first sounded humorous and lighthearted. About his manager, his friends’ partners, his colleagues. But the accumulation of complaints felt overwhelming after awhile. And a lot of it was Not Good. Especially when it got into talking about his ex, the mother of his child. That he’s had a tumultuous relationship with, apparently. That also included his convicted assault against her. That he mentioned so casually in conversation. Like, no big deal. He even admitted it. That he’d done it, that he’d felt justified in it. That he’d do it again.

I’ve felt unsafe with men before. But I felt unsafe in this moment so much more than I had before. Being naked. Being in a hotel room with him. Not knowing what to say, how to react. How I could (safely) extract myself from this situation. In the end, timing and a bit of a medical mishap saved the day. Not only did we need to checkout by a certain time but he had a flareup of a medical issue that meant that we both needed to get dressed and go.

So I did. And I never saw him again. I blocked his number and I hope to never feel so unsafe again.

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Dear Person I Just Had Sex With,

April 25, 2025

dating, sex

Ugh. I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit. You talked a good game about wanting friendship, suggesting doing datey things. But literally hours after you pulled out of me you send a text asking to just be friends? What a d-bag.

I don’t for a minute think that’s a coincidence. Your whole aim was to get a leg over and once you got that? Moved on.

I took it fairly personally at first. I asked myself what is it about me that this happened? But it’s not me, is it? It says so much more about you than it does about me.

And you wanting to ‘commit to something wholesome’ in your future dating actually makes my skin crawl now. The fact that you look down on the women you have sex with and wouldn’t consider those people potential relationship material fills me with so much regret.

Treat women better. And just generally do better.

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Touch

April 24, 2025

poetry, sex

Your hand gently stroking my thigh

Talking on your sofa about birds

Our knees touching

As my heart beat faster wondering how long this part would last

The not knowing

The wanting of more

The way your lips finally touched mine

Tentatively at first then hungrily

Your hardness pressed against the center of me in that way that made me gasp and hold you closer

Later, naked

The clash of our bodies together

The way you teased my nipple

And licked my neck

My hands on your back

My legs circling you

Pulling you, wanting you deep inside me

The way I touched your face and asked if you were okay after

As you smiled

And how my body sought out yours

A long cuddle in the comedown

Laughing about who even remembers what

Your hand finding my thigh again

A few hours later you send a message asking to just be friends

And all that touch feels like regret

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Wedding Guest

April 17, 2025

sex

Have you ever been so bored with your life that you invite trouble into it?

Towards the end of my marriage when I knew things were over I found myself making choices that probably weren’t great for me. But because I’d already mentally given up, I was sucked into that exhilarating feeling of freedom. Of choices, of possibility. It was intoxicating and I started to seek it out.

I ended up online looking for places where I could talk to people about sex, or fantasies, where people were more open about desire. Naturally, places like that end up being fairly gross with some very questionable people but I feel like as it quite often happens, I end up attracting the right sort of people to me. And that’s how it happened. Where I met him.

This man was pure sex. And sex appeal. He had plenty of interesting things to talk about, he was really engaging and charming. Funny. But the sexiest thing about him was how he saw me. He paid attention and nothing turns me on more. He was also just so clear about his intentions towards me. I lean towards needing reassurance but it was never needed with him. He told me all the time what he thought about me, what he wanted to do together. He was so open about sex that it had me exploring different sexual interests with him and he was so accepting of me as a person. All of me.

I’d say things like I had a dream in which I was having sex with a man. And when I thought about the dream afterward I’d think about the dream as me, as a woman, feeling the pleasure of having sex. Sometimes, I’d think about the dream but would pull away and watch as though out of my body and it was sexy to watch this couple. And then, sometimes I was the man. And at this time I wasn’t that comfortable with my own sexuality, with my own pleasure, with watching, with the idea of playing with sexual norms. But his acceptance of it, the way he found it sexy that I was exploring this made me accept it too.

He was also just really honest with me. It wasn’t a natural thing for him to open up and answer my endless questions about things he would have never considered or given any thought to normally but he did. For me. We talked about infidelity, what it felt like when he met someone new, the rush of new person energy. The way his job made him feel and how meeting women helped ease something in him that was created by his stressful, uncertain job. The way he opened up to me was such an aphrodisiac. I love the closeness it brings, the intimacy of sharing yourself with another person.

At the time all this was going on, I was working as a retail manager in a busy shop in a new shopping centre. He lived maybe 30 minutes away from me and on his off days he’d message me all the time, even during work. I’d be busy unpacking a big delivery, check my phone and find 11 messages from his describing a fantasy he’d just had about me. Or he’d follow up with more thoughts on something I’d asked him previously. And all of the messaging while at work would get into my brain and I ended up having all of these racing thoughts.

I’d start to imagine what it would be like if he decided to go further afield to a shopping centre to pick up some things and maybe it would be the shopping centre I worked in. Maybe he’d walk into my shop. Maybe he’d pass me as I went out on my lunch break, maybe we’d be in the same queue line in Boots. Whenever I went out on my breaks at work I’d have this thought in my head. Any one of these people could be him. And I’d feel this almost constant tension, this need for him.

I also can’t stress enough how much this man was into me. He would tell me all the time how much he thought how my brain worked was incredibly sexy or how he loved seeing me grow in sexual confidence. And he’d follow it up by saying let’s meet. It can be us talking about anything or everything but let it also be me straddling his cock. His sexual energy was in everything he said but not in a creepy way. It felt like us having sex was just a natural extension of our connection in other ways.

But I’d always say to him, I don’t know, I don’t if I can meet him.

Because I was still married. Even though I was already preparing my exit strategy, even though I knew in my heart that it was over but I still felt something about my marriage. About loyalty and commitment to my (now) ex. I felt like I was okay at that time about things happening online. Flirting online wasn’t cheating, was it? Completely ignoring that sharing so much with this man about sex, fantasies and desires was so much more than ‘flirting’. But once it got into meeting people face to face that’s when I started to think, how can that ever be justified? So he kept asking and I kept saying no. (I didn’t always say ‘no’ but that’s a story for another time.)

And that’s how this fantasy built. It started off as a dream but when I woke up I added to it, filled it in more.

I’m at a wedding reception and it’s in one of those fancy estate houses, with a really large house and massive beautiful gardens that are well maintained. I’m in a pretty dress and heels, I’ve come to this wedding on my own and I’m talking to a group of people I know reasonably well but aren’t particularly close with. We’re in the gardens and it’s a gorgeous summer day with the sun out. I remember the feel of the fabric of my dress, that I feel good in this dress, I like the shape of it, the colour of it.

I am laughing and smiling with the group I’m with and over the shoulder of the person I’m talking to, I see him. I’m with the bride’s group of friends, but I can see that he’s clustered with a group of friends that know the groom, all wearing suits, ties having been abandoned, their shirts unbuttoned and more relaxed. But he’s not paying attention to the people he’s with, he’s looking at me. Only me. And with this intensity in his gaze.

I stop laughing abruptly when I see him from the shock of it. How can he be here? But I quickly go back to the conversation I’m having, afraid that someone else will notice and ask how I know this man who keeps staring at me, why he has such an effect on me.

I do my best to engage in conversation but I turn slightly so I can keep him in my sights, even now as my heartbeat is racing I don’t want to turn away from him. When he starts moving towards me with purpose in his steps, I catch his eye and sort of shake my head like don’t do this. And I hope he can see the panic in my eyes.

But he’s still walking towards me, so I make my excuses to my friends and say I need another drink and move away. And I can see him sometimes as I move from place to place. He stops when others call his name but he’s still making his way towards me. So I decide to leave. I go into the fancy building and make like I’ve gone out the front door but I actually circle back round and come back in from a side door. And I race up one of the sets of stairs to this room that’s been turned into a coat room with racks along one side of the room and piles of coats on the bed, a few suitcases in the corner from wedding guests. And I quickly find my coat and I turn to the door to leave but he’s standing just inside the room.

And he just says my name really quietly. Just my name.

And that’s when I launch into my rambling, all the words are coming out of me and I’m saying we can’t do this, I’m married and he’s married and it would be wrong and it’s our friend’s wedding anyway and that should be the focus which is why I should just leave, I have everything to just go right now anyway and as I’m talking he’s been moving more towards the centre of the room, closer to me. And I try to just dart past him and through the open door but he reaches out and he touches my arm very lightly.

And as soon as he touches me my words stop and I just stand there looking at his hand on my arm and I feel like until that moment I haven’t really looked at him, not properly. His height makes me tremble but so does he in his shirt, looking like he looked really put together once but now his hair falls over his beautiful blue eyes and he’s rolled his sleeves up with bare forearms and I look up and he’s even closer than I imagined, the heat of him. That fucking intense look of his. His hand on me is light but I feel like I can’t move anyway. He’s pinned me with that look.

And I start to say something else halfheartedly and he says something like shhh and at once he’s pulling me closer to him and also does something with the door like he’s kicked it shut with his leg. And he spins us both and I’m pressed against the door and he’s now got both my wrists held together in his hand and they’re over my head and he leans in and everything fades to black.

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Difficult Choices

April 16, 2025

dating

When I split from my ex, I had an idea of some of the things I’d do. I had a list of things I’d put off doing or that I’d forgotten that I enjoyed doing because I was putting others’ needs before my own. And one of the things on my list was that I was going to go to this two day event in London that happened every year on a specific weekend. And instead of taking the train in and out of London both days, I’d stay overnight. I’d make the most of my time and I would see a musical on my own on the Saturday evening. For months, I felt pretty excited about what I was calling my ‘Me Weekend’.

Only it didn’t become a Me Weekend in the end. I’d started talking to this wildly interesting man two weeks before Me Weekend. He and I would message back and forth off and on all day. Every day. He’d message me good morning as he was in the gym during a leg workout and I’d respond that I was lazing about in bed still, that maybe I’d roll out of bed to sit at my desk in my home office or maybe I’d stay under the duvet with my work laptop with me. But the messaging wouldn’t stop there. We talked about everything. Food, music, films. He seemed to take my random conversation starters in his stride and I love how unexpected he was.

In the end, I told him about Me Weekend. He said he was free from the early afternoon on the Saturday if I wanted to meet him for a drink. I said ‘yes’ immediately but told him that my thing during the day would determine my availability. On the day though, I was on the train to meet him for 2pm. In one of those weird coincidences that happen, I got out at the wrong exit and suddenly thought, oh no, he’ll never find me here and I circled back. I’m not the most observant person and hadn’t seen more than one face picture of him before we met but just as I was fast-walking back to the other side of the station, I looked up and there he was.

Jesus Christ. I find attraction is not something that comes easily to me but this man was gorgeous. It was so obvious how comfortable he felt in his own skin, in his body. I loved the way he walked, the way he moved. I’d never considered how I felt about bald men before but he really sold it for me. I did probably stand there taking him in for a beat too long and made it awkward. But I am an awkward person so I didn’t dwell on it too much. And he turned out to be my favourite kind of people – the sort of person who just by being who and how they are seem to lower my anxiety, people who make me comfortable in their presence. And the rest of the day passed in a blur.

We sat in a pub talking for hours. I started being obsessed with seeing his smile, trying to say things that would make him laugh. In the end, it started becoming obvious how much I wanted this man, there was something in his eyes that made me thought that maybe he was into me too? He was ridiculously respectful in the way he had touched me, in the things he said. Even with me trying to guide things into finding out what he wanted to do after this. But he never said. When I said should we get out of here? He responded by asking shall we walk in such a sweet way that I said yes even though what I actually wanted to do was take his hand and guide him back to my hotel room.

I enjoyed our walk. I can’t walk straight to save my life, so I kept bumping into him and he did that thing where he touched my lower back as he guided me through places when I wasn’t watching where I was going, animatedly telling him a story. I got incredibly lost and relied on him to find our way again. He also has the patience of a saint. I feel like he could have walked forever listening to me talk. But I wanted more from him.

In the end, I said to him that I wanted to drop my bag off in my hotel room before my thing that night. I was having a great time talking, did he want to walk with me? He said yes and 20 minutes later, we were in my room and there this was charge in the space between us. But by this time, he hadn’t said explicitly that he was into me and the way my brain works means that I could always count on myself to twist things to mean that …he’s just a nice person, he’s just interested in me platonically. I also wasn’t sure if we were moving too quickly. So I needed him to say it. Anything. Whatever he was thinking.

In the end, I asked him outright. What are we doing? What did he want to do? So we started kissing and the passion from it was off the charts. All that pent up sexual tension between us that had built up for hours just fueled the way we kissed each other.

The way I pulled up his shirt to touch the bare skin of his back. The way his hands went up my thighs, the way he pulled me close to him. I found that my favourite place on earth was suddenly straddling him, one of his hands up my dress on my ass the other in my hair, his erection straining between us.

But just as I was about to whisper to him that I thought we both had far too many clothes on my alarm went off on my phone. The one that said when I needed to leave to get to my musical on time. We pulled away from each other out of breath. And lying there on my bed, drunk from kisses I did think … should I just not go to the theatre?? Surely here is where I needed to be. Naked with this man. I went back and forth about it. I wanted both at the same time.

In the end, I remembered that was this (supposedly) Me Weekend. That I’d made these plans with myself in mind. For what I wanted and needed. It was symbolic more than anything else. That I was putting myself first. So reluctantly I left. This kind, sexy man escorted me all the way to the doors of the theatre giving me the most delicious kisses goodbye. I breathlessly asked if he wanted to wait for me, come back to my hotel room after the show. But with regret in his face, he said no. That he needed to get home for his cat. So we said goodbye there.

We were going to meet up again in a few weeks’ time but it didn’t work out and in the end, I think he met someone and deleted his profile. I think back at his beautiful smile, the amazing afternoon and evening we shared and think I wouldn’t have done anything differently.

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Invitation

April 15, 2025

poetry, sex

Please come over

I’d like to open the door and be surprised all over again to see your handsome face

I’d like you to be in my space

To see you leaning against my door frame

Being kind to my dog

Please come over

I’d like to ramble at you in my nervousness

And ask you inane things like how has work been today

I’d like to think about offering you a drink

Though I’ve never done so before

Please come over

I’d like to grab your hand and pull you up the stairs

I’d like to feel the height of you behind me

And think about how we don’t have long

I’d like to make use of the time we have

Please come over

I’d like to scramble out of my clothes and kiss you naked on my bed

I’d like you to run your lips and tongue up my neck and across my nipples

To feel your cold hands between my legs

Please come over

I’d like to fall apart at your touch

I’d like you to hear my pleasure

Over and over again

I’d like to hear that groaning noise

As you dip your fingers into me

Whispering in that reverential way ‘you’re so wet’

Please come over

I’d like to pull at your clothing

Until you stand and

I’d like to watch you undress

I’d like to touch myself as you’re doing so

Almost breathless for what will happen next

Please come over

I’d like to see your face over mine

The way it goes a little bit slack as you give into pleasure

I’d like to see you lose control

I’d like to hear it

I’d like to be the reason you lose control

Please come over

I’d like to press myself against you after

I’d like to rest my head on your chest so I can hear your heartbeat

With your hands gently stroking my skin

Please come over

I’d like to hear your quiet voice

Tell me things you don’t say in messages

I’d like to feel close to you briefly

And smell your aftershave on my bedsheets long after you’re gone

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Dates Gone Wrong

April 9, 2025

dating

I met up with this man once. We went to my favourite coffee shop and had a great time. The conversation we’d had over messaging translated well into in person.

He looked good, he smelled good. He showed up on time, his communication beforehand was good. He had a pleasant face and an open way of talking. I’ve never met a man before or since that just naturally led the conversation into sex.

I liked the way that he talked about having sex, the sensual nature of it that matches some of my own interests. We talked a lot about kissing, what a turn on it is, how important it is, how a good kiss can make or break an experience.

At one point during the date I was turning the cap of my water bottle off and on, a sort of nervous tic. I knew I was doing it and couldn’t stop doing it. He noticed and instead of pointing it out or asking about it he reached out as if to grab my hand, paused and looked at me with a question in his eyes, silently asking if it was okay. I nodded slightly and he took my hand and said I have beautiful hands and nails.

I enjoyed his tactile nature, the open way he appreciated me. Not just my hands but my body, my face, what I said. There was an interest there. I remember smiling a lot during that date. I basked in his attention.

One of us had to be somewhere else so he walked me to my car. As I’d explained about being reciprosexual already halfway to the car he told me he thought I was pretty and sexy and that he would be interested in kissing me.

And that’s where it all went wrong. I was into that first kiss. And the next one. He was an excellent kisser, his lips were soft but he applied just the right pressure. I pulled away with a smile on my face. We said our goodbyes and I turned, got into my car. He also walked away but after a few steps he turned back round until he was standing next to my car.

I hit the button for my window to roll down, confused. He said he loved that kiss so much he wanted more. I said again that he or I needed to be somewhere but he had bent into my open car window for another kiss. I thought it weird but I was into that kiss too. I got out of my car so it wasn’t so awkward and that’s when it happened.

This man, taller than me by 8 inches, with broad shoulders and strong arms leaned in for another kiss and in doing so held my head in place so I couldn’t move. His mouth on mine, his tongue. I found I couldn’t move, I tried to take a step back but he used his body to hold me in place as he took from my mouth what he wanted to have. I felt a panic rising in me, and when I felt a moment where I could no longer breathe I used both hands against his chest to push him away from me.

I said something then. But not the thing I should have. I didn’t tell him that I wasn’t into that kiss. I didn’t say that he scared me with that kiss. I didn’t say that because we’d kissed before that it didn’t mean he was entitled to more kisses.

Instead I got in my car and drove away. He messaged me and it took me a month before I blocked him.

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Eye Contact

April 8, 2025

sex

I’ve had this fantasy for awhile. It started around the same time as I had this friendship with an older man who lived far away. We used to video call and I found that I liked the way he looked at me. I liked that his gaze on me was so intense and unwavering and I liked it so much that this fantasy formed in my head. At first it was him in my fantasy, but it’s been so long since we lost contact that I almost don’t remember what he looks like anymore.

I’m laying naked on a bed. It’s not my bed. There are white sheets and a white duvet on it, soft pillows. And it sort of starts with the focus just on me, and I’m just enjoying my own body, running my fingers down my neck, over my nipples, the soft skin under my breasts, along my stomach. And I’m enjoying it.

And at some point, not in any hurry, I look up and there’s someone I really fancy standing off to one side. With this intense look on his face. Sometimes he’s only staring right into my eyes, sometimes he’s watching my fingers graze over my skin, clear desire on his face. Sometimes he’s clothed, sometimes he’s naked too, his hand on his erect cock but just as I’m languorous about the way I touch my body so is he.

And I want this man. The very moment I notice he’s there I can feel this change in my body, a feeling of electricity everywhere that he looks and my mouth opens like I want to use it on him, my breath goes faster. And somehow I just know that he’s isn’t going to move towards me, I know that if he ever does that I’ve got to earn it.

With his gaze on me I feel like I’ve never been more aware of every part of my body and now, with him looking at me, my hands are touching where I want his hands on me, where I imagine him licking. My legs part and I can’t tear my eyes away from him. As he’s watching me, or as he’s watching my fingers slowly circling my clit.

But I’m still taking my time, I know he wants that too. And it feels like this is all I want to do, touch myself slowly, with purpose to make myself feel good, to make him feel good too. But at the same time I can barely breathe properly from the anticipation of him moving towards me.

So my hands move faster, I use my fingers, my back starts to arch. My eyes are half closed because what my fingers are doing feels so good and I want to lose myself to it but I can’t because it means losing that connection between us. I suck my fingers into my mouth and hope he realises I’m at the end of my patience.

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Heartbreak

April 7, 2025

dating, poetry

It’s been 6 days and still no word

Do you not miss me?

Does your heart not ache picking up your phone without any notifications from me?

I woke up this morning and I wanted to tell you about my yellow jumper

About electric kisses

About the film with the frogs

Have you even noticed that I’ve stopped prattling to you about my day?

Sharing these parts of myself with you

I thought you enjoyed it

I thought you enjoyed me

I guess I got it all wrong

You once told me part of my charm was the way in which words spilled out of me

But now that I think of it

Maybe I said that and you merely agreed

Have I always been this generous with you?

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