The Booty Caller: Third time’s the charm

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Rendezvous three.

Even though I was told I couldn’t call it a rendezvous because a rendezvous sounds sexy and there was nothing sexy that had occurred up until this point. I wasn’t allowed to call it a meet up with my Booty Caller, either, because Booty Call insinuated there was booty involved – and there had been none of that yet either.

Apparently, I should have been calling it a date. Because that’s what you call it when you’ve seen a guy twice and there’s been no kissing involved, and he asks you to go to the Night Market.

And this was freaking me out. Mostly because I didn’t want to date this person – I just wanted to revert back to our old Fuck Buddy ways. If you haven’t read the three lead up articles about how this whole shemozzle started, you can do that here for part one (Return of the Booty Caller)here for part two (The first rendezvous) and here for part three (The Booty Caller: Meeting 2).

So, the build-up to the third meeting (or whatever the fuck you want to call it) was intense. There were lots of flirty messages exchanged, and the word ‘fuck’ (used as a verb) was thrown around willy nilly almost on a daily basis. I was nervous and excited and 90% sure that we were finally going to shag.

My sister Kritz and I even went to the effort of finding her a place to stay for the night, so that I would have the entire apartment to myself for the evening.

The night started off well. He picked me up in an Uber and we hit the bar at the Night Market straight away. As always, the conversation was easy and fun, and it was clear we felt comfortable in each other’s presence. Still.

We cruised the stalls and when it got crowded, I followed behind him, using this chance to rest my hand on the small of his back – I’m not gonna lie, I got a tingle… it was as tight as ever.

We got some food and more drinks and at one point, I could feel the tension raising to a peak… I can’t even recall what we were talking about, but unsure if he ever would, I seized my opportunity and went in for the pash. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me so incredibly close and so incredibly tight that I finally had to pull back to catch my breath.

It was like I had opened the flood gates.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of poffertje’s (note to self – the ball of dough that forms in your stomach after a plateful of these bad boys is terribly unsexy) and Pimm’s cups… and pashes aplenty. At the end of the night the market was packing up around us and the Booty Caller, having picked up my subtle hint earlier of my sister being on “school camp” (a little white lie never hurt anybody), asked if we were heading back to my place.

I tried to stay calm but I was nervous and full of butterflies. We waited for our Uber while he was getting uber-handsy with me, kissing my neck and pulling me close to him as if my life depended on it.

Once inside the Uber, he pulled me across his lap and kissed my head, his arm around my waist left his hand to rest on the muffin top that was kindly popping over my jeans. I didn’t even flinch. This guy had seen me at my best and worst, and at this point in time, I finally allowed myself to believe that he was coming back for more.

We got back to my apartment and the .8 second tour finished in my bedroom. I didn’t even get to turn the music on. He was all over me like a heat rash. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that it had been a while since he had been with a woman, the way he was so eagerly consuming me.

He pushed me back onto the bed and after an awkward struggle with my tight jeans, wasted no time in shimmying his handsome head down. At one point he was standing there and I was genuinely so turned on by the way his body had changed. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a solid, strong man, the same contours that I loved, but with added bulk and a thin sprinkle of dad-bod. I was all about it.

I won’t get overly graphic (no, please, do!) but I was left a bit confused by the whole brief encounter – as seems to be the building theme with this so-called Booty Caller.

I’m not sure if it was because of the weeks’ worth of sms foreplay, the fact that I held a gun to his head to ensure he used a condom, or the fact that we had such an explosive history to live up to… but the whole ordeal left me feeling a bit lack-lustre.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was BAD… it just wasn’t AMAZING. Would I go there again? Fuck yes. Did I get off? Fuck yes. But he didn’t… and although normally I wouldn’t care, and quickly shrug off a random’s satisfaction whilst I smugly sit there in my own, I couldn’t help but feel a bit bad this time.

Didn’t he find me attractive anymore? Did he not like my magic grind anymore, or the way I do that thing with my tongue and his ear… It left me feeling a bit self-conscious.

http://www.theglitterbug.com.au/read/156/Thats-why-shes-single-/

After I finished he was quick to snuggle me in close, and within a few minutes he was asleep, head nuzzled on my chest, hand cupping my breast, snoring like he didn’t have a care in the world.

One part of me screaming ‘get this guy out of your bed’! the other part feeling so protective and affectionate, thinking that it was obvious how lonely he was.

I let him sleep for about 15 minutes as my mind wandered and I soaked in the ambiance of my bedroom with a male, asleep, snoring inside it, before I gently nudged him awake, informed him of my ‘no sleep over’ policy, and shooed him on his way.

I was left wondering if I would ever see him again. Was he embarrassed that he didn’t finish? Was I embarrassed that he didn’t finish!? Did I not do it for him anymore? Should we give it another few goes to slip back into our old explosive ways? Or was this what happened when you got old? Did he think that was good? Did I think that was bad? So many questions.

The next day I was woken by a message asking how I slept and thanking me for such a fun night. We continued off as if it was every inch the explosive night we had both spoken about it being… and for him, maybe it was?

I wasn’t exactly put off by it – there was so much that was so right… but if there’s such a big build up, if there’s so much flirting and sexting and anticipation, is it bound to be anticlimactic (in more ways than one)?

I can’t answer that… but I better organise another catch up… just to be sure…

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