The Syrian


The Dating Series is a raw and candid collection of micro stories that aim to give the reader a snapshot of the situations my friends and I find ourselves in on a regular basis. The Dating Series is not a pity party…nor is it a personal or public vendetta on either sex… The Dating Series is an invitation to laugh together; because we’ve all been there, at one point or another… as singles in the dating world.

It really is a jungle out there…

There are 3 sides to every story… Your side. My side. And the Truth… This is The Glitter Bug’s side.

The Match

I matched with this huge, hairy man on Bumble and knew that he was from the Middle East purely based on his appearances. My suspicions were confirmed when he told me he was from Syria; but a Catholic. I felt sad for him that he had to instantly follow up the place of his birth with his religion… I never feel the need to say, I’m born in Melbourne; I was raised Catholic but I’m not sure if I believe in God or just a higher being… He obviously has a history which brought him to this point where he felt the need explain this about himself.

He was instantly flirty and confident, self-assured we were going to meet, and slipping into the conversation more than a few times how well equipped he was, which would make for my immense bedroom pleasure… I advised him that people who boasted so much about such things often left a lot to be desired, in my experience.

After him trying his best to get an invitation to my place, I resisted and said there was no way, and if he’d like to meet me, we could meet out for a drink first.

Borderline boring

I’ll admit, I was curious. This was a few weeks before one of my trips to Europe, so I think subconsciously I was only connecting with people I didn’t see any long term potential with. So many times I had wasted another holiday upholding celibacy and thinking about a new crush left back in Melbourne, only to return to the shit hitting the fan and the regret of not smashing cocktails and entering every wet t-shirt competition I could find.

We met for a drink and he was handsome, but the vibes weren’t giving me any goosebumps. I had categorised him correctly in my brain; good time not a long time… and even the good was still questionable at this point. The conversation flowed, but it was completely lacklustre. At one point I stifled a yawn and he commented that he must be boring me – I tried to be polite but we both knew he read right through it.

The whole time he kept feeding me all this talk about how we’re all adults and sometimes there’s no attraction but we just have to be honest and tell that person and not spin too much rubbish and how he’s done this multiple times with lots of girls, because being upfront and genuine is so important to him… ha. But the best part was when he dropped in a line about never wearing jocks, and raising his eyebrows at me like that was mean to be some turn on…

The proposition

I walked myself home after our drink and shortly after received a message saying how cool I was and he’d love to hang out as friends with benefits if I was interested because he didn’t really want a relationship and wasn’t sure if I knew that.

No, I didn’t. But neither did I… and I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to see this guy again, let alone commit to some kind of bang-buddy scenario.

I think subconsciously I was only connecting with people I didn’t see any long term potential with

A couple days passed and my mind kept wandering back to the Syrian… maybe out of curiosity to see if he was all he promised to be… maybe because subconsciously guys free-balling really did turn me on… although I confidently doubt that… Either way, I messaged him inviting him over in an audition type scenario before I made up my mind either way if I wanted to commit to this resexinship. He promptly responded and arrived dressed for the occasion in baggy, unappealing tracksuit pants and jumper.

The action

He towered over me and wasted no time getting into character. He lowered his trackpants to reveal that he was, in fact, jock-less, and gave me the creepy eyebrows again, as if in triumph that he was able to prove how sexy he was… I was suddenly repulsed by the mere fact that he should dictate what I found sexy based on a generalisation, but was instantly distracted by the shock that he was actually being modest when boasting about the talent of his disco stick…

The realisation of my vulnerability

The evening flashed past in a blur of pain-for-pleasure moments. There is always a risk in sex with someone you don’t know that well. Apart from the obvious ones (babies, STDs, unexpected shapes and sizes poking at you from different angles, etc), there are little risks that only pop their head up when you find yourself in a situation where they could occur.

For example… the fact that The Syrian was getting a little rough is all fine with someone you know and trust… but I was fully aware that he was almost twice my size, and if at any moment he got carried away, he could genuinely hurt me – even unintentionally… These thoughts, at times, spun through my head, and perhaps stopped me from enjoying myself fully as I was popping in and out of paranoia.

I am fully aware that this probably wouldn’t be the case if I felt 100% safe as I have done with partners in the past… But these risks obviously didn’t present themselves with this particular person until we were in the moment… until his sheer physical size was pinning me down… until his rough nature emerged when I was completely naked, vulnerable and in the moment.

As soon as it was done I wanted him to leave. I can’t explain why that happens sometimes. I think I am just really over the stay and cuddle phase if I don’t see any potential of future love and affection. I walked him to the lift and thanked him for coming.

The relapse

Two days later, I had a relapse and forgot about my paranoid experience, sending him a message with something I thought was witty along the lines of ‘passing the audition and wanting to do it again soon’. In a moment which is completely out of character (I genuinely always try and treat people the way I’d like to be treated) I panicked and blocked and deleted his number… Why? Good question… Why did I send that message in the first place? Attention? The promise of regular sex? Because I thought it was what was expected?

I didn’t feel safe with him – but none of his actions were particularly deserving of this hesitancy… I blocked his number because I realised it was a massive red flag in my gut… and a feeling which deserved to be respected.

I never heard from him again, obviously, and despite my shallow fears… Turning him away did not thrust me into a word of chastity. I was glad I followed my gut. Always follow your gut.

Lesson Learned with The Syrian:

Always listen to your waters… You have a woman’s instinct and a woman’s intuition; develop it, nurture it, listen to it, be kind to it…

Also – just because you’re in the phase of your life where you’d welcome a bang buddy doesn’t mean you have to settle for the first peanut who offers it to you. Choose your
resexinship wisely – Just because you both want to benefit from mutual no-strings-attached sex doesn’t mean you should have to worry about your safety, feel disrespected or degraded, or go along with it just to please the other person…

You have the power – the pussy always has the power…. And most men would agree to this – especially when it comes to sex. Just remember to use it wisely and in a way that empowers you to feel strong and confident and in control… and enjoy every sexual encounter.

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