by Sasha Silver
Max was over the moon and got busy planning everything. The man kept ringing about the details; food he would cook, a picnic basket he would use because it has never been used since bought. He seemed very excited, almost giddy. It felt nice. He kept saying it’d been years since he had been to the house as part of a couple and he couldn’t wait. I was taken aback at how sweet he was about it all and how excited he was.
When the day finally came to head to Scotland, he turned up at my door and he was acting like Tigger – excitable and giddy, bouncing all over the place. He’d been like this all week on the phone. It started rubbing off, and I too was starting to feel a little excited. His behavior was infectious.
We set off for the M6 heading towards Carlisle. After about twenty minutes I was half way through my conversation and he put up his hand in front of my face. “Sasha, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to concentrate and I can’t listen to you and drive. So either know I am not listening, or if you wouldn’t mind, can you just be quiet?”
The rage that ran through my body was unexplainable. I was gobsmacked and really quite cross. I sat in silence, seething although he appeared jolly and whistling every now and then, but for the most part we sat in silence. I knew at that minute, that after this weekend I would never see him again.
All sorts of things were going round in my head; what have I done? Am I safe? Maybe I had trusted him when I shouldn’t have? I had put myself into a really risky position especially as the nearer we got, the less signal I had on my phone. I decided that I was there for the weekend and it was best just to get through it. At least I would have some nice food. I don’t cook you see and live on toast mainly so food would be good.
When we arrived in Carlisle, we stopped at Tesco for the weekend shop and he was so bossy; ordering me to follow behind him with the trolley, clicking his fingers at me, and repeatedly saying, “Follow me,” in an authoritative tone. I can’t tell you how I managed to hide my anger, but I think I did really well.
After our shop, we continued north and all I could see was green that went on for miles and fucking miles. Not a house or a car to be seen anywhere. I realized at that moment that I am not a lover of the great outdoors and actually the countryside makes me feel lonely. I need to see houses, people and cars and cannot live more than ten minutes from a supermarket.
We were driving along the open road, he had his music playing and things were quiet and calm. I hadn’t really spoken in hours, so I think he was happy. All of a sudden, out the blue, a cat ran out in front of us which made me jump. Now when I jump, unfortunately, I scream too. Not for very long, but certainly very loud. It’s a reflex action I guess.
Max slammed on his breaks, stopped the car and shouted, “For fucks sake, Sasha! What are you doing screaming like that? I could have crashed!”
I was mad yet again. “Into what exactly? There is nothing here.” I pointed to the sparse landscape.
He gripped the steering wheel and his knuckles went white. After a few seconds, he got out of the car walked to the front of the car and leaned down to look under the bonnet. When he stood up, he was smiling. He jumped back into the car and said, “Oh thank God. I haven’t hit it. Wow! Sorry. I do get a bit stressed, don’t I?”
“Don’t you!”
He joked for a moment about being a “Mr Stressy” and I smiled through gritted teeth seriously wondering how I was going to make it through the weekend. Little did I know it would get a whole lot worse.
We pulled up at his “house” which turned out to be a static caravan in the middle of nowhere. Max gave me my instructions on arrival, “Right, I will unload the car. You put the kettle on, but be careful with the tap because the water hasn’t been on for a while.”
Well thank you for the warning, but it didn’t work. I turned the kitchen tap and it made an explosive sound. What did I do? Of course, I jumped. Which made me scream again - short but loud. He came running in from outside shouting, “What? What?”
“I just turned the tap on, and it made me jump. I’m sorry.”
His response was to grab his head with both hands and say, “Oh for fucks sake, Sasha. You’re going to do my head in. I thought something serious had happened to you.”
“Really, I am sorry.”
“You just need to calm yourself down,” he finally said before heading back out to the car to finish unloading. Leaving me to seethe in the kitchen alone. I knew that it was definitely going to be a long weekend.
Max did cook a really beautiful meal that evening. That period of time seemed quite relaxed and calming. He was whistling and giving me a running commentary on his cooking while I was watching TV and playing Candy Crush. The night drew to an end and off we went to bed. I really didn’t know what to do about sleeping with him. I realized that I had put myself in a right position.
We climbed into bed together and immediately he grabbed for me. There was no foreplay or kissing he went straight to the fucking. He turned me over and off he pumped. After thirty minutes of vigorous pumping I was bored and pissed off. I’d had enough. I think all of the things he had said to me had built up to that moment and now he was having the kind of sex he wanted while I was getting nothing out of it. The resentment and anger grew inside and I suddenly blurted out, “Right. Come in the next few minutes, or I’m stopping. This is ridiculous. You cannot pound a cock like that for thirty minutes and nothing comes out of it.” He withdrew and left the room. I did feel guilty for about three and half seconds, but turned over so my back would face him, and I fell asleep.
In the morning, there was a little bit of an awkward atmosphere. But Max did get up and made us a wicked breakfast. After breakfast and washing it all up, he started to make a packed lunch for our picnic later in the day.
We went out for a drive as he wanted to show me the Scottish landscape. If I had been with somebody that I really cared about it would have been amazing. We stopped at various roadside points and would exit the car to explore the country side further.
For our picnic, we ended up in a reservoir car park which was beautiful. There was a little light rain coming down, so we decided to stay in the car and eat our packed lunch. It felt a little relaxed and we were actually having a bit of a giggle (even though I still felt awkward). With all the banter, I got a little over excitable about something and started messing around - big mistake clearly. I jokingly lifted up my top revealing my bra and ample cleavage. Max hid his eyes and said in a serious tone, “Sasha! Stop it. Somebody might see”
“Like who? There isn’t a car or a person around for miles.”
Later in the day, when we got back to the caravan, we were sitting having a coffee having a nice conversation when he asked if I was hungry yet. It had been a while since lunch. Coffee fills me up though, so I said I was ok and thanked him.
“Do you always eat this amount of food?” I am sure I looked confused by the question because he continued, “Well, you have hardly eaten anything.”
“Really? I think I‘ve eaten more than I normally eat.”
“Well I don’t understand then. If you always eat like that, you should be a whole lot slimmer surely?”
I looked right at him and said, “Max? Are you saying I am fat?”
He laughed. “No, no, just I don’t understand how you are as big as you are considering you don’t eat.” He must have seen something in my face and knew I was not happy. “Is that a little too honest of me? I certainly don’t think your fat…far from it. But you’re the biggest girl I’ve ever had!”
So by this point I have basically stopped talking and it was feeling rather strained. I returned to play Candy Crush and Max went to cook dinner. Actually, he was a fantastic cook and I enjoyed eating his food.
This is the night he was making “my birthday treat.” He had been telling me how special it was going to be. There was an effort made to make the table look nice; he lit candles and bought flowers. And it did. Well, as good as a little table in a fucking static caravan can look.
We sat down together and started to eat. It was at this point that Max suddenly realized a film he wanted to watch was coming on ITV. So, he grabbed his plate and moved to the lounge area. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or mad. I reminded him that ITV has a plus 1 channel and he could he watch it then. He agreed and said he was being selfish and apologized. He returned to the table to eat his dinner.
The conversation over dinner wasn’t too bad. It managed to flow and dinner was lovely. He then served up his homemade dessert. My favorite, a beautiful chocolate mousse with cream. As I started to eat it I wanted to lighten the mood, so I spread some of the mousse jokingly around my mouth, hoping it might make him laugh. The look on his face when he noticed me can only be described as disgusted.
“Get that off your fucking face now.” I laughed, waiting for him to smile or something. He didn’t do any of those things. Instead he continued, “Seriously, what on earth have you done that for?” I felt embarrassed for about four seconds.
“Because it’s funny.”
“To whom? To whom is this funny?” he screamed in my face. This date is not going well.
I suddenly was angry. “It’s funny to me. I find it funny. It makes me giggle.”
“Well, if you pulled a stunt like that in a restaurant whilst I was with you, I would walk out and leave you.”
I just looked at him for a moment. “And I would let you. That’s probably why you and I will never be a couple. On that note, I think I will go to bed. Good night.” I went to bed alone, angry, and homesick.
On Sunday morning Max woke up like nothing had happened. He gave me a peck on the cheek, asked me if I wanted breakfast, and off he went to make it. I just wanted out of there and willed away the hours. We had two more rows in the car on the way home because I talked too much and because I pressed the wrong button when changing music.
When he finally dropped me at my house, he said he wanted to see me again. That was beyond surprising given how much we fought over the weekend. He wanted to come in to meet my children, but I declined saying I was not ready for that. He insisted and I told him I was tired.
“Okay, well, can I just use your toilet, I really need a wee.” He was quite insistent about needing the toilet, so I let him in ensuring that my kids were not around. He used the downstairs loo and when he came out he walked up to me, grabbed my face and planted a kiss on my lips. “Thank you for a lovely weekend. Text you when I get home.”
I was just standing there thinking, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.
True to his word, he texted me when he got home. He asked when we were going to see each other again. I didn’t reply and he sent a snotty message about all he had done for me and how rude I was not to reply. I never saw Max again, and I thoroughly enjoy talking all I want when riding in the car.
Trevor from Garstang
This story is my cautionary tale about being safe. Pay attention ladies.
This is not a very nice story. I didn’t know whether to tell this story or not. I fear my friends and family might be upset. If you do read it though – I am fine, I promise. I wanted to tell this story to show you, the reader, that despite all the weirdness above and my flippancy about some of these men, there are some real dangers out there.
I thought Trevor was very attractive from his profile picture, so when he sent me a message I was so flattered. We exchanged messages and our conversations flowed. After a week or two we were discussing meeting and swapped numbers. I like to speak to on the phone. In my experience, how you get on the phone can be indicative of how you will get on your date. If I feel awkward and conversation doesn’t flow, I don’t meet them. If they have a horrible voice, I don’t meet them. Harsh you say. But if you know anything about me by now, it’s that I have tested out all my theories, and I am rarely wrong.
Something was wrong with our phone call, and I ended up calling it short. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at the time. He rang me the next morning and apologized, turns out he had been blind drunk. I didn’t like that but he was so Goddamn attractive I decided to give him a second chance.
We met and I found him really attractive, and I felt like I had known him all my life. In fact when we were sitting in the pub, Trevor started telling two women near us that we were on a first date and how happy he was. They were surprised and said that if they had to guess, they would have thought we were a couple because we looked relaxed and comfortable with each other.
Then, he spoiled it. He’d had two pints while I’d had one coffee, whenhe said, “Come on tight bitch, your turn to buy a round.” I really didn’t like that, but I did it anyway. (Did I mention how attracted I was to Trevor?)
The next morning he texted me,“What you up to?”
“Actually, I’m near you, having breakfast.”
“Come see me after. Let’s spend a few hours together this afternoon.” I was so excited and agreed.
Then the oddest thing happened, the moment I saw him I suddenly didn’t find him attractive. I don’t know why. It’s happened before; I like somebody on a first date, agree to a second date and the minute I clap eyes on them it’s gone. I’ve tried to reflect about this, discussed it with friends even. The only thing I can come up with is that on a first meet I feel so happy that I’m not disappointed that I don’t see the real picture. The second date is like the real date.
I met Trevor and I was trying to hide the fact that the attraction had gone. I wanted to see if it would return. Evidently, as the date went on and he was drinking more and more and I started to think that he was a damaged guy who had turned to drink. He had a sad feel to him. At one part, he was talking about his ex-wife and it was then I realized he probably had a broken heart.
After drinking for the whole date, he asked me to drive him home. This did not please me. I went through all the scenarios in my head, but it felt wrong to leave him looking that like and I agreed to drive him home.
When we got to his house he invited me in for a coffee, which I kindly declined.
“Why not? I promise you’ll be safe with me. It’s just coffee.”
“No, it isn’t just coffee. If I come in for coffee, I know what will happen. You will think that if you start kissing me I will get aroused, and this could lead to sex. I can assure though, that it won’t. I will then reject you and push you away and you will get nasty and we will end up never seeing each other again.”
He was insistent that it didn’t mean that and if I trusted him, he would prove me wrong. So I decided to test this declaration and went in for a coffee.
What do you think happened? Of course, he tried to kiss me and arouse me and I backed off. And then he said, “Sasha, when you accept a coffee invitation into a man’s home you’re almost agreeing to sex. If you think otherwise you’re stupid.”
That night ended with me leaving his house after being violated, something I’ve never revealed to anyone else, but wanted to make sure that other women know to be safe and coffee is never just coffee. Needless to say, that was the last time I saw Trevor.
Steve from Wythenshaw
So, this was one of my first dates. We started chatting on the internet. He was an older guy, by six years or so, and we had a lovely banter together. We moved on to texting and phoning and we connected really well on a cyber level. Eventually, we arranged to meet.
I turned up on the date and he had a Nicholas Cage look to him. I kept looking at him and I found him rather attractive. We got on equally as well on the date and what I really liked was that he didn’t make a move on me - although at the time I thought it was because he didn’t like me.
The date came and went and the texts followed. I felt so happy. He was right up my street. He was tall, attractive, smartly dressed, affluent and definitely solvent.
We talked for a couple of weeks before our second date. He invited me to go for dinner at his house. Now sometimes it’s good to go to the house it proves they’re not married, but I kind of trusted him. I knew this wasn’t about s
ex.
I arrived and his house was incredible. Clearly he had money and the kind of job he did was exciting. I could see photographs of him with famous people on all his walls – Elton John, U2, Michael Jackson, Simon Cowell – really famous people. I can’t tell you his job, but let’s just say clearly a very successful man. This was blowing my mind, what a find! Could I really be this lucky? An attractive, rich, successful, romantic, funny guy and he seemed to like me as well. Of course, I couldn’t be that lucky.
So, we were sitting there chatting and he said, “I’m looking for a very specific kind of lady.” Okay, he’s about to dump me. “I want somebody who I find attractive. I want somebody I can laugh with. Somebody who I trust. Somebody I can have conversations with, travel the world with.” I was sure he wasn’t talking about me, and then he looked at me. “You know I mean you right?”
I was over the moon and beaming like a Cheshire Cat. Then the next line came and my stomach dropped to the floor.
“In return for all of this, there is something specific I want.”
“What?” I asked. I could even hear the trepidation in my voice. Remember this was in the earlier days, and I wasn’t as clued up as now, so I had no idea what to expect.
“I’m a swinger, Sasha. I’m a member of a club, and I want to have dinner parties at my home. I want people to come dressed in tuxedos and ball gowns, and I want the evening to end with us all getting our clothes off and fucking each other.” I did consider this proposition for a split second, I’m quite open minded. But I would never be able to show my body to everybody, and I don’t know if I could watch somebody I love screwing somebody else. So I declined the offer and was asked to leave immediately and I never heard from him again.
