A straightforward encounter

I’ve always thought I liked straightforward people. They are pragmatic. They don’t lose their time devising intricate games of seduction. They just state bluntly and clearly what they want from you. Nothing more convenient for someone like me who grew tired from viewing too many profiles and having to go through endless dates before finding The Special One.
The virtual conversation on MSN started with him in the most boringly natural way. “ASL?,” he asked. For those who can afford the luxury of bypassing the complex network of desperate men and who are not familiar with the jargon of chatters, ASL simply refers to age/sex/location. Of course, the middle information required i.e. sex is purposeless since everybody on the channels that I frequent belongs to the male category (or thinks he does). Anyhow, I answered him and prepared to affront a new series of questions about my “stats” (height, weight, eyes color, hair color and sometimes dick size), what I was looking for, what my profession was etc.
Instead, this straightforward pragmatic guy just directly spitted in my face his list of sexual practices. And placing the cherry on the cake, he stated: “And by the way, I don’t suck guys.” After absorbing the shock, I decided to ignore this little humiliation that was just bestowed on me and move on with “softer” questions: “What kind of movies do you like?”, “Do you prefer the beach or ski slopes?”, “Do you like cooking?”… I have to admit that I was not feeling very much inspired. I was more responding to an exercise in a book for English language learning, and more precisely in the chapter dedicated to making questions.
But the guy became quickly irritated. His answers were getting shorter and his silences longer. He ended up expressing bluntly his exasperation. “Listen, I don’t have time. I am horny and I want to have sex in half an hour. Do you want to meet or not?” Not one pause between his sentences. He just sent the whole paragraph as one block. I was cornered. I obviously could not wallow in the luxury of time. His photo displayed on the small box of the chat window was ok but not really inspiring. As usual, I was driven by my impulsiveness and finally accepted to meet him on the corner of an anonymous street. “Do you have a mobile phone number?”, I asked him naively. “I do! But I can’t give it to you now, I don’t know you yet!”. His answer fell as a slap on my cheek. So we were going to exchange body fluids and have our body parts rubbing against each other but it was inappropriate to exchange phone numbers???!!? I swallowed this new dose of humiliation. “Fine, let’s just see where this will lead to,” I thought. After all, I could always back up at the last moment and block/delete him without running the risk of getting a phone call from him later.
I comforted myself with these thoughts as I dragged myself to meet him. Every step forward towards the meeting point was followed by five mental steps backwards. After a short fashionably acceptable delay, he showed up. I was instantly relieved by his looks. He had a shy look and a genuine smile. “I am sorry I am late,” he said coyly. So this childish guy is the screeching sex master I had come across on the net!
Anyhow, I did not complain. I just went with the flow and engaged in what remotely seemed as a friendly conversation as I led him to my place.
He entered the “privacy” of my room, looked around quickly and without losing a second he started undressing. He then jumped naked in my bed and with a big smile extended his arms in a seeming gesture of invitation for me to join in. The whole sequence of events took place so quickly that I barely realized what had happened. His innocent reticent look was suddenly wiped out and replaced by a kinky devilish expression. So now I am the guest? What shall I do? Look offended and ask him to leave? Join him in my own bed? His insistent head and arms’ movements did not allow me to indulge in my mental questioning. I ended up accepting the situation I had idiotically put myself in. We were now both as God had created us, in bed. What next? And just like in a restaurant when one has to choose from a menu, we looked at each other briefly, wondering where to start? I finally decided to kiss him, the usual prelude of any prosaic sexual act. I closed my eyes decently and pressed my lips against his. This classical moment was abruptly brought to an end when I realized that my tongue was being forcefully rejected by his tight-up lips. It suddenly hit me like 1 + 1 = 2! Of course, the guy must be one of those who don’t kiss. A slap fell on my other cheek. I had to save myself before turning into a Jesus. I was not going to accept my new role as Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I gathered all my strength and pulled myself out of the bed (I was so confused that I was not sure anymore whose bed it really was!).
“I am so sorry but I can’t really go on with this…”, I said and I dropped my head in a theatrical movement my eyes shying away from his sight. With an equal vehemence, he dressed up as he muttered some insignificant words then snapped the door behind him. I felt I had greatly matured just in the lapse of few hours. At this point in my life, I felt I could safely say I had seen it all. A new species of psychos just passed by my bed! I have come face to face with the species of “those who do it without kissing”. Later, I asked him on msn about the reason for refusing to kiss me. “I only kiss someone I love!”, he said. I sighed. He might be right after all. Why offer a kiss to a stranger! Few seconds later, with a few mouse clicks, I erased the non-kisser from both my virtual and real lives. © El Matador