Yes Chef and I met for a drink on Lygon, early evening. He'd been warm and funny to chat with, the ease was there and I found his pictures pretty cute. I mostly enjoyed discussing how things were going on Feeld, and deconstructing disasters and red flags. Our interactions felt collegiate.
Then he turned up.
Bearded, tall, solid. Alarmingly handsome. Smelled fucking delicious. We ended up staying to have dinner and he asked if I had any dietary requirements. After listing them he ordered for us, a variety of seafood share plates. He plated up and was meticulous as per his fine dining background. An utter gentleman.
I had a glass of rosè even though I don’t drink because he was making me a bit nervous. I wasn’t expecting to be so attracted to him. After twenty minutes of conversation I said “You ask me a question now, to indicate you are interested in who I am as a person.” He took it well and I enjoyed being blunt and watching how he handled that.
At one point I felt him watching me like I was about to be plated up. I looked down because I was self conscious and he gave a commentary on the qualities of my face he found attractive. I'm not accustomed to being looked at like this, being objectified. I fucking loved it, how disarming and surprising it all was. I like to be taken out of my comfort zone.
We shared tiramisu for dessert and got our phones out at the end to make a plan to fuck. I’ll see him in one month’s time.
I’d preambled our drinks with the notion of waiting 24 hours to decide if we wished to proceed to a second date. We'd both agreed and then caved half an hour in and confessed that we were both keen as mustard. He told me he’d be very pleased to be added to my rotation.
I stumbled to my car, feeling absolutely giddy and unsure about how this had all happened. I took a photo of my euphoric face as a placecard for that feeling. Being desired, desiring, acting from instinct and excitement about things to come.
A few days later I met the Pleasure Dom. He walked into the place he'd chosen for us in Brunswick and I was reminded of a scene in Crazy Stupid Love where Emma Stone asks if Ryan Gosling is photoshopped when he removes his shirt. Not that he removed his shirt, but I could see the shape of him. His enormous boots, the way he'd lean in close when saying something slightly more risque. The absolute heat generated by our blood pumping in time to each other.
There's something so clear and beautiful about meeting to decide if you want to explore each other's bodies. Any pretence or desire to put up with someone who isn't quite right due to loneliness or other factors simply don't apply. The honesty and candour of it is wildly different to how we operate in day to day life, in the systems we exist inside.
I like this world better, it makes more sense to me. You ask before you touch someone, discuss what is out of bounds, what you like, what they like. What you hope for, how much control you're willing to relinquish. How much power you're wanting them to have. The words you can say to each other, the tone you can use and the force behind a collision.
His voice dripped like maple syrup into every crevice of my mind and I considered asking him to join me in the bathroom for a quickie, then remembered that impulse control is important. A quickie would never be enough, not with him. He had rhythm and even a light touch on my arm told my body exactly what I was in for, that he would be someone to savour. That he would take as much time as he needed to destroy any walls I was foolish enough to think I could hold up to protect myself from absolute surrender. That I could trust him to do that. His heart is good, his eyes kind and deep.
Twenty-four hours is a good timeframe to wait before making a choice, as a starting point. He asked if I'd like him to step on me with his boots when he noticed me hungrily admiring them. Very much, I replied.
I stayed longer than I'd planned, but not as long as I wanted to, and needed him to leave first as I had a similar physical reaction of being absolutely off my rocker. Lust is a heady thing, and I needed to drive safely.
I took the requisite snapshot of my face and realised I'd been staring intensely like a horned up wolf at this man. I felt self conscious but also glad, as my intentions were clear. I didn't want there to be any confusion.
Later I drove to a munch in Footscray, met up with Yes Chef and his partner, and found myself in various cuddle puddle configurations, as well as being cuffed to a St Andrews Cross and handled by him in a way that showed me we'd have an excellent time when the day came.
Having these experiences of masculinity at such close proximity is very new for me, and it feels deeply erotic and safe. We all want the same thing, when you boil it down. We all want to have excellent sex and ensure the person we're fucking is also having excellent sex.
I've now booked in my quarterly rotation with each person so I’m set til July, and I think I'm going to stop meeting people. Mr Whippy, Yes Chef and the Pleasure Dom are plenty for now.