When one muff just isn’t enough!

Aloha Lovers!

Ermagerd my Lovingtons, so much has happened in the past few weeks! Where to begin? Ooh, I know, let’s start with my very first date with a poly guy. Poly guy? I hear you inquisitive little imps inquire, what do you mean poly guy? Well it’s not some dude who likes to dress like Pollyanna and spank anyone within a five metre radius, I can tell you that! No no Lovers, poly is short for poly-amorous, or in other words, people who date more than one person at a time.

Why would you go on a date with a guy who already has a girlfriend? Slow your roll with the questions Lovers, all will be explained I promise!

So, about a month ago I matched  with a guy on Tinder, lets call him Ainsley. I wasn’t especially attracted to Ainsley at the outset but what drew me to him instantly was his desire to become a sex therapist.

Hark! A kindred spirit!

I was tickled pink when we matched and instantly began talking about deep sexual theories and kinks. It was so nice to discuss this type of stuff without having to explain what sploshing or BBW or CAT techniques were.

We chatted almost every day until last night when we decided to finally meet. I wasn’t nervous at all to meet Ainsley, as unlike regular Tinder dates there was no pressure to form an instant connection. I knew it wouldn’t be awkward because if we ever lapsed into silence I could just bring the conversation back to our favourite topic; sex! I wanted to meet him, that was for sure. What I wasn’t sure of was the etiquette of the situation. Could I kiss him if I wanted to? Did I need to ask permission from his girlfriend? What if I really liked him and wanted him for my own? And even more pressingly, if I couldn’t have him for myself, could I become a secondary and be happy?

I decided the best thing to do with all these questions swirling around my head was to take a nap.

Naps solve everything. Feeling tired? Take a nap. Feeling sick? Take a nap. Feeling horny? Well maybe flick the bean first and then take a nap.

The only downfall of the sacred nap is the age-old issue of not setting that damn alarm. Safe to say all those pesky questions flew right out of my head as I whipped around the house, attempting to brush my teeth and button my dress at the same time.

Turns out I’m not multi-dexterous. I found that out the hard way.

So after switching out of my toothpaste stained dress and grabbing my keys, I ran to the bus stop, shoes in hand and eyebrows decidedly unplucked.

And missed my bus by about three and a half seconds.

Fuck fuckity fuck.

After ten minutes pacing back and forth at the bus stop, willing the bus into existence, I gave up and ran down to the closest tram stop. Luckily for my sweaty self, I was just in time to jump on and catch my breath.

Eventually I made it to the bar and dragged myself up the stairs and into the blessed air conditioning. Due to my lateness I had promised Ainsley the first drink on me. What I hadn’t expected was for him to choose a bloody $23 drink!

What a bugger.

Add to that the bartenders apologetic explanation of charging an extra dollar on all EFTPOS transactions and I ended up footing the bill for a $35 round (and all I got was a Heineken!)

Safe to say this was going to be a one round date.

Apart from his expensive taste in drinks, Ainsley was a nice enough dude. He was chatty, interesting and had his fair share of Dad jokes he was eager to share. Plus of course there was the devoted interest in sex without the gross sleaziness that often accompanied such conversations.

However, as often happens with people who are experts (or hoping to become experts in the future) he was a little high handed. It was at times difficult to get my opinion across. Every time I said something he could call on all sorts of academic information I didn’t know or even understand to rebuff me. I kind of expected this though, as most intellectual guys I meet like to display their knowledgeable prowess. So I indulged him and didn’t press my points too much.

What I really didn’t like though,was when he scoffed at my career ambitions. Ainsley had asked what I wanted to do in the future and of course I answered that I would absolutely love to be an established author or sex columnist. To this he replied “what, so you want to be the next Carrie from Sex and the City?”

It wasn’t even the words that stung that much, it was the dismissive way he said them. To have someone I saw as a sexual peer of sorts pish tosh my dream was pretty hurtful. Just because I didn’t want to write some scientific thesis didn’t mean I was any less. When I tried to explain this blog to him he assumed it was just some hobby, some tiny side project to fill my spare time.

What a little bitch.

However, bitch status aside, Ainsley really was very nice when he wasn’t on his high horse. I loved how passionate he was about his honours degree and that fact that we could chat about anything without the shocked faces or embarrassment. (Although I must say the couple next to us were certainly getting red-faced whenever I blurted out questions such as ‘yeah but was there actual ejaculation?’ or Ainsley would say ‘oh yeah porn can totally be helpful in learning how to go down on a girl!’ I think their date was much more pg rated.)

The one thing I had to get used to was the fact Ainsley was texting his girlfriend throughout the date. It wasn’t super overt but it was definitely an obstacle. It was just like when I arrived, there was no compliment of how nice I looked or anything like that. Why? because he didn’t need too. He already has a girlfriend, or in the poly world he already has a primary. At most all I will ever be is a secondary.

Kind of takes the romance out of it doesn’t it?

Normally I might be a bit miffed if a guy is texting and taking calls on a date, but in this situation it was basically like it or lump it.

The weirdest part of the date? That would probably be when his girlfriend called and offered to pick us up from the bar and drop me home.

Woah, that’s a first.

It was super nice of her but unfortunately it did cut the date short, to the point where I had to skull my half full glass of wine.

I don’t like rushing my wine.

But it wasn’t up to me, she was parked outside and we didn’t want to keep her waiting.

It was at this point I started to see the pro’s and con’s of a poly relationship. Most of all I realised a very important factor that seemed critical to success in the poly world. You really need to have a primary. Ainsley and his girlfriend had been together for five years and were rock strong. They could go back to each other after every bad date, every fight with a secondary and completely be there for each other. If the secondary doesn’t have a primary, who do they go back to?

It’s kind of lonely to be a secondary.

The primary’s have all the power and as Ainsley recollected, at times the secondary is left by the wayside if the primary needs more.

I think poly could be great, but I would rather be a primary searching for secondary’s rather than a single secondary.

After I was very kindly dropped off by my date’s girlfriend (still sounds so weird to say that) I felt a sense of unease. I felt as though I had just been entertainment for a happy couple.It’s like they bought tickets to an Adele concert and I was the Pussycat Dolls warm up act. Pussycat dolls are fun, but everyone’s just waiting for Adele to come on stage already and blow them away.

This was demonstrated even more vividly when there was no follow up text that night. Even on my very worst dates there has always been the obligatory “thanks for the meetup, I had fun” or something along those lines.

But my date was busy with his girlfriend, so why would he bother?

Now Lovers, if any of you are secondary’s I would love love love to hear how you feel about it, especially if you don’t have a primary. Am I taking it all wrong? Am I being too conventional? Or is it really as shitty as it feels?

I look forward to your stories my sexy beasts!

Claire xx

Best bonking song: Not Above Love

By: Aluna George

Best Used: If sex is getting boring and you want a giggle halfway through, pop this on your playlist. I don’t know about you Lovers, but when she sings the chorus “I’m not above love” it totally sounds like she’s singing “I’m not a butt plug”

Juvenile? Yes

Giggle inducing for me every time? Double yes!

 

 

 

 

 

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