A Buddist, A Blowjob, and A Haircut

When I was at the peak of my whorish ways I would basically fuck any guy who had the luck to view my online dating profile. I had quickly gone from The Chef (Is That a Crock-pot?) to 8 different guys in a matter of a month or so. I realize this is slow for some people but considering that exactly a year ago I was a virgin I was feeling pretty badass. There was a point at which I realized that I could not continue in this vein…and the reason I gave up sleeping with any dick that vaguely interested was because of a strange night with a strange guy that had a very strange ending.

It started as most online dating website encounters start…. In this case, I use “dating website” loosely since it was mostly a “I’m lonely right now and am looking for a one night stand for this very minute” website. He contacted me, asked if I was interested via a few hours of vigorous flirting. Eventually photos were exchanged, there was probably a penis picture but of course excuses about shrinkage due to being camera shy or cold weather or something other extraneous reason.

He came over that night and seemed nice enough. He was mid-thirties, recently divorced, loved to kiss and cuddle. We made out for a long time on the couch. He was a decent kisser and put effort into making me feel sexy, which was appreciated. Then it took a turn for the worse, we went into the bedroom and he dropped trou, I should have looked at the penis picture that he sent more carefully. He was about as big as my thumb and I might have looked shocked…remember I recently was doing a 9 inch dick so this size was surprising. However despite the diminutive size I still blew him to the best of my ability. He grew a little, maybe three fingers width, not even a handful. As he was about to cum he pushed me off and yelled, “Stop! If I cum in your mouth I will never be able to kiss you again.”  I was stunned as he ran to the bathroom to cum and I laid mostly undressed on the bed.

He returned and asked how I wanted to climax. I didn’t want to pull out the 7  ½ inch dildo, as I thought that might be salt in a wound about his size. So I got my Lelo egg vibe and let him work it on my clit until I came. This is when things got weird. In my post-climax haze, he asked if I could give him a haircut, I have given a lot of haircuts before but never to a guy without a set of clippers. I told him this and he insisted that I could not be worse then the people at Sports Clips. I agreed to cut his hair, in the same way that people agree to meet up for dinner sometime soon… saying so but not really planning on it in the near or distant future.

We got up and I was ready to show him to the door. He put on most of his clothes and then called his rehab sobriety partner. He told her about what just happened between us, while I was in the room! He hung up with her and then preceded to answer a bunch of texts giving me a short list of all of friends who are still drug addicts and texting him. He then told me about all of the drugs he has tried and encouraged me to try as many as possible, but not caffeine because it wasn’t “natural”. I had decided earlier that I didn’t want to make this a repeated experience; it was at this point that I decided that I was probably done hooking up with people from Plenty of Fish. I can only wish that it had ended there. Somewhere in his manic description about how DTM took him to heaven and changed his life I realized that he might currently be high…In my defense, we did very little talking before we started making out so there wasn’t a lot of chance to appraise his mental state.

I got up to show him out and he assumed this meant that I was ready to cut his hair. So he sat in the kitchen and told me how he wanted his hair cut and styled. I didn’t know how to renege on my previous agreement to cut his hair so I got out my hair cutting scissors and got to work. I have never clipped and cut so fast. Unfortunately it was not fast enough to avoid him trying to convert me to his special brand of Buddhism and tell me about how Buddhism has helped him get past hating his abusive father. I began to think that if he didn’t leave soon I would be forced to start doing drugs to survive (or forget) this encounter. Without crosschecking my work, I showed him out and promised to see him soon. I know it was coward’s way out but I was in self-preservation mode.

When he texted the next day I pretended it was the wrong number and made sure his phone number is under the “Don’t respond to” label in my contact groups. Horrible, I know, but this one was an extreme circumstance.