I switch off all my dating profiles in an act of fidelity and decency. Pretty Teacher and I are off to a great start, although I’m not convinced that having sex on our second date was the best idea. Nevertheless, it’s happened and I need to move matters forward positively. Yes, I do have some misgivings about her OCD behaviour with her phone. I’m starting to think that OCD means ‘Obviously Confused & Damaged’. Is she?

We arrange to meet the following Saturday, first to watch a game of rugby in a pub, then to partake in a Guy Fawkes fireworks evening. Our banter on the phone each night is positive, upbeat and fun. I think that she’s a thoroughly good person, is someone I can trust and thus far all the signs are that we can be good together.

It’s the first Saturday in November and it’s a blustery one as I arrive at Pretty Teacher’s apartment complex. She summons me upstairs and I’m enthused by her wanting me to see her home. Her place is a two-bedroomed apartment that is very tastefully furnished. One bedroom is her office where she prepares her lessons and other teacherly stuff. Her bedroom has an enormous double bed in it. Will I be spending the night in it? I think it’s safe to assume so.

Again she insists that we go in her car to the same historic market town that we went to last weekend. Is repetition part of OCD behaviour? We find a bustling pub where we watch the game together, albeit sitting largely in silence, hardly talking to each other. I put this down to noisy environment we’re in. She struggles to sit still, is constantly fidgeting and I wonder if she also has ADHD. While I ponder this she grabs her phone and plays a round of online scrabble. At half-time I buy us hamburgers and drinks, which we eat in silence, barely making eye contact. I try to make conversation but her responses are curt to the point of rudeness.

My mind races, trying to figure out what’s going on here. We’ve spoken on the phone every night since Sunday, taking turns to call each other without having articulated plans to do so. I took that as a very good sign. Have I said something that has upset her? I’m not going to ask directly, but will rather let this date play out, let her show me her hand in her own sweet time. I’ll just be me, positive, light and fun. I’ve never been one for letting other people decide my mood.

It’s now early November so it’s gets dark early. The rugby game finishes, which England won against Australia, something that should make rugby-mad Pretty Teacher ecstatically happy, but instead she is still sombre. Is it perhaps because I didn’t gush about her home? I was impressed with it and said so, was that not good enough? What’s bugging her?

We make our way over to the stately home for the fireworks display. It’s blowing a gale and I won’t be surprised if the event is called off on health and safety grounds. On the phone the previous night we’d agreed that extra layers of clothing will be needed, so tonight we stand in a side-street near the venue getting changed into warmer gear that we’ve brought along. So, we both plan ahead and can stick to a plan. This is good, I can have a relationship with someone like that.

The wind is howling and it’s cold, damn cold. With my frame I dwarf her, so I offer to act as a windbreak, which she accepts. As we walk around looking at the stalls selling unspeakable plastic rubbish from China at ridiculous prices, I make an effort at all times to keep myself between Pretty Teacher and the wind. To warm us up I buy hot food and drinks which we consume in silence. Conversation is hard to come by, despite my best efforts. What the hell is going on in her head?

I’ve felt this feeling before, a feeling of confusion and of being scrutinized then rejected. I felt it with Country Girl and Musician Gal. In fact this whole experience so far is a replay of those encounters by way of it starting off with fireworks then quickly petering out. I’m starting to notice patterns here with certain types of women exhibiting types of behaviour that I now think of Hot-Cold. It was the same with Krazy Girl too.

I feel like just walking away because I’m starting to think that this is going nowhere. However, there could be a myriad of reasons for her offish behaviour, so I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt. I also think she might be nervous about us having sex again. It could be anything; I won’t blow my chances by being impetuous. I’ll play it cool, be patient, be myself and let her come to me, physically and emotionally.

The fireworks display doesn’t last long and it’s a bit of a disappointment, just like this date so far. We go back to Pretty Teacher’s car and drive back to her place in silence. I’ve decided that she’s nervous about us having sex again and me spending the night. Maybe it’s all too fast for her? Maybe she’s such a Good Girl that what we did last Sunday is far beyond the realms of her dating or relationship experience.

Back at her place she invites me inside, but a part of me was wondering if she’d make some pithy excuse and I’d be going home alone. She makes me a coffee and we end up sitting side by side on her sofa…in silence and barely making eye contact. This reminds me of the time when I sat with Baltic Babe and all her confessions came out. Is the same about to happen?

“I’m sorry, but it’s late and I’m very tired,” she says, looking me in the eye with a strange look.

I’m not a hundred percent sure what she’s telling me, so I try to clarify with a question, a direct one which I try to put across as tactfully as I can.

“So does that mean I’m sleeping over or not?” I ask.

“Not, I’m afraid,” she replies with an apologetic expression on her face.

What the fuck is going on here?! That’s what I want to say, but I decide to be more dignified.

“Okay, not a problem,” is all I say.

I’m a bit surprised by this, I think about being even more direct and ask her what she’s thinking and feeling, but that would make me seem needy, something that is always a big no-no in any woman’s dating rulebook. We sit in silence staring into our nearly empty mugs of coffee.

I decide to act with dignity, so I get up, return the mug to the kitchen and make my way to the hallway to get my boots and jacket. Pretty Teacher is already there waiting for me, my jacket in her hands. I just smile as I put it on, trying to display some valour.

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” I say to her.

“Okay,” is all she says.

We kiss half-heartedly and I go downstairs to my car. On my drive home I’m absolutely fuming. What have I said or done, or NOT said or done to deserve this attitude from her?!

The next day I’ve calmed down to a simmer, telling myself all sorts of convenient lies to excuse Pretty Teacher’s actions and inactions. I tell myself that she just wants to take it slow, something I’m okay with. Then later in the evening I phone her as I had promised and the conversation is almost icy. Her answers are short and she asks no questions of her own. It feels like she doesn’t want to talk to me, wants me to get off the phone…wants me to fuck off and die. Then she surprises me.

“I’m off on Wednesday. Why don’t we go out for dinner? I’ll call you after lunchtime to finalise details as I’m seeing my friends for lunch,” she suddenly says.

This catches me totally off-guard. I agree to her idea and we say goodbye. I lie on my bed, phone in hand, feeling flummoxed by her frustrating, contradictory words and actions. One minute I’m being ignored, the next I’m in demand. I don’t appreciate being treated like this. I start to feel angry. I’m tired of women jerking me around like I’m a monkey on the end of a chain.

At 11PM my phone burps and I assume it’s Pretty Teacher, texting me a goodnight message, perhaps even an apology. I can’t believe my eyes when I look at my phone. It’s a message from Krazy Girl.

I’m horny!

I’m astounded. I haven’t seen her in almost three months. The last contact I had with Krazy Girl was when I wished her a happy birthday six weeks ago. Things have felt done and dusted between us since we last saw each other. I was never expecting to hear from her again. I feel a little bit excited, while also feeling confused, wary and very surprised.

I take a moment to think about things. I think about Pretty Teacher and how it feels like she’s just put me on an emotional roller-coaster. I don’t deserve what she’s doing to me. I think about my Exgf and my pledge to tell her if I’ve slept with anybody else, but remember her leading me on a merry dance for five years. She had the best of me, now she can have the worst of me. I think about the fantastic sex I’ve had with Krazy Girl. I send her a reply.

Be at mine tomorrow at 9am.

Katy Perry – Firework

8 thoughts on “Fireworks”

  1. She’s wasn’t nice and I’m thinking of that woman you barbecued zebra for… this one may be a taker. I mean, seriously, at least be personable with the man who gave you your first g-spot orgasm. Damn! That’s just common courtesy. No talking?? Where’s she learn manners? I never apologize for other people’s behavior but, “I’m sorry you aren’t meeting enough women who treat you well.”(I said enough because I hope you meet others in daily life that are good people.)

      1. Yes – The simplest of manners makes the world a little bit lighter and brighter. I’m divorced but when I first met my “first husband”, I began keeping an eye on him after he picked up the purse I dropped – just to be kind.

  2. What?!? Darling you have it all wrong. You should have asked her directly what she was thinking about. We love that kind of stuff. It doesn’t seem needy at all as long as you do it directly and with a purpose. *tisk-tisk-tisk*

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