The Cake Walk

For a woman who spent at least a decade thinking that she was unattractive, it has been a very strange day so far.

If I was looking for a man, there wouldn’t be one in sight but, like London buses, they all come along in a cluster.

After yoga, I was walking along the path when another student, passing in his car, swerved across the road to stop beside me and ask me if I would like to go for a coffee one day. It was a bit strange because this is only the second time he’s spoken to me

He’s a nice guy but I don’t fancy him and the very fact that that was what ran through my head strongly influenced what happened next.

My instincts are not normally wrong and I listened carefully as the two sides of my personality fought for control.

The animal part of me knew exactly what he was suggesting, but the more socially adept side told her off for her misplaced vanity and verbally accepted the offer, with the reservation that it would have to be next week as ‘my partner is visiting over the weekend’. The look on his crestfallen face told us both all that we really needed to know.

His grip on the crumpled piece of paper where he was waiting to write my phone number slackened and I could visibly watch him deflate as his ego struggled to find a way to withdraw the invitation.

He was astonished that I seemed to prefer a long-distance relationship where I saw the man once every couple of weeks over the more frequent opportunities available with a more local man. In the end, he took my number anyway and agreed that we didn’t have to be dating to want to have a cup of coffee and a chat.

It became clear that he was at yoga partly to improve his health but, primarily, to find a new lady friend.

Then off for a lovely massage from a man with whom I am becoming good friends. I told him about the events of the morning and, as I recounted the story, he smiled at my surprised delight that some man might actually want to date me, as well as the discomfiture of the poor chap.

At the end of the session, as I lay face down, enveloped in towels and totally relaxed, he patted my head and placed a gentle kiss upon the back of my naked shoulder.

It was not sexual and I did not feel threatened, but it was totally unexpected and not professional behaviour.

However, over the weeks, the lines in this relationship have become blurred and I wonder if I should say something… or is it merely cultural mores that make me uncertain as to how to proceed.

This is a man who is getting my body and my mind back into good health. I have come a long way, both physically and mentally as a result of his gentle ministrations. Was he just momentarily overcome by the advances that we have made together and giving me a friendly peck or should I be concerned that saying nothing now could lead to an escalation in his demonstrative behaviour?

Home to a conversation with another online friend and a twisting, turning philosophical discourse on why it would not be wrong for me to masturbate on webcam for him. How I was allowing socially-tailored inhibitions to stand in the way of a perfectly natural stimulation that harmed no one. I would enjoy having him watch and he would appreciate the performance.

Of course, he’s right. We would both experience mutually beneficial stimulation from the encounter and, living on the other side of the world, there is no chance that it would ever become anything more. But there is the thorny question of internet infidelity and the fear that such a virtual dalliance could spoil the wonderful interaction that I have in my real life.

Experiencing the pervasive hot surge deep inside me; the pulse of energy as the ephemeral essence of the thought translates itself from my brain to transmit a shock of electricity that centres in the most sensitive part of the flesh between my legs. Read More Cause and Effect

But, as he said, would such an insignificant thing interfere with such an important relationship? Is it really any different from using one of my toys?

And then I ask myself how I would feel if Ruf were to indulge in such behaviour?

Not happy.

I can’t help wondering what it is that makes these men pursue me in this way.

People have accused me in the past of being flirtatious – even when I didn’t think I was.

Am I going back to previous methods of behaviour where my vanity at being found attractive by a good looking bloke allows him to manipulate me into physical situations that I don’t necessarily want?

Or is it the latent sexuality that is bursting forth and making me a plum ripe for picking by any man who comes within touching distance?

Am I guilty of sending out mixed signals in my determination not to offend?