Bumble was fun and I was meeting lots of young horny guys. At this point, I realized that I had a true addiction to the feeling I felt when I had sex. It got me so high, and I was totally present in the moment; nothing else seemed to matter. And all of the insecurities and shame I felt from my failed marriage and the emotional abuse of my ex-husband escaped me. I needed more, and men became nothing more than a tool that I would use to make me feel that high and forget.
I would literally look at random men and think about what they’d be like in bed. I remember running on the treadmill in the gym and looking at each man in the gym, old and young, ugly and hot – and thinking, I wonder what they’d be like in bed. I wondered what they looked like naked, how they would smell if they were laying on top of me, how they would attempt to please me, their motion, and what their face would look like when they came. I would even come up with my own fantasies in my head like I had them all figured out.
I wanted more, but I was definitely not going to approach someone at the gym. Instead, I downloaded another app to meet new targets – the infamous Tinder. I heard this app was more for hook-ups, so I decided it would be good to give it a try. I quickly noticed that most of the guys on Tinder were not as good looking as the guys on Bumble. I would swipe left, and swipe left, one time over 100 times before I found a guy that didn’t look like a total sketch ball. And once I matched with a few of them, I quickly learned that the rumors were true: these guys were just looking for sex.
I ended up meeting The Young Gent on Tinder, and we messaged for a couple of months, back and forth. We never really discussed much of anything, but I did learn that he lived in the town my ex-husband grew up in, and had just turned 22. I think he was trying to become a fireman. I’m not sure, because it didn’t really matter to me. He had a tanner completion, brown eyes, brown hair, and a really cool round tattoo on his arm. One night after a couple of drinks, I got the courage to invite him to meet me out with a couple of friends.
Seeing him in person was better than the photos. He was so handsome and fit. His body was rock solid, perfect form. He wasn’t too muscular, but he had no fat on him. He was kind, gentle and sweet. His smile was like Patrick Dempsey’s from Grey’s Anatomy– it made me feel calm and relaxed. He made me feel confident. His style reminded me of that hot preppy guy in high school that everyone liked, and tonight he was going to be all mine. Once again, this was a total boost of confidence for me – to be desired, to feel wanted.
We stayed out past midnight and then went back to my house. We started with a passionate kiss once we walked in my front, and quickly went to the bedroom. A lot of what happened next it a blur to me. It could be because I drank too much, or maybe just because for whatever reason I choose not to remember all of the details. I do know we had sex that night, I do know that it was good. He was an affectionate partner, loving and caring, soft and gentle. I know he came, I did not. And then we passed out butt naked.
We awoke in the very early morning, both with smiles on our faces. Something about our energy was calm and easy. There was absolutely no angst with The Young Gent, unlike with The Captain. He began to cuddle me from behind. I didn’t want to like the feeling, because it felt so safe and good, like we had done it a hundred times before. I allowed myself to feel it for a few seconds, knowing this wasn’t anything real, but for some reason it reminded me of what love is supposed to feel like. It sure was a nice reminder.
At some point as he was big spooning me, he started kissing my neck. I could feel him getting aroused and I knew the fantasy was over. It wasn’t time to feel lovey-dovey anymore, it was time to fuck a second round. As he continued to kiss my neck, chills ran down my body and out through my toes. It felt good and I started to get aroused. He rolled me over, got on top, and slowly began kissing my lips. He smelled like Abercrombie & Fitch cologne, definitely the preppy jock from high school. It reminded me of a time when I was so much younger, and things were so much simpler.
We continued to kiss and then he began to kiss lower, taking his time kissing along my neck and clavicle, finally reaching my breasts. He took one in one hand and firmly caresses it while sucking softly on my nipple on my other breast. Then he switched breasts, slowly licking and sucking, getting my nipples hard. As he continued to take his time, I drifted higher and higher. I lay back and enjoyed every feeling that I was experiencing.
Shortly after, he took his hand and placed it on my vagina. My breathing halted in that moment. He could feel I was wet. He put one finger inside of me and after a few times going back and forth, he added a second finger. I moaned and began to breath heavier. I wanted more and he knew it. He got up off of me and grabbed his pants on the floor, grabbed a condom out of his pocket, put it on and then jumped back in bed. As I watched him, he continued to look over at me with a big smile – which made me grin back. He got back on top of me, slowly began to kiss me, and gently put his dick back inside of me.
Back and forth he went, and I was completely in the moment. He continued to be an attentive lover, kissing my neck, wrapping his arms around me, holding me. It wasn’t just a fuck for him to get himself off. He was a more mature lover, taking his time and allowing things to really build for the both of us. It was nice, tasteful, and sensual.
Eventually, he finished with a nice loud moan. I loved watching his face in that moment. His mouth opened wide and he lost all control. Unfortunately, I didn’t finish. It was somewhat disappointing, but then again, not many lovers have ever been able to get me there, especially on the first occasion. Either way, I still got the mental high I was looking for.
The Young Gent was great. We clicked, we vibed, then it was over. I didn’t expect to hear from him again, and I didn’t. I even noticed a few days later that he deleted me off Snapchat and Tinder. No biggie for me until Facebook popped up with suggested friends about a month later…and there he was. I clicked on his page and learned that he had just become a fireman, and that he had just recently celebrated his four-year anniversary with his high school sweetheart. She was a pretty girl, very classy, and elegant.
I felt bad about it after realizing this. I felt bad for her and about sleeping with someone who was in a relationship. There really was no way I could have known. My mind began to race for a moment: I wondered where he told her he was that night? How was he able to leave and sleep over my house without her knowing? Has he done this sort of thing before? Was he such an attentive lover because she taught him to be? How could he go back to her and look her in the face like nothing happened? What a horrible person! STOP, I told myself. I chose not to think about it any longer. There is nothing I could do to change what happened. The truth eventually comes out in situations like these, there was nothing for me to do.
It, again, made me question men and their intentions. Cheating is not okay. How often does this happen in general? How often do men cheat? Clearly, The Young Gent wasn’t a gentleman at all. He was a liar, a cheater, and a manipulator. Whatever the answer, it’s exactly why I have chosen to fuck men and not look for a real relationship. I could allow myself feel that safe and love-dovey connection, but always have to remember that it can’t be real. It’s all fake, it doesn’t last. Just keep fucking.