The Englishman

Note: This femdom dating not-dating story is not current. I found it in my drafts, and you start to see now why I have so many drafts…

He’s 6’3, 32, super cute, fit, intelligent, articulate. And on another continent. Which is par for the course with me it seems.

We have lightly corresponded on Collarspace on and off for a few years. More off than on. His profile popped up on my page again and I re-read it: It’s smart and thoughtful (still).

I sent him a note, as one of us does every few months:

Hello there,

Just saw you pop up in my ‘viewing’ page: hello.

I still really like your profile. I hope you’re doing well :).

Ferns

A few sweet emails exchanged, as usual. I included the line I use a lot with the lovelies who are nowhere near me:

“…you’re too far away to be of any use to me…”

“I’m ah… working on it,” he replied.

Then a couple of weeks later he sent me a note to let me know that he’s going to be in Australia for 3 weeks in a couple of months, that he would have some free time and tentatively suggested that my neck of the woods might be nice that time of year.

“Well well well…” I said.

We are now talking more seriously to see if we actually like each other, to see if meeting is worthwhile. I laid out my expectations:

If you come here, we will have only a short period together so you will have first dibs on all of my time. If there is attraction, I will want some light play early on, maybe (probably, definitely :P) a kissing date which is my favourite thing in the world. I say ‘early on’ because if there is attraction up-front, I want to take advantage of it. Then if it turns out that we don’t really get on so well, I will have gotten a piece of you before we figure that out and the attraction dissipates: I’d hate for 6’3 of hella cute, fit man to go to waste.

I expect we will get on ‘fine’ (as in ‘have pleasant interactions’) since I think we are both reasonable, intelligent, socially skilled people. Anything more (like wildly fabulous rapport) would be a bonus.

Frankly, I have zero doubt that he’s lovely or that we’ll get along just fine, but of course that’s not enough. Not really.

Will the visit really happen? Honestly, I don’t know. It feels tenuous, but I’m hopeful.

Will there be any chemistry? I have no idea.

And look, even contemplating the possibility of a kissing date with 6’3 of fabulous submissive cuteness is enough to make me pretty damn happy.

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“Well… what happened?!” I hear you ask.

Nothing. Nothing happened.

Not only did nothing happen, I have no recollection of who this is, of our exchanges, of how it fizzled out and disappeared.

This means that he was, at least, not a jerkface, nothing blew up, there was no badness. So yay, I guess.

It probably means that ‘something came up’ and the trip was cancelled, that we drifted, and unlike the other times where we would check in for a little chat every now and then, it was a nail in the not-really-open coffin, and we never spoke again.

And so it goes with most of these. Not a bang, but a whimper.

An utterly forgettable whimper. A whimper-ette, if you like.

And this, Dave, is why I’m single.