Jill’s On The Dating Trail, (Again!), Sex Blog

One Big Lemon

Good bye to the man with a big black jag!

Its time to move on, to find some security, and hopefully that means a monogamous affair with a man who will be loyal and loving, a real relationship.  Never let it be said that the fantasy of a woman can be knocked out of her, the dream of a prince, wealthy, intelligent and loving.  We can pick ourselves up from any gutter and hit the next social function full of hope.

The trouble is for me, that once you’ve tasted the leather of a big black jag the bar has been set high, maybe two high.

We slap a profile up on our local online dating site and wow, it has to be said that this game easy for women.  Within hours of having my profile up men have declared their undying love for me, even though they haven’t seen a picture. Its a desperate game for men, where women are outnumbered, and lets keep it that way!

Low and behold the first mistake is made.  There is a man, who probably owns a big black jag, who advertised himself as an ex-CEO and now a successful business person.

There is a woman inside every woman who loves a powerful man, loves success and loves the idea of being rescued and this is the man who will rescue me.

We shoot emails to each other but he won’t show me his photo!  ”If you send your photo, I’ll give you access to my personal page” he insists.

I should have picked up that something is not right as on his profile he writes “women have called me rude, abrupt and bitter but I think it’s honesty.”

Every game possible I try to play, why why why won’t he show me his.  His confession is swift, “I ended up meeting someone on knew… bit embarrassing, but no, it wasn’t my wife.”

High on expectation of ‘oh I can say nothing wrong sets in’ little ol’ me get carried away in our own sense of self worth.

Today my report is I stuffed boyfriend possibility number 1!   Oh, I should never try and be funny but I did….. now, on reflection I hide my body in shame.  He has been too persistent in refusing to send his photo so in frustration I sent… oh dear:

“…. either that experience of knowing someone on here has deeply affected you or you are a complete and utter control freak….um, maybe both?  Either way, as nervous as I have now become, here is my photo.”

The silence is killing me, no email, no response, oh wasn’t I funny?  By the next morning I  realize my humor is sour, he does respond and sends a photo, but something has changed.  He likes my photos, so he says and here are his….

By this time I’ve realized that you don’t call a man a control freak on the first round of emails and apologize profusely.  Alas, Boyfriend number one, is not impressed.  I ask to meet for coffee:

“I think I’ll pass.

Already have one bitter lady in my life!”

I crawl back into my turtle shell and pine oh so badly for the man with the big black jag.

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