Sunday, 29 April 2012

Ramblings: A Suspicious Blemish



I did wonder when we arranged the first date why we had to meet so far from home. Especially, as he only lived two streets away. I suppose I was more naïve at the time but I believed him when he told me that he and his wife were separated, she was fine with him coming out as gay and that they only lived together for the sake of his three children. I think the fact that he met me in a town 30 miles away suggested that was a lie.


He was late thirties, not too bad looking, although a bit fleshy round the face with a slight double chin. He was tall at least, well spoken and a professional. He was a doctor. I’d met him on the internet and we’d arranged to meet up. I was just emerging from a damaging twelve year relationship and ready to meet someone genuine and decent. I’d met plenty of doctors in my workplace but had never dated one. I always thought that sex with a doctor would cause me insecurity. Is the lingering caress on your thigh passion or has he found a tumour? Is that sneaky finger checking an enlarged prostate? Is he hugging me or palpating my spleen? Every opportunity for passion would potentially be quashed by my hypochondria.


The date went well. We ate a nice meal, went for a walk and chatted. He was attractive and interesting, if a little bit wet and mildly lacking in humour. He offered to drop me home. I think that as it was dark he could now be seen with me without fear of his wife (who clearly wasn’t OK with the whole gay thing) seeing us together.


He offered to take a detour on the way back to show me a local beauty spot where the views over the surrounding area were spectacular. I went along with this, knowing full well what his agenda was. I’m sure the beauty spot did have lovely views but I suspect they weren’t that stunning on a misty November night. There was only one view I got when we parked up in a deserted track (I won’t elaborate on what it was). I also got a dubious stain on the lapel of my coat. We did see some beautiful deer springing across the tracks as we drove back though which was enchanting. I love deer and had a poster of Bambi on my wall as a child. Bambi rocked.


I suppose one should always expect the married man to lie and this way not be disappointed by them. He did lie a lot but I forgave him as he seemed pretty messed up. It must be an anxiety causing situation for a married man to be secretly gay. I don’t condone the behaviour of such men though, as the anxiety and distress their wives experiences must be immense too.


We met a couple more times and it wasn’t great. He was a clumsy lover, rutting and bucking like a frisky goat (is this what straight women have to tolerate?) and often weeping with shame after he reached orgasm, which can be disheartening and less than romantic.


The final straw was the time we were engaged in an intimate procedure (aka “at it”) and he decided it would be a good moment to comment on a large mole I have on my stomach. He suggested I get it checked out as it could be cancerous. This was mentioned casually midway through the proceedings. I did get it checked. It was fine. I never saw him again.


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