SO. In case anyone has forgotten, I’ve already been on two dates with my lovely blokey from my speed dating success story. And we’ve just had our third. I keep thinking that any moment, someone is going to slap me and wake me up from my dream. I mean, not that I’ve got a fetish for being slapped or anything.
Three dates done and dusted. That’s some kind of record for this gay boy, this undateable gay. I’m expecting a knock on my door from The Guinness Book of Records any minute now.
I decided that this was the right time to introduce him to my mother. So I arranged an afternoon tea with plenty of cakes. People who know me well know that my biggest weakness, besides men, is cakes. Give me a Belgian bun and I’m like a pig in shit. Happy for hours.
KNOCK, KNOCK. That was us knocking on the door, by the way, arriving at my mum and dad’s house. They actually have a doorbell so I don’t know why I wrote knock, knock. It should have been DING DONG. Digressing…. anyway, you get the gist, we had arrived for afternoon tea.
As my mother answered the door, I could see her eyes light up at how handsome Paul was. She was acting like a bloody magpie seeing a glitter ball. You could see the pride in her eyes that her gay son had bagged himself a bit of a fitty. Although now I come to think about it, I don’t like quite how shocked she seemed to be at me managing to bag myself such a handsome man. I must talk to her about that a later date. Note to self.
I made the necessary introductions and Paul took my mother’s hand and kissed it.
“Nice to meet you!”
Now for anyone who knows my mother, will know that she fills up and cries at the drop of a hat, at the slightest thing she wells up.
I’ve witnessed my mum cry at X Factor, Loose Women and even Homes under the Hammer. And this is exactly what I witnessed now. Obviously, Paul’s good manners were too much for her and she felt overwhelmed. My god, I didn’t know where to look. Although I was looking around for a hanky.
I’ve witnessed my mum cry at X Factor, Loose Women and even Homes under the Hammer. And this is exactly what I witnessed now. Obviously, Paul’s good manners were too much for her and she felt overwhelmed. My god, I didn’t know where to look. Although I was looking around for a hanky.
Once she’d pulled herself together and I’d given her a slap to stop her crying. (That’s a joke, before anyone reports me to the police. I don’t actually beat up my mother.) She finally poured the coffee and offered around her freshly made cherry macaroons.
My mummy is a bit of a Mary Berry when it comes to baking. She’s always got tins upon tins of cakes ready for visitors.
Paul made a very good impression that afternoon and I could definitely tell that my mum approved. In fact, I’d known she’d approved from the moment she broke down in tears after the kiss on the hand.
As we left and walked to the car, I turned and gave Paul a kiss of my own. I planted a great big smacker on his lips.
“What was that for?” He gushed.
MASSIVE GREAT BIG STRENGTH SIX MATURE CHEDDAR CHEESE ALERT
“Just for being you,” I replied.
Now, this next part may make some people call me a slut. What they call slut, I call enjoying the male species. I think it’s very important to try a few different platters from the buffet table, else how do you know what you like?
Anyway, I digress once again. The point I was getting to was that, here we were, three dates in and we still hadn’t enjoyed any kind of sexual relations. (No Bill Clinton jokes here please)
So to solve this dilemma, I asked him back to mine and before you could say blow job, I had him on my bed and were enjoying a very passionate kiss. Fully clothed, may I add.
As I went to undo his trousers to rip them off, he grabbed my hand to stop me. I looked up, shocked, like a rabbit in headlights.
“Before you go there, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Well, talk about mind racing into overdrive moment. My mind filled with all sorts of visions and scenarios. After a silence of what felt like days, I pleaded.
“What? What is it Paul?”
“I’ve got a really small willy.”
Phew. My mind slowed down and stopped racing. I looked up to the sky, thankful I wasn’t about to unzip a pair of trousers and reveal a vagina. A small willy I can cope with. A vagina, I cannot.
Now, for people who know me very well, will realise a small willy will never put me off. One, because I’m not a shallow, size Queen. And two, the good Lord did not bless me downstairs either.
In fact, a man once told me that he could use my penis as dental floss. (Bastard) But that’s another story for another day.
To prove to Paul that the small willy revelation had not killed the passion, I continued in my quest and unzipped his trousers. And as I did, I got the most almighty surprise.
To prove to Paul that the small willy revelation had not killed the passion, I continued in my quest and unzipped his trousers. And as I did, I got the most almighty surprise.
An eyeful of cum. As I blinked to remove the foreign object from my eye, his face turned a beautiful shade of Lobster.
“You just turn me on so much.”
My one eye, the one not sealed shut with his natural adhesive, widened.
“Clearly. I mean, I know I’m good”, I gushed, “But I hardly even touched you yet.”
“I LOVE YOU!” He suddenly blurted out.
I sat back on the bed, still temporarily blinded in one eye.
“You what?” I was aghast.
Before anyone calls me a silly poof for my actions, can I just point out that the three dates had all taken place within a ten-day time frame.
“How can you love me? You barely know me.”
“I can’t help the way I’ve fallen for you.”
Call me mental. Call me mad. Call me destined to be undateable for a whole lifetime. But I just couldn’t truly believe that someone could fall in love that quickly. And genuinely mean it. So I asked him to leave.
What Have We Got
