If there’s anything I’ve learned from my years as a sex blogger, it’s that people have very deep sexual needs that aren’t being met. They reach out to tell me about them all the time. They want to be used by a man who knows what he’s doing. They want to fuck like they perceive I do, freely and with abandon. They want a perfect first time, a boyfriend who’ll understand them, a man to call them names and treat them like dirt before using and discarding them. They want sex as a relaxing respite from the world at large; they want the passionate sex they’ve read about and seen on movie screens and heard about in pop songs, but have never had.
If there’s also anything I’ve learned as a blogger, it’s that most of the time, the only thing standing between these people and the sex they need happens to be themselves. The virgin craving a first time who wants the encounter to be so perfect and has such rigid criteria for his partner is doomed; in his quest for flawlessness he’s looking for a very thin needle in a field of haystacks. The harried husbands who claim never to have time to get the fucks they desire are the same ones sitting mutely on the sofa at home in the evenings, letting the wives and kids control the TV remote instead of standing up and declaring they’re going out for the evening. The guys who want their first sex party so badly they can taste it are also the first ones who make excuses not to go, when the appointed time rolls around.
Guys postpone having sex until they’ve lost that five pounds they imagine is the only thing standing between themselves and the ultimate sexual experience. Perfectly agreeable human beings duck their heads and stay at home to masturbate because they’ve convinced themselves they’re unfuckable trolls. They’re not clean enough, not pretty enough, not slim enough, not hairy enough, too married, too single, too poor, too awkward.
It’s all in their fucking heads, of course. Every single bit of it. When I point it out to them, it goes one of two ways—either the clouds part and a light comes down from heaven accompanied by a chorus as they realize that yes! The miniscule bulge they can see over the waistband of their underwear is really not going to prevent anyone from finding them desirable! Or else they continue trudging along their weary and well-trodden path of regret and blame.
It’s for reasons like this I’m always encouraging my readers to say yes instead of no. Yes, I’d like to meet that guy who seems nice, even though I’m not sure of his looks. Yes, I’ll accept that invitation to the group motel party at the end of the month . . . and yes, I’ll show up. Yes, I’ll go outside my usual comfort level and try a sexual act not in my current repertoire. Yes, I’ll have sex with a guy older than I prefer. Yes, I’ll get out of my damned chair and out from behind my computer and my phone and meet someone face to face.
I mean, fuck. If there’s one message this journal has, it’s to say yes to all the good things the universe offers. There’s no guarantee the offers will keep coming. Turning your face to the ground and shaking your head all the time will only mean that over time, you’ll stop noticing when good things present themselves.
Not that the word no doesn’t have its place, of course. If you’re at a group sex party and a truly unattractive, annoying guy won’t leave you alone, politely say no until he gets the message. If you feel you’re being played by a guy or lied to, say no. If you’re honestly uncomfortable with something your partner asks you to do, to the point that it’s causing you distress, say no. If you’re being asked to endanger your health or your safety, say no and walk away.
I’ve noticed over the last few months in particular that I really resent having to pull out the word no, however. When it happens, it’s because the guys set themselves up for it.
r u looking?? they’ll text me at midnight.
Not right now, I’ll say. Are you available tomorrow during the day or earlier in the evening?
And of course I’ll never get a reply. Not until another midnight rolls around. r u looking??
I’m not usually free this late at night, I’ll say, more specifically. Can you ever meet earlier in the day?
No reply. Another midnight will roll around. dude, you available???
Not at this time of night, I’ll say, sighing.
What’s typical after this is that we’ll have more back and forths. Am I free? No. Am I free, dude? No. Am I looking?
No. No. No. After a while—and maybe it’s just me, but I’m willing to bet the experience is more universal—I start to feel that the guy is just challenging me. He’s sitting there saying, I know this top fucker is going to say no. Just watch. I’ll just prove what a predictable ass he is. Regardless of what the guy actually intends, what happens is that I get so tired of saying no, so tired of being forced into a position in which my only answer can be no, that I end up blocking the guy forever . . . just so I don’t have to keep refusing him, over and over and over again.
Another example: guys tend to underestimate the lead time I need to make an encounter happen. I have a top friend—theoretical friend, since we’ve never met—who never uses the cell number I’ve given him until the very last minute, every time. I have a bottom who wants two tops to fuck him! You in? he’ll text me . . . fifteen minutes before the encounter is supposed to take place.
Sorry, I need a little more lead time than that, I’ll tell him.
He’ll send me a frowny face, but the next time something similar rolls around, either he doesn’t recall what I said before, or he doesn’t much care. I’m fucking a hot bottom boy in a half hour. You want to come?
No, I’m at work, I’ll have to say. I appreciate you thinking of me, but I really need a little more warning most days.
Three days later. I’m fucking that hole again in 25 minutes. Come with me!
No, I’m forced to say. Over and over again. No.
And honestly, I hate saying it. I like this guy. It’d be fun to fuck with him. But I get increasingly frustrated when he doesn’t seem to realize I’m not usually available at the drop of a hat, and I get upset when he makes me tell him no. The day is going to come when he makes me feel badly for saying no so many times, and I’ll have to block him, too.
My suggestion for the day is that if you find a particular guy saying no to you all the time, find a way to turn the no into a yes. I’m not talking about cases in which a guy is genuinely not into you. That’s the kind of no you should listen to. But if the guy has seemed nice and approachable in the past, and if he’s expressed interest in getting together with you, but he’s declining every time you inquiring if he’s around, take a step back and see if there’s any way you might be sabotaging yourself.
If you’re asking looking???? every time you message him, it’s time to change your approach. Instead of your frustrating one-word interrogation, have an actual dialogue with the guy about his availability and how it meshes with yours. Try to make a tentative date at a time he’s available. Do something to break that pattern of no, because like me, sooner or later he’ll get tired of saying it.
Break the pattern, no matter what it is. If a guy is your last-minute, last-resort choice and he’s always unavailable, make him your first choice and give him plenty of time to respond. If you’re unable to host and you keep asking a guy can you host??? even when he’s told you before it’s impossible, desist. Find a cheap motel the two of you can visit. Find a friend who doesn’t mind you fucking on his mattress. If you realize you’re not giving the guy enough time to make his excuses and get away from work or home, figure out ways to keep the spontaneity for yourself while giving him ample opportunities to plan.
Guys don’t like to say no. We all want to be able to say yes. When you run into a lot of negatives, listen to what men are telling you. React accordingly. Figure out strategies to turn a no into a yes.
Nobody likes to be the bad guy. Nobody likes shaking their head and being the obstruction, over and over again. If you’re the one who’s making a fellow say no repeatedly, it might not be him who’s the ass. He might just think it’s you.