Rick the Great Adventurer (1 and done, my dudes):
Rick and I matched on *ding ding ding* Tinder. Rick didn’t have any face photos on his Tinder, but his bio was pretty intriguing, so I said “fuck it,” and swiped right. (I wish I didn’t remove him on Tinder so I could include some of his bio here, but alas, I act impulsively on occasion – or often). Rick is ~happily~ married, and approximately 36 years old (don’t judge me). Former marine, total beef head, kind of a douchebag, and a total dominant. I was hype AF for us to meet.
So yeah, let’s talk about this “wife” thing. He was in fact married (wedding ring and all), but his wife and him have an open marriage (her idea). And when he told me it was her idea, I was like “oh, okay, so he must be bad in bed, yadda yadda yadda.” And then he goes on to tell me how she identified as “asexual” before having their child (so clearly they were having SOME sex, just not much), and then after birth, she went batshit with the hormones, and then decided she was poly. Big jump, but no judgment, whatever.
So Rick and his wife are happily married, but also have boyfriends and girlfriends. Interesting. They even have a list of rules that I will include below – you can skip it, I don’t care (and I’ll never know):
1. No secrets, no limits
2. Home is off-limits, and friends are off-limits without prior permission
3. Any time spent with someone else is matched with each other
4. Any time spend with someone else is doubled with [the kid] (my phrasing)
5. All holidays, including birthdays, will be spent with the family
6. At no time will either of [them] contact the others partner in any way without permission/presence
7. Either one of [them] can call it off at any time
8. Rules may be added/modified at any time if agreed upon
9. Under no circumstances will either of [them] vent/confide/etc. about any marital stresses to other partners; as far as anyone is concerned [their] marriage is fucking perfect and nothing can come between [them]. Marital stresses should be discussed and resolved in the home, between [them], no exceptions.
10. Effort will be made to keep it to weekends
11. Condoms, always.
So, as you can see, this shit it like legit. And I was all about it. This cool older couple engaging in a perfectly functional poly-relationship. Cool as fuck, right? Well it would be cool. So let’s get into it.
As I said, Rick didn’t have any photos on his Tinder profile (being married and all that), so first things first, he sends me a photo on Snapchat. And I’m not impressed. Maybe I'm a dick, but I’m just not into his face, which sucks because he sounds like he could be so much fun… But hey, guys tend to look hotter in person, right? So I choke down my repulsion, and talk to him anyways, because … fuck it. So we’re talking all day (note: this is Sunday, after a night of fucking TEQUILA, so I’m an absolute wreck) about his life and his wife and his outside relationships and I'm getting all sorts of excited. This man is a legit erotic masseuse in addition to a security person that gets hired to work at SWINGER EVENTS! Legit, this man lives the coolest fucking life. And I’m all excited – the things he could show me, teach me, do to me… UGH. But the day continues on and I take a 4-hour nap and wake up in drool, hair matted to my head, it’s great. This is what Sunday’s are for. And then he messages me and tells me to take a shower, put on a dress, and meet him at 10pm at X because he’s in my area for the night. OH-FUCKING-KAY Zaddy!
So I force myself to get up, not throw up, and take a shower. I do my hair, I put on a dress and heels, and I end up looking like a high end hooker, and you know what? Fuck it. I roll with it. I leave my place at 9:45, get there at 9:55, and there he is.
Initial observations: he hasn’t lost all of his depression weight, his eyes are actually that little in person, and his age shows. He also came from working an event, so he’s in khakis and a black polo, while I’m in a cocktail dress and 5 inch heels. I’M FINE!
Also, there are FEW places open this late on a Sunday that serve alcohol (yo, I’m not drinking anyways – my poor liver wanted to die/was already dead). So we end up at some rinky-dink place that has one party of like 15 people and is otherwise empty. Note, this is a low-class joint, so my little outfit made me stand out. Don’t worry, I fucking worked the crowd – sent out little flirty smiles, giggled, played the whole shy/coy yet confident thing to a T. I legit think I like blacked out the experience or something because I had no control over what I was doing lol. It’s like I was a completely different person, a confident, hot person. Whatever though, I ran with it.
So we find a table (note, he chose the seat against the wall so I didn’t feel trapped – how sweet). We sit down, a waitress (just as hungover as I was) took our order and didn’t judge me for only ordering water and only drinking about a quarter of it (I was just proud I didn’t throw it up). And then we talked. We talked about his service, his wife, his life, his kid, his brain injury and how it’s changed his life. And we obviously talked about me; maybe we talked too much about me. How I cried on a Tinder date (lol), had my heart broken, am killing myself trying to take care of my grandparents, am living a shambly life, trying to find my ex in a new person, etc. Like all of the shit. I don’t know why I keep having these deep talks with random Tinder dudes – it’s a breeding ground for me to get hurt lol.
But more interestingly, he’s telling me about his work, the swinger parties he attends, relationships he has outside of his marriage, the relationships his wife has, and lots of cool stuff. He told me about what a “vanilla” is at a swinger party (someone who just watches – I’m all about it). He told me never to get into a hotel swimming pool again lol. He also invited me to a Halloween sex party the weekend before Halloween up in PA (tempting). And while all of this talking is going on, I’m dreading the moment when he tries to touch me. He’s definitely sweaty. And he has bad teeth.
So I can feel the conversation shifting to leaving this bar, and less than anything ever, I don’t want this dude to come back to my house (note: he lives a solid hour away and was in my area for work that night). So we’re heading outside, moseying over to our cars and just chatting. And that’s when things get a little weird. He’s like “what do you want to do?” and I’m just sweating lol. Like I don’t want to outright turn down this dude because I’m still trying to be a nice person (don’t worry, I’m learning that doesn’t work in this dating thing).And I’m pussyfooting around the topic of what’s next, when he’s like “okay, we’re going back to your place and I’ll bring my massage table.”
BOY! What part of my behavior indicated that’s what I wanted?!
So I finally, firmly tell him that I’m not comfortable with that. And he’s super receptive, and is asking me what is making me uncomfortable, etc. He’s asking me how I want him to fit in my life, what kind of role I want him to play because he can fill any role I want… And he asks if he can kiss me. I make a compromise – he can kiss me if he walks me to my car (the road was really bad and I was wearing REALLY high heels). He says of course and walks me to my car. I open my door, put the key in the ignition, and turn around – he’s a solid 3-4 feet away from me. I’m like “wtf are you doing?” and he simply wanted to leave me space so I didn’t feel cornered. Seriously just a thoughtful thing. So I take the few steps to close the gap between us, lay my hand on his stomach, and lean in. And honestly … I was expecting to be disgusted. But I wasn’t? I closed my eyes and kept kissing him. And I even had a little stomach flutter!!! But then I opened my eyes. Fuck. And I pull back and tell him to get home safely. He asks me one final time if I want him to go home with me, to which I reply “absolutely the FUCK NOT.”
He tells me to send him something sexy when I get home, but I jump in my car without another word and I’m out of there.
Weirdest experience ever. I’ve never been so sexually aroused with the idea of a person, without actually being sexually aroused by that person…
Anyways, the next day he’s messaging me (I was off from work and laying in bed), and he’s sending me snap videos of him telling me to get on my knees, choke myself and snap it to him…. I’ve never had someone so strongly misread a signal before. And he just keeps fucking sending this videos telling me what to do, calling me bratty for “misbehaving.” Guys, what the actual fuck. So I just stopped replying altogether, and a couple hours later I let him know that I’m not interested in pursuing anything further. I unmatched him on Tinder, but left him as a friend on Snapchat. Who knows, maybe with the right amount of alcohol I might find him attractive? *Shruggg*
And thus concludes my Rick chronicles (hopefully!).
