John

Okay, I’ll be honest. Sometimes I go on Tinder dates just because I’m bored and want to spice up my hook up rotation. It might be a little misleading, but come on, who’s on Tinder to find their soul mate anyway?

 

Enter John. A random Tinder match that I decided to say “fuck it” and grab a drink with one Monday night. We agreed to meet at a bar between our places and, as per usual, I was running a few minutes late. I almost never care about being on time to dates like this. No, I’m not going to make a guy wait for an hour or anything absurd, but I’m also not going to stress out about arriving exactly at 8pm for a guy I’m pretty much intending on hooking up with a couple of times and never seeing again.

 

Alright, I’m an asshole. Whatever.

 

Anyway, I walk in to find John sitting at the end of the bar. He was cute, not hot, but I thought “he’ll do.” He turned out to be actually really cool and our conversation was great. He was also a writer, and had read my blog and was enthusiastically asking questions about my social media and point of view. It was flattering to be complimented by someone who was a significantly more accomplished writer than I am. We talked about everything, our childhoods, our past relationships, what we liked in bed, and it turned out this guy was definitely my sexual equal, even suggesting we hit up a swinger’s party sometime, and I decided I was definitely going home with him that night.

 

We kept drinking and laughing, and began making out at the bar. I hate being those people but when I’ve had enough tequila I could probably mount a guy in public and not give a fuck who’s watching. He had his hand running up the inside of my thigh and could tell I wasn’t wearing panties under my leggings. To be fair, I pretty much never wear them, but I could tell it turned him on. I playfully pushed his hand away and told him he better take me home so I could sit on his face.

 

Look, I never claimed to be the classiest girl in Los Angeles. I blame tequila.

 

He quickly got his check and called an uber and we were on our way to his place. Once we got there, it wasn’t long before my leggings were off and he was face down in between my thighs. Well done, John, well done. After he finished me off and we kissed for a while it was my turn to gladly return the favor. Now, I know every girl thinks they give a great blowjob, but I’m not lying when I say I have talent. As soon as I got started John’s eyes rolled back and he was extremely vocal about his appreciation. I kept going and just as my ego is at an all time high from John’s obvious enjoyment of my oral skills, he grabs my hair and says my name.

 

No wait. Not my name. His ex girlfriend’s name.

 

I stop everything and jerk my head back. “Kristin? Yeah, dude my name is Meredith.” I was so insulted and pissed. Like okay, fine, you’re not over your ex, but how fucking hard is it to just not say anything while your dick is literally in my mouth? Maybe this was just karma for essentially using him for sex with no intention of actually dating this guy. Or maybe he was just an idiot. He was rightfully embarrassed and clearly felt like shit, but I was just too annoyed to even entertain his apology so I rolled over, said goodnight, and went to sleep.

 

Hoe tip: don’t hook up with guys who aren’t over their exes.

 

When I woke up in the morning he was trying to kiss me and be apologetic, and while I kind of didn’t care, I was still a little annoyed. He obviously still felt horrible about the situation, so I milked it for some more unreciprocated oral sex, and then called myself an uber. As I left he asked if he could make it up to me still and I just rolled my eyes and said “congratulations John, you made the blog.”

 

To be perfectly honest, I’m not even that mad. I got head 3 times and didn’t really have to do anything, and I don’t even have to call him again. Not bad for a Monday night; thanks John!

Author: meredithactually

Writer, joke teller, certified trainwreck, and craft beer aficionado from Austin, Texas residing in Los Angeles, California.

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