My Perfect Valentine

Valentine’s Day as a single girl is the one day of the year that I would love to avoid. I don’t even want to breathe, there is that much love in the air. Cupid has a very good sense of humour, taking into account the duds I’ve dated and the men I’ve been attracted to. I swear, if Cupid even touches me this year I’ll be pissed. Valentine’s Day makes me want to let out a great big ‘UGH’, like the sound you make when a kid is screaming at the top of their lungs in the shopping centre. 

Valentine’s Day can go either of two ways - super great, because you have someone to share the day with, or frustrating because for another year in a row, you’re single and the only thing you’re feeling the love from is your vibrator. 

Damn I love that thing. 

Although having a deep, satisfying love for my dildo is really great, I can’t take the thing out to dinner without getting strange looks from people. And I would definitely be the one picking up the cheque!

In my younger years, Valentine’s Day was something I really dreaded. All my girlfriends had boyfriends or received a rose from a secret admirer. I remember sitting in class seeing these girls get flowers and cards, while trying to avoid awkward looks from Stuart the Stalker. That kid was weird, and I feel like I dodged a major bullet by not paying him the attention he wanted. These days, Valentine’s Day is just an inconvenience - unless I want to pull a Bridget Jones and sit alone on my couch with a glass of wine hollering ‘All by myself’, I actually need to make an effort to find someone to spend it with. 

Dating apps and sites make it super easy to find someone to spend the night (or two) with, but unfortunately for me, I have never had very good luck with them. I’ve updated my profile picture a number of times, changed my ‘about me’ and adjusted the age range that I would be happy to date. From memory I think I was happy meeting a 70 year old man, only if he had an active libido. You would think that doing any of the above would have helped me in my quest for love, but the only thing it did was get me into awkward situations with men that I hope to never see again. 

The first guy I met online was called Mark. He was a proud Austrian man who spent his days on construction sites, and his nights doing Karate or taking his dogs for a walk. He was super fit and rugged, and was absolutely delicious to look at. Anyway, I ended going to his place and upon seeing him for the first time, I was extremely smitten. This guy was a dreamboat! We sat down with a pizza and some wine, watched a movie and eventually started getting a bit hot and heavy on the couch. My God he was divine, he knew exactly what to do with his hands and kept telling me how sexy I was. He slid my panties down my thighs, took off his pants and plunged himself into me. 

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more pain in my life than I did at that moment! The dude was extremely well endowed and it felt like he was tearing me apart! Mark could tell that I was hurting and stopped, saying he probably should have told me how big he was before he did that. 

Uh, ya think mate?? 

Unfortunately by that time I was too drunk to drive, so had to stay at his place for a while until I was sober enough to go. He was pissed that I couldn’t handle his size, and I was drunk and emotional. Embarrassing. 

About two months after that experience, I met Sam online. Sam was a plumber, and we struck up conversation very easily once I’d sent him my number. We had decided that he would come over for dinner one night after work, and I had prepared a big pasta dish and garlic bread for him. He made himself comfortable in the lounge room whilst I put the finishing touches on dinner, when I thought I heard someone sobbing. I didn’t really take much notice of it at first, but when I brought two dishes out to him there he was - crying like someone had just killed his cat. I asked him what the problem was, and he said that he was ‘just so happy to have met such a beautiful person’. I had to endure two more hours of this shit before I had enough and told him that I had an early start the next morning. 

Fuck dealing with an emotional man, I’m emotional enough as it is!

I thought that maybe I wasn’t on the right site for me after these two experiences, so I switched to another. I came across a guy named Giovanni - he was Italian and super easy on the eyes. He took me out for dinner to a beautiful prohibition style bar in Sydney, where he ordered everything off the menu just so I could have my pick of whatever I wanted. Clearly the guy was loaded, and he wanted to treat me. Winning! He dropped me home that night with a promise to see me again the next. 

Giovanni came over after soccer practise all sweaty and dirty, and it actually turned me on! I wanted to rip his clothes off and ride him hard. Until he took his shirt off - I swear I could have been looking at King Kong, the guy was so hairy that I couldn’t see his skin through the dense, matted rug on his chest and his back. I think the fact that he was dirty and sweaty now made it worse, because it seemed like his chest and back hair had a terrible odour. I could have run my fingers through it and gotten lost. I was actually sick - and disappointed, he was a really good dude but told me he flat out REFUSED to get rid of his hair. 

Bye bye King Kong. 

So after farewelling sweet Giovanni, I figured I would go back to the one guy I could depend on. Sure he didn't say much or take me out to fancy places, but he was always there through thick and thin, making sure I felt good. I went into my bedroom, put on some pretty lingerie purchased from La Senza, poured myself a glass of wine and perched myself on the side of my bed. I hoped he was as ready as I was for him, getting wet at the thought of his size, and knowing that there wouldn’t be any bullshit attached to this rendevouz. 

I pulled him out of my bedside drawer, pulled my lace bodysuit to the side and gently touched his tip to my clit. 

Damn I love that thing.