Intimidation (cont’d.)

The other day, I wrote about how a woman with whom I’ve been flirting on Tinder called me “intimidating.” Here are a few more thoughts on the subject.

She wrote, “I definitely think you are very intimidating and all the stories you share make you even more so.  It took me a while to even write back in part because of that.  With girls all over the city (and seemingly globe) throwing themselves at you, and you having your way with them all, it’s something to wrap my head around and not be fearful of.  Do you ever think girls do shy away from you because of your plethora of experience and/or the blog?”

Here’s a conundrum for me. On the one hand, I’m not at all intimidating. If you met me, if we interacted (outside of a previously negotiated or established dom/sub context), you would almost certainly not find me intimidating. I’m soft-spoken, mostly humble (notwithstanding the occasional flash of arrogance, particularly in professional settings), gentle, respectful. I’m smart, but not pretentious. I smile a lot, and my smile is warm; my eyes are piercing and intense, but again, warm, welcoming, friendly. If there’s one thing I do particularly well in life, and genuinely so, it’s earn people’s trust. This is true of people I work with, people who work with me, as much as it’s true of women I’m about to tie up and ravish.

I’m attractive, but not unusually so. I’m a good-looking guy, of average height. I’m not imposing. I don’t stand out in a crowd.

I had coffee recently with a woman I met on Tinder, a woman who for a moment wanted to suck my cock, who expected to be intimidated by me. She was surprised to find how approachable I was, how gentle, how kind. In some ways, I think, she was a bit disappointed. I think she wanted me to be a dick, to be arrogant, to be an asshole. And I’m not. (She hasn’t sucked my dick. She decided she didn’t want to. I was disappointed, but she had more than a touch of the crazy, and I honestly don’t need more of that in my life. And maybe she decided she didn’t want to because I wasn’t a dick, because I wasn’t more intimidating.)

Another woman – the same one who finds me intimidating – recently went on a date with a guy who had scheduled her and another woman to meet him at the same time, hedging his bets against the possibility that one might not show. When both showed? He proposed (and got) a threesome. FUCK. But see, that’s just not the kind of thing I’d ever do. Ever. Ever.

But on the other hand, if you’re contemplating sucking my cock, you have to know that I have a lot of experience in getting my cock sucked. If you enter a sexual encounter with me preoccupied with the question of how I will compare you to other women I’ve been with, you’re fucked. And not in a good way.

I feel like I have to say this: I don’t compare. Luna wanted me to tell her she was the prettiest of them all. “Just lie to me!” she said. And I wouldn’t. I don’t.

If I want to fuck you, if I want your mouth around my cock, it’s not simply because you have a mouth, it’s not simply because I have a policy. (My policy, incidentally, is suspended indefinitely on account of Tinder.) It’s because I want your mouth around my cock. And I don’t compare – I truly don’t. Every sexual experience I have that’s not awful feels like the best ever when it’s happening, and, the truth is, I think I remember pretty much every sexual encounter I have discretely. And fondly.

So to Luna, I could say, truthfully, that she was the best ever. But I couldn’t tell her she was better than someone else.

And if you should find yourself sucking my cock, you shouldn’t imagine that I’ll be comparing you to any of the other women who’ve been in that position.

I won’t.


  1. If a woman decides she doesn’t want to suck your cock it doesn’t means she has ‘a little more than a touch of crazy’.

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