“One thing I’m not is presumptuous.”
That was Andrew, right before the first date. I had laughed at that, not publicly of course, since I did not want to upset him. Andrew was an alpha male who loved his pride as much as he loved his secret lifestyle. There was no way he would be able to keep his opinions to himself.
Surely enough, the morning after Tuesday, Andrew added this like it was an afterthought, “I like how you had to pull away from me caressing your hand because you enjoyed it so much.” With the smirking emoji.
Now I called him out, to which he only replied, “I’m good at reading people, remember?” Another smirk.
I only snorted and let him think he was right. I mean, if I was really reaching it, I guess a part of me did enjoy that uncalled-for hand holding session. Andrew knew what he was doing, so physically it felt good. But, as a person whose rationality completely dominates her emotions, my brain was still weirded out by the incident. Maybe one day I would give in to my feelings which he could play like a guitar, but for now? Nah.
Jokes and hints ensued. By Friday, Andrew confessed that he was getting aroused while caressing my hand. It was a good thing I pulled away, said he, or else it would have been obvious what was going on.
I was with friends when I read the message. I burst into laughter so hard that they got concerned.
That meant Andrew was enjoying it so much he assumed that I also did. I deduced that was some reverse psychology to ease his own panic/ectasy of how he was getting hard over a teenager he just met online.
So I /did/ give Andrew a boner.
I supposed I was prouder of it than I should be. Being completely inexperienced with men, for all I know they could get hard by the sight of an insect with boobs. But hey, it is not everyday an average chick like me gets a rich old man to confess that he got hard by her hand and smile alone.
My pride was greatly fueled; I could practically hear my confidence points adding up like in a video game every time I read the lines. I guess Wyatt was not wrong saying that women fell in love through their ears. If Andrew was just bluffing to get into my pants, it was working. I suddenly adored him now after one simple profession more than I did with his multiple attempts of smartass flirting. What did it mean to me anyway? A truthful compliment of my attractiveness, or a declaration of defeat in this game of courting on his side? I suspect that to him it was the former since he’d thought he’d got me already, while to me it was the latter because it was no witty remark or insinuating emoji.
Of course, I could not let him know how much my heart fluttered by that acknowledgement, lest he used that to his advantage (though I figured he would find out soon enough). I gave him a racy answer that was enough to coax the dominant side in him. He didn’t seem to budge. I guess it was really a big deal for him to tell me that.
Also, he addressed the compensation and how surprised I was to receive it. Said that it didn’t mean anything more than to prove how serious he was about this whole thing. In truth I had reconciled with the feeling of being cheap. I never doubted that he got malicious intent. I could sense it from his aura alone.
We continued to exchange words and innuendo the week afterwards. Talked a little bit about our preferences and limits. Andrew has the same hard limits as I do (which is probably why he messaged me on SA in the first place). Same preferences, more or less.
Everything was going well, with a second date set for Tuesday at a museum. I chose the place because I never got used to overpriced restaurants and endless conversations. I wanted to do something.
Andrew made a suggestive comment about that, to which I did not know how to reply without sounding like a prude. Sure, I would love to get in bed with him someday, but not in the second date. I resorted to being straightforward. It is common sense, anyway. Without even being apologetic about it, he respected my decision, but was still open for “a change of mind ;)”.
Then he got sick and cancelled the date. It was not something within either of our power, but it was such a bummer. I was more disappointed than relieved. I was looking forward to messing with him. It was in a museum, my playground, and with Andrew confessing his lust I’d grown much more comfortable around him. I was ready to give him another boner, this time more visible than the last.
We hastily rescheduled to the following Saturday. 1PM. At a museum.
8AM that Saturday, he left a message, “I have to cancel today. Just too much going on”
Yes. “Too much going on” without the period. Whatever it was, he did not even have time to finish his sentence.
To make things even worse, Andrew changed his profile picture to something that was not his face.
I freaked out. A million possible reasons ran through my head at 180 miles per hour, threatening to explode like a nuclear power plant. What did he mean by “too much going on”? Why just hours before the date? Had he been busted and now dealing with the mess? Or was he reconsidering this relationship? Was I being a burden? We surely talked way too much for two people who were busy as hell.
At this point, my top priority was to find a way out. If Andrew decided to ghost me, I needed another sugar daddy ASAP. So I went back to the site and replied to a few messages I received. Clearly I was jumping way too far ahead, since those casual conversations soon bored me out. Only Andrew was able to pique my interests.
Only Andrew. It was an irritating thought. I did not expect him to find his way into my head this quickly. I guess once you really hit it off with someone, the rest of the world became a mundane glob of awkwardness and insincerity.
I consulted her. If there ever was a person who could tame a bull into a house dog, it was her. The way she got into my heart would be the same way I would get into his.
She told me to proceed with care. Ask him what was wrong. Offer sympathy and patience. So I did. I texted him saying he could talk to me, whatever was on his mind, and that I was more than a casual fling he found online.
By 11PM that night, he replied. Turned out I was stressing myself over nothing, since it was just his children acting up. “Sorry for the cryptic message,” said he.
I was… upset. He could have said it sooner, or apologized, or added an emoji, or anything to make his first message sound less serious. Old people and their lack of emoticons freaked me out because I could not always read through the lines to see if they were fucking with me.
I told him exactly how I felt. I did not like plans being cancelled without an advanced notice, and what he did caused me anxiety. Andrew apologized again. Then he said that he had deleted his SA account to show his commitment.
There was a smiley face after the line. I could almost see his soft smile in it.
So this was getting serious. I was getting somewhere with an older, successful man. He liked me, and I liked him, and I was going to get more than a monetary allowance out of this.
It felt exhilarating, seeing the path to your dreams slowly being patched up. The capital for this project was not socially acceptable, but it was legal, hard-earned money regardless, and I had secured an investor for it. For the first time since this money issue came up, I worried a bit less about my future.
Andrew was an excellent business consultant, and I was going to be the best investment he had ever made.