One of my favourite online stories which I love to tell friends is the one about Clingfilm aka Sex Pest (S.P). I’ll admit I love watching their face change as this story unfolds but in part, I also want to know if they hold anything better in their arsenal of online wonderments. Turns out they don’t yet! I’m curious to hear if any of you do?!
S.P was one of the first blokes I swiped on just after I had returned from my stint in Oman, back in 2015. Before you read on, bear in mind that I had been out the loop for a while and was newly entering the man scene again following my split.
New man, brief chat, numbers exchanged. Life is no longer simple; basic questions of future plans, work day, family life seem devoid. I’d noticed a fairly consistent pattern in the men I seemed to be meeting back then. Firstly, the photo obsession. I could never work out why they would always insistently ask for more photos – I had three stuck on a profile (eventually it clicked they were probably not looking for a photo of my face).
New man, further photo sent (full length, fully clothed, with a hint of arm – remember I was a bit dim). Next on the agenda if the order followed correctly should be inconsistent communication, ok good, he committed to that step, the pattern was continuing nicely as predicted. Somewhere in amongst the sporadic messages however, a coffee date was set.
I got there first and hastily made use of a sandwich board as a makeshift mirror to apply some makeup. I’m a classy type of chick. We sat down at your average coffee shop – rookie mistake. Never meet for coffee, go for lunch because atleast there’s an end in sight. He seemed shy which conflicted with the impression I got in our chats but shy can be endearing. As I raised my cup to take a drink, he kicks off our special journey together by asking, “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”
First question he asks me about …. me. I hadn’t been on the scene long but what I had found thus far was that blokes didn’t tend to ask many questions about my life. So excuse me if I got a little excited at the thought he may be interested in me as a person. However it was a new and rather odd question – he’d thrown me a curveball.
I ramble on for a bit about taking a solo drive through mountains when I was abroad, getting lost and having to sleep in the car when it got dark for fear of driving off the mountain. Probably bordered closer to the stupidest thing I’d ever done than the craziest. My answer bores him, he tells me as much, so I ask him to explain what he meant. “Ok, what’s the craziest thing you’ve done with someone else?”. I check (because at this point the haze of giddiness is starting to lift), if he is indeed asking me about my sex life. Here’s a transcript of what followed:
S.P: “Would you give blow jobs?”
Me: “What???????!!!!” (I MUST have misheard, he’s asking me about my job)
Him: “Would you give blow jobs?”
Me: “WHAT????” (stop saying “what” you fool!)
S.P: “Would you give b……”
Me: “I heard you! I heard you!”
Him: “What about if I wore clingfilm?”
Me: (what freaky shit is he into, images of Asda’s finest being stockpiled in his room): “I’m…uhhh…..going to…..leave…..now, this coffee is to go…..”
Grateful that I hadn’t spent anymore than a sandwich board amount of time on my makeup, I try walking casually to my car whilst frantically scrambling for my phone from my purse. My best friend was a speed dial away, ready to utter a few shocked expletives once she heard about this. He caught up with me, “That was a bit rude, walking out like that”. I atleast manage to feign some dignity as I ungraciously tripped into my car.
Whatsapp messages follow about my rudeness. I naturally block. Text messages follow, him telling me I hadn’t even got to know him and chose to judge him based on one question.
OBVIOUSLY I’M GOING TO JUDGE YOU IF YOUR FIRST QUESTION TO ME IS ABOUT BLOW JOBS.
Do you really have to be taught that is **not appropriate**?! I compose a fairly calm message back telling him that if that’s the first thing he has to ask me then I know we’re not going to get along very well. Good luck. I’m such a civil soul I think to myself, at this point convinced that I am owed a sainthood. I remain slightly perturbed however by the clingfilm images and all the wrong ways in which clingfilm is being abused
Whilst my brick of a phone wouldn’t allow me to block his number completely, he was blocked from all my apps (or so I thought). Figuring that was the end of it given there was no reply to my text, I started to relax. He found me again on some weird international app I had for when I was working away. A 3am message followed “Nice lips – just one more thing……..” *Ping*…………..a picture. Oh son. I thought they only sent those types of photos when they’ve actually got something to be proud of.
Despite being blocked now from ALL apps, the pictures kept rolling in via text message. Deleting them before my eyes could be defiled anymore, it went on for another five days. Day three had me consider messaging to ask why he was sending me pictures of his thumb but I thought better of it. Ironically, the day I came out of work to find a crude drawing on the front of my car, was the day the saga was to end.
Nervous, I wondered if he had discovered where I worked and if his skillset not only included legal advice but perhaps also extended to lopsided artwork on car dirt. However some sniggering from the kids behind me, the two other cars covered in doodles and a shout of “YOU’VE GOT A BOABY MRS” reminded me this was, thankfully nothing more, than the joys of working in Glasgow.