What do you mean you want to fuck someone you’ve only just met? What on earth would your mother say? Well, whether our mothers like it or not, sometimes we want to fuck strangers. And sometimes those strangers are people we’ve met on the internet who could turn out to be anyone – from secret millionaires to serial killers.
In my experience, people you meet on internet dates are far more likely to just be normal people with whom you have little in common, and who you’re reasonably unlikely to fuck. But if you do want to fuck them, here’s my magic list of rules for staying as safe as possible.
Note: as safe as possible, not 100% safe. There is no way that I know of to absolutely guarantee your personal safety, but then such is true of many of life’s funnest activities. Also, this is written as if it’s a girl-meets-boy thing, but I reckon you should use these rules no matter who you are or who you’re banging.
Now, everyone knows that you should meet in public, right? OK. So that’s an easy one – pick a pub, or a coffee-shop, or a well-lit community centre, and arrange to meet at a time when people will be around.
So – central London Wetherspoons at 7 pm? Great.
Outside a small cafe in an area of town so heartbleedingly cool that it’s often empty? Not so great.
Fun GOTN dating fact: About a year ago, after a bit of chat with a fun-sounding guy on OKCupid, I asked him to meet me for a drink. His response was that it might be a bit more sexy if we meet somewhere secluded. In the dark. He suggested a particular spot in Hyde Park, at 8pm in midwinter.
I did not meet this man.
Telling people about yourself
The first date is great for getting to know someone, right? Well, yes – you need to find out about them and you need to tell them about yourself. But I’d strongly urge a teeny bit of caution. You might be proud of your job, but do they really need to know exactly where you work?
You might hang out in a particularly cool bar quite frequently, but would you like a rejected date rocking up there and haranguing you because you never called after the first shag? No.
Fun GOTN dating fact: I once went on a nice first date with a seemingly lovely guy. For reasons I won’t go into, I refused a second date.
He subsequently sent me five emails in quick succession, of increasing levels of nastiness. My particular favourite was one addressed to ‘you fucking bitch’ that thoughtfully reminded me that he knew where I worked.
Inviting someone back to yours
Dangerous – bear in mind that just as you wouldn’t post your address on the internet, neither should you really invite internet strangers to your house unless you know them well.
I have invited a couple of strange guys back to my place, and both of these times I have had stomach butterfies when it turned out they were more keen on me than I was on them. After you’ve let them down gently, it still takes a couple of weeks to get over the worry that they might turn up at your door bearing roses and erotica and asking for a second go.
However, if you want to take someone back to yours, but are worried that they might either:
a) do something you haven’t consented to or
b) nick your fucking telly
then it’s worth having backup.
There’s no ideal way of doing this, to be honest – anything you do will need to be pretty extreme, thus implying that you think they’re untrustworthy. And if you think they’re that untrustworthy then it’s best not to invite them back.
But I’ve done it a couple of times, and the only solution I could think of was to take something that they value and hide it somewhere in my flat. Obviously you have to ask them for it (ideally in a joking, coquettish way) and they have to know you’ve taken it, so they know you need to be on good terms with them to give it back afterwards. Watches, keys, wallets – anything that they wouldn’t fuck off without.
It is crucial that you remember to give it back – you don’t want to get stuck in a second-date situation just because you’ve still got their Tesco clubcard.
Fun GOTN dating fact: I once rescued a drunk guy whose friends had abandoned him outside a strip club I was in. I took him home and put him up for the night, but insisted first on getting his driver’s license. He was so aroused by my aura of cheeky dominance that he proceeded to lunge adorably at me before passing out face-down on the floor.
Going home with someone
He might not have brought his serial killer axe with him, but he could just have left it in the cupboard under the stairs, ready for when he’s lured you back to his house. So vigilance here is especially important. Here’s the drill:
- Text a friend with his address straight away, let him know that you’re doing this.
- Send your friend a link to his dating profile, his real name, and a picture of him if possible.
- Ask your friend to call you in a few hours. Give them a set time, and make sure your date knows you’ll be expecting a phone call.
Now here’s the key part, so listen very closely: you should not at any point believe that any of this stuff is excessive or overly paranoid. It is not – this is completely normal, sensible, and wise. Recommend to your date that they do the same thing.
These precautions are as necessary as using a condom for the first fuck. As important as wearing a fucking seatbelt or looking both ways when you cross the road.
If at any point your date makes you feel bad or odd about being careful, hop on the first bus to fuckoffsville and don’t ever see them again.
Fun GOTN fact: None of the guys I have ever been on dates with have questioned any of this.
Everyone hates condoms – they’re rubbish. They’re all rubbery and they smell weird and there’s a break in sex where you have to tear the packaging and struggle your desperate, throbbing cock into something that will end up diminishing your enjoyment of the whole thing. See? Rubbish.
I mainly hate them because they mean I miss out on the fantastic moment when you shoot directly inside me. When your cock twitches and I can feel the first few spurts of hot spunk deep in my cunt.
However, now that we’ve accepted that they’re rubbish, let’s put it behind us. I know you hate them, you know I hate them, but you’re going to wear one anyway. Because no matter how annoying and desensitising and killjoy an item they are, they save lives.
How terribly dramatic.
But the drama’s worth it – they genuinely do. They prevent hideous diseases, they prevent unwanted pregnancies, they are the guardians of your health, wellbeing, and wallet. If you wear a condom and use it well you can pretty much guarantee you won’t have to deal with a child support agency or a difficult blood test.
In the spirit of condom love, here are a few options that might make condoms… if not fun… then at least less un-fun than they are generally considered:
Practise putting it on
Everyone likes being good at things, right? You know that bit of sex where you take the girl’s bra off, and you occasionally manage to do it one-handed like a fucking sex-god superstar? Make your condom-donning one of those special tricks. Can you pull it out of your pocket, remove the wrapper, and slide it onto your cock without her even knowing you’ve moved your hands? Do it.
For a while I got so good at it that guys didn’t even realise what I was doing until it was halfway on.
Make a point of it
If you can’t do it secretly, make a meal of it – condoms are a crucial element of anonymous/casual sex, so why not acknowledge that they are actually a bit sexy? Think about it: the point at which a condom comes out of the wallet and slides onto your dick is the point at which you’re both consenting to fuck. That’s the moment – no more worrying, no more easing into it, no more persuasion and anticipation – bam. When the condom’s on, unless nuclear war breaks out, we’re going to fuck. So enjoy it.
Tell me to put it on you. Make me sit back and watch while you do. Ask me to touch myself as I watch you roll it down your shaft. You know we’re going to fuck, let me know that you know it. Show me confidence. Show me condoms. And show me your fucking cock.
Shut the fuck up
The final rule, and the most important one – once it’s out and on your dick, shut the living fuck up about it. Don’t complain that it’s too tight, don’t say halfway through that you won’t come because of it.
We both know it’s rubbish, but so’s the sound the neighbours are making upstairs. So’s the fact that it’s overly hot and we might both be a bit drunk and thirsty. So’s the slightly itchy feeling when you bury your stubbled face in my neck.
Remarkably enough, none of this matters when your dick is inside me. That’s what we’re here for, let’s concentrate on that. If you’re pounding six kinds of hell out of me, the fact that you won’t come isn’t something I want to hear. You can always whip it off at the end and pick your favourite target, but in the meantime shut the fuck up and fuck me.