I sometimes wonder how scary I am to my play partners when they first meet me.
Oftentimes, it doesn’t sink in how big I am. Or that I’m real, and the things in my stories aren’t made up. My voice can catch them by surprise, a low, rumbly growl when I’m turned on and saying filthy things. And my eyes can have a bit of an intense glare to them.
This story starts off in the realm of failure. I was alone in my hotel room on a Friday night, having a few different messages of women that liked the idea of meeting up, but had “situations” crop up – a distant relative passed away, work had them traveling away from home, their car broke down. Familiar notes in a polite song that may have been true, or maybe it wasn’t. No matter the excuse, I thanked them for letting me know, and made promises to let them know the next time I was in town.
A soft lie and apology is always better than being ghosted. I’d prefer the honesty, but I fully understand that a lot of men aren’t really great at taking no for an answer.