*This story contains sexually explicit content

They say write about what you know. That's all I can draw from this week, as I'm clouded by a major case of the googly eyes. And by 'googly eyes' I don't mean those plastic doll eye things. I mean I have the feels. Big time.

How did this happen?? Lady Avondale is supposed to be immune to this sort of thing!

Not a few weeks ago I was happily dating some lovely men, and thinking the single life was totally for me. I could do what I want when I want, with whom I want.


Then I stumbled across a guy on Bumble who actually had good chat. Now, guys tell me that it's the women who have shit banter on dating apps, but I can absolutely confirm that guys also have zero chat game.

So it was a surprise that this one could hold a decent conversation. We arranged to meet at one of Auckland's midweek dating hotspots, Bedford Soda & Liquor, on a Tuesday night.

So far, so cliche.

There I was, sitting on my lonesome, surrounded by other obvious first-time daters, waiting for this guy to show up. As every guy entered the bar, I wondered, "Is this him?"

You never can be sure, based on the photos. As I've written about before, photos can be misleading. There's so much visual trickery that goes on that you should never really trust them.

Anyway, he showed up, looking more dapper than I'd expected. Things are off to a good start when someone shows up looking better than their pictures would indicate. When he opened his mouth and words came out, they had a deep, honeyed timbre that made me melt. He could have been reading the days' obituaries and I would still have swooned over the sound of it.

Revolting, I know. I'm gagging at my own weakness.

That was about six weeks ago. For the first few dates, we just chatted over wine and nibbles and had a sneaky pash at the end, then went our separate ways.

I thought after the third date that there wasn't really a sexual spark, and that it wasn't going to go anywhere. Serendipitously, I left my laptop in his car after that third date, and I desperately needed to get pick it up so I could work.

This meant I had to go to his apartment to collect it, which I duly did the following day. I didn't want to be rude by dashing away immediately, so I hung around for a coffee and some flirty chit-chat. We agreed that we'd catch up again on Friday night, and out of nowhere he says, "Great, I'm gonna f**k your brains out."

WOAH. My lady parts suddenly activated. Brain, suddenly activated. He'd gone from a lovely, smart, nice man to a hot, sexual man. Well, actually he was all of those things.

But it was the risky statement that threw things into overdrive. I had to go back to work in this highly aroused state - let me tell you, nothing productive happened that afternoon.

I was too preoccupied with all those questions… What would it be like?? What was his body like? Will I meet his expectations? Are we compatible? What's our chemistry going to be like? What was his dick like? How's that tongue game? I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Yeah, these are all the questions going through a woman's mind (and I have no doubt you men aren't much different…)

Fast forward a couple of weeks and I am quite the smitten kitten. There are good and bad things about this.

The good part is that I know he feels the same. There is no weird 'does he, doesn't he' thing that plagues a new relationship. When you know, you kinda just KNOW.

This absolutely sounds smug and awful. But I have been in countless situations before when I was not only wondering if I was into a guy, but also if he was into me. If you have to wonder, then it's a straight up NO.

The awkward part is that I know he is reading this, knowing who I am. I have opened myself right up - not only does he know, but now you all know how I feel. Imagine the horror if it turns out he's a see-you-next-Tuesday. I guess that would make a great story, but it would be quite the horrific ride for me. I guess we'll see.

But regardless of what happens - I will still do what I want when I want. Just with a certain man by my side. Ain't no man dictating s***.

I promise this is the one and only time I'll gush over it. From next week, I'll be back with more tales of the ridiculous, crazy, uncertain weirdness that happens in love, sex, and dating in our fair city of Auckland.

If you want to share your tale with me, I'm all ears!

Stay sexy,

Lady A x