The Zoo

Jock and I had our fourth date, and just like a few others before it, this one also lasted longer than your average. Twenty-four hours, to be exact. And now, I’m in trouble. Big, serious trouble. Jock took me to the zoo… and now I think I love him.

I don’t remember feeling like this with One Ball. I mean, yeah, I had my giggly moments, but the way I feel for Jock far exceeds how I felt about OB… and I thought that I loved him. Perhaps I don’t know what love is. Or maybe what I feel for Jock is just plain ol’ lust? I’m living on cloud nine, though.

When I look at Jock, I should see so many flaws. There are lots of things that don’t tick my regular boxes, from the way he looks to penis size, fashion style to sense of humour. I could list the ways that Jock and I won’t work and the things that will inevitably irritate me. But somehow, for some reason, I either don’t care or can’t see it.

I think I understand now why bulls constantly run at red flags all the time.

I seem to do the same.

People look at us strangely when we’re together, and I see that. I see why, too. He’s a bit older than me… and looks it. I’m younger than him… and, again, I look it. I’m used to dating older guys, but something is different with this one. People react differently to us than with others I’ve dated. Do I like it? I’m not sure. I’m all for shock factor, but the frowns are both baffling and confusing me.

Should I take them as a compliment… or not?

I do love the zoo, though. And I also love that Jock knew to take me to the zoo. He didn’t just take me the once, either; he bought us both one-year passes, so we could go again and again and again.

I guess I’ve found myself a guy that actually listens, for once.

We had a blissful time, walking and talking and taking photos. I learned a little more about him. He learned a little more about me. Everything I learned, I loved. No ick. No weirdness. Just plain-sailing stuff.

Is this really happening?

We went for dinner (steak) after the zoo, then back to his for a night of red-hot fucking… which was quickly thwarted by the early arrival of my period. I was furious about it, but he didn’t seem to care so much. I guess he wouldn’t, when he got a blowjob out of it – but he did repay me with a climax-ending bout of leg-humping, so I can’t really complain about things too much, can I?

The next morning, sat in the garden, enjoying some sunshine, he turned to me with a serious look on his face, and my heart honestly dropped. I steadied myself. For some reason, that look had convinced me that he was about to deliver really bad news.

“This isn’t going to be a short-term thing, is it?” he finally asked.

I laughed. “No, I don’t think it is.”

Thank fuck for that.

And we stayed in the garden, enjoying the sunshine, talking shit and sharing stories, until later that afternoon, when it was time for me to go home. I really didn’t want to leave. I love being in Jock’s company. Like, really love it. I love talking to him, getting mocked by him, and mocking him in return. It’s fun, easy, breezy…

Is it too good to be true?

It’s probably a little soon to be thinking happy-ever-after about him, but I am. I’m properly smitten. And it gets more intense every time I see him. Like, heart-warmingly intense.

What on earth is happening?

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: I Got Drunk and Punched Him.