As my regular readers will know, I slept with my Frenchman on our 8th date.
I have mentioned HORNY DOGS in previous posts. And well, what do you know, my Frenchman was (and still is) one of those said horny dogs. And I say that with a fond smile.
Pretty much from date #2, he was talking about sex, and we were talking about cultural differences as to when to have sex. Here was a guy in front of me that was used to having sex on a 1st or 2nd date. While I wanted to push it to maybe date #12. Why? So I could get to know him. Move beyond the lust. Rather see if this was a guy I could see myself with. In the long-term.
See, I’m not in my 20s, I’m in my late 30s. I’ve done flings, short-lived relationships, I’ve done one-night stands, crappy relationships with guys who make no effort, I’ve gotten married – finally, some joy! – then divorced. I’ve had good times, but bad times too. And my idea with waiting was about protecting myself. Because, well, I felt like it.
Did I explain this to my Frenchman? Yes, I did. Did he understand? No, he didn’t.
By date #7, he was sulky, and starting to lash out at me. I thought he was being a big baby. But then I thought about it. Was I willing to lose him? I decided I wasn’t. So I went with the flow. After all, it’s not like I didn’t want to have sex. It was more that I wanted to hold off.
Date #8 was I guess very French-like. There was no date. He came over after a work dinner and we had sex. I don’t remember him galloping up to my apartment on a white horse or anything. He rang the doorbell, I opened the door, and we tore each other’s clothes off.
Now he sees the sense in waiting. Because it creates a bond, an attachment, that you decide you want to take further.
Now every case is different, just as every man is different, and every Frenchman is different.
There are no rules. But remember, it’s what you’re comfortable with in the end.