Picture it. You're 26. You work full time, have a young child at home. Although you've had a date here and there, you've been officially single for about six years, and you haven't seen an ounce of man-flesh in 18 months.
You meet a nice gentleman at work, however, you're tired of men and thier crap anyway, so you don't call for three months (and then only because your co-workers were saying you couldn't land a date). Once you go out you have a good time. A nice dinner, good conversation, plans to meet again.
The second time you meet up, he plays it real cool, complements you, but doesn't exaggerate. He touches you but not in an overtly sexual manner. Everything is going great. What a great guy! You pat yourself on the back until you remember that guy from two years ago, who also seemed great, but by the second date proved to be nothing like he was the first night (because he's actually rude, chauvanistic, and is trying to corral you into "your place").
So, when your date asks what you want to do when dinner is over, you immediatly reply, we can go to your place. Why? Because he's good looking, smells good, and no point in dragging out the inevitable. The chemistry is there, the desire is there, and just picturing him naked give the whole situation a little urgency.
This scenario is what got me where I am today. I had very clear intentions when I went to his house that night. I had already told him that I tire of the company of a man very easily unless his is in my FRIEND/FAMILY circle, and this guy was fast falling into the OTHER circle. I didn't plan to keep seeing him, so I was completly free to do what I wanted with him. And I did just that. Then something weird happened. afterward, I didn't feel like running home and scrubbing my body with salt-water soaked brillo. In fact, I fell asleep in his arms (after hi-jacking the remote and watching Adult Swim). When I woke up in the morning and came to my senses, I decided it was best to slink out of the house before the official sunrise. I felt content that morning. I was glad I did it. I was glad it was over. I was surprised when he called.
Really, really, super surprised. So surprised, in fact, I got suspicious. I was quite sure he was playing some sort of head game. I have already been through the I'm-going-to-act-like-I-like-you-but-I-just-want-sex game. I've played both sides of the board. I started being honest and open about my feelings towards men when I was a teenager, after meeting a less-than-savory character who equated women with nothing, literally. Still, most men I've met have to hide behind lies, or money, or both and they are too afraid of rejectiong to simplay ask for sex. I was sure this new guy was up to something, but I went along because, well, he was good in the sack.