He Wined And Dined Me... Just For Sex?

Have you ever scooped a red jellybean out of a bowl, expecting it to be sweet and cherry-flavored and instead you've shocked your tongue with a hot cinnamon surprise?

Whenever this happens to me, I feel sort of betrayed—expecting something and getting something drastically different in its place. And sure, it's one thing when it happens with a sugary candy or perhaps a soup (you expect it to be hot, but it's actually a super gourmet, weirdo cold situation), but when this same situation happens with a man it's bound to throw you for a loop. And that's exactly what happened to me not too long ago—I was expecting a sickly sweet romance and instead I got a fire-breathing hell boy.

Let me explain.

I was taken aback by his honesty. Hurt, yes, vulnerable, yes, appalled, also yes. I had been tricked. This was no cherry! This was a cinnamon fire-breathing douchebag!

A couple months ago, a man-boy whom I had met through an ex-boyfriend unexpectedly resurfaced. Let's call him Bob.  The Frisky: Do You Feel A Social Stigma As A Single Woman?

Excessively tall and excessively funny, I had always sort of crushed on Bob. But due to said ex-boyfriend who had introduced us, we kept our relationship G-rated by writing dirty emails to one another during work hours. A year went by, boyfriend became ex and Bob called asking me to grab a drink and "catch up." It had, after all, been a while. For a week leading up to our "encounter" I played the Great Date Debate in my head. You know the drill: Was it a date? No, it couldn't be. We were just friends. Yup. Friends who hadn't seen each other in a year who were going to a dark bar to catch up. The Frisky: 10 Ways To Get A Woman Into Bed

Friends.

It turned out to be a date.

Bob and I shared several cocktails, discussed our subjective dating nightmares, what we were working on (he's a fellow self-loathing writer) and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Lo and behold, Bob asked me out again. In fact, Bob asked me out three more glorious times. We dined, we drank, we cajoled. It was wonderful and I thought Bob, standing at a glorious 6'7", might be the towering light at the end of a very long, very dark, very depressing tunnel of dating. The Frisky: Breaking News: Casual Sex Won’t Ruin Your Life!

I thought this until our fourth date.

Now, up until this point, Bob and I had made out in vehicles (mine, his) like teenagers, maybe there was an OTPHJ (over-the-pants hand job) thrown in for good measure, but for once in my life I had managed to keep my bra on and my Victoria a secret. The Frisky: MERRIme, A New Web Comedy About Online Dating