What girl doesn’t love a fireman? And this one is funny, gentle, built, and hot too – he really is the stuff of fantasies. And he knows it.
He contacts me first, luring me in with pics of his smiley face, bulging biceps, and powerful thighs. He not only endures my multitude of cheesy unoriginal fireman puns, but completely joins in with it in a cute, flirtatious barrage of spraying hoses, shiny helmets, and greasy poles.
I haven’t been this excited for a date in a long long time. And when he walks into the bar, I’m decidedly dizzy. He’s tall, muscly and friendly, and when his massive arms reach in for a hug, I weaken immediately. The flirtatious, cheeky, warm tone of the messages continues into real life and I giggle girlishly over our quick drink. While I know we’re getting on well, I’m not at all sure that he’s as into me, so I’m mildly taken aback when he leans in for a snog as we say goodbye outside.
It’s a soft, gentle, romantic kiss, and his huge stature wrapped around me is delightful.
On the way home, I’m immediately thrown into a spin of self-doubt and confusion in what is a typically me response to a very nice date indeed.
Of course it’s too good to be true when it turns out that his teenage daughter lives with him. Clearly I had been so carried away with the prospects of a muscly calendar-model of a fireman that I hadn’t paid as much attention to the details and logistics as I usually would before meeting in person.
But where there’s a will, there’s a way. And within the week, he lets me know that he has the place to himself for a few hours and I drive over to see if the reality lives up to the fantasy. He lives in a brand new development, above some commercial premises, and it takes me a while to find the carpark and doorway. So much so that I begin to think it’s all some kind of practical joke.
But sure enough, he sees my message when he gets out of the shower and greets me with his characteristic warmth. I stand awkwardly making small talk and drinking a glass of wine in the kitchen waiting for him to make the first move. When he does, it’s slow, soft, and romantic again and it makes a nice change from my more vigorous adventures of late.
Standing in the bedroom, he does the whole 80s music video style kissing my shoulders and slowly undressing me thing. I consciously have to stop myself from emitting an audible sigh of disappointment when I finally get my hands on his willy. But while it may be smaller than I had hoped, it is encouragingly hard and enthusiastic. And the fucking is intense, energetic, and much harder than the slow build up would suggest.
Eventually we collapse in a sweaty, panting, ravaged heap and feel surprisingly comfortable and relaxed together as he holds me in his lovely big arms and proclaims that we ‘fit well’.
But ultimately, I’m not convinced. His last minute booty calls and constantly changing plans quickly have me feeling insecure – after all, it doesn’t take much. He’s playing along with the boyfriend role but really just needs a convenient fuck buddy.
And while it’s not a deal-breaker, I’m mildly uncomfortable with his fixation with having his arse rimmed. I understand how hypocritical a position it is from someone who has written so much about loving arse play, but I’m just not the giving kind. If I’m going to shove my tongue into a fella’s poo hole, then it’s going to be The Husband – the man I love and whose butt I have neglected for almost 30 years!
The episode ends with me getting a bit over excited about the prospect of us spending a public holiday in bed together while his daughter is away. I cancel all existing plans, organise transport, get my nails did, and shave my minge, ready for an afternoon of filth and wine. But sure enough, he cancels at the last minute. The first time was disappointing, the second time was rude, and the third time just isn’t going to happen.
In a bizarre turn of events a couple of months later, I learn that the fireman’s flat has burned down. And no, it wasn’t me. Sitting watching the news one night, we recognise his apartment block in some spectacular fire footage. The whole building is destroyed, miraculously with no serious injuries, and 3 teenagers arrested for arson. In a brief message exchange he tells me that they lost everything and I send him well wishes and support, strongly resisting the urge to draw attention to the irony – even I recognise that it’s way too soon.