The one with the black mercedes and the view to die for

A few months ago, I met and flirted with a very muscular, tatted up Serbian guy, who I will call, Mr Mercedes (MM). It was a Monday night and I was at the farewell of a much beloved friend. Now this guy, this is not the typical guy I would normally pursue. First of all, he was arrogant, but charmingly so (I have no doubt that would wear off quickly, and indeed, it did in the end). He was also a bit of a, let’s say, traditionalist. The sort of guy who thought women should stay in the kitchen while men worked. He definitely was the sort of guy who would be into the Madonna/Whore dichotomy when it comes to women.

But sometimes dating is about shits and giggles and so we flirted, we drank shots, we smoked, we kissed. Together with his best mate and another bae, we drove into Civic in his oh-so-pretty black mercedes to continue partying with those remaining from the farewell. But let us not be mistaken here. Mr Mercedes was very transparent about what he wanted. And what he wanted was for me to go home with him. I wasn’t so sure. He was too… too dominant. I wanted to think about it. I didn’t quite trust him. And so straight up, I made it clear I wasn’t going home with him, but he insisted I was. Bahahaha, right then.

My decision about whether to go home with him that night was made easier when I ran into Barista Guy (Barista Guy, you ask?! Why yes, he will feature in his own story, coming soon) and decided to spend the rest of the evening talking with him instead. Needless to say, MM was not happy and he waved me off angrily when I told him I was staying at the bar. He and his friends left and I had an enjoyable evening with Barista Guy and the rest of the crew.

Of course, as luck would have it, later that week I run into MM’s best mate, and he encourages me to come hang out with them again. We exchange numbers and he texts me later that evening to come dance with them. But I have more of my own pilfering to do and the reunion between Mr Mercedes and I does not eventuate that night.

For whatever reason, I happen to dream about MM one night soon after. And DAYYYUUUMMMM it was hot. It gets me thinking that maybe a night with him would be ok. Except, I had most definitely bruised his ego in choosing another guy over him. His best mate and I text and I get invited to MM’s own farewell drinks. His best mate assures me that Mr Mercedes is “cool” and that he (best mate) will “look after me”. Oh oh.

What can I tell you about best mate. He’s a cool guy. Very similar to MM but a tad bit more likeable and warmer in his personality. And indeed he does look after me when MM proceeds to ignore me for several hours. Being the shit stirrer I am, I continue to make conversation with MM until he can no longer resist and we start to chat properly. He accuses me of leading him on the night we met. I tell him that I always maintained and was very clear with him that I was not going home with him that night. He profusely denies this, and I defend my side of the story. We agree to disagree. Eventually we’re making out and yes, I do end up going home with him. Once again, we drive off in the black mercedes towards his posh inner city apartment.

This is where it gets delightfully weird. We arrive at his place and get into the lift. When the doors open, we’re on the roof of the apartment block. There’s a pool and a 360 degree view of Canberra. I’m not quite sure what we’re doing there at first. I naively think he wants to go for a swim. As I’m looking around, MM grabs me, kneels down, simultenously proceeding to lift my dress up over my head. We end up hooking up by the pool side and it’s pretty hot and heavy. There’s a part of me that worries we’ll be caught. The other part of me is caught up in the excitement of it all.

When we’re done with the roof top and I’m getting dressed, Mr Mercedes looks at me and says proudly, “bet you never thought you’d fuck with views as good as these.” Oh dear lord. Yeah. That’s a tick for the bucket list. What a fucking privilege. Wanker.

We go to his apartment and we fuck some more. I’m sorry. There’s no better word to describe it. It was pure animal-like intercourse. It goes on for hours and eventually I fall asleep exhausted. You may think the longevity of this session is a good thing. But Mr Mercedes couldn’t get off and kept insisting he didn’t want to use a condom. I made him do so, and so he complained the whole time about how hard it was for him to come. Blah blah blah. He also made several comments about how it was my duty to make him come. Oh hell no! Don’t you worry, I told him off mid-sex and this seemed to anger him and possibly made him eventually succeed at his mission. Lucky for both of us. I was ready to kick him in the balls.

Why did I stay with such a wanker? I think it was definitely a case of “foot in the door” phenomena. I mean, I was already there and committed. He wasn’t being abusive, merely an entitled male. I could handle it though I was pretty keen on getting out of there.

So the next morning, I wake up at 8am and order an Uber. As I’m getting dressed, MM wakes up and asks where I’m going. I tell him I’m going home. And it’s at this point I abandon any degree of social decency because, this: Mr Mercedes points to his hard-on and says, “what about this?”

Ho ho ho. Indeed.

And you know what, I’m loving it. I love that he has said this because I’m done with this night and this guy. He’s naked, I’m dressed and about to depart; the power was definitely with me and I was ready to use it and use it well:

RS: “I don’t know what to tell you. Call another girl or look after it yourself.”

MM: “I want you to look after it.”

RS: “I’m going.” (I lean in close to his face). “And don’t bother to ever call me again.”

I get up and walk out, all the while he’s yelling after me, something along the lines of me being the one who will crack and call him (yeah, right-o buddy).

I arrive home and my housemate takes one look at me, “he destroyed you, didn’t he?” Hahaha, well dear housemate, he may have destroyed me in the sack, but I messed with his mind. And that is a victory I will gladly take. Because if you’re going to be an entitled prick when it comes to sex, you can just fuck off.

Until next time…

Peace and love, RS