I drove 100 miles to get dumped and have the worst sex ever

“I don’t think this is working,” my date, John, told me over brunch.

Suddenly, the slice of sourdough bread I was enjoying turned to ash in my mouth and I felt my cheeks turn bright red as I tried my best to keep my cool.

Usually I handle rejection pretty well, but these were special circumstances.

I had just travelled from London to Bristol – about 117 miles – to see him for what was only our second date.

After picking me up from the bus stop, we headed to a crowded café. It might seem crazy to venture so far for someone you’ve only met once, but John has worked abroad a lot – and we’ve also spent six weeks on phone and video calls.

We didn’t have any special plans, other than a quick tour of his hometown, although a sleepover was definitely planned.

I’ve always been an adventurer, so I put my nervousness aside and took the plunge.

And yet, less than an hour after the meeting, he dumped me.

Like the eggs on my plate, my brain felt like it had been scrambled.

I put my plate aside and called the waiter to ask for the bill.

The humiliation hurt me and I didn’t really know how to react. And then anger took over me…

“Are you serious?” I asked, the pain palpable in my voice. He tried to apologize but couldn’t find the words to explain. Why he dumped me before our date even started.

I put my plate down and called the waiter over to ask for the bill. This only made the situation more awkward, as they worriedly asked me if there was something wrong with the dish, which was practically untouched.

I then excused myself, leaving John to pay – there was no way I was going to offer to split the amount in two, as I normally did.

In shock, I waited outside and when he finally left the room, he had an embarrassed look on his face.

He then offered to drive me to the bus stop, which I accepted because I didn’t know the way back and I wanted an answer to what had just happened before leaving for good.

All the awkwardness between us disappeared and our physical attraction took over.

On the way, John explained to me that he wasn’t sure if we had a future but was too nervous to tell me, especially since I had come so far. He also admitted that he felt a conflict of interest, which was why he hadn’t told me about it before.

I quickly reminded him that this was only our second date. I wasn’t expecting a marriage proposal, just a fun date where we would get to know each other.

But he had ruined any chance of achieving that before we even started.

But at some point in our conversation, and I still don’t know exactly how it happened, we decided that I had to stay so that we could really take a chance.

John drove us to his house so I could drop off my bag and we had planned to go for a drink at his local pub. But as we were looking around his place the horn sounded.

Suddenly all the awkwardness between us disappeared and our physical attraction took over.

We rushed upstairs to make love and then everything went horribly wrong. Again!

The sex was absolutely horrible.

Our pace was off, the room was too quiet, and everything seemed about as spicy as watching someone fold laundry.

To top it all off, John later told me that I reminded him of his ex. What a gentleman.

I was fed up, I told him I was officially done with him. I had no interest in the date anymore, neither romantically nor sexually, and I just wanted to go home.

There was just one problem: there was no more buses until morning.

Having no other choice, I decided to put my anger aside. Even though our date had been a disaster, I felt that John wasn’t a bad guy, he was just quite… inexperienced. So I suggested that we go have a few drinks at the pub as friends.

Surprisingly, it turned out to be quite amusing. We had too many drinks – most of them paid for by John as an apology – and I made friends with a few women in the smoking area who offered me sympathy after I told them what had happened.

Then I remembered a former sex partner and friend of mine, Ethan, who lived about two hours away. Feeling tipsy, I messaged him to ask if he would spare me from having to spend the night at John’s.

Within minutes I had a reply: “I’m coming,” he said, and there was even a picture of him getting into the car to show he was serious.

A wave of excitement washed over my body, followed by panic. How could I tell John about this?

Even though the man had been discourteous to me, I didn’t mean to be rude. But given the way the day had started, I wondered if he would care. Maybe he would be relieved.

But he was upset when I told him the news. I replied briefly that a friend would come and pick me up.

“Please don’t go,” he begged, adding that he felt he had made a mistake and that maybe there was something between us after all.

I was pretty sure it was the alcohol talking, but John seemed genuinely contrite.

I have no hard feelings about what happened because John taught me a valuable lesson.

It couldn’t have been about getting fucked, because I doubted either of us wanted to go through that misery again, but it certainly made me think about my options.

As I went out to get some fresh air, I asked my new friends in the smoking area for advice, who strongly encouraged me and recommended that I try door number 2. Then, one of the women asked me to think about what I would choose if I were back home and not in a stranger’s city.

That advice, along with every bone in my body telling me to “go,” was the final blow. It was time to end this bizarre date and move on.

A few hours later, Ethan pulled into the pub car park and relief washed over me – as well as excitement, because I knew good sex was on the cards.

I hugged John goodbye and wished him well. He said, “I’m so sorry,” as he watched me walk out of the pub.

Fortunately, my night improved significantly from there.

Ethan booked us a hotel room, we had decent sex and I passed out in a comfy bed. The next morning he drove me back to London.

There was never anything serious between us, even after he saved me that night, but we remained friends almost 10 years later.

As for John, I never heard from him again.

I have no hard feelings about what happened, because it taught me a valuable lesson.

If you don’t succeed at first, don’t do it Try again. And never venture further than Zone 6 for a second date.

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