Cuddle up in the non-swimmer pool

Sometimes it really fits. Not often. Like every five years. Maximum. Then you don’t just swipe to the right bored, but keep your fingers crossed for yourself, success, victory, match. It continues to run smoothly. The conversation starts well, gets better and ends not in endless gifs and emojis, but with a… Meet.

You expected me to write sex right now, right?

Of course sex is always good, but let’s face it: just meeting up is good. How often do you laboriously type some tense answers to half-funny questions in the chat history and not even get a tired handshake for it? Even.

Incidentally, I have only once seen a woman I matched with “make love” with sex. Only once. Admittedly, I found it a bit irritating. But I found one of them much weirder, who always talked about fucking, where the U was more of an O, so she said something like Bommsen. I found it moderately warm, but maybe that was because I found it moderately warm. She probably could have said bömsen if she had been an A and I would have liked that. I’m probably superficial. And, most likely, all men are superficial.

Because I recently discussed with some friends the sad fact that we beautiful women are much more forgiving and understanding. We then assured each other that this should not be the case anymore, that we should be more careful and honest, but we all knew that this would always be the case.

item.

The wife and I matched. We’ve met each other. We liked each other. That’s right. It also matched offline. Everything was easy. Relaxed. uncomplicated. She didn’t want a relationship either. But not a one-night stand either. She just got out of a long relationship that ended badly. But she can’t have sex without really knowing people. She’s looking for the spacer. “You’re looking for me!” I said. In my head. I’m not scary.

We first met for ice cream. The second time with her. After sex I went home. We both liked it better. Her apartment was way too hot. A penthouse. The summer hell.

Two days later she texted me if I wanted a drink. I wrote that I wanted to go swimming. And drink white wine there. Win victory. “In the river? In the lake?” I asked. She wrote, if, then in a swimming pool. I hate baths. The many children everywhere. Everyone is running around. But I am uncomplicated and relaxed, so Badi.

And there it happened. We lay on the grass, kissed and drank white wine. I wanted to go in the water. You too. But not in the same pool as me. not ins right one. She stammered. I did not understand. And then she said what I never thought possible: a woman of almost thirty, in Switzerland for ten years, sporty and healthy, she said she couldn’t swim. You never really learned.

People! I was speechless!

Now there are two options: I teach her to swim or I teach her to swim. After all, I am a professional teacher. In a few weeks she will take the dolphin up river!

as long as

am