I met him on Match, which I’d joined as an attempt to tiptoe back into dating after a very painful divorce. He sent me a message saying my profile was intriguing and he would love a shot at meeting me. I looked over his profile and quickly deduced that we weren’t a match. He had written a long missive about his passion for football and annoyance with women who didn’t understand (at the time, I hated football), and he claimed to be a devoted Christian and a staunch Conservative (I am neither of these and don’t much enjoy hearing about either). I politely declined his request for a meeting, and this seemed to only egg him on. I’d say, “I don’t meet any of your clearly articulated criteria,” to which he’d reply, “Maybe you’re worth opening my mind a bit.” We went back and forth for a week or two with me insisting we weren’t right for each other and him playfully arguing that I was too interesting for him to let me get away. He said he’d become accustomed to women throwing themselves at him (apparently he’s some sort of successful business owner and semi-pro ball player, yay!), and he found my reluctance “sexy and endearing.” I’ll admit, I was flattered by his persistence and impressed by his confidence, so I finally agreed to meet at a restaurant for dinner. He was decent looking, although a big hoss of a fellow, and he came across as intelligent, witty, and confident in person. He said he was recently divorced and had a 3 year old daughter. He seemed nice enough, but I really wasn’t feeling a spark, and after a couple hours, began to find his self-assurance somewhat obnoxious. For reasons I still don’t quite understand, I nevertheless agreed to join him for ice cream after our meal, and accepted his offer to drive. We live near the coast and somehow he talked me into pulling into a parking lot near a public beach to chat and finish our ice cream. Although I didn’t really think it would work out, I let him kiss me (What can I say? It had been a while) and when it got a little too hot and heavy, I stopped it and said I was ready to head back to my car. He started whining and begging me for sex, saying that I couldn’t just leave him in turned on like that. At first I laughed it off, but he grew increasingly desperate, telling me he was “about to explode.” “Can’t you just suck it or at least give me a handjob?” “Umm, no,” I said. “I think it’s time to go- NOW.” He got all frustrated and annoyed, like he was offended that I’d been willing to kiss but unwilling to fuck, and I started to get pretty nervous. That’s when he whipped it out of his pants and proceeded to masturbate, right there in the driver’s seat. I was too relieved that this massive dude hadn’t tried to rape me to feel scared, and I had to force myself to look away, trapped in a combination of absolute horror and fascination. He sat there stroking away enthusiastically, moaning about how good it felt, while I pressed myself against the passenger door, trying to stay as far away as possible and looking around for potential help in case things got any worse. When he was almost finished, he said in a breathless voice, “Where do you want me to put it?” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “Where should I cum? Can I put it on your tits or can you at least give me your hand?” I ignored him, so he let it loose all over the steering wheel of his truck. “Oh my god, I am so embarrassed,” he said. “I can’t believe I just did that, but you are so sexy I couldn’t help it.” Then he casually asked me to pass him a napkin from the glove box so he could clean up his mess. I probably should have just run away, but the empty beach at night seemed more dangerous than this now-spent perv, so I let him take me back to my car. He acted like nothing strange had happened and told me he’d had a great time. As soon as I saw my car, I ran without even looking back and went home and showered. He actually sent me another message asking for another shot. I disable my Match account and basically disappeared from the cyber universe for months. Technically, I think it probably qualified as some sort of sexual assault, but after telling the story of the “Masterdater” to my friends over and over, I had laughed too much to feel traumatized. A few months later, I was eating pancakes at IHOP with my new boyfriend (now husband), and I spotted the Masterdater eating with a woman and a 3 year old little girl. Both of them were wearing wedding rings, and from the look of panic on his face when we briefly made eye contact, I feel pretty sure he was married the entire time we corresponded. After what I’d let him get away with, I was very tempted to go over and ask him if he’s whacked off on any first dates lately. If only the kid hadn’t been there .

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