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My future date with author51  

SilyconBond 54M
249 posts
7/30/2020 3:32 am

Last Read:
8/1/2020 11:31 am

My future date with author51


So, I read her blog. Not everything yet, she has been here a while. I highly recommend it.

In her profile,

“I am an avid sports junkie and play most of them as well. When one stays fit all of their life it helps in the more mature years and keeps one young at heart...”

So, would I take her to a sporting event for the first date? The Dallas Cowboys don’t play in Canada, besides she probably likes hockey. My logical brain can’t understand hockey. I’ve been to four hockey games from women taking me to them. Out of those four times, no sex occurred afterward. I couldn’t persuade them into bed when they were jumping up and down fighting some invisible man every time a guy was slammed into the glass. I noticed most of the audience is fighting ghosts so it must be a spiritual thing. Do you have to be baptized by a hockey puck hitting your head? I saw that a few times at the games I went to.

Again in her profile,

“Having a sense of humor is key... Make me laugh out loud, match me wit for wit, hold a conversation and be a man who likes a challenge, sports, music and a red head in bed and half the battle of us meeting is won.”

This is a tough one. I have no sense of humor, so I have to pretend as I do. I can make others laugh, so I’m guessing I can pass this one. The wit to wit is interesting. I am aware of my slow wit, but I compensate with non-verbal sparring. For instance.

She says, “You are such a stud.”

Me thinking, why is she saying I’m an upright support in the wall of a building to which sheathing or drywall is attached.

My answer, “Are you the sheetrock that’s gonna be nailed to me?”

Then follow with pretend hammer motions with my hand because I need to stall to think of something else. Maybe wink, point to my crotch…anything to stop thinking about building a fucking wall.

Challenge? I’m a problem solver. Please….Sports…I can watch them but racquetball is the only one I am decent in. I’ve never finished a game with a girl in racquetball…reasons…

“red head in bed”… Out of everything so far, this is the biggest barrier. I had sex with two red heads in my life and neither one made it as far as the bed. The couch, the car, the stairwell, up against the door, the floor, tabletops, the lawn, countertops. She says red head in bed, but I’m thinking that must be some sort of code for if we make it to the bed she owns me.

There were other things there, but I got sidetracked on that video she has. Wish that was my fingers touching there.

So, on to the future date….

Not going to take her to a concert. Not going to take her to a movie. Not going to take her to a sports thing. I used to inline skate in my twenties, and roller skate in Utah last time I was there. Skating is good for conversation, but I bet she has already had a date doing that.

I’d have to travel to Canada first…Hmmm…Got it.
Since this would be the first meet, need a public place…Dinner? Nope. Coffee? Nope….

The problem I have with flying is laundry. I hate smelling my own stinking laundry once I land. I always sweat before takeoff and after we land waiting for the door to open.

I got it. I would meet her outside the Tiny Bubbles at King Avenue and Beaver Street. A good sign, Beaver street..hehe. I’d be the King of her Beaver…Kneel to the King baby….I’ll let your beaver chow down on my kingly wood. (of course, I wouldn’t tell her those things right off the bat anyway. I’d wait at least an hour or 5 min., Jeeze.)

Lots of open space so I could run away if I needed to. They have a Walmart 60 miles away that I would have to stop at first. I need soap, a laundry basket, other things. Maps says it’s a two and half hour drive for 60 miles…WTF?

So there I would be, parked at the corner of King and Beaver, waiting just outside Tiny Bubbles Laundromat wearing my black shorts, showing my manly legs, and a T-shirt that says, “Straight Out of Cookies.” With Cookie Monster in the background. Looking totally tasty at 6 feet and intense manly gaze.

She pulls up. Gets out of her car. Relaxes a bit because I do match the picture I sent her. I tense. Imagining that video she posted. I should have never watched that video before meeting her. Can she tell I’m hard? Why does her gaze keep going to my crotch? Dick, stay down, trying to impress with words here.

“You’re real.” She says.

“SilyconBond, in the flesh, and you have a booger on your nose,” I say, and casually scrape at the tip of her nose with my fingertip with my right hand. I flick off the pretend booger. Then look disgusted at my hand, then around us, wipe off my hand on my shorts. I’ll reach out with my left hand to shake after all I just had a booger on the right one.

She does one of two things at this time. One, she laughs and shakes with the left or two, she stares in shock horror at my left hand. I haven’t figured out a way to exchange ids without looking like an idiot because I have no idea what a Canadian ID looks like. None of my Canadian friends have shown me theirs. Engineer, not a bartender…so I would stare at the thing, and base my guess on whether I could beat her at arm wrestling. No girl has ever beat me yet, the one that does, I’m running.

“So what are we doing?” She asks.

“Laundry,” I say.

“Your kidding.” She says.

“I just got off the plane and I had to go<b> shopping. </font></b>If you like the next hour, I’ll let you buy me dinner. Has any of your other lovers taken you to the laundromat on the first date?”

“Uh no, but I’m not buying dinner.” She says.

“We shall see. Let me get my stuff.” I say and walk to my rental car, pop the trunk, and get out my laundry basket. It has a soapbox, clean clothes on top of a towel. She can clearly see everything except what’s under the towel.

I walk into the coin-op shop, carrying my basket. This is her chance. She can leave now. She doesn’t have to say goodbye. She barely knows me. She does the calculations in her head.

1) He’s weird…but I knew that already.
2) He is who he says he is…so a little trust can be given.
3) Was there really a booger on my nose? Or was he playing me?... I guess it doesn’t matter.
4) Why the fuck laundry?
5) He’s really doing this…it makes no sense. Deep breath..he has a nice ass. (Yes I do.)

Inside I picked my machine, see her, and take off my shirt. I throw it in the machine. I take off my shoes, my socks, my shorts. I leave my scooby doo boxers on. Throw the other things in the wash except for my shoes. She can’t help but stare, I’ve been working out for a while. I’m not Marvel Super Hero Shape, but I will be in a few years I hope.

I put some soap in the machine. Then I start to put on the clean clothes from my basket. Shorts, socks, shoes… I see her watching me and say, “Damn, I forgot the stripper music. Whadda think? Pour some sugar on me or I wanna be a Cowboy?” And I twirl my clean shirt overhead. If she laughs, I swivel my hips Elvis Presley style. If she doesn’t laugh, It’s the Rock Eyebrow raise.

I put on my shirt. Start the wash. “You forgot the towel. “ She says. “It’s not dirty, besides it’s hiding something. Stand over there. I’ll share it with you.” I point to someplace at least ten feet away.

I lift the towel, and there they are GUNS. Not just any GUNS, but plastic blue, orange, and grey Nerf N-Strike Elite Disrupters that hold six darts. I toss her the unloaded one. She drops it. For some reason, women always drop the gun when tossed the first time in the laundromat or any other place I have thrown them. I learned my lesson. Never throw them a loaded one. Then as she is looking at it on the floor. I pick up a hand full of darts and throw them at her. Of course, she doesn’t catch all of them, but she is more ready. I bought lots of extra darts.

While she is picking up the gun, and rest of the darts, I’m casually shooting her. I’m really good against eight to ten-year-olds. Every one of my shots will hit either the floor, the ceiling, the wall behind her. I like to think she would laugh with every missed shot as she tries to figure the gun and darts out.

After my clip is empty, I approach her. “Wow, you’re really slow. Must be the lighting in here.” I say.

I holster the gun in the side pocket of my shorts. It’s bulky and barely fits. “This is how you load. Pull back this slide here. Them aim, and pull the trigger.” It’s a puzzle and girls always like solving puzzles.

After she gets it working. I explain the rules.

“First, no headshots. Second, stay inside. Third, a point for every hit. Fourth, an ass shot gets a touch or kiss when the game is over, they are cumulative. Ten points to the game. Understand?” I hand her a fist full of darts to go with the ones you already have, then I go to the other side of the room.

“Ok, count down from three. Then game on.” I say. “Three…Two…One…” She fires, but I squat low, preparing my shots carefully.

Not sure how it plays out. So many different ways it could go. I play to win always. I’m not getting shot by anybody, girl, boy, doesn’t matter. I will jump over the washing machines if I have to. I’ll pick up my laundry basket to use as a shield. I’ll use a distraction..”Someone’s coming…” then shoot her. I’ll shoot her when she is reloading. Plus, I always make it a big story when I play. I’ll overemphasize how I have the drop on the bank robber or the that stole my bike. Telling my story with every pull of a trigger. I’ll make up names for things…the washer is now bunker 54, or police station 17. "That shot just blew your arm off!"

Hopefully, we can get four or five games before the wash is done and I have to put the clothes in the dryer. Aerobic activity can be exhausting. Depends on how hard she wants to win. Putting the clothes in the dryer is a pause point. I’ll motion her to the chairs to sit..and we will just talk.

We will compare scores, and she might ask about the touch or kiss rule. If she does…it could lead to something. If she doesn’t I don’t even bring it up. Talking is an important part of the whole date for me. The attraction builds for me at that point or it doesn’t. Sitting next to each other is a good place for subtle touches to start, and if she had a good time, it's more probable. Nothing is for sure in life. I can't predict what would happen next. Hopefully, after she reads this we can still be friends.

This would be my first date, with author51 based on information I am guessing at.

SilyconBond 54M
148 posts
7/30/2020 3:32 am

So, I read her blog. Not everything yet, she has been here a while. I highly recommend it.

In her profile,

“I am an avid sports junkie and play most of them as well. When one stays fit all of their life it helps in the more mature years and keeps one young at heart...”

So, would I take her to a sporting event for the first date? The Dallas Cowboys don’t play in Canada, besides she probably likes hockey. My logical brain can’t understand hockey. I’ve been to four hockey games from women taking me to them. Out of those four times, no sex occurred afterward. I couldn’t persuade them into bed when they were jumping up and down fighting some invisible man every time a guy was slammed into the glass. I noticed most of the audience is fighting ghosts so it must be a spiritual thing. Do you have to be baptized by a hockey puck hitting your head? I saw that a few times at the games I went to.

Again in her profile,

“Having a sense of humor is key... Make me laugh out loud, match me wit for wit, hold a conversation and be a man who likes a challenge, sports, music and a red head in bed and half the battle of us meeting is won.”

This is a tough one. I have no sense of humor, so I have to pretend as I do. I can make others laugh, so I’m guessing I can pass this one. The wit to wit is interesting. I am aware of my slow wit, but I compensate with non-verbal sparring. For instance.

She says, “You are such a stud.”

Me thinking, why is she saying I’m an upright support in the wall of a building to which sheathing or drywall is attached.

My answer, “Are you the sheetrock that’s gonna be nailed to me?”

Then follow with pretend hammer motions with my hand because I need to stall to think of something else. Maybe wink, point to my crotch…anything to stop thinking about building a fucking wall.

Challenge? I’m a problem solver. Please….Sports…I can watch them but racquetball is the only one I am decent in. I’ve never finished a game with a girl in racquetball…reasons…

“red head in bed”… Out of everything so far, this is the biggest barrier. I had sex with two red heads in my life and neither one made it as far as the bed. The couch, the car, the stairwell, up against the door, the floor, tabletops, the lawn, countertops. She says red head in bed, but I’m thinking that must be some sort of code for if we make it to the bed she owns me.

There were other things there, but I got sidetracked on that video she has. Wish that was my fingers touching there.

So, on to the future date….

Not going to take her to a concert. Not going to take her to a movie. Not going to take her to a sports thing. I used to inline skate in my twenties, and roller skate in Utah last time I was there. Skating is good for conversation, but I bet she has already had a date doing that.

I’d have to travel to Canada first…Hmmm…Got it.
Since this would be the first meet, need a public place…Dinner? Nope. Coffee? Nope….

The problem I have with flying is laundry. I hate smelling my own stinking laundry once I land. I always sweat before takeoff and after we land waiting for the door to open.

I got it. I would meet her outside the Tiny Bubbles at King Avenue and Beaver Street. A good sign, Beaver street..hehe. I’d be the King of her Beaver…Kneel to the King baby….I’ll let your beaver chow down on my kingly wood. (of course, I wouldn’t tell her those things right off the bat anyway. I’d wait at least an hour or 5 min., Jeeze.)

Lots of open space so I could run away if I needed to. They have a Walmart 60 miles away that I would have to stop at first. I need soap, a laundry basket, other things. Maps says it’s a two and half hour drive for 60 miles…WTF?

So there I would be, parked at the corner of King and Beaver, waiting just outside Tiny Bubbles Laundromat wearing my black shorts, showing my manly legs, and a T-shirt that says, “Straight Out of Cookies.” With Cookie Monster in the background. Looking totally tasty at 6 feet and intense manly gaze.

She pulls up. Gets out of her car. Relaxes a bit because I do match the picture I sent her. I tense. Imagining that video she posted. I should have never watched that video before meeting her. Can she tell I’m hard? Why does her gaze keep going to my crotch? Dick, stay down, trying to impress with words here.

“You’re real.” She says.

“SilyconBond, in the flesh, and you have a booger on your nose,” I say, and casually scrape at the tip of her nose with my fingertip with my right hand. I flick off the pretend booger. Then look disgusted at my hand, then around us, wipe off my hand on my shorts. I’ll reach out with my left hand to shake after all I just had a booger on the right one.

She does one of two things at this time. One, she laughs and shakes with the left or two, she stares in shock horror at my left hand. I haven’t figured out a way to exchange ids without looking like an idiot because I have no idea what a Canadian ID looks like. None of my Canadian friends have shown me theirs. Engineer, not a bartender…so I would stare at the thing, and base my guess on whether I could beat her at arm wrestling. No girl has ever beat me yet, the one that does, I’m running.

“So what are we doing?” She asks.

“Laundry,” I say.

“Your kidding.” She says.

“I just got off the plane and I had to go shopping. If you like the next hour, I’ll let you buy me dinner. Has any of your other lovers taken you to the laundromat on the first date?”

“Uh no, but I’m not buying dinner.” She says.

“We shall see. Let me get my stuff.” I say and walk to my rental car, pop the trunk, and get out my laundry basket. It has a soapbox, clean clothes on top of a towel. She can clearly see everything except what’s under the towel.

I walk into the coin-op shop, carrying my basket. This is her chance. She can leave now. She doesn’t have to say goodbye. She barely knows me. She does the calculations in her head.

1) He’s weird…but I knew that already.
2) He is who he says he is…so a little trust can be given.
3) Was there really a booger on my nose? Or was he playing me?... I guess it doesn’t matter.
4) Why the fuck laundry?
5) He’s really doing this…it makes no sense. Deep breath..he has a nice ass. (Yes I do.)

Inside I picked my machine, see her, and take off my shirt. I throw it in the machine. I take off my shoes, my socks, my shorts. I leave my scooby doo boxers on. Throw the other things in the wash except for my shoes. She can’t help but stare, I’ve been working out for a while. I’m not Marvel Super Hero Shape, but I will be in a few years I hope.

I put some soap in the machine. Then I start to put on the clean clothes from my basket. Shorts, socks, shoes… I see her watching me and say, “Damn, I forgot the stripper music. Whadda think? Pour some sugar on me or I wanna be a Cowboy?” And I twirl my clean shirt overhead. If she laughs, I swivel my hips Elvis Presley style. If she doesn’t laugh, It’s the Rock Eyebrow raise.

I put on my shirt. Start the wash. “You forgot the towel. “ She says. “It’s not dirty, besides it’s hiding something. Stand over there. I’ll share it with you.” I point to someplace at least ten feet away.

I lift the towel, and there they are GUNS. Not just any GUNS, but plastic blue, orange, and grey Nerf N-Strike Elite Disrupters that hold six darts. I toss her the unloaded one. She drops it. For some reason, women always drop the gun when tossed the first time in the laundromat or any other place I have thrown them. I learned my lesson. Never throw them a loaded one. Then as she is looking at it on the floor. I pick up a hand full of darts and throw them at her. Of course, she doesn’t catch all of them, but she is more ready. I bought lots of extra darts.

While she is picking up the gun, and rest of the darts, I’m casually shooting her. I’m really good against eight to ten-year-olds. Every one of my shots will hit either the floor, the ceiling, the wall behind her. I like to think she would laugh with every missed shot as she tries to figure the gun and darts out.

After my clip is empty, I approach her. “Wow, you’re really slow. Must be the lighting in here.” I say.

I holster the gun in the side pocket of my shorts. It’s bulky and barely fits. “This is how you load. Pull back this slide here. Them aim, and pull the trigger.” It’s a puzzle and girls always like solving puzzles.

After she gets it working. I explain the rules.

“First, no headshots. Second, stay inside. Third, a point for every hit. Fourth, an ass shot gets a touch or kiss when the game is over, they are cumulative. Ten points to the game. Understand?” I hand her a fist full of darts to go with the ones you already have, then I go to the other side of the room.

“Ok, count down from three. Then game on.” I say. “Three…Two…One…” She fires, but I squat low, preparing my shots carefully.

Not sure how it plays out. So many different ways it could go. I play to win always. I’m not getting shot by anybody, girl, boy, doesn’t matter. I will jump over the washing machines if I have to. I’ll pick up my laundry basket to use as a shield. I’ll use a distraction..”Someone’s coming…” then shoot her. I’ll shoot her when she is reloading. Plus, I always make it a big story when I play. I’ll overemphasize how I have the drop on the bank robber or the kid that stole my bike. Telling my story with every pull of a trigger. I’ll make up names for things…the washer is now bunker 54, or police station 17. "That shot just blew your arm off!"

Hopefully, we can get four or five games before the wash is done and I have to put the clothes in the dryer. Aerobic activity can be exhausting. Depends on how hard she wants to win. Putting the clothes in the dryer is a pause point. I’ll motion her to the chairs to sit..and we will just talk.

We will compare scores, and she might ask about the touch or kiss rule. If she does…it could lead to something. If she doesn’t I don’t even bring it up. Talking is an important part of the whole date for me. The attraction builds for me at that point or it doesn’t. Sitting next to each other is a good place for subtle touches to start, and if she had a good time, it's more probable. Nothing is for sure in life. I can't predict what would happen next. Hopefully, after she reads this we can still be friends.

This would be my first date, with author51 based on information I am guessing at.


author51 59F  
130010 posts
7/30/2020 4:00 am

Game on there Mister and the first place I will aim for on you will be your butt..Now this is my fantasy date right here and funny enough today is laundry day. I have a store right beside my laundry mat and will think about just how much fun we will have on a date when I buy some Nerf guns...You my Good Man best be prepared as I play to win. Up for the challenge Mister?....xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo..By the way I hate the Cowboys..I am a Steelers fan there Sily man.....xoxoxoxoxo


author51 59F  
130010 posts
7/30/2020 4:26 am

    Quoting author51:
    Game on there Mister and the first place I will aim for on you will be your butt..Now this is my fantasy date right here and funny enough today is laundry day. I have a store right beside my laundry mat and will think about just how much fun we will have on a date when I buy some Nerf guns...You my Good Man best be prepared as I play to win. Up for the challenge Mister?....xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo..By the way I hate the Cowboys..I am a Steelers fan there Sily man.....xoxoxoxoxo
By the way, we would not make it to the bed..I would do you right there at the laundry mat or behind it in the alley, you know..I will teach you how to skate and play hockey if you teach me to play racquetball.. The balls in your court there buddy boy.....LMAO!!!!!!


author51 59F  
130010 posts
7/30/2020 4:54 am

    Quoting author51:
    By the way, we would not make it to the bed..I would do you right there at the laundry mat or behind it in the alley, you know..I will teach you how to skate and play hockey if you teach me to play racquetball.. The balls in your court there buddy boy.....LMAO!!!!!!
As for dinner there, we go Dutch..I always pay my way......lol.


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