Restraint...and not the good kind

When I was slapping on my fake tan to go out last night, I had no idea that I would soon be receiving a lesson in restraint. If I had, I might have imagined all sorts of dominatrix-style behaviour, mostly involving myself chained to bedpost while someone gave me a good seeing to.

Surprisingly though, it was restraint of a different kind.

For the first time in a while, I found myself confronted with the definite opportunity to partake in some hot gay shagging with a gorgeous man... and turning him down.

The man in question clocked me the moment I walked into the bar. As this was the start of the night, I was fairly confident that I looked decent enough. No doubt, I would be a slightly different sight after a few more rasberry mojitos - the hair would be tousled (and not a sexy way), the tan would be streaky, the eyes would be bloodshot and bleary and the dance-moves would definitely be dodgy. But, for the time being, I knew that my preening had paid off.

I acted coy for a couple of minutes and he eventually swaggered over. He fixed me with a cocky stare and flashed an even cockier smile. Try as I might, I just can't resist a cocky bastard. All of my instincts tell me to avoid the cocksure, over-confident types but I just can't help myself. And he was as confident as they get. He had an overpoweing sense of arrogance which I knew should have sent me running, but it just seemed to turn me on.

We chatted for over an hour. During this time, I missed the opportunity to dance to Britney and Rihanna - always a sign of a good conversation. Usually, nothing short of a hurricane can stop me from running to the dancefloor when 'Gimme More' comes on, but I was too engrossed in our chat to tear myself away.

Inevitably, he mentioned that he was going home. With one of his hands on my knee, the other fondling my crotch and his tongue in my ear, it was clear that he had no intention of going home alone.

But the night was early and, more importantly, I liked him. And, bizzarely, I never shag anyone if I actually like them. It's so rare that I meet someone I can connect with that I don't like to spoil it with meaningless sex.

Instead, I gave him my number - which I never do.

Now I can't stop thinking about that cocky fucker. And I can't stop checking my bloody phone.