Been there, done him.

Following the failure with the South American, I organised a date last Monday with another guy on Gaydar. We had drinks for a couple of hours after work at a cool city bar. On Friday we met up again, this time at a suburban pub, then had dinner at a nice little restaurant, followed by gelati at a corner cafe and a mild evening stroll. When I walked him back to his car I could tell that he wanted to kiss me, but the street was surprisingly crowded so we simply said our goodbyes.

For the third date, last night, I invited this guy over to my house for dinner and a DVD, a scenario in which there would be no surprising crowds. Dinner went well, and the DVD was good. The implicit negotiation about how far we were going to go danced its way through the conversation. Eventually he asked me questions about my favoured choice of underwear, questions that could really only be answered by showing them off. And once you've shown a man your underwear, there's really no going back.

It wasn't the worst sex I've ever had, nor the best. Normally when I have sex with a guy there's a lot of eroticism: kissing, exploring with fingers and tongues, nibbles and strokes. With this guy, it was very functional. Nothing we did seemed to be about the pleasure of two people heated with desire for each other, but rather actions in the service of getting off. It was a process rather than an encounter.

Which may give the impression that the sex was bad or brusque, but this was not the case. His favourite sex position is on his back with his partner straddling him, a position I'd never tried before, and I found it intensely enjoyable, so much so that I came all over his chest while he was hard inside me. I came, then he came, then we chatted for a while before going to sleep. In the morning he seemed almost surprised when I kissed him and indicated that I was more than willing to go again. After a couple of other positions, he fucked me bent over the edge of the bed and came across my back. Then I had a shower, he had a shower, we got dressed, I made him breakfast, we went our separate ways and I got to work only 15 minutes later than normal.

At this point it's pretty certain that I'll see him again. And yet, despite all of my moaning about the lack of men in my life, I don't feel excited by this knowledge. It's one of those "it all looks good on paper" situations. We're about the same age, same weight, same height and in the same League. He's a top and I'm a bottom. He's enjoyable company and we hold many of the same values and priorities in life. But there's no instant sense of connection.

Perhaps the most profound issue is that I get the impression that he's a bit jaded. He's done threeways and fourways, beats and beaches, sex trains and saunas, one hour stands and Long Term Relationships: he's seen it all. While there were things about me he liked and things we did that he enjoyed, there was nothing new or special going on.