All Good Things (1985-1997)

Written by Doug – the northlondonhippy

I never thought it would happen to me, again

I was always an equal opportunity shagger, especially when meeting pre-internet strangers for pre-arranged sexual liaisons. I met women of all shapes and sizes, and all races and religions too. 

I didn’t discriminate. It was always a bonus if someone was conventionally attractive, but never a big deal if someone wasn’t. What was more important to me, was the vibe. And honesty. I can have a good time with anyone nice. So could you, if you really wanted to. Just sayin’.

OK, let’s be really honest. I was easy. I was a good time. I was a party boy. I liked to drink, smoke, snort, and fuck. I’ll let you in on a little secret: All of that is really my religion. Halle-fucking-lujah, and A-fucking-men to that! And shouldn’t that make it all tax-deductible?

I had one more weird success from PeopleLink. This time, I can remember her screen name, but not her real name. She lived somewhere in western NJ, that was accessible by train. She suggested I travel by rail, so I could drink heavily, and stay the night. Sounded good to me. I got one of the last trains heading in that direction.

Like I said, I was an equal opportunity shagger, and I was always up for a good time, but for the first time ever, someone misrepresented their looks to me. This had never happened to me before, but when I met the young lady, she was nothing at all like her description. 

She picked me up at the train station, and I was really confused when she called out my name. Like, I had no idea who she was for a moment, until my brain put together that she was my hostess. 

She wasn’t ugly, but she was a bit big. That wasn’t the issue, the issue was she wasn’t honest about it. I would have still come. It also explained why she told me to take the train. There wasn’t a return train until the morning. I was stuck there. 

She had some coke, and a big bottle of Jack Daniels, so we got down to it. It didn’t take too long before we were in her bed, playing around.

And then, I never thought it would happen to me again, but… her roommate got home, and she came into the bedroom. She saw the lines on the bedside table next to a half drunk bottle of JD, and her roomy riding a stranger. 

She asked if she could join the party too? I guessed, just based on how easily this happened, that this wasn’t their first rodeo sharing a guy. Giddayap!

It was another Penthouse Forum letter experience that was most unexpected, and surprisingly good fun. 

We woke up entangled, and played around some more. Then the roommate drove me back to the station, and gave me the longest kiss good bye. 

Chatlines

There’s an indescribable rush that comes with meeting a complete stranger for the first time, knowing you’re going to fool around with them. It didn’t always have to be full sex, but it sometimes did. Every encounter was different. Every woman I met was different, that was part of the thrill. 

And it wasn’t that I avoided relationships. I met girls, and dated them conventionally, but these traditional attempts didn’t work for me. I was too immature, not marriage or family minded, and most girls would work that out quickly, and move on. 

Right off the top of my head, I can think of three woman who dated, and played around with me in a really traditional way, that went on to get engaged, or married to someone else fairly soon afterward. 

In one case, this particular young woman went from rolling around on top of me on my sofa one weekend, only to announcing her engagement to someone else a week, and a half later. She window shopped, and didn’t think I was a good long term bet. She was right. I wasn’t a potential ring on anyone’s finger. 

I debated whether or not to include this section, but as I’ve told this story, I’ve realised my telephone adventures are just as important as the online ones. I thought I might be developing a sex addiction, but what I was really developing was a stranger addiction.

When I moved to Hoboken, the cable TV system had a local community channel, with text adverts. As cable TV was a novelty to me, I checked out all the channels, including this one. And one night when I did, I saw an ad for a brand new service that was being trialled in the area. It said it was a “party on the telephone”, and it was super cheap, like 1 cent a minute, cheap. So I gave it a try. 

When I phoned the number, I think there was a brief recorded greeting, and then you were thrown into chaos. It was like a conference call, only there were maybe 8 people trying to shout across each other, mostly guys. 

Occasionally you’d hear a girl’s voice, and then it would go quiet, and someone would try to find out where in the area she was. And then someone nearby would shout out his number, and presumably, she would phone the guy, and then maybe they would hook up. 

It was like the online chatrooms, only more chaotic. It was also more accessible, because the bar for entry was lower. You didn’t need a computer and modem, just a normal telephone.

Everyone knows what chatlines are now, but in 1985, it was a brand new concept. There was even an article in the local paper about the chatline test. 

Hudson County was the test market, and if it was successful, they were going to roll these phone lines out all around the country. I think it said they were a huge success in Brazil, where they originated, but I wouldn’t swear to that part. Mainly, it gave me a new source of local strangers.

I had many encounters with random women of all sorts because I shouted my number at them on a chatline. I did it enough, that I can’t recall all of them. Loneliness is more common than anyone wants to believe. 

I used to drink a lot back then, and I’d come home late at night, drunk, bored, and horny. So I’d go online with my modem, and I would go on the chatline too. 

There were a few things I had in my favour. I had my own place, and I was always willing to pay for a taxi to my front door, and back. I also always had weed, booze, and condoms. 

One of the first girls I met, was also one of the kinkiest. To be honest, even though I was a bit more experienced at this point, she was still way more advanced than me.  

She said she liked it a bit rough, and wanted to be used. That’s never been my thing, I am far more into the passionate, and sensual side of sexual play. But I’m open minded, and willing to experiment, so I agreed. 

She said she was going to wear a short skirt and tee-shirt., with no undies, or bra. And she said she didn’t have any money at all, and I would have to pay for the cab as soon as she arrived. I was cool with all of it. 

It was around 2am, and she was only about 10 minutes away. I went outside, and waited for her to arrive. 

I know what you might be thinking, that this story is going to take a dark turn. You’re right, but it’s not in the way you think. I didn’t get jumped, or mugged. Nothing like that. You’ll see. 

The cab pulled up, I paid the guy, and he drove off. My new friend was seriously hot. She undersold herself in her description on the phone. I was legitimately surprised. We went upstairs.

I had the lights low, and MTV on TV, and we sat down on my sofa, for a drink, and smoke. She sat down right next to me, really close. 

Her skirt brushed upwards as she sat down. She didn’t pull it back down, and her thighs were exposed. 

We started kissing, and she aggressively took my hand, and rammed it between her own legs, hard. I got the idea, and we moved to the bedroom. 

I definitely wasn’t rough enough for her. Let’s call it what it is: rape play. It’s a big turn off for me. She wanted it rougher than I was comfortable with, by country mile. We had some fun anyway, but I could tell it wasn’t what either one of us really wanted.

As she was getting dressed, she asked me to call her a taxi. Then she casually mentioned that she needed to get back, because she’d left her young children sleeping alone in her apartment. All three of them, and all under 5 years old. 

I felt myself take a sharp intake of breath. Wait, what?

She said they’d be fine, and that she’d done it before. and they don’t ever wake up. I was not cool with this, so I phoned for the cab, and told them we needed it as soon as possible. 

Yes, if I knew she was leaving her kids home alone, I wouldn’t have played this game with her. I’m not a monster. I could imagine seeing a story on the news about a tragic, fatal house fire, started because some young children were left alone in the middle of the night. It freaked me out. 

A couple of nights later, my phone rang, and when I picked it up, it was a voice I didn’t recognise, asking for me by name. She said she was a friend of rough sex mommy, and that’s how she got my number. She said her friend told her she would really like me, and that I was her type. Could she drop by?

What do you think? Of course she could. 

I had a quick shower, and didn’t bother getting fully dressed. Her friend arrived, and she was surprisingly hot, too. 

Think about it, hot girls are usually friends with other hot girls. Why hadn’t that occurred to me? Simple, because I was never that bothered. Like I said, good looks were only ever just a bonus. You can have fun with anyone. Well, I could anyway. 

She was a bit drunk when she arrived, and we literally just got down to it. We were far more compatible, and I had a more enjoyable time than I did with rough sex mommy. I didn’t have to pay for this one’s taxis either, but at the end of our time together, she did ask me to phone for one, and I did. 

It was only after she left, I realised I didn’t get her number. I would have been up for partying with her again, but she never called. 

One last memory, yet another virgin, this one in her mid twenties. We met twice, both times in public. 

The first time, we went to the cinema, and she was aggressively horny. She was all over me, like a second skin. She told me she would only have sex if she was in love with someone. 

On our second date, which was a drink, that was meant to be followed by a trip back to my place, she told me she loved me. She wanted me to tell her I loved her too, so we could have sex. 

I’m not sure if it mattered to her if I really did love her, just as long as I said the words, as she was that desperate for sex. But I didn’t say it, I wasn’t going to pretend to love someone, just to get laid. I was going to find someone else to party with instead. And she should have been grateful for that, but she wasn’t, and she left in a snit.

I could go on like this for pages, but I think it would be tedious, so I will just summarise. There were at least 6 more women that I met from the chatline that I can remember off the top of my head, and probably even more that I can’t. I was prolific, and I struggle to recall them all. 

At some point I got bored with it. I eventually started working full time, and socialising with colleagues, and my online, and telephone adventures became fewer, and further between. 

I probably conventionally dated more during this following period. I think I was getting bored with the randomness of it all. I was starting to think if someone cool came along, I’d be willing to consider a relationship. Maybe I was finally maturing emotionally?

Long story short, I did meet someone, and we were together for over 2 years. It was my second longest relationship, and I had met her at a wedding. It took me out of the game.

London

The girl I had the relationship with for a couple of years was British. I moved to London, in part to be with her, but also because a transfer through my job at the time became available. She is only a part of why I moved here in 1991. 

When she dumped me in late 1992. I was in a foreign city, I was alone, with only a few friends, and things at my job were getting rough. I turned back to sex, and strangers.

The first place I found random hook-ups, was a weekly classified listings magazine, called “Loot” that had personal ads. I met a few people that way, including the ex-wife of a musician from a major British classic rock band. I dated, and slept with her for a couple of months. She was into non-monogamy, but she liked to talk about it too much. What she got up to when we weren’t together wasn’t my concern. I wasn’t jealous, it just didn’t turn me on. 

In that initial period after my big break-up, my meetings from Loot helped build my confidence, and they sustained me sexually. They helped me meet people outside of my social circle too. 

Some were random hook-ups, other meetings were more like conventional dates, and some were a combination of the two.

Chatlines existed in London the 90s, but were for the most part were advertised on commercial TV late at night, and stupidly expensive. Then one launched in London in the mid 90s, that I found via an advert in TimeOut magazine. It was dirt cheap, and run on a local number. Late one night when I was drunk, I gave it a try.

This new, cheap chatline was different from the chaotic one I used back in New Jersey. This was a one-on one-chat line, and you were connected to only one person at a time. Either one of you could press a key, to end the connection and move on to the next person, or you could keep talking. 

At the start of the call, you would press 1 if you were male, or 2 if you were female. That way the system knew who to pair with who. 

Occasionally, you would be connected to a guy, trying his luck. No judgement, but there are separate lines for gay, and bi guys. These guys had a specific kink for straight guys. Again, no shame, and clearly they must have had some luck, or they wouldn’t be there. You just press a key, and move on. 

The main part of the game on this system seemed to be geographical suitability. That was especially true if you were looking for a quick meeting on the spot, but less so if you were arranging something for a future date. I was living fairly centrally at the time. 

I had a lot of luck on this system. Again, more than I can ever remember. I had late night visitors, and I had normal dates from it too. I took it as it came, I had a great time.

Here’s a fun one. At one point I was unsuccessfully pursuing the flatmate of a colleague of mine. She wanted to be “just friends”. It was annoying, because I really liked her. We used to spend a lot of time together. It was like being back in high school. 

My not-girlfriend constantly gave me mixed signals though, whenever we were alone. She was friendly, and flirty, but she made it clear she wasn’t attracted to me, and didn’t want to be my girlfriend. I never pressured her for sex, but she knew I was into her. 

I met a girl from the phone line, and we had a normal date, that turned into a sleep over at my place. She was really, really nice, and it turned out she worked in the same industry as my not-girlfriend. And randomly, I worked out that they knew each other, and had a business meeting together the previous week. 

When I next saw my not-girlfriend, I asked her if she knew my new telephone friend. I was right, she did. When my not-girlfriend asked how I knew her, I told her I was dating her, I thought my not-girlfriend was going to explode. For someone that said they weren’t attracted to me, and didn’t want to be my girlfriend, she sure seemed jealous. Go figure. 

I mostly wasn’t online during this period in my life. I went a few years without a computer. I wouldn’t get one again until the late 90s, when the internet really started to take off. 

The phone line was fun, and I used it for a couple of years. I only stopped, because I met my current partner, conventionally. We’ve been together for 26 years, and we’re still going strong. 

When I met Mrs. Hippy, I was seeing three different girls I met from the phone line, all non-exclusively. Within a week of meeting the future Mrs. H, I ended things with all of them. All were non-exclusive, and on-going for various lengths of time. 

One of them was sort of my girlfriend for a bit, and then sort of not my girlfriend. She was a good time, in the same way I was. She liked to party hard. 

Little, by little, it felt like more of her stuff was ending up at my place after each visit. First it was a toothbrush, and then some undies. Then before I knew it, a week’s worth of work clothes. It was stealthy. 

She told me she lived with her ex-boyfriend, but couldn’t move out because they owned their flat together, and the market crash meant they couldn’t sell yet. He had a somewhat different view of their relationship, and when I found that out, I ended it. Thing is, I found out the hard way, by running into him. Not literally, but close enough.

Six months later, she phoned me late one night when I was drunk, and horny. She was wasted too. She missed me. We had really good sex. I missed her too. She visited. We hooked up on and off after that.

The other two were far less involved, and all just sex only. One was a motorcycle courier, and she used to turn up at my place during the day if she was in the area in her leathers, like Catwoman.

The other was a kinky Norwegian nanny, who pushed for things I wasn’t willing to do, like choking her. Sorry, not for me. 

It was easy to end it with all three of them. And my decision has stood the test of time. 

Between 1983 and 1997, I had a lot of wild, crazy, booze fuelled fun. That’s about 14 years. I more than got it all out of my system. I’ve now spent nearly double that time in a monogamous relationship. I just had to find the right woman, and I did. I can’t help it if the audition process was extensive, and unduly time consuming. 

I lacked confidence, I had low self esteem, and I used to drink heavily. I also really liked recreational sex. It’s no surprise I explored, and enjoyed whatever fun I could find. I’m not ashamed of any of it. I wasn’t grown up enough for a real relationship until I was in my thirties. Until then, I was just a good time. 

I wish people weren’t so uptight about sex. It seems like things have slid backwards a bit in society, when it comes to sexual freedom now, compared to the 70s, 80s, and 90s. And it shouldn’t be that way. 

There are so many more avenues to meet people now, than there were back then. And today, there is far less stigma. Everyone is on Tinder, or knows someone who is on Tinder, or one of the many other dating apps. 

The problem seems to be that it isn’t as easy to genuinely connect with anyone. Instead of making meeting up with friendly, sexy strangers more likely, it’s somehow pushed people further apart. It doesn’t make sense. 

It feels like it was easier, back in my day. Everyone was drunk, and horny, and willing to take risks just to have a good time. 

My days of pursuing recreational sex with strangers are long over, but that doesn’t mean the rest of you can’t keep that flame burning. 

There should be no shame in having a good time, as often as possible. So, what are you waiting for? Get out there! Forty years from now, you will still have the memories. It might even make for a good story.

And if I can leave you with one final thought from the last 40 or so years of my sex and love life, it’s this: Good sex is about a lot more than just physical attraction. And real, genuine, lasting love is about more than just sex. 

The End

But wait, there’s more! 

I have a bonus, extra story to share with you. You will really want to read this one. I should warn you now, that it will leave you with one big question, but in Part Four – I’ll Never Tell.

(All words © Copyright 2023 – Doug – the northlondonhippy. All rights reserved)