The Courier Who Delivers My Parcels Is My New Fuckboy

This is not a drill, this is not a clickbait, I actually did have sex with a courier and it’s a gift that keeps on giving. Yeah, same, I thought these things happen only in adult movies. No, before you ask, I didn’t get down on my knees immediately after he turned up at my door and didn’t drag him to my bedroom either. Nevertheless though, it felt (and still feels) like a porn fantasy rather than a reality. 

I’ve had a mini crush on him for a few months before, ever since he delivered a parcel to my house for the first time. It was late August, hot summer day, but he was even hotter. Although he walked away in a blink of an eye, carrying on with both his life and his job, I stood at the door long after that, starring into space cause he was too good to be true. His beautiful arms, perfectly articulated by a tank top, jewellery sparkling on his flawless body, a cigarette effortlessly hanging down his mouth, left me speechless. Come back, baby. Come back.

I saw him around the neighborhood for several times cause he clearly worked in the area and it was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him but on the other, I didn’t even want to look at him cause I felt like I was blushing all the time. Not to sound dramatic, but it was this serious, for real.

And he appeared at my very own doorstep a few more times as well. (I swear that, although I was considering it, I never actually ordered anything just for the sake of seeing him, cause I wasn’t even sure what company he worked for). So, he would ring my bell, deliver a parcel, do his job, mind his business and yet, he was becoming more and more friendly. Cute, little smiles turned into innocent 'how are yous' and flirty small talks until… Yeah, right. Until he delivered something more than a parcel.

That one day he stood at my doorstep for longer than usual and although he handed me the package a while ago, he was still there, chatting to me, and I began to feel excited. And then, he asked a question, which I normally hate but at that moment, I appreciated it cause I felt what was coming next. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

Let me stop for a second and rant how wrong and stupid this question is, anyway. It assumes that a woman should have a male (I repeat, male) partner but in a case she doesn’t, she must be clearly interested in a given man, posing that disgusting and foolish question. So, I will break it to you. Maybe I don’t have a boyfriend, but I might have a girlfriend or a partner of any other gender identity. Maybe I don’t date anyone at all because I’m aromantic. Maybe I have a boyfriend but I’m polyamorous, so it’s not a problem in this case. Eventually, maybe I don’t have a boyfriend, but I might not be interested in you. Luckily for him, I actually was very much interested. Ok, enough preaching, back to porn. 

From that point onwards, I took the initiative, and I was quick. ‘No, I don’t. Do you want my number,’ I asked directly. (Spoiler alert: he did). And then, the usual stuff happened. He called me the next day, came over in the evening and we had great sex. His body was literally the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen in my entire life and believe me, I’ve seen loads. (Including a great dick and I know I’ve been bragging about these big cocks often lately but what can I say, I’ve been extremely lucky in that sense recently). And then he popped in again in the morning cause he’s always in the area, right. It’s so handy.

So, one moral of the story is that the courier from my neighbourhood is my new fuckboy and I love it cause it’s convenient, quick, and amazing. The other one, though is not to be shy and go for anything that you like, even if it seems stupid and unattainable. Actually, he shared with me that he felt exactly the same way about me ever since he saw me, finding me absolutely gorgeous. And while I’m perfectly aware that it might be fuckboy’s bullshit (I’m not a type of person who wears nice clothes at home or puts makeup on), which he serves to his other potential lovers, end of the day, if he didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t have pursued it.

One more thing that I’m also aware of, is that his behavior, all in all, was quite inappropriate and he was definitely using his pretty privilege. My friends quickly flagged it to my very horny and blinded with desire self, posing more difficult questions. How did he know that you wouldn’t snap at him or even report him because he wasn’t professional? And how did he know that you didn’t wanna go out with him for a date instead of sleeping him? And to be honest, I’m not sure if I fully know the answers but I think that with all my smitten looks and flirty chats, I was explicitly showing him my interest (I can be coquettish as fuck and I use this power very consciously). This is not to say that these more or less subtle signals are an expression of consent because they absolutely aren’t. On the other hand, though, I have an impression that his completely stupid question about a boyfriend was his very awkward attempt to ask for my consent, nevertheless.

And also, as I always repeat, a fuckboy will recognize a fuckgirl. So, I don’t wanna say that you attract what you are because it’s a lie but rather, you’ll attract anything that you like if you stay true to yourself. Cause being you is sexy, no matter who you are. Amen.