He Called Me Boring After Sex
By: Emma Austin
Tags: Life Lessons, Relationships, Dating, This Happened To Me, Sex

In the span of a single month, I had incredible phone sex and I also had terrible phone sex.

The first time was amazing, empowering, and life-changing. It was so fucking hot I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I craved it. I needed it. It opened me up in ways I didn’t think it could.

The last time cringey, hurtful, and regrettable. I couldn’t stop thinking about it either, but not for the same reasons.

And because it was with the same guy, it gave me some real emotional whiplash.

When I opened up my marriage, I hoped it would help me step out of my comfort zone. I was hoping for new experiences with new people.

About a month ago, it felt like that’s exactly what I was getting.

I’ve had a long-standing aversion to phones. I love texting, apps, and being able to look at menus before setting foot in a restaurant. But I hate hearing my ringtone go off.

Letting it go to voicemail is my religion.

Phone calls give me anxiety, and I have enough of that already.

Still, I consider myself pretty adventurous. I don’t want to feel pain, I don’t want to have trouble breathing, and I don’t want to gag, but outside of those parameters I’m game for trying almost anything sexual at least once.

But when a guy I was cyberfucking asked me to get on the phone so I could listen to him come, I had some serious hesitations.

I wanted to hear him. I wanted it badly. And I also liked the idea of him hearing me. The thought of it was really sexy, but it also made me feel self-conscious and embarrassed.

After taking way too long to reply, I made up my mind. I decided I’d just say yes, jump in with both feet, and if it ends up being awkward, then it’s awkward.

But it wasn’t awkward. Not this time.

Masturbating and coming into the phone while hearing him on his end was hot as hell. Hotter than I thought it would be. I never knew sex at a distance could be that pleasurable, that satisfying, that intense.

We had spent a long time talking before he called me and listened to me moan through several orgasms. Now, it was late and we both needed sleep.

Except I couldn’t sleep. Not after that. I kept replaying the whole thing in my head, thinking about what a wild thing I had just done — I mean, I got on the phone.

I kept checking my phone throughout the night, just in case he was having trouble sleeping too.

I couldn’t get over the thrill. I had a crush on this guy and in just one night, we had texted back and forth, flirted intensely, cyberfucked, and had phone sex.

I had wanted this. And I couldn’t get over the fact that I got it and it was so much better than I thought it would be.

Things Start Slipping

Sometimes people slip.

Sometimes they change, or you realize they’re not the person you imagined them to be.

This guy slipped and he slipped fast.

I never expected phone sex to stay as hot as it did the first time. First times are hard to beat. They always feel so amazing, so incredible. First times aren’t just exciting — they change you. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more mind-blowing sexual experience than losing my virginity. It wasn’t the best sex I ever had — not even close — but it’s the moment everything changed. There’s no way to relive that.

You can’t bottle that magic and relive it, but that doesn’t make sex any less fun. It doesn’t make phone sex any less fun, either.

But the third time I had phone sex with this guy feels like a turning point. Looking back now, it’s the moment things started going downhill.

I had a crush on him, but he really hooked me by lovebombing me hard.

He came in hot, heavy, and engaged. He somehow managed to seem interested even though he couldn’t stop bragging.

He got my hormones flowing hard. And the first two times we had phone sex, it gave me an even heavier dose of dopamine.

By the third time we got on the phone, though, all that lovebombing had ended.

Our conversations had a very different tone. The bragging was there, but now he was peppering every conversation with subtle negging.

The first few times I spoke to him, I felt like I was floating. Now, the way he spoke to me and the things he said didn’t even make me feel good.

He was still hitting on me, but in the middle of all his flirty comments he would mention the other women he’s been fucking. He would interrupt being sweet to me so he could give me details of what some other woman has been doing to turn him on.

I never demanded exclusivity from him — I mean, I’m married, and it was clear he isn’t exactly relationship material. But the way he carried out those conversations were in poor taste to say the least.

Hitting on me while bragging about his success with other women gave me this weird rollercoaster of feelings. It made me horny then turned me off, and then made me horny again only to be let down one more time.

But it wasn’t like the push and pull that comes with teasing. It wasn’t playful. Something about it felt sinister. It wasn’t arousing, it was just weird and it made me question his motives and his behavior.

It put me in a strange, confused headspace. I kept wondering what the fuck was even happening. But we eventually did end up having phone sex.

If I’m being honest, that was a real relief. I just wanted him to fuck me so I was glad that he finally did. At the time, I told myself it’s because I wanted him so badly. Now I realize that I also just wanted him to shut up. I wanted the phone sex, but I didn’t care for all the ego I had to put up with to get there.

The sex was still good, but there was something a little disappointing about it.

He just didn’t seem to be putting in the same amount of energy as he had the first two times.

It felt like his enthusiasm had been sapped.

He was more passive. I had to take the lead a bit more, even though I had been very clear with him that it’s not a role I’m comfortable taking on.

It’s like he expected me to push things forward, lead the interaction, and fuck him. Like he didn’t want to put much work into it.

It was still fun. It was still hot. It was still satisfying. But I couldn’t shake the sense that it was different. I hoped it would go back to the way it was before.

When we were done, he was quicker to leave. He ended our conversation soon after I finished coming. So, I was left to sit in my slightly confused mess of feelings.

I was still put off by the bragging. I was still bothered by the negging. I still couldn’t get over the weird mood that hung over our whole exchange.

I had lusted after him, but if this was how he was going to be every time, I wasn’t sure I wanted this anymore.

Well, it wasn’t like that every time. It got worse.

Things Fall Through

After that, things got weirder.

The guy who had started off being so charming was now playing mindgames with me.

When we first spoke, he was engaged in our conversations. Now, he was very hot and cold.

He was also extremely emotionally unavailable. There were times he was all in — and then he would go completely out. He could leave me on read for days in a row.

He would ignore me. He would not quite ghost me, but he would fade. Then, he’d be back out of the blue, acting like nothing had happened. He ignored the messages I had sent him, even a long one where I spilled my guts about the way I was feeling. He told me he’d get to it another time (he did eventually, but only because I had to call him out on the same behavior again).

He denied going hot and cold. Instead of being emotionally unavailable, he claims that he was actually too emotionally available with the women he fucked casually. And they can’t handle it so they anxiously attach to him.

Nevermind the fact that only an asshole would keep acting this way if it routinely hurt people.

Nevermind that it had a bit of a gross sexist “women just can’t handle casual sex because they’re too feely” vibe.

Nevermind all that because it’s just not true. The way he behaved proved again and again that he wasn’t capable of caring for anything or anyone outside himself. He didn’t even try to get to know me, though he could fake it a bit when he was feeling horny.

Then he disappeared again, and this time I just felt pissed off about it. I was through with the mind games. I’m 32 and he’s even older so there’s no reason for that kind of bullshit. I had too much going on in my life to be putting up with someone playing me like that.

It’s also impossible for me to get aroused in any way when I feel anxiety. And anxiety is exactly what he was giving me. So, even as a purely sexual relationship, this was going nowhere.

I was through with him.

At least, I thought I was. Until one night when I couldn’t sleep. I laid in bed for hours and then I remembered his time zone and realized he was probably awake.

I texted him. He texted back. We got talking and it’s like I had forgotten everything that had made me angry, anxious, and upset.

Our conversation was fun. It was flirty. It felt good. It’s like I was talking to the guy I had spoken with on the first day, not the one who was distant, went cold, and couldn’t stop bragging about the women he fucked.

By 3:00 a.m. I was moaning into my phone again.

It was quick. There wasn’t much of a build up this time. We didn’t have cybersex before calling, just some flirting.

I loved when he got vocal on the phone, but this time he didn’t say a word.

I was happy that we were doing this again. I was pent up and he gave me relief. I missed the way I felt when I was gasping on the phone with him listening on the other end.

I was excited. So excited I made myself forget that this was the guy who frustrated and upset me. That he was the guy I tried to quit — knew I had to quit.

I wanted to believe he was still the guy who made me come so hard over the phone that first time.

What I didn’t realize is that the next time would be the last time. And the last time would be terrible.

Things Come to an End

He had a fantasy about my voice.

I was very vocal on the phone but I wasn’t verbal. I moaned, groaned, and let out some loud exclamations. But I never actually spoke.

He talked about the moment when I finally would. He’d talk about finding out what I sound like when I’m speaking, not just when I’m climaxing.

Those conversations were strange because at that point my voice was all over my Instagram. I had been publishing daily Instagram stories where I read excerpts from my articles. I had posted more than two minutes of bloopers from my podcast.

If he wanted to hear my voice, it would’ve been easy. So easy, in fact, that I assumed he had heard it but just never brought it up.

When it did come up, I found out that not only did he not listen to any of those posts, but he also had a very precise image of how he would finally hear me.

In his mind, we would be having phone sex, and once we were done, I would breathily say “hi” and then hang up.

Apparently, that’s why he didn’t bother listening to my Instagram posts. Not because he wasn’t curious, but because it didn’t fit his ideal scenario.

That struck me as really odd, and truth be told I didn’t fully buy it. I got the strong impression that he just didn’t care enough to hear my voice.

But I still held on to the positive spin he put on it. I hoped it was because he cared too much, not that he didn’t care enough. I convinced myself that it would be a big deal for him to hear me over the phone. So, I spent some time psyching myself up for it.

It’s a step I wanted to take, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. I have social anxiety and that makes phones kind of weird for me. But I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I kept trying to decide what my first words to him would be. What would I say when I finally had the courage to speak to him?

We were firing flirty text messages at each other again. At some point, I decided to just do it. I asked him, “Do you want to say some dirty things in my ear?” He did, but he was apparently not ready to freestyle. He said, “Okay, but I need some material to work with.”

A few days before, he had told me he wanted every time he had phone sex to be different and special. I teased him and said “You can’t possibly have that many moves.” He replied, “Baby, of course I do!”

And here we were, two days later and he was already tapped out.

He was making me take the lead again, and as I said, that just doesn’t come naturally to me. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to hear. Nothing specific, really, I just hoped he would riff off his horniness and just say whatever.

We often talked about me flying down to his state to fuck him. I seriously considered it. I probably would’ve done it already if I had a bit more savings and a lot more confidence. I fantasized about how it would go. So, I asked him to just tell me what he’d do to me if I were to fly down there and be with him.

He didn’t answer for a few minutes. He had gone quiet so long that I wasn’t sure what to do. I decided to give him an alternative. If he didn’t want to think of what he’d to do me, I asked him to at least tell me what a typical sex session with him is like — as long as he left out anything too rough because I’m fragile.

He didn’t take either of my requests. He told me it was too early in the day for him to think of a scenario or what he’d do to me (not the kind of thing that makes me feel hot or desired, as you can imagine).

Instead, he offered to tell me about a threesome he recently had. That was a compromise, but I figured it was better than nothing.

I called him up and said “Surprise!” when he answered. Then, I let him do most of the talking. He told me about the two women he fucked. I interjected once in a while with a few words, but mostly I just listened.

The story was kind of hot. I loved the sound of his voice and could just sit there listening to it for hours. But the context made things a bit uncomfortable.

As awkward as it was, it did the trick. I got horny enough to shift our conversation into phone sex.

The sex was good. Very good, in fact. I got myself off so well to the sound of his voice that I gave myself a double orgasm. Just hearing him come was enough to make me come twice in a row.

It was powerful stuff. But then it took a really sharp turn.

Two minutes after we were done, he said “I guess I can tell you this over the phone since we’re here.”

My breathing wasn’t even back to normal and now he was apparently going to drop a bombshell on me.

I hate confrontation — like, big time. It’s part of the social anxiety, I guess. I tend to catastrophize when I hear a sentence like that. When anyone announces that we’re about to have a talk, I brace myself for the worst.

I’ve learned to cope by telling myself that everything’s fine. I remind myself not to react negatively until I hear what the other person has to say.

Normally, when I finally hear their words, I’m relieved.

This wasn’t one of those times.

He drug on his preamble, which only ramped up my anxiety. He said “This is going to sound so bad. This is going to sound awful.” He repeated it three times while laughing quietly, like he knew it was something cruel and he couldn’t believe he was actually going to say it.

He was right. It did sound awful. Terrible, in fact.

I sat silently while he babbled on for several minutes about phone sex and how it’s kind of boring.

He assured me it had nothing to do with me. I’m great, it’s not me. But in general, phone sex is getting kind of boring. He doesn’t really want it have it too often anymore. He’ll still be down for it, but he’ll need to be in the right mood first.

“It’s the same thing each time,” he said. “I can’t really make it different. It’s just kind of boring.”

Again, so much for all those moves he promised were right up his sleeve.

I probably should have been really upset. But instead, I found myself making up excuses for him.

He’s a lothario, so I know he has a ton of phone sex. Maybe he’s just sick of it from doing it so much.

I kept telling myself he’s allowed to tell me how he feels. He has a right to have his opinions. He has a right to get bored of me.

But it was the timing. The fucking timing. Two minutes after phonefucking me, he tells me he’s bored of phone sex.

I’d say it was tactless, but that word isn’t strong enough. It was a complete dick move.

It wasn’t his first time doing that kind of thing, either. It’s kind of one of his tactics. He’ll complain about me obliquely by bitching about other women doing shit I do. Then, he’ll insist it has nothing to do with me, that he doesn’t mean it about me, that I’m somehow the exception. But it’s not hard to see through that kind of bullshit.

I muttered “‘kay…” when he said “This has nothing to do with you.” Otherwise, I just listened and tried to make sense of all this information. I let out a few nervous laughs because I honestly didn’t know how to react to this.

I tried to think of a smooth and easy way to get off the phone so I could just process all of this.

Honestly, what I wanted to do was just hang up on him. But he just has this way of making himself seem like the innocent one, even when he’s saying something kind of fucked. He has a way of getting me to second-guess my own thoughts and feelings.

He’s good at phone sex. He’s even better at manipulation.

My hand shook as I held the phone to my ear. I knew on a gut level that he was being completely disrespectful. But I was still doubting myself — maybe it really was so boring to listen to me have an orgasm (or several) that it justified him bringing it up right after we were done. I was trembling. I tried to tell myself his behavior was okay, but my body knew it wasn’t.

Once he was done sharing his opinions of phone sex with me, he said “Well, I’ll let you go and we can pick this up over text.” I jokingly replied, “Yeah, I’ll see you around” and hung up.

I laid in bed stunned. Eventually, I ran out of excuses. I couldn’t rationalize it anymore. I couldn’t ignore the fact that complaining about phone sex right after having phone sex is a really shitty thing to do.

It’s fine for him to be bored. It’s fine for him to tell me. But now? This is the moment he picks to do it?

My instinct was still to give him the benefit of the doubt (yeah, my emotional damage runs deep). But after I processed what had happened and thought about it some more, I saw that it wasn’t just a one-off thing. This was a pattern. He routinely shifted back and forth between being sweet and sexy and being an asshole.

And I know better than to put up with assholes.

The phone sex we had that day was decent. But everything that came before it, and especially everything that came after it, ruined the whole thing.

It made me wish I hadn’t gotten on the phone with him. It made me wish we didn’t have phone sex that day. And it made me vow to never do it with him again.

A month before, this is all I wanted. Now, I knew it was the last thing I needed.

Hanging Up on Him

Sometimes, it takes a lot of work to be strong.

The last time I had phone sex with this guy might have been boring for him, but it was hurtful to me.

And it wasn’t the first time my emotions were wounded by him.

But I kept coming back. Despite all that — despite the person he proved himself to be — there’s no denying that the sex itself was hot.

The first two times were thrilling. That’s when he was really engaged and went all in, when he was still lovebombing the fuck out of me.

So, it’s easy for me to focus on those things, to focus on everything positive I got out of it. I often miss it. Often, I can’t tell the difference between missing it and missing him.

That makes me weak. Sometimes, I get the urge to text him. Other times, I just feel ashamed of myself because I wish he would text me.

For me, staying strong takes conscious effort. So, I keep taking steps to remind myself of what I need — and what I need isn’t him.

I wrote down the details of that last conversation in the Notes app on my phone. Whenever I start to feel weak, whenever I miss what we had, I read those details again. I remind myself of the callous shit he said to me. I remind myself why I’m staying away.

I know it will get easier in a while. It always gets easier after a while, even if it feels completely hopeless when everything collapses. But for now, I’m just doing my best to stay on the right path.

He may have felt the need to tell me I’m boring, but I know I have someone in my life who isn’t bored of having phone sex with me — or any kind of sex for that matter. And that’s after putting up with me — every part of me, even the chronic illness and the emotional baggage — for fifteen long years.

And even if this guy was my only option for phone sex — or my only source of sex at all — I know he still wouldn’t be worth it.

I have other things I can focus on. Things that make me feel good, not just in the moment but genuinely. Things that make me feel good about myself. And by getting over this and letting go of him, I can open myself up to people who will treat me with the respect I deserve.

I had some hurtful, horrible phone sex. But maybe it’s what I needed to get rid of someone who was holding me back so I could keep moving forward.

It took a lot of courage to get on the phone and call him. It’s taking me even more to hang up. But it’s worth the effort because shaking him off is the first step to finding someone else. Someone who can actually appreciate my boring ass.