The Curious Case of May
We had 4 hours together before I had to catch a flight with my girlfriend
In August 2025, I matched with a Malaysian British girl on Feeld. I say ‘girl’. She was a bit older. I’m no stranger to that. I’m not picky on age — it adds to the variety of my playmate address book. Her name was May.
In the course of our playful, energetic chat, it became clear that she knew of Cabarasians, the dance troupe that Maya belonged to. I told her the sad story of what happened between me and that tragic Indian individual, the push-pull, the discard, the depression, and my re-invention as a professional relationship theorist & counsellor.
MAY: Makes sense. I can empathise with that as had a similar experience though not with a performer. I really don’t understand ghosting — it’s an unnecessary hurt. I get the impression you have a full and interesting life!
The message she mainly wanted to tell was one of being head-strong and impossible to under-estimate. The frequency of these messages, detached from the vulnerability they seemed designed to protect, was noticeable. I had to meet her, even just as a fascinating case study. I had no idea how right I’d be.
MAY: I am like a warrior queen. I’ve been through wars and hell. currently life is all a bit blah — things I can manage daily. Believe me when I say I will confound and confuse you in my layers of complexity.
We shared a lot of reading material, and there was a lot of crossover. I wondered if she led quite a solitary life like I prefer to. At least she could engage with long form content and hold her own in deepening discussions on psychology, which was more than I could ever have expected from Maya, whose energy May increasingly resembled. I braced for some sort of impact.
I sent her the Ken Reid Ken Reads episode about my story (#97) and she was further intrigued.
MAY: Very interesting. And beautiful. And I am guessing Ken was helpful in your recovery of the experience. Sounds like Maya made a bigger impact on you than other partners.
ME: yeah maybe we are a bit similar! and I’m sorry if that means that you got badly affected by some brute in the past. I had all the skills to deal with her… I just didn’t put my foot down because I loved her so much and she was such a delicate flower.
MAY: I have faced passive aggressive, gaslighting, emotionally abusive men since childhood. It’s made me have very high EQ, resilience and hyper complexity. But as a close friend said, I’m like an eclair. Very hard on the outside but soft and gooey deep in the middle, if lucky enough to get there. I don’t let ppl in easily and the last person I did, made me remember why
I was ready to turn the idea of her gooey insides playfully sexual but I recalibrated. Based on her communication tone, I knew that I’d have to be careful with jokey behaviour.
ME: that’s a nice sentiment. it’s very affecting to me to hear this. so much bad luck in love.
MAY: it’s not your responsibility to manage someone as your partners not in a parent-child relationship. Though I have similar experiences. I am estranged from my parents. they’re ashamed of me for being my own person.
ME: are they a bit square and conservative?
MAY: Yes and no. More complicated than that — if only it were that simple; though nothing in my life seems to be 🤣. I’ll tell you sometime. I am lucky with my urban family who keep reminding me that being the unique weird me is awesome.
I must say that even though we’d never had a phone call, I was really warming to May. Moments of heart to heart shone through.
MAY: The times I’ve fallen for someone, my brain breaks as it doesn’t understand or have skill set for this fluffy emotion thing. Then the person stomps on my heart anyway so it all gets restful together and things bounce back to normal 🤣 You’re used to girls swooning for you. I can tell 🤭
But she’d soon remind me once more that every open-hearted moment came sandwiched by her being on guard.
MAY: Given the amount that my feelings and good humour have been trampled on the last 15 years, I find it best to have minimal expectations and not anticipate I’m the sort of person that people date. My problem has always been that men are attracted to my complexity, then want me to be easier and simpler. I just have terrible luck romantically. men love the complex uniqueness then want to either break it or ask me to box bits of it. Such is life. Makes for interesting stories. My story is complicated and long. But I think deep down I’m a romantic. And believe the best of ppl.
ME: You don’t deserve how you were treated. And at the end of the day it’s back luck re matching. But what I’ve learned and one of the reasons I echo Matthew Hussey’s words a lot in the book is to promote this idea of simply looking at partners based on the time they assign to you. Quality and quantity.
MAY: Despite life repeatedly showing me that nice and happy doesn’t happen to ppl like me. My life makes a bloody good set of stories. Just sometimes would be nice for one nice thing without it ending up kicking me in the teeth and I have to get up again. Or believe nice things could happen to me
When we met finally it was at Nine Lives in Bermondsey which occasionally hosts an adult social called Unscene. I bumped into a few familiar faces, and good job I did because May was late. She was beautiful. Cyberpunk chic, slim, toned and well-dressed. I towered over her but could read that this was an outcome we both enjoyed. She seemed measured, quiet around me but calmly confident in the space. At some point I mentioned a new play partner I’d met at the Wid West-themed Fox & Badge party a few weeks before and it turned out that this person, Eva, a stunning Ghanaian British divorcee, was a mutual friend.
Eva had caught my eye. Or rather, I’d caught her eye, as once we’d said ‘hi’ she was content to follow me around for the next 2 hours until we were kissing. With no dedicated space in that venue (Studio 338) to get completely naked — tits yes, bits no we were anxious that our connection would have to culminate that evening with a bit of energetic arse-grabbing. But we liked each other so much that we decided not to let rules stop our friskiness. We found what was supposed to be a PG13 chill out spot in the corner, complete with cushions and people chatting over their vodka sodas. From what I remember, I was laying on my back, she straddled me, she undid my bullhorn-buckled leather belt and denim trousers under the cover of her knee-length skirt, and excited me by rubbing my chest. Slowly, wordlessly, and in keeping with the theme of the evening, she saddled up. She rode me cowgirl, firmly and focussedly until the sensation, spontaneity, and exhibitionism of the experience caused me to buck like a balls-deep bronco as I inseminated her. She fell forward onto my chest and we laughed for minutes trying not to make eye contact with the patrons all around us attempting to make politer conversation. We hit the dancefloor with my load still inside her and I introduced her to Bea who I gather had been exploring other men’s faces for the last hour. A few weeks later she joined me and Bea in the bedroom. Eva’s curiosity in my recent Maya-related past calmed and appeased me. Her inner beauty was trumped only by her trust in me to support her through her journey of sexual enlightenment.
Anyway, Eva and May had a similar energy. I’m glad they’d met.
As we talked in that bar, May shifted and swayed playfully but straight-faced. As we spoke, I clocked a tremor in her hands. She introduced me to her friends and I indirectly charmed May as much as I could by winning them over. I probably spoke more to them than I did May. Not uncommon. Not illegitimate. May was watching me all the while, analysing, and when she did contribute, the tone was far less certain than her forthright texts had been. And she said as much later, admitting that she got her friends’ opinions on me for some sort of cordial validation or test. And I said as much about her quietness too.
MAY: Thanks for the lovely evening. I hope I didn’t disappoint. And yes to future threesomes. Thank you for putting a smile on my face. Doesn’t happen often outside my ppl
ME: That’s so sweet baby. You surprised me. You speak a lot for work right? But a natural introvert like me but I worked hard on owning those spaces. Your style is very bold. I think you’re more outgoing than you describe
MAY: I’m very comfortable in my own skin. I am probably just self aware — still the kid deep down who no one would speak to as she was a mongrel 😆 My presence I have been told is very unique
ME: But of course. You and me both. If we aren’t careful we will spend too much time talking and not enough time making each other cum. I really want youuuuuu.
MAY: I want you too. Shall we get naked next time?
ME: But of course! I need to feel you under me. My fav times are good talk between orgasms. It’s perfect. Mmm. Feeling you cum… Let me know when you can fit me in. Or fit in me 💦
A trip to Venice with Bea was coming up, and after that I’d be heading to see Rey who I talk about in my memoir. May and I wanted to discover each other before I went away for those 2 weeks but there wasn’t much time. I could only hang out on the Friday morning before I flew. She couldn’t host because she was living with her ex. They co-owned the flat. They’d broken up a year ago but he was “a starving film-maker” so having him move out would be unkind. They were together for 12 years and self-described as open although I didn’t ask what challenges and lessons they’d experienced. I don’t remember asking if she had any kids in that time. Meanwhile in a similar way, I couldn’t host since Bea was between accommodation so would be packing for the trip at mine.
Being horny makes people ever-resourceful. May told me about DayUse.co.uk and DayBreakHotels.com, services one could use to book rooms for ‘R+R’ between the hours of 10am and 6pm. She proposed booking the Novotel at Lambeth Palace. I really wanted to greenlight this lunchtime romp but something Bea had told me about her past was telling me that there might be some issue there.
A few years back, Bea’s ex had once ducked out of coming to Venice with her last minute. As Bea flew alone, and as her genitori collected her from the airport and took her to her tia’s house in Tiene, she was very upset. The reason why her partner couldn’t join her wasn’t clear to her. He seemed to just be having a wobble about his month or the intensity of their relationship. As it turns out in the end he was likely already starting his affair with his work colleague. Bea and he were not sexually open, and that betrayal would affect her greatly for years.
MAY: Come when suits. I’ll be there from circa 10am and message you the room number! 😈 There’s a sauna so bring clothing appropriately 😋
“I’m going to meet you at the airport, babe” I told Bea.
Her eyes widened with realisation. “What-a? Nooo, you will miss the flight-a. Why not see May when we are back-a?”
“Because I’m going to Rotterdam straight away after, then Amsterdam. Listen, this will be fine. I know you’re edgy about this but I promise you I’ll see you at London Bridge at three to get to Gatwick. I love you.”
That Friday morning I was slightly late to the hotel. In a seedy Hollywood way, May texted me the room number. I found it without difficulty. She opened the door and we kissed passionately. I stripped by the curtainless window, taking in the view of the city and of her as she watched me from the foot of the bed. One more moment to put on some music and I peeled off her dress to appreciate the dark scarlet number she’d donned for my delectation. I kissed every tattoo I could find, smelled her skin, and pulled her close to me, that she might feel my growing excitement for her. May’s lips were soft as her movements as I twirled her around to lay her down on the starched-sheeted bed. I had her keep her bra on as I unleashed her nethers and spread her legs to apply my newly shaven chin to her considerately shaven crotch. Teasing first, then indulging, I enveloped her most secret places in my eager mouth. I looked after her until her pussy until my sidelined dick was uncomfortably swollen with anticipation of fucking her. If she was able to cum like that then she did but quietly, leaving room to build, because I treated her to every fine-tuned lingual technique there is. Her moans of appreciation told me as much. Everything she’d just given me in her compromising position on that white, clean hotel bed, I returned in kind by plunging inside her tiny Asian body and locked eyes with her.
“I’ve been looking forward to this so much,” I managed between focussed thrusts.
“You feel so good inside me,” she said looking down past my tight chest to watch herself be penetrated over and over again.
We were on a natural high. No booze, no drugs, no distractions. I picked up the pace once the initial shock of genital connection had plateaued. I slowed it down after an energetic flurry of slamming and slapping.
We spoke for a bit. I don’t recall what was said. We probably just talked through each other’s erogenous zones and body art.
She picked up her phone and chortled. “Look” She showed me her phone. It was but her wallpaper, a sort of meme style quote which read, “Not fragile like a flower. Fragile like a Bomb.”
“You are the bomb, babe,” I said, smiling through the warning that her phone’s catchphrase implied.
“It’s on a rotating gallery. Reflective of my core. The other one reads: ‘Welcome into my life. Buckle up bitch.’”
More worry duly instilled in me, I squinted at her. “Do you want to check out the sauna?”
We grabbed the robes from the hotel room bathroom and flip -lopped sheepishly down the hall to the lift to find the spa. It was underwhelming. They always are. Never fully functional. And I didn’t have time to get a full sweat on. As we sat there alone together, she asked me about Maya. My sweat and reddening face hid my tears and upset. And seeing May’s skin glisten too made me impatient to be inside her again.
Soon we were back in the room and we escalated to anal, but there is no way I wasn’t going to finish inside her pussy. Infertile males are highly favoured in this wave of ladies declining to do hormonal contraceptives. My departure soon after felt a bit disrespectful, but I had a plane to catch. I didn’t let Bea down. I texted May before take off.
ME: that was fucking delicious. And there’s room to turn up the heat next time
MAY: In life we regret the fun things we didn’t do more than bad things we did. And always do the things that make you feel fulfilled in your soul. Would be nice to spend some time talking lying naked with you. And remember, you are not the sum of having survived Maya. You are more because and despite it. Become a counsellor. You are made for it. It would make you happy
Back from Venice with Bea, Rotterdam with Rey and Amsterdam with Nicole, and the chill of a London winter was setting in. One Friday, Bea and I were asked by a couple from Wapping that we mess around with occasionally, known to us as ‘The Crazy Italians’, to rally some prospective new recruits for our regular group sex evenings. They were inviting new faces too to drinks at their place, after which we would all strip — all who The Crazy Italians liked enough anyway, and they were picker than we. No guarantees of sex just because you came for drinks. I asked May, Eva, and Ben a charming chap I’d actually met via his partner I’d matched with recently on Feeld. Eva and Ben were in but May’s reaction surprised me.
MAY: I’m not interested nor interchangeable lol. Don’t say you want to see me just so I come watch you. it comes across as highly disingenuous and a number of other things, my dear. I don’t know what you think I am but it appears you misjudge me.
Her reaction surprised me. I couldn’t talk her down from that position to see my message as the informal invite it was. I didn’t have time to anyway. We were due to hang out at mine the imminent Monday. She cancelled.
Mid-November, after 2 weeks of leaving things to cool down, she agreed to meet to talk things over.
ME: We can eat at london bridge or shoreditch xx
MAY: I don’t mind. I’m very low maintenance. Be first time anyone has ever realised I need food anyway lol. Let’s just give it a miss then as sounds a hassle for you. I’m sure you’ll find one of your lovely play partner will have better timings that suit you.
Poorly executed reverse psychology wrapped up in fear of rejection aside, she was correct. I was also overdue to hang with Soprano-Maria. In the end I convinced May to come to mine after work.
“How have you been?” I said as she dumped her bag and took her boots off in the hall. I must have offered her a drink but she didn’t take one. It might have seemed like a power move to not accept. But a bigger power move yet would have been to ask me to open my best Cote de Rhone.
“I’ve just had to get on with things, I suppose.” Her hands were shaking again. “Why was it so important for you to talk about the other week?”
“I think you got a good grasp of how I like to take things away and seek counsel,” I said leading her into the living room to recline. “I genuinely want to understand. And I have findings.” I sat up to head to the kitchn. “Let me serve you some of this prawn avocado rice dish I made for lunch and I’ll share.”
“No, I’m not into leftovers.”
“Well played,” I said, not smiling.
“May I have the gist of the findings please to make an informed decision whether spending more time here is something I want to do?”
“You may, May.”
“I only knew you for two weeks so I wouldn’t have gotten a good grasp of any of your inclinations than those espoused in that fortnight to be honest.”
“No need to apologise for that. You’re supposed to apologise for sharing enough about yourself suggesting that an invite to a sex party is in keeping with your tolerances.”
“I’m not apologising,” she closed that loop.
“And so in the same vein, in two weeks I gauged that you’d be open to being invited to those things late notice and you’d be able to say ‘no’ without becoming flustered.”
“You don’t see an issue with asking people to come to watch a group of people have sex?” May asked, tight-lipped. God how I missed those lips.
“I don’t see an issue…” I spoke carefully. “…with asking YOU to come to watch a group of people have sex.”
She squirmed. “Err… what?”
“The main point of that evening was to meet my friends. And some of them ended up fucking as I said they might. But it wasn’t guaranteed this time.”
May became visibly restless now. “Of all things that happened, I did not become ‘flustered’. You made it clear I would come in a purely watching capacity.”
“No, I wasn’t clear, because the Crazy Italians weren’t clear. And so for that I apologise. You know if it were me hosting it then everyone would be welcome to strip.”
“No, that is not how the invite was phrased. As suggested before, I suggest running what you said to me via a socially-accustomed person and they may have a different view to…”
“Babe, Ben and Eva got the same invite and had a fucking great night. I’m not going to check if you’re into something to stop you being offended if you get an invite. This is what my collaborator Tantric Eric told me too. He publishes about group sex dynamics. I didn’t force you to do anything. I invited you to a weird thing. You said ‘no’. Bas!” I gestured like they do in India to say ‘enough’. May got up wordlessly and went to the hall. She retrieved one of her surrendered boots and wrestled to put it back on. I ambled after her and cooed, “I don’t want us to end. I think you’re fucking great. We learn so much from each other. Obviously I’m ashamed as much as I didn’t read you right. But now I just have to wait until you’ve rewarmed to me again for us to enjoy each other’s company, I suppose.”
“Rewarmed to you? Like your prawn avocado rice?”
“Again, touché.”
“Apologies, but I am not ranting or I offended or behaving in any emotive way. I am simply explaining calmly. I am an exceptionally intelligent litigator, and with respect…”
“Apology accepted,” she walked right into it again and it visibly stung her. “When you come to my place and leave after six minutes because you can’t agree with people when they say that I wasn’t being disrespectful, I find that somewhat emotive. Kuba, my lodger is upstairs and I’ll let you explain it to him if I might summon him?” She stood straight and picked up her bag. I moved past her to open the front door for her. “May, sit with me. Work with me. try to understand what people are saying. Tell me what’s happening for you. Even if I’m sloppy, trust my intent.”
I watched her leave. I didn’t shut the door on her until she was round the corner and out of sight.
Now, true to her word, I’m not technically blocked. May will read my texts but not reply. That’s what they call stonewalling. But the grounded steadiness of a stone wall is one quality I fear she could only dream of.
May presented (as a clinician’s notes might read) as multi-layered, rigid social shell, and identity-protective even within a sexually-open lifestyle. She repeatedly signalled sensitivity to being misread or underestimated and spoke of a history of men wanting to instrumentalise her. Even before our first meet, there were clear patterns of hot and cold behaviour directed at me, and a sort of teenage rhythm to the texting. I sensed little modesty in her, in her repeatedly saying how important her job was, and I sleep with someone who works as senior advisor to the Prime Minister who is far more modest about her gig. Her quickness to grow irritated at some texts and furious in the final chapter speak to one of the 11 BPD traits I restate in my What I Learned from Being Discarded article ‘On BPD’. Her inability to see the disparity in pitching herself as a sex-loving, powerful woman whilst being grossly offended by an invite to meet some kinky folks, and face me in attempts at reparation, was not lost on me. And so we stand to learn from her behaviour:
HER HOT COLD
May was quick to share. Her history of emotional abuse, disconnection from parents, and high self-reliance is a globalised attribution pattern. I wrote about Locus of Control, and this is a selective application of it where anything negative is the fault of others and the self is wholly a force for good. As these negative relational outcomes are generalised across partners, and her accusatory wording lazily implicated ‘men’, she ran a risk of failing to connect with those she clearly craves. It’s common after repeated adverse experiences, but it does bias perception and reaction.
She held a very highly curated self-concept of being one-of-a-kind personably and professionally. She also fires up the image of being a fighter but longing to be known beneath the armour. By her own admission, some relationships unshielded her to the point of not recognising herself. But then after an almost anticipated rupture, she would collapse back harder into defence mode. But people aren’t fighters at heart, they are babies first, then they learn to grow scales and teeth. Her ascertain of herself as a defender points to a compensatory identity organisation — a strong, even grandiose outer narrative conditioned to protect a vulnerable core. That combination produced in her a sensitivity to being mis-seen or undervalued. Compare this to your own quickness to correct others at the same mistake about you.
From her words were surfacing a desire for depth and emotional recognition simultaneous with distrust of partners’ intentions. This oscillation between openness and withdrawal and quick engagement (intellectual, sexual openness bordering on love-bombing) followed by rapid threat marking then defensive reactivity and distancing speak to a severely disorganised attachment style. Unquestionably applicable, it excited me to spend time with the mind of another disorg (~4% of the population) after everything I’d learned during and since my soul-destroying relationship with Maya the Indian Burlesque dancer.
May was highly sensitised to perceived disrespect or misattunement, escalating quickly to sharp challenge, which I neither challenged nor fully listened to, not wanting to give it power through acknowledgment in our young relationship. She repeatedly invited then tested my estimations of her effectively saying “Can you actually see me, or will you reduce me like others?”. Then predictably she would find a threat response in being seen and deny the incoming descriptors, exactly like Maya would, and use evasion to default to and confirm to reinforce her prior: “Men don’t get me; they try to flatten me”. Both girls in fact had only bad things to say about exes, and were light on detail whilst being heavy-handed with their conclusions.
The disorganisation (chaotic relating followed by narrative bias), identity maze, paranoid hypervigilance, and flight to anger are 4 of the 11 BPD traits.
HER PLAY PARTY CONTROVERSY
On paper, My invite was congruent with May’s stated preferences as she announced herself to be active in kink spaces, and even having historically run one. To the casual reader, the frame of the invitation mattered more than the content. This is something that she didn’t explain or allow grace for, having only met me twice. Granted the facts that it was late notice, and that play wasn’t guaranteed, May’s inordinate hurt spoke to more than those 2 details. The invite also carried signals of low guest focus, low role specificity and her being added into an existing sexual ecosystem of me, Bea, who grew up in Tuscany, and the Crazy Italians.
She took offence despite liking group sex. I could go on about factors of interchangeability (putting the ‘fun’ in ‘fungibility’) and lack of attunement to her individuality, but these are amateur-level, and even if she were green, the appropriate declination of the event would have been trepidatious, not combative and moody. In seeking external consultation on the debacle, the general consensus is that my invite was perceived as: “You’re sexually adventurous, so you’ll slot into this. No worries if not.”
There was no amount of intentionality that was going to right for her. If I’d said “I have big plans for you to experience X” then she would have pushed back saying, “You’re trying to tell me what to do”. And since I said “Come along and find your rhythm”, then she pushed back saying, “I’m not an item a la carte, I’m the set menu”.
My approach to group sex is one of abundance, inclusion, and sexual fluidity. May’s was suddenly one of selectivity, and significance — conversations that are had typically AFTER checking for social compatibility. So my fun, open invite landed as impersonal, where low-investment means disrespect. I could have mentally prepped her more by saying “forgive me if this isn’t for you, but…”. However May’s picture-painting of her approach to group sex or just trusting me betrayed her actual internal rules for participation.
Speaking of trust, Eva and Ben were sceptics, but they trusted me and Bea, and so they met each other at my house, then joined us to make The Crazy Italians’ acquaintance. They were effectively ignored by the Italians who gave them a language-barrier-fuelled cold-shoulder before whispering in my ear if I might find the politest way to ask them to leave once clothes hit the floor. They got the message and actually went back to Ben’s and probably had a much better time than we 4 did. In fact the Crazy Italians’ lack of ability to socially integrate and judge great playmates, whilst failing not to air their own incredibly broken relationship dynamic is an on-going, popcorn-ready spectacle that Bea and I bond over with synchronised eye-rolling, but that’s a story for another day.
Given her history, May likely read is all as another man fast-tracking to carnal access, rather than wanting to understand her, and to be in the same room at Eva and Bea was too fear-of-replacement inducing. And her shock at having her assumptions about etiquette challenged at the debrief 2 weeks later at mine, was a shock to her. I’d done the survey. I’d not crumbled to keep the sex alive. This was me, standing open-armed, and telling her how it is. Rolling with me doesn’t mean agreeing with me. But it does mean tolerating my extreme amount of unshakability and candidness, this article being case in point.
CODA
I think even if we found more people who found that May’s take on things were correct, then it would be hard for me to even consider inviting her to group stuff in the future no matter her words. That element of our relationship would have been truly dead. But we stood to learn so much about life and probably heal and grow a great deal. At the end of the day, I’m still open to it. I still have sex with my ex-ex Eolanda for fuck’s sake, and quite literally for fuck’s sake. We just know how to touch each other and that’s our equivalent of someone else’s ‘getting a beer or two in’.
In the end, I was mortified. I miss what we had. I hate rupture. I hate when people suffer, and if they suffer because of me then ten-fold the shame. But I’m glad that I didn’t chase. I’m glad that I didn’t stoop to heal her. I’m glad that we met.
