vekmesen

I'm 50, single, and mostly content with that – until I meet a woman who dreams of a partner that’s loyal, discreet, and quietly takes care of the less glamorous parts of everyday life. A man whose strength lies not in dominance or sexual prowess, but in presence, devotion... and knowing when not to perform. Here’s the truth, without dres... I'm 50, single, and mostly content with that – until I meet a woman who dreams of a partner that’s loyal, discreet, and quietly takes care of the less glamorous parts of everyday life. A man whose strength lies not in dominance or sexual prowess, but in presence, devotion... and knowing when not to perform. Here’s the truth, without dressing it up: I’m sexually underwhelming. Always have been. Small, quick, embarrassingly so. The moment things shift from foreplay to expectation, I lose all control. My heart races, shame floods me, and within seconds I’ve made a sticky mess and an even bigger fool of myself. The only thing missing is the jester’s hat. Mentally, I already wear it. But here’s where it turns: That exact moment of failure, of uselessness, of being exposed as “not enough” – it’s humiliating. It’s degrading. And it turns me on more than anything else in the world. I get off on not being man enough. On knowing I will never satisfy a woman the way other men can. On accepting that my role in intimacy may never be central – but can still be meaningful. I crave a relationship where that truth isn’t hidden or tiptoed around, but lived, celebrated and explored. In my ideal world, I’m in feminine lingerie, kneeling beside a dominant couple. I’m there to serve – with my lips, my tongue, my hands. I fetch water. I warm towels. I support bodies and egos far more competent than mine. Maybe I’m filmed, so the moment is forever. So I never forget what I am – and what I am not. I’m not here to act dominant, or to compete, or to pretend I could ever satisfy. I’m here to surrender – earnestly, fully, and with a ridiculous little grin of gratefulness when I'm told I'm irrelevant and yet… somehow useful. My past relationships have been brief or unfaithful – and honestly, I understand why. Maybe I even deserve it. But if I’m going to have a life partner, I want that dynamic to be honest, intentional, and consensual from the beginning. I’m not bitter. I’m not broken. I just drew the short straw in the manhood lottery – and, strangely enough, it matches exactly the man I’ve become. So if you’ve read this and feel a smirk forming, or curiosity tingling – If you like the idea of a partner who's eagerly beneath you in every sense – If you’d like a fool who knows his place and lives for the privilege of serving… Then I’m already excited to hear from you.