He Said His Kink was Pee…

And then my worst first date got worse…

So I was single again and I’d decided to bite the bullet and try online dating.

It actually wasn’t as bad as people let on. Most of the guys I met were nice. They were smart, reasonably, attractive. None of them were the guy for me, but looking back, I think I was just looking for an Ex replacement, so none of them would be.

This also coincided with me starting to explore my kinky side. I’d joined Fetlife and I’d had a few encounters (more on this later). Mostly, I’ve found kinky people pretty normal — smart, fun, down-to-earth, with a few quirks they like to explore behind closed doors. I could relate…

So when this kind of cute European guy who worked in the creative industry messaged me on OK Cupid, I was hopeful. When he mentioned he had a kinky side, I was excited.

I told him I was on Fetlife and was potentially looking for a Dom. He said he liked to switch. Not quite what I was after, but still…

Then he mentioned what his real kink was: He liked pee. Now I’m new to the kink scene, so I’m trying to be open minded here. So I told him:

“Look, golden showers aren’t my thing, but if we meet and get on and that turns you on… Maybe I could... But not on the bed, obviously. It would have to be in the bathroom”.

“It won’t matter”, he replied.

“I’ll drink it all anyway. There won’t be a drop wasted.”

Ah shit. Unfortunately, by the time all that was revealed, we’d already discovered we were in the same area that same night and I’d already suggested we might meet.

It so happens that that day, I’d also been messaging someone else on Fetlife. They hosted sex parties and I thought well maybe… But as a single woman, I didn’t want to walk into an orgy without knowing anyone. So I innocently suggested we meet for a coffee or something first, so I could get the lay of the land (no pun intended).

All totally innocent from my perspective — I had no sexual intentions at that point, I just wanted to pick his brains. (Yes, I know. But honestly, that’s all I was thinking.)

Anyway, I was talking to the Fetlife guy and the guy on OK Cupid — who didn’t seem to know anybody kinky in LA, so I thoughtlessly thought it would be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone. So I invited him to meet the FetLife guy with me. Except then the Fetlife guy said he would also have his guy friend with him, and suddenly it would be me on my own with 3 strange guys — all into kinky things. Suddenly, I realized I really wasn’t ready for that. And I was in way over my head.

And now, OK Cupid guy was giving me this funny vibe — a little too needy. A little too whiny. He was so lonely… Nobody really understood his kinks… When will you know? Should he bring toys? Toys?!? This was just a coffee/drink ffs! Alarm bells were starting to ring…

So I put off OK Cupid until dinner the next night, and I met Fetlife guy + friend instead (what happened that night is another story).

OK Cupid guy was really not happy with the postponement. Despite my sincere apologies, he did not take it with grace. He started asking things like, Why can’t you just meet me later then? Do you even want to meet me? At this point, someone with a decent sense of self-esteem probably would have seen the warning signs and said no.

Not me, I felt guilty. I hadn’t even met the guy and I felt like I owed him something. But the more he pushed and needled, the more I realized I actually didn’t want to meet him. At all. But how could I back out of something I’d already agreed to? (Hint, hint, past self to future self: Just say no).

And when he sent me a video showing him inserting a massive dildo into his arse — while gazing unblinking and intensely at the camera — I realized this was not the Dom I was looking for.

But I still didn’t want to let him down. I made an excuse — I had to take a friend to visit his sick Dad in Riverside — could we do lunch instead?

He of course, complained. He was really thirsty. He needed a drink.

“Fine”, I said, “Bring an empty bottle.”

So I drank a liter of water that morning and went to meet him for lunch. My expectations at this point had already plummeted. But I was determined not to let him down. (No, I don’t know why either. Yes, I understand I didn’t owe him anything.)

I wish I could say that meeting him in person reversed my opinion. I wish I could. (To Future self: Trust your gut instincts). Lunch was terrible. He talked incessantly about himself and everything else was negative. The people he worked for were ripping him off, nobody understood him, yada yada. When he finally did pause to ask me something, it was a yes or no question and he never followed up with more.

As soon as the waitress had taken our order (I skipped entrees and went straight to mains), he handed over the empty bottle. I ate as quickly as I could, gulped down two glasses of water and disappeared into the bathroom.

It was pretty messy. The bottle had a narrow neck and when you’re holding it underneath you, it’s hard to line things up exactly. Plus, it was only 500ml and I’d drunk about three times that, so it filled up pretty fast. I washed the outside of the bottle and then my hands like I was Lady Macbeth in a COVID hysteria afterwards.

I finally emerged from the loo to find him sitting there expectantly with the unpaid bill in front of him. I was giving this guy my hot, fresh urine and he wasn’t even going to buy me a cheap meal? The nerve.

So I handed over the bottle and we split the bill. As we waited for the waitress to return with our cards, he examined the bottle carefully. Then to my amazement he unscrewed the cap and… He’s not, I thought. He won’t… Surely he’s just going to sniff it…?

Nope. He took a giant swig.

“It’s good”, he grinned at me.

Then he skulled the whole entire thing.

Right in front of me.

Sitting in a restaurant.

In public.

Listen, I’m all for kinky things, but there’s a time and place for everything. Even if you’re into kinky things in public, you don’t go that public. Not on a first date anyway.

Outside, he asked if we could meet again. For the first time, I worked up the nerve and told him, no. I really wasn’t interested. I ducked a kiss on the cheek (I knew where those lips had been) and we parted ways.

You would think that would be the end of it, but no…

I wasn’t even home before the text messages started: I shouldn’t have agreed to meet him if I wasn’t interested (true), I wasted his time (true), I was a cold bitch (false), I was like everyone else he ever met who didn’t want to take the chance to get to know him (no comment). It started to get escalate and get a bit nasty…

But then just as I was about to block him, he added:

“But you have the best pee I’ve ever tasted. I’m willing you to pay you for it.”

This made me stop and think.

How much?

“$10 a gallon. You’d have to drop it off to me.”

“Where to?”


“I’m on the Westside. You want me to drive downtown from Westside, that’s at least 2 hours out of my day. I’m not doing it for less than $60.”

“$60 a gallon. But I have to come to you and watch you do it.”

What? No way.

“How else will I know it’s fresh? “

“Okay, I’ll do it. Text you. You get a courier to come and pick it up.”

“It’ll be cold before I can drink it.”

OMG. This is the most surreal conversation I’ve ever had in my life.

“Do you have a microwave?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You can nook it. Warm it up.”

“Won’t be the same.”

Honestly, who would have thought this guy would be such a bodily fluid connoisseur?

“And I’d want two gallons minimum.”

I thought about it. How hard is it to produce two gallons of urine anyway? I’m sure it’s not something you can do in one sitting. Probably an all day thing. Hours of running to the bathroom every half an hour… The mess… Drinking that much water couldn’t be good for you either.

On seconds thoughts…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think that it’s going to work. Thanks anyway.”

“You stupid f**king pricktease. You bit — “

I blocked him before it got really nasty. So lesson learnt. Trust my gut instincts. Don’t go along with it. Don’t worry about the feelings of someone you’ve never met. You don’t owe them anything.

But on the bright side, now I know, if I’m ever really hard up for cash, there’s apparently a niche market for the body’s natural waste.

And I have a top quality product.

Writer. Dreamer. Wanderer. Sober and single. Exploring sex, love and mental health. Be part of my journey and join me here: https://www.patreon.com/jobuckman

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