Summary: First slay after getting out of hell, beta instincts killed it. (If you're going to downvote, could you please leave a comment or send a note? Thanks.)

Guys, I'm really ashamed of myself for fucking this up, but I have to get it out and put myself on the shaming post so I don't screw it up again. Little background:Just got out of a LTR with bulimic ultra-psycho, ran away to a shithole far away, snagged a decent job, but ultimately degrading as hell to work for someone else. At first just happy to be away, but ex kept bugging me and I was starting to lose my shit again. Decided I needed to go slay some serious quiff to get my head on straight.

Enter Tinder... Obviously I wanted sex, but I'm more interested in long-term convenience, and maybe even compatibility, holding out meager hope for somebody I might actually like. I got something like 50 matches and they were all boring as hell, then I match this girl in town for a few weeks for a military thing, but she seems cool in conversation, and she wants to meet, so I go.

Right off the bat, I'm losing it; she looks just like my ex-fiancee that died during my first deployment to Afghanistan, and I can tell she has the same kind of body. I never got over her (the finacee): really smart and incredible girl, would have killed, died, and nuked civilizations to bring her back. You get the point. I was insanely nice and self-deprecating (never felt adequate for ex-fiancee). She was hard to talk to, but actually really nice, so I invited her to my office party and left.

Prior to office party, went to her hotel room, maintaining frame fairly well, but probably missing her invitation for sex. When we get to the party, she seems bored, has absolutely nothing to say or contribute to conversation, says she's tired, and almost leaves, when my boss, whom she recognizes as moderately famous in the community (magazine covers etc.) pulls me into the party, and I stop paying attention to her, sing a song on Karaoke, and all of the sudden I am the life of the party with about 10 older women crowding around having their fun. I get down from stage and girly girl is beaming about how she was bragging to the older men about being my date. Grabbed her for a slow dance and she suggests we leave. On the way out, sees something obscure that she wants (we were in a museum) and asks me to get her one.

Back at her hotel, still extremely awkward, nothing to talk about, basically just waiting for an excuse to start the action. I've got nothing to say, but she's cute as hell, so I sing a few songs to her until she motions to kiss her and then I do so for a while. She gets up to go to the bathroom, I ask if I should stay, and she says yes, but appears disinterested. She gets out of the bathroom and basically have to start all over again, but eventually she starts taking off clothes and, at length, begs me to fuck her, so I wrap it up and go for it.

I'm not going to lie here, it was completely awesome. She had about 15-20 orgasms, gushing every time, and would often stop me for a rest because she said she was going to pass out. Amazing body, exactly my type, gave every compliment in the book; I felt like a barbarian conqueror, and I was falling hard for her.

Edit: realized I got the most important part wrong: the shit test So next morning starts with more sex, but 2 gushes in, her vagina is straight busted, out of commission. Then shit testing begins with her asking if she is even my type, and saying that she saw pictures of me with all these other girls. I say something like, "maybe not, but I'm not sure that matters". She gets a little weird and leaves for the free breakfast. More scraping for conversation again at hotel breakfast. Much of the conversation is her accusing me of just running a routine on her, "this is what you do to all the girls, isn't it? I don't think I'm even your type." I'm incredibly honest with her about my sexual past, and I do my best to tell her the absolute truth, which is that right now I really am into her and only her. I tell her I really like her, and will make her my priority any time that week. She seems surprised, but I can't tell in a good way or a bad way. Back at her room, she gets nervous about the room being a mess, and says she is meeting friends, despite that we had been talking about doing stuff together that weekend, so I leave.

Silence... not good. Edit: some inner game playing out here Okay, so maybe you should also know that I, like all men should be, am scared to death of false rape accusation, mostly because I was once a public figure and it happened to me with a girl that I didn't even have any kind of intimate contact with (albeit, never from actual sex). I don't go near drunk girls, I let them remove their own clothing, and mine, I let them initiate everything, and I even ask to confirm. Me hooking up is worse than those "consent is sexy" videos. But the next day, given that this is the first time I've been out boning in the wild for years, it still scares the living shit out of me, and first priority at this point is to just make sure we keep talking, even if it's LJBF. All notions of frame and being alpha go out the window. I know it's stupid to worry about this given my extensive precautions, so I try to put it behind me and give her the benefit of the doubt, but there it's still running through my head that she might think I was playing her and try to get some kind of revenge (this was the root cause of the last one).

Next day, I go searching and find the obscure item and leave it at the hotel room (she's not there). Went to look at her Tinder pics for motivation and she deleted the match. I sent a text:

"I hope you're having an awesome day at #####. No pressure, but you know that I really like just being together with you, body and soul. It would make me very happy if you wanted that again too. If not, you should know that you were beautiful and amazing and sweet and interesting, and it meant more to me than you'll ever know."

She responds fairly enthusiastically to the text, and then not as well as I had hoped when she got back to the hotel for the gift, and then says no to me going over there and I joke with her about my bad singing, which she responds to by saying it makes her uncomfortable. Signs are pretty obvious by now, and it's really messing with my head, but I try to make a joke of it, and leave it at that. Next day, tried again with banter about the one thing she spoke about. Hardly any response, and now I'm seriously starting to worry about the girl. Text her that I'm concerned and call, but she rejects the call and sends a text that she is fine and out with friends. I decide it's a lost cause, and send this: "Thank you! (Sorry for interrupting!) Just glad to know everything is cool in your world. Have a great night."

And that's it. Nothing tonight. There are a couple thing going on here. Firstly, I have this intense drive not only for the sex, but also just to be super nice to her (maybe something to do with ex-fiancee). It's killing me that I thought the deal was in the bag for the rest of this week, and for the weeks that she visits later, and whenever I am in her city, and honestly, maybe even beyond that, but now it's dead. Secondly, I'm wondering why she would be so resistant to talking to me, and whether she is completely batshit crazy. I can't imagine that such strong avoidance can occur without some other dude in the picture, and if she feels guilty and tells him about me, it's threatcon delta for code red hamstering.

So, considering the huge risk of female psychosis, is it best to leave this one be? What if she contacts me?