I’ve had this blog for close enough to two years for WordPress to have already emailed me about renewing the URL soon; while I’m definitely going to renew it – because I have no idea what would happen to the blog if I didn’t and I wouldn’t know how to go about getting it back later should I so decide – this year as last, that friendly little reminder to surrender my credit card details to a transatlantic server gives me pause and makes me reflect on what this blog has been thus far and where it’s going from here.
I’ll be straight with you (quiet at the back), after all this time and all these people and encounters and fucking words, I’m a bit fed up with it all.In terms of readership the numbers haven’t changed much as time has gone on – actually this year so far my average daily hit has declined slightly, though I’m told by friends more into social media etc than I that it’s a decent figure; I rarely get comments or feedback and the whole thing just feels a bit stagnant. Throw into the mix that my sex life has had some severe restraints placed on it by moving back into the maternal home for the foreseeable, there doesn’t seem to be a lot to write about at the minute.
So I’ve decided to take a deliberate three month break from writing, looking at or even thinking about this blog, and reassess in the new year. By then I should (fingers crossed) have a clearer idea of where my life is going in the medium term and whether I’ll have the time or inclination to keep on writing.
Thanks to everyone who reads, shares and has supported me in writing this so far, it has genuinely been very fun. Sparkles, Purple and Red, a big shout out to you for the inception, and to KittyMama and Magenta for their input and feedback. See you all next year!
Almost exactly two months to the day since the day we first kissed, TGIKOS and I said an indefinite goodbye yesterday, as tomorrow he’s moving as was planned and, having been rejected last week from the job in the same city for which I’d applied, I’m not (or rather, I am but 650km in the other direction back in with my parents, depressingly, for the foreseeable).
So we spent the night together on Wednesday and on Thursday we had a conversation about how this unlabelled de facto relationship was and how we’ll continue to interact in the future (there’s no question that we will). It’s been a lot of fun, we’ve spent a lot of time together and gotten to know each other really well very quickly (and the sex has been great – my housemate who lives in the room above me always maintained she never heard any noise coming from my room at all, but the when he was here she could hear everything), and though I’m not thrilled for things to have to come to an end due to factors already in place and outwith our control when we met, as far as endings go it’s been a good one.
The plan, for as much of a plan as there can be in a situation like this, is that we’re still friends and we’ll continue to talk a lot, though probably not as much as we do now because 1) new job and social life for him means less time and 2) that’s not healthy anyway; making the effort to visit each other and we’ll almost certainly have sex when we do. I’m really looking forward to seeing him again, though I’ll miss him a lot as well which is unpleasant, but far preferable to an animus ending full of bitterness and resentment. It’s been a great summer with him.
I’ve been putting off writing this post for ages – like a month by now, for various reasons, chief among them being that while “a lot” was going on, there was nothing really substantial in any one encounter that would have made interesting reading. While most of what I write on here is something that has been and gone before I put finger to keyboard, or I have a fairly clear idea of where whatever’s going on is going by the time I write about it, this time round I didn’t. I may still not, actually, but I’ll let you judge that; but if I didn’t get something out about it now, by the time there was something more concrete to write the post would be well in excess of 2,000 words and I know no-one’s going to sit and read that over their breakfast.
There’s This Guy I’m Kind Of Seeing. We met initially on grindr as friends and a few weeks later kissed for the first time, drunk in a park, and things escalated from there. On paper, he’s everything I hate – privately educated, painfully upper-middle class, a fucking lawyer – but he’s very good at keeping his self-admitted “ridiculous over-privilege” (he’s also a cis white male) in check, and we get on really well. He’s very open-minded, a “weirdo with no boundaries” (his words), identifies as Queer (blog post on that coming up soon). In the early days of talking conversations tended to get a bit one-sided because whenever one of us would express and opinion, viewpoint and even actually certain anecdotes, the other person’s only response was “yeah, same actually.” I never expected to get on so well with someone from such a different background, but it just goes to show you never can tell.
The first night we kissed was fairly chaste as we were in a park in his city and he, annoyingly, lives with his family at the minute (which lead to a hilarious for us/super awkward for her conversation last week with his mum after he went home from mine and accidentally changed his shirt in front of her); the following week we were in a park again but this time in my city so he came home with me, though we were too drunk to really do much other than extensive hands and faces with no climax. I was then at home for two weeks so nothing much happened again other than kisses at train stations on the way to and from the airport until last Saturday when he spent the night at mine again and we had an abortive first attempt at penetrative sex, me on top, which ended in blood (not much of it) so we finished off in other ways and decided to leave it again so he had time to heal.
This weekend, I went back to his city and met him in the afternoon. He showed me around part of the city I’d never seen before and his old school, we went for some prosecco – I get really in the mood for prosecco around this time of year (I’m aware of the irony of complaining about him being middle class before going for prosecco) – and then he got the train back to my town-masquerading-as-a-city with me in the evening to go to bed. Not much foreplay later, with him face down on the bed we had what most people would define as sex for the first time – no blood, no pain on his part apparently which is excellent – and for quite a long time in three or four different positions. My legs were really sore by the end of it. He thought at points that he was maybe going to have a hands-free orgasm, which my ego would have survived on for months, but in the end we finished in other places (he on his own belly, with my fingers in him; me in his mouth) and decided to watch an episode of something before going to sleep. We watched it, and I could feel myself falling asleep during, but then as soon as I closed the computer we somehow accidentally started again and I sucked him for a while before fucking him again, less intensely this time and not for as long before finally going to sleep at about four this morning.
He’s vehemently anti-relationship, which initially wasn’t a problem as he’s due to be moving away from the area around the same time I am; now, though, there’s a chance that we’ll both be moving to the same place (I don’t want to jinx it because gainful employment is what it depends on). When I applied to the job we’d had a conversation vaguely establishing that we were seeing each other as a summer fling type thing and that we’d likely stay in touch afterwards, before my application being accepted threw a spanner in the works as we now no longer had this imposed temporal limit on whatever was going on between us. His proclivity away from relationships made me worry that, should we end up in the same place in six weeks’ time, one of us (me) would end up wanting more out of it than the other (he) and that things would get messy. His reasonable solution to this (he’s what KittyMama and I would quite happily define a Reasonable Person, a rare accolade) would be to impose an artificial “this ends now and now we are friends and friends is all we are”-type condition once we moved, though really I don’t know that that would work so well in practice if our pheromones continued having the same effect on each other (I’m turned on by him to the point of absurdity and have been for quite a while now, which doesn’t happen that often). I’m less worried about that now, though, as I realised the other day that while we get on really well, I like him a lot and that seems reciprocal and I really enjoy spending time with him and look forward to seeing him, I wouldn’t say I miss him when we’re not in the same place and I think that’s something that needs to exist for a romantic relationship to be established. Trying to establish anything about the hypothetical future just now is probably a bit premature anyway, but it’s good to know that there is some sort of vague plan in place should things start to get a bit too relationshippy for one of our likings. I’m sure there’ll be more written about him sooner or later; watch this space.
I went back home to see family and visit friends in the city I studied in before; this is my last night, and in 8 hours I’ll be on the plane back to where I don’t really want to be. I’m feeling less than thrilled about that, generally, though there are some things to look forward to.
It’s been a bit of a whirlwind trip, not seeing enough of everyone I wanted to but I did get to hang out with more people than I thought I would which was excellent. As for the sexual side of things, I kissed a friend in that club on Wednesday night, who I’ve not really heard from since and I’m not sure whether it’s just because she’s been busy or there’s now some sort of awkwardness; and on Thursday managed to hook up with a guy I slept with fairly regularly while I was still living there. He doesn’t live there any more either, but coincidentally happened to be there for a few days at the same time as me so that as fortuitous. I was far less attracted to him this time round though – whether he’s just had a rough year (I can’t believe it had been a year but it was) or he was more attractive in my memory I don’t know, but either way even if circumstances were to permit it, I’d be less keen on getting into bed with him again.
I have a lot to write about, but I’m finding it really difficult to get down on paper a lot of what’s in my head at the minute, which is quite unlike me. I’ve been getting excellent news and terrible news, at just about the same points on the scale, thick and fast over the last few weeks and while I’m feeling surprisingly stable given all of what’s going on, the stress of it all isn’t helping. I have no idea why I’m telling you all that but there we go, it’s done now.
I don’t want to make this a long, drawn-out post, because it’s late and I’m pretty exhausted. The long and short of it is that the Boyfriend and I have decided to part ways. He was more reluctant about it, but accepted that it was probably for the best; and for my part, knowing what I’m like, I thought it would be best to have that conversation sooner rather than later and let everything descend into resentment and passive-aggression.
I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t upset – it’s not like I don’t care about him, quite the opposite. But sometimes it’s just better to recognise when something has run its course.
In the “city” I’m living in at the moment, there is one (1) gay bar. Just the one, and to be blunt it’s kinda shite. The drinks are expensive, the floor is sticky, it tends to have more than its fair share of creepy people; but the LGBT society go there, I go there sometimes, just because I feel more comfortable in LGBT*-friendly environments. I’m happy to sacrifice the atmosphere the swish fancy bar round the corner offers in favour of feeling safe somewhere.
In this bar there works a twink whose name is the same as mine. It’s not a very common name (I’ve only met three other people with it) and to make matters weirder, he uses the same nickname I do. I’ve spoken to him maybe once, other than to order drinks, months ago when I was blind drunk. Yesterday he popped up on Grindr to say “nice name,” and we got talking a little bit; today he asked what I was doing tonight and I didn’t have any plans at the time, so he invited me over to his for some fun. It turns out he lives in the house above the bar (handy that, very central too) which is closed today, so I went over before I met some friends for dinner in the centre.
He was a few centimetres shorter than me and slim but toned, brown hair and, the cherry on top, big brown eyes. I started out going down on him but after a few minutes he pulled me up and took me in his mouth from below, and quite well too; we rolled rolled to the other side of the bed so I was on my back and he kept going, and it was at that point I noticed the rather large mirror leaning on the wardrobe giving me an excellent view of what was going on. I’ve only seen myself having sex in the mirror once before but I do quite like it because, narcissist that I am, I like the look of my naked body.
After a bit more rolling and sucking I asked him if he had a condom; he did, he put it on and straddled him as he fucked me (the boyfriend and I have been experimenting with various positions to see which one is easiest for me to bottom from and that seems to be the one). Once he got going he came fairly quickly, and stayed inside me and kissed me as I finished myself off on his chest.
As far as sex with a random stranger goes, it was really quite good, easily 8 out of ten. I’ve sent him a follow-up message on Grindr to let him know I’d be up for doing it again or making it regular; he seemed quite reluctant about seeing me again as I was leaving though so I don’t have too high hopes, but we’ll see.
When I was in my last year of high school, I got quite involved with an LGBT youth group in the capital city, largely thanks to my then (and now) best friend who had been going for longer than I ever did and who eventually ended up working for that organisation for a while. Every Wednesday we’d get one of the school buses we weren’t technically allowed on, to go to one of the two towns in our school district at the time that had a train station (it’s quite rural) and get changed from our uniforms on the train and go to the youth groups and, occasionally, they’d take us away for a weekend for various projects (I’ve written about one encounter that I had in those days here). During one long conversation that had went beyond all reasonable time of night, one of the older people there said to those of us that were still up that “there’s a big difference between having sex and making love, and when you’ve done both you’ll know the difference.” At the time it sort of awed me, but I didn’t really believe it and, as years passed and my sexual experiences increased in number, began to believe it even less.
Now, though, that cynical part of me has been quashed. (There are plenty more of them, but that one is gone at least). On Friday the Boyfriend came around to spend the night before I went to the coast to visit a friend and he went to a different part of the coast to visit his family, and pretty much as soon as he came through the door we were all over each other. I initially had him tied up with his arms and legs to the bedstead while I had a little play around with him. And then, suddenly, as I was straddling him and looked down at his face and into his eyes, there was this really perceptible shift in energy or emotion (I’m aware I sound like a hippy, hear me out) and I suddenly felt this really massive wave of connection and I really felt then how he felt about me, and so without even thinking about it I untied him and we started making love.
I can’t really describe the way it was other than just amazing and intense at the same time – arms wrapped around his shoulders, chest to chest, about as much skin touching as possible, kissing and whispering and just being really close. It was intimacy the likes of which I’ve never experienced before and it was really mind blowing.
It wasn’t mind blowing in the same way that mind blowing intense sex is, in the that was a really good fuck way – because that can, and does, come from a random person you have little to no emotional connection with. It was just a really fantastic, close experience and I feel far closer to the Boyfriend for it than I did before. I know I’ve had my doubts about him and us and I’m not saying that they’ve all dissipated, far from it; and there will continue to be problems and strife in the future, I’m certain. But I’m also certain that I am incredibly lucky to have met this wonderful person (through some very odd circumstances), to be in a place emotionally where I can feel accepting and deserving of the love and happiness we bring each other (because there are times when I really don’t), and to be physically in a place that’s relatively accepting and tolerant of same-sex couples (depressingly few places in the world); and that I am very in love.