Archive for February, 2012

I’m Sexy And I Know It

I’m quite liking plagiarising from songs to get my blog titles. I assume this one needs no introduction since if you’ve listened to the radio or been to a club anywhere in the Western world you probably know it.

Sparkles mentioned something recently about wearing sexy underwear every day and it set the old wheels (in my head) in motion about the whole concept of sexiness and how often we get it wrong. Feeling sexy is, in my opinion, vital to not only a good sex life (not that I’m one to talk about that at the minute – been a while) but also a healthy self-image in general.

Sexiness means different things to different people – just like having preferences for blonds, brunettes, tall people, people in glasses etc., it varies from person to person, though we can recognise broad trends; by looking at magazine covers we can see that for the majority of heterosexual men, thin blond women with big boobs are sexy. But we can’t often apply the criteria we have for the opposite sex on ourselves to judge our own sexiness (since the vast majority of people are seemingly attracted only to the opposite sex and the people that buy Nuts magazine more than likely don’t want to look like the people whose photos they’re paying for). I think that ultimately, sexiness stems from how you feel about yourself. If you believe yourself to be desirable, attractive, and, well, sexy, and act accordingly, people will take notice. You begin to exude a certain sexiness that comes only from self-confidence (not to be confused with arrogance, though sometimes it’s a fine line and one which we’re all guilty of crossing at times), which is something that no amount of good genes can do for you.I’m speaking from experience here; until perhaps a year ago I had a horrendously bad body image, and whenever someone paid attention to me in that way it baffled me more than anything. A shift in perceptions can work wonders.

How do you go about developing this strong self-confident image of yourself? It’s not always easy. I’m going to assume that all of us, at some point in our lives, have felt desirable, sexy. Think back to these times – what were the circumstances? What did you notice about yourself that made you feel especially pleased? Or what did you notice someone else noticing about you? Focus on these things as a basis, and once you have a strong foundation in these things you can build from there. Personally, one part of my body that I’m particularly fond of is my chest and belly area. I’m not buff by any stretch of the imagination, more slim and fairly smooth, but I like the way my body looks. So that’s what I focus on when I look in the mirror. When I look down in the shower, I take a moment to appreciate that part of myself. In my most recent sexcapade I caught sight of my legs from a particularly flattering position – over someone else’s shoulders while they were going down on me, hard to see how anyone could have low self-confidence in that situation really – and since then I’ve been giving my legs a bit more attention too. That may have gone slightly awry when I tried to use hair-removal cream on them which had, er, patchy results at best, but it’s a work in progress.

On the topic of one night stands, external validation is also a brilliant tool to building your self-image. I know we hear a lot that “you shouldn’t need someone else’s approval” to feel good or whatever, and that if you feel confident in yourself then that’s fine; and if you do, then it is. But what if you don’t? There’s nothing wrong with enjoying being checked out or flirted with or taken home by someone; some of the times in my life when I’ve felt sexiest and most self-confident is during the walk of shame (misnomer if ever there was one).

So, the bottom line here, is to work out what it is that makes you feel sexy, and focus on that. Blow it up to ridiculous proportions if you have to. Focus on it so much that it’s all you can see, if you have to. Just try not to get big-headed about it. And be consistent – to go back to my friend’s comment about sexy underwear, if wearing sexy underwear is a part of feeling sexy for you (or no underwear at all, whatever works) as it is for me, do that and do it consistently. ONLY wear sexy underwear. I only ever wear underwear that I feel sexy in; there’s no reason you shouldn’t feel as sexy in Tesco or Barnes and Noble or Fnac as you do in a club or bar. After all, you never know who you might bump into!!

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Moving On Towards Moving On

Bonus points to anyone who can tell me what song the title is from. (The song is at the bottom of the page)

So yeah, I’ve moved on a lot from where I was the last time I wrote, on Tuesday. On Wednesday I went out for a coffee and walk in the park with Sparkles (who you have to thank/blame for this page’s existence) whose view on the situation with that person was slightly more articulate than some other’s. She didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, but it was good to hear it coming from someone else I trust and whose opinion I think highly of (and, in her words, someone who has “been there and made a million T-shirts”). She pointed out a few things; that I know what’s going on is unhealthy and that all I have to do to end it was walk away; but that at the same time it’s easier said than done, because though it’s painful, until it hurts too much you’ll keep going anyway; that, in a bizarre way, I’m getting off on this; and that he’s getting off on the situation just as much as me.

I’ve had all of that playing in the background as a sort of mantra for the last few days, especially on Wednesday when, apparently glutton for punishment, the two of us went out dancing. It wasn’t a great night out but at the same time it served as a sort of tipping point. Despite knowing I don’t drink he insisted on me drinking some of his drink (“Go on, just have a little bit. Go on – for me“) followed by a vaguely patronising stroke to the face accompanied by “Good boy”. Both things pissed me off, the latter more than the former since I’ve told him before, not long after we first met, not to do that. It sends mixed messages, and however innocuous it might seem from the outside, he’s not on the outside, and (theoretically) knows how confusing it’s going to be for me.

But whatever, I’m over those moments now since I don’t think there was any sort of malintent, just inconsideration, and you know what? I think I’m actually more or less over him now too. We had a wee conversation by text on Thursday which I thought was quite constructive and aired a few things that needed airing, and now I’m feeling quite positive about it all now. I was sceptical before about the possibility of staying friends but I think we’re pretty much there, or rather I’m pretty much there since he was ostensibly there already. So yeah, this is a good thing. I’ve learned a lot, come out of it the other end intact, and gained a friend too. I can’t see how any of that’s a bad thing.

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Catharsis

Know what’s really not a good idea? Agreeing to go for a drink with the person you know isn’t interested in you, on Valentine’s day evening.

Actually the fact that it was Valentine’s day didn’t change the way it was in the slightest. And by and large it was fine. But it’s the little things, you know?

“I shouldn’t say it. It’s not going to help the situation or make you feel any better”

“Probably not but now I’m curious, so you have to say it”

“It’s just that I really wish I did like you that way…”

Though actually it does, in a bizarre way, make me feel a fair bit better. I’m framing it (there goes that NLP again) as ‘in every respect I’d be a great catch, but the spark’s not there’. And if the spark’s not there that’s something that can’t be helped, it’s no-one’s fault and if it becomes an issue for one party (as it has, for me, here) it’s no-one’s fault but my own really. I know it’s ridiculous that this attraction, which is almost entirely physical (apart from anything else we’d be a shit couple, we have almost nothing in common,) has even lasted so long. It’s a case of wanting what you can’t have and I’m acutely aware of that, and I know that I’m well on the way to having moved beyond it. I suppose this is just like that last rush of heat you get before you freeze to death? I can’t think of a better, less morbid simile than that, unfortunately, but you know what I mean? Or maybe better to say that it’s the darkest before dawn but that gives the wrong impression (not that freezing to death is the image I want to give either). It becomes more intense right before it’s over. Give it a fortnight and I’ll be able to look back on this and laugh.

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Anticlimactic

The QueerFest weekend was fun, particularly the two parties on Friday. Saturday night I really wasn’t in the mood for because I was tired and grumpy, though I went out anyway, but a lot of people weren’t really feeling it and left quite early, and I was one of them.Today’s events were cancelled – I’m not sure why – but I wouldn’t have made it anyway because I was getting a phobia cured (which was amazing, by the way.)

You’re not reading this for party reviews, I know, but if you’re looking for sex you’re also going to be disappointed. Nothing. I may have had a quick kiss with a drunk friend on Friday but that’s as close as I came to any actual action. Someone visiting from one of the other unis bought me some drinks and according to his friend was really into me but I didn’t see any sign of that when he vanished into the crowd. And at one point last night I briefly thought I had a fighting chance with someone I’ve lusted after for a few months and who is far, far out of my league, but that turned out not to be the case either.

I did though get confronted by someone who I’ve mentioned here only briefly – fuck knows how he knew about the site since I’ve not told that many people but then again there are no secrets in the LGBT society – about his appearance on here but he said that he was actually pleased with his “review”.

So all in all, not very climactic, in any sense of the word. Ah well.

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Glitter Mania

Some of you know, but most of you probably don’t, that I wear glitter every day. It’s my New Years Resolution and it’s one of the easier ones to stick to.

Today and tomorrow though, I get the feeling I’m going to be out-glittered. My uni LGBT society is hosting about eight or nine other unis’ societies this weekend for what they’ve aptly named QueerFest – and I can’t wait!! Unicorn (I let my friends pick their own pseudonyms which sometimes doesn’t work out so well) asked me the other day; “Are you going to go through the rest of your To Do list here or go for the fresh meat?” – but it’s a weekend-long event so I don’t see why I can’t do both. And as she said, if they’re coming all this way for a night out, they’ll want a shag out of it.  It’s highly likely that I’ll have a lot to write about come Monday so keep an eye out 😉

In other news, my head is trying to confuse me. It’s quite good at it actually. On Wednesday I finally decided that I was over someone and then last night I had to go and have a dream about them. Fuck sake. Not quite back to square one but not ideal either.

 

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Unexpected adventure

I really wish I’d met Shendy and started hanging out with her earlier. We’re definitely making up for lost time now though, given the amount we hang out! Last night I went to hers and she made dinner ’cause she’s a bit of a domestic goddess, then we hit the town. It was the birthday of a friend of hers who I’ve met a few times and we bar-hopped trying to find them but by the time we made it to the bar where they’d actually been the whole time it was closing and they wouldn’t let us in. So we jumped in a taxi and went to a party in a part of the city that I’ve never actually been to before.

There were fewer than a dozen people there actually and most of them, particularly the host, were pretty wrecked. Someone climbed through the kitchen window and onto the roof at around one in the morning. But this isn’t the point. This is a blog about sex, why am I talking about people climbing on the roof? Shut up Dexxx.

So, aye. I’d been joking with Shendy about the possibility of getting any action at the party and she said that she thought it unlikely since I’d met most of the people there before and the girls were either in relationships or heavily into someone else and the guys were all straight.

WRONG.

Cue the arrival of Mental Accent Boy. So named because he had a really fucking weird accent. I couldn’t make up my mind if he was Irish or American so I asked him and he was like “oh people think I’m one of them all the time but I’m not” so I was like “er… South African?” but no, he’s from here, from one of the islands, and has a fucking weird accent. That’s not the point either. Where was I? Yeah so as soon as he sat down next to me on the couch I knew, I don’t know how really, that something was going to happen and after a bit of small talk and him wandering away and then coming back again he just pounced. Fair game.

After a while I noticed that some other people in the room were wrestling on the floor and I laughed and said “This place worries me”. “At least you don’t live here,” said he. “I suppose. Do you live here?” to which he replied that he did so obviously the next question was going to be “Where’s your bedroom?” (Lady in Red has been teaching me a little bit about NLP. I’m not sure how ethical I think it is to use NLP to encourage someone to sleep with you but it’s not in the same league as rohypnol). Off we went.

For some reason he insisted on having the lights off the whole time which takes the fun out of it in some ways but at the same time there’s the added bonus of groping around in the dark which is quite fun. He’d had a few drinks and couldn’t get it up consistently, it was quite intermittent, but given how passive he was that wasn’t really an issue. We didn’t actually get round to sex-sex (as in, penetration etc) because he spent quite a long time giving me a fairly good blowjob and the next thing I knew, before I came (but I’d wanked a few times yesterday so to be honest it would have taken for ever anyway to get me off) Shendy was banging on the door saying that everyone was leaving and the taxi was outside. I didn’t fancy being stranded across the river so I jumped up, threw on some clothes and at Mental Accent Boy’s insistence scribbled my phone number on the back of a receipt. Not heard anything from him and to be honest I’m not expecting to. Shendy told me that she didn’t even know he was bi, since apparently it’s quite a recent thing that he’s come out.

Come to think of it, that might be the first time I’ve hooked up with another bi person. Where’s my list?

OK no it’s not but it is the first time I’ve hooked up with a bi guy, to the best of my knowledge. There we go, first time for everything.

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Biphobia Revisited (first hand)

It’s 6 a.m. I wanted to wait until tomorrow to post this but since I can’t sleep anyway I might as well post it now. Tonight I went to a club night organised by, and therefore also heavily attended by, some people I have classes with. All in all quite a good night, really, danced like crazy (I’m a terrible dancer but I have a great time when dancing badly), and really enjoyed myself. Until.

At the end of the night as the lights went up, a guy who I’ve had classes with since 2007, almost five years ago, started talking to me. As far as I know this is the first time he’s ever spoken directly to me, and certainly the first one-on-one conversation we’ve ever had, and it went like this:

He: “We’re trying to get you to make out with a girl. To prove that you’re actually bi.”
I: “Sorry? I have to prove my sexuality to you now?”
He: “Don’t be a dick, come on, don’t be a dick. ‘Cause you know, I’m quite openly gay…”
I: “Yeah, I know” (Everyone knows).
He: “Really? Oh… well. Anyway. I just find it really hard to believe that you’re not actually just gay”

At that point I think I walked away before the red cloud descended. Thank fuck, there was a close friend of mine at the same event who also happens to be pansexual, so I told her about it (and her inventive response was to shout his name across the dancefloor and then make out with me when he looked over, which backfired spectacularly when he tried to kiss her too).

I’ve written a little about biphobia before and how it seems to be more widespread within the LG-T community than in heterosexual society (Biphobia from other LG-T people just baffles me. They know better than most what it’s like to have your sexuality be an issue for you, for it not to be the norm, and the problems it can bring people. I suppose a minority need another minority to focus their issues on, perhaps? “Well we might be weird but at least we’re not as weird as those filthy bisexuals. They’re probably just confused or in denial anyway”), though I have to say this is the first time I’ve experienced something quite so insulting first hand. Come to think of it, what would he have said if I weren’t single? That I must be gay because I have a boyfriend? That I’m lying to myself and others by having a girlfriend? I don’t know what goes through these peoples’ heads. To have someone who is, essentially, a stranger, out of the blue start questioning you about your sexual preferences when they know full well how you identify, and for them to demand “proof” of that, is so infuriating I don’t even have the words to describe it. But let me just be clear.

I am, in a broad sense of the word, bisexual. I am attracted to, and have sexual and romantic encounters with, people of more than one biological sex. If someone’s attractive, they’re attractive, regardless of genitalia or the supposedly defining letter under “sex” on their passport. I’ve known I’m bisexual since my first year at high school, around the age of twelve; came out to friends when I was about 14 and family at 16. At university I’ve never pretended to be anything but bisexual, to anyone, for any reason; there’s no point in lying about your sexual preferences to someone. But you know what, it’s probably just a phase. After all, bisexuals don’t really exist. Compare this to someone, like this guy, who have been out for all of about two years – but he’s gay, so of course that couldn’t be just a phase. (I’m not trying to belittle his own coming out at all. Different things work for different people, and it’s not an easy thing for everyone (anyone?) to do).

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