Archive for July, 2012
… the nurse in the sexual health clinic – who deals with nothing but sex day in day out – is flustered by them.
Nurse: When was the last time you had sexual contact?
Me: Erm… The 13th of July, I think. Three Fridays ago.
Nurse: Ah, Friday the 13th. Auspicious. And was that with a man or a woman?
Me: Actually, I had sex three times that day. Twice with men and once with a woman.
Dead silence for a few seconds.
Nurse: … there… isn’t a drop-down option for that. I’ll write a note.
She then forgot to do two of the things she was meant to do
Time flies, eh? Sorry once more for the hiatus, I’ve not had much to write about really. The only remotely interesting thing in the last fortnight is that I kissed this boy I really like and I don’t think he even remembers and now I’m too nervous to bring it up again. Not like me, eh? Still. Let’s get into the story, shall we?
I was out one night quite spontaneously with my friends D and G, the ones who had helped me bed J from the last Flashback Friday, we went to a very popular but very very shitty club in town which is quite infamous in the city. We must have all been really horny that night, G especially. She kept making out with different guys and making them buy us all drinks so we were getting increasingly wrecked as time went on. G had a brainwave early on in the night though:
“I’ve just had an idea; I’m bisexual, you’re bi and you’re bi; I fancy you and you; we should have a threesome!”
Cast-iron logic right there, really, who am I to argue?
Eventually when D was in the toilet having sex with some guy she’d met on the dancefloor (classy), G and I were outside smoking and kissing. Suddenly security staff tapped us on the shoulder and we turned around to see her with D at her side looking very sheepish and telling us that she’d been caught so we had to leave. Good thing we had a plan B.
We got a taxi back to G’s house (she was the only one with a double bed, and also had no flatmates, it was quite fortunate) and when we got there I went to the bathroom and came out to find the two girls half-naked on the bed, already quite heavily involved. I hesitated for a minute until G gestured at me to join in, which I did.
Now, G and D had been friends for a long time and always had a no-sex rule but apparently because it wasn’t just the two of them it was all right or something. Still, I got the feeling that I was there pretty much as an excuse for the two of them and towards the end I was pretty superfluous. Not that it wasn’t a fun experience, just not as fun as it could have been.
The first time I met her she more or less ignored me.
The third time a few of us were at her flat. It got late. “You can sleep on the couch, or in my bed. But don’t hit on me, cause I might not say no”. (She has a boyfriend). I’ve never had so much self restraint, especially given that she was naked in front of me
A few weeks later, in a club. “When I get home for the summer I’m just going to neck some guy. Hey, want to make out later?” – but we didn’t.
Friday. Party. Wine. Sitting together. “So, do you want to kiss me now or do it later?” and finally after months of sexual tension we did make out. And a bit more. We went to the kitchen where there was a couch and where there was no-one else, things got a bit heated; the person whose flat it was told us the other bedroom was empty.
We didn’t have penetrative sex (no condoms and that would apparently feel too much like cheating), lots of oral though. She actually had said earlier in the night that she’s not that good at sex but that her oral is fantastic and she’s not wrong, the things she could do with her tongue…!
Sunday, out for coffee. “I kind of felt bad about the guy I made out with last week, but not about you. It was a long time coming” (she’s not wrong there either)
And now she’s back in Central Europe for the summer.
I’d been living in this city for about two years before I had my first “ridiculous coincidence, small world” type encounter. I suppose that’s long enough to get a large enough network of people in a city with just under 560,000 people in it (1,750,000 in the urban area around the city, which makes calling it a city seem justifiable). Anyway, I this was not long after my last encounter and therefore also not long after the breakup preceding it.
I was in that club again, except then it wasn’t “again” because I’d only been going for a few months by that point and it wasn’t as tedious as it is now. I don’t remember how I started talking to Jason-Jacob-Joseph (my friends and I kept getting his name wrong, and while I know what it is now it became something of a running joke between us) but I do remember that he wouldn’t come back to mine that night for whatever reason; he took my number and asked if I’d be there next week. I kept getting tongue-tied because I was really nervous, so my friend D answered for me that yes, I would be. He text me that night when he got home – he lived in a town about 25km away – and I woke up the next day to find he’d added me on one of the social networks still in use at that time but which, like so many others, has since been supplanted by facebook. This particular one had a “friends in common” feature when you looked at someone’s page, and it was from there that he discovered, and sent me a message saying, that I knew “[his] ex D and his cunt friend Hitraya”. At that point the penny dropped where I had heard his name before – Hitraya had been giving me wee updates about J and D’s drawn-out breakup as it was going on. Well, good to be able to put a name to a face I suppose.
Nowadays if someone were to refer to one of my best friends, or actually any of my friends, as a cunt, I’d cut off communication with them because I don’t stand for shit like that but in those days I was a lot less forthright than I am now so I let it slide. He and I stayed in touch that week and then the next week rolled around and D, J (not him, another J) (more on those two next week) and Hitraya herself went to the club, I met him and to be honest it was a bit horrendous. He was like a mouse with ADD on crack or something, couldn’t stay in any one room for more than five minutes at a time. Anyway, he came back to mine eventually, and actually at night we barely even kissed, let alone had sex. That was the next morning, just oral actually. Not brilliant, certainly not worth the effort of having kept in touch with him the whole time. It had been a bit of a stressful week actually cause his ex D knew we were in touch and no-one could say anything to anyone without it being relayed back to everyone else – high school never ends! That was just a few weeks before I left this city and went on Erasmus and so he wasn’t really keen in staying in touch, which is fair enough really. By the time I came back here I think he’d moved somewhere else, he apparently now lives about 650 km away, though I did lay eyes on him in that club recently when he was up to visit.
I should be in bed with a boy right now, but I’m not, and I’m quite pissed off. He started messaging me on one of the sites I use last week, he seemed not to be a complete idiot, was quite attractive (big brown eyes!!) and HE COULD SPELL which makes all the difference.
We started texting a few days ago, then when it turned out my flatmate was going to be away for a few days this week I invited him over and we arranged for tonight. We were going to meet at seven for a drink and then go back to mine. Quite reasonable.
But then of course, regular as clockwork, at twenty past six, “someone drove into his car”. That seems to compete with “my granddad died” for the top spot of shitey excuses people use when they, in all probability, don’t have the nerve to go through with things. If every person who has said to me that their car had crashed has actually had a crashed car, I must be some sort of curse, maybe I should start charging insurance companies commission or something.
If you change your mind, people, please, just say so. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times and I must have written it on here half a dozen or so as well. It’s a lot less insulting, the honesty is appreciated.
Following the second, what proved to be permanent, break-up with The Slov which was on a Friday, I had a couple of days of moping, not doing much and eating plenty of soy ice-cream. Then the Monday rolled around, I snapped out of it and decided to act like a decent human being once again; and by the time Wednesday came (we all know what Wednesday is, don’t we? Good) I’d decided that there were, after all, plenty more rats in the sewer and the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So Mehhay, our friend and I went out to one of the other clubs which used to be popular back then but isn’t so much any more. I was on the pull with a vengeance, and actually I think it was also the first time I’d ever set out deliberately to have a one night stand. Wasn’t the last. Don’t know if you’ve noticed I’m a bit of a slut.
Anyway. I have no idea how long we were in the club before a boy with – guess which colour? – brown eyes caught my eye on the dance floor. I went to the bar, giving him a look on the way, and he followed, came up beside me putting his hand on the bottom of my back (which I’ve since realised I hate, by the way, at least from strangers, no matter how sexy they are) and asked if he could buy me a drink and I agreed. I was drinking vodka lemon and lime at that stage for some reason, I must have had a really sweet tooth. As the drinks came and he paid I made a very direct push and asked, “So, would I sound like a slut if I said I wanted to go home with you?” He looked playfully like he was considering it for a second before shaking his head and we went to get our jackets. I know, it seems like every blog post about sex involves me going to get my jacket at some point. I live in a cold country!
I think my friends were kind of taken aback by my audacity and straightforwardness with this guy; I’d never just met someone in a club and gone home with them before, and I had nowhere near the reputation I do now. I also had nowhere near the self-confidence I do now, which as I’m sure I’ve said before is quite a recent thing. Anyway, I did text them both the next day to let them know I was alive.
Whoever this guy was (I know full well who he was, I remember his full name and even what he studied and where, but I can’t be bothered making up a pseudonym for him) and I went back to his inconveniently located flat annoyingly far from the city centre and not really near any bus, train or underground stops. That wasn’t an issue that night but it was the next day! We had a bit of a tumble around in the dim lighting of his room, I don’t even remember if either of us came, which makes me think we didn’t. I do remember that he’d never been rimmed before though. And that his drunk flatmates, returning from their own night out, walked in on us, looked a bit shocked and then one of them shook my hand as if it were a completely normal thing.
I ran into him again not so long ago, outside another club when I was going home with a different boy, but I’ll probably write more about that in his blog post, whenever that’s due…
I write to you in a state of post-coital hormone-induced wooziness so sorry in advance for anything that doesn’t make sense. He just left, y’see.
I’m moving into my new flat tomorrow and was having a hard time getting all my packing done – it’s mostly done now – but a guy from a hookup site came round to “give me a hand,” and I couldn’t very well not thank him afterwards, could I?
I actually knew this guy already (I’m not in the habit of letting absolute strangers into my house for whatever reason) – when I was a first year I met him in my first week of uni, he was volunteering at one of the student unions and he flirted with me a lot then. When I came back to the city after my summer away last year and went onto that hookup site, he found me almost immediately and recognised me, four years down the line. We chatted a bit then but I wasn’t really into it, and so conversation died. He messaged me yesterday though, and gave me his number again. It turned out he was going to be in this part of the city at a friend’s house so after they’d finished doing whatever it was they were doing, he came over and helped me with the last bits of packing that I was doing tonight.Then we were lying on the bed, chatting, one thing led to another as it often does, and now he’s gone. Really extended and actually very good foreplay – so many people underestimate the importance of good foreplay, really it’s a shame – and quite a long session.
Anyway, it’s a ridiculous hour so I need to go sleep now since I’m moving house in less than ten hours and still am not quite ready… Wish me luck!