I’ve arrived, unpacked and more or less settled in to my new house (not apartment) in the village (not city) I’m now living in! The whole place is a but surreal, half of the people sound like they’ve fucked Queen Elizabeth and swallowed a very large hardback dictionary and the other half sound like complete rednecks, with nothing in between except migrants like me whose accent neither group understands, or at least they pretend so.
Anyway. In my new house (not apartment, as I have to keep reminding myself) there are four of us which you would think would make sneaking sexual partners in and out a bit of a challenge. Luckily, I got the only bedroom on the ground floor, right next to the front door, with my own bathroom and even a side door into the garden should I need to boot someone out at short notice. I’ve got the room set up for maximum convenience; shelves under the bedside table stocked with five (I counted this morning) types of lube, boxes of condoms and the occasional sex toy; towels within arms reach along with baby wipes (so much better than toilet roll for wiping up bodily fluids, if you haven’t tried them then do, it’ll make your life so much easier) and a box under the bed crying out to be filled with all sorts of clothing too indecent to be worn in public and various restraints.
A few weeks ago I pre-emptively changed my location on all my dating/hook-up sites to this place in the hopes that someone worth meeting would turn up and, as it turns out, they did. I’ve been in touch with maybe half a dozen or so potential hook-ups and if all of them follow through I shouldn’t be bored for a while yet. Plus there’s all the new students arriving this week and, hopefully, maybe some people on my course too. (Would that count as too close to home? Shitting where you eat? Maybe but that’s unlikely to stop me). The first of said potential partners is due to arrive in a few hours so fingers crossed he doesn’t back out and is as good in real life as he is in writing!