Archive for November, 2012
(Unexpected text. I like mashing two words together to make a new one, it’s something I do a lot of)
This week at uni has been something of a scunner – extra workshops with people from the EU and rescheduled classes the whole time – and I’m very much looking forward to a weekend of sleep and as little cognitive activity as I can manage and still survive.
“Hi Dex, it’s L. I want to apologise for how I treated you, it was really nasty and I have no excuse for it. I hope you’re okay and uni is going well”
What do you say to that? What I say, at least, is;
“I’m not going to lie, it was very unexpected. You’d seemed so nice and reasonable the whole time and seemed happy when you were with me so I didn’t see it coming. I’m not entirely sure I’m in a place where I can say “don’t worry about it” yet but thanks for getting in touch”.
He then proceeded to try to open up small talk, so I asked if he was just being polite or whether he was trying to open up communication again (“both”), and so there’s been a tiny bit of small talk but I’m being very cautious. He has a lot to answer for if he wants to get anywhere near me again, but I do want to give him that chance. Why? I don’t know, to be honest, the hopeless romantic in me won the internal dialogue that time is really all I can say. Watch this space.
If you remember a while ago I told you about my central European ex, unaffectionately referred to as The Slov. A few years after we broke up I went to spend the summer with other friends of mine in the city she was originally from. This was when I was still with B who I mentioned last Friday, and I wasted no time in cheating on him when I got to the place I would be staying.
I have a funny feeling this was on a Friday but I could be very wrong; in any case, I got up at about 4am and left B’s apartment where I’d been staying the last few days, and took two trains to the airport. One domestic and one international flight followed by a domestic train journey and, finally, an international one, and I arrived at my destination. The friend I was staying with, Rosy, met me on the platform, and we went to get some food immediately and then we went back to the house, dropped off my suitcase and went straight to the pub. Several pints later I found myself in an illegal nightclub located in former army baracks, making out with an old classmate of Rosy’s who had a very silly name on the dancefloor. The three of us got a taxi back to the house and the guy and I spent the night together.
I found out the next day from Rosy – and from numerous friends of hers who invariably would congratulate or high-five me when they heard the story – that the boy with the silly name had never even been known to have kissed anyone before, let alone go home with someone. I supose in a country as homophobic as that one was (not as bad as some of its neighbours but still, not exactly Icelandic levels of acceptance either) it’s not surprising, but still it was a surprise.
Over the next few weeks we ran into each other a few times but didn’t really have much to say to each other, and anyway I already had my sights set on another target; a friend of Rosy’s friend, a girl from the east of the country called V. The first couple of times we met we flirted harmlessly, but the third or fourth time we were next to each other at a table outside the bar we were at and somehow – a massage was involved – we started kissing and left to go to her apartment. She was, it turned out, into violence in a way that really freaked me out. Not just a bit of slapping or hitting, she wanted to be left with bruises and to bleed, so I think in that respect she didn’t really get what she wanted out of it, though she did a week or so later invite me over to have a threesome with her and her friend A so it can’t have been all bad (this threesome hasn’t happened yet, though, and I’ve not been back to that city since so will have to wait until I somehow get back there).
That week, B and I broke up over skype. He didn’t – and to the best of my knowledge still doesn’t – know about those two people in the overlapping period between me moving away and the actual breakup itself and I didn’t see the need to tell him. We put it down to growing apart and too long a distance, which in part it also was. At the end of January I’m going back to the city he lives in, to spend some time with Magenta, so if he’s also there (he travels a lot with his work) we’ll probably go for a coffee or something at some point, won’t that be nice and civilised (and awkward)?
It’s been a while since I wrote about the “theoretical” side of what this blog is meant to be about. For a while I thought it might be because I ran out of things to say, but actually I think it’s more down to the fact that, being in a new place and with new people, I talk less openly and less frankly about sex and relationships just now than I usually do. (Those of you who have met me in real life in the last few months will maybe find this hard to believe but it’s true).
The other day though I was talking to a friend from my undergrad on skype and I was filling her in, so to speak, on some of what’s been going on with me recently, when she said something like, “I wish I could be as comfortable with sex as you are. Maybe then I’d enjoy it more”. Of course sex is a human instinct and it’s something which, I think, should be as natural to us as eating, but for various reasons I won’t go into here but which the amazing Laci Green covers very nicely on her SexPositive youtube channel (it’s a fantastic channel, if there’s ever a question you have about anything to do with sex, it’s highly likely she has a video about it) it generally isn’t for most people.
This is of course largely due to the context we’re raised in, where sex is seen as shameful and not something openly discussed. There may also often, as in my case, be a strong religious element to this discomfort we have around sexuality and sex (I was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school until I started university five years ago. That was not a fun experience). Breaking away from the traditions we were raised with can be a challenging, difficult and uncomfortable thing for us to do, particularly if we still have close family ties.
In my own case I think other ways in which I’ve stepped away from my traditional background make it a bit easier for me to feel comfortable about sex; I moved away from home when I was seventeen and don’t go back very much at all; I’m only still in touch with two classmates from high school; I don’t eat the way my family or most friends from my background do (and you know what they say, it’s easier to change a person’s religion than it is to change their diet); I stepped away from my religious upbringing a long time before I came out even to friends, for different reasons. With so many past ties already cut it’s easier I think to let go of this old idea too. Obviously not everyone can or does want to step away like this, and I really have no advice to offer on this. I can only really tell you what I’ve done and why I believe what I do.
As for the enjoyment aspect, though, that could be linked to two things; guilt, whether conscious or subconscious, can stop you from really enjoying what you’re doing. Another aspect can be your self confidence or body image which I’ve written about before here. I really cannot overemphasise the importance of positive self-perception, confidence really is key, clichéd though that phrase may be. To be blunt, if you’re worried about the appearance of your legs/belly/neck/whatever it is you’re hung up on, you’re not going to be fully enjoying their hands on your favourite body part or be focusing on what you’re doing either. Neither of you will enjoy yourself as much as you could and that, more than an unexpected mole or something your partner hasn’t even mentioned having an issue with, is what’s going to make the sex bad. Always remember; they chose to get into bed with you. They already think you’re hot, you’ve already put that bit aside, that’s why you’re in that situation in the first place so really there’s nothing to worry about now except how you two get on physically in bed.
I realise I’m no longer writing Flashback Fridays very regularly, nor am I doing them in chronological order. For the OCD among you I apologise, I’m basically just writing about whatever I feel like that day. This week I booked a flight to go back to this place in January for a week, so I’ve been reminiscing about this time.
Because I did a degree in two foreign languages and my university was really good about these things, we got to go abroad twice; a year in one country and half a semester in another in our penultimate year (and the degree therefore takes an eternity to do). In my fourth year, then, I was sent to a popular European capital to do a language course there.
Before I went I did some extensive google work, which took me to the page of a chef called B, whose food looked good and who was also pretty easy on the eyes, so I put myself on his mailing list. As luck would have it, three or four days after I arrived he had a dinner event planned, so I signed myself up and off I went.
At the dinner I met and befriended an American girl who it turned out was actually a very good friend of B’s and even lived in the flat next door. We got talking and she invited me out with her later that week to go to a huge flea market (better than it sounds, I promise), and in the event, B turned up as well. That was also the day I met Magenta. The four of us had dinner together and decided to watch a movie, and did so all spread out on B’s huge bed to watch it projected onto the wall. Magenta and B’s neighbour, about five minutes into the film, decided that they needed to go and get something from the flat next door – whether they actually needed something or it was just a ruse to get us alone together I’m not sure – and off they went leaving B and I alone on the bed. This was shortly before I became the much more outgoing and confident person that I am today, so while there was some intense eye contact going on it was down to B to make the first move. “You have really beautiful eyes. May I kiss you?” (Yep, literally “May I”).
Of course I nodded and so it started, and a few minutes later we were interrupted by the others coming back. I later discovered they’d come back slightly earlier but heard something going on so hid in the bathroom and then decided to come out loudly to let us know they were back and then leave again quickly; this worked and B and I spent the night together. The next day he invited me to another event he was having that weekend, and again, I stayed the night. Before I knew it we were sleeping together more nights than not and we were definitely becoming a couple despite his being a far from good kisser.
Things lasted a surprisingly long time between us, about five months or so, including a romantic weekend away at a castle hotel, trips to the beach, and copious amounts of cake. He was the first guy I bottomed for – he wouldn’t let anthing near his ass – and the first same-sex romantic interest I’ve never had that actually amounted . We eventually split up when I moved away to yet another country for a while (we did attempt to do the long distance thing briefly but it was never going to work, largely because I was having sex with other people and lying to him about it). That’s a story for next week, though.
Remember Stwc from a few weeks back? On Wednesday night he decided that, just because he could, he’d come to visit me for the weekend. And so he did; he got here on Friday afternoon and left this morning.
On Friday we got back to mine and headed straight to bed, and played around a bit, and in a reversal of last time I came but he didn’t. We then pretty much passed out at about half past nine, since he’d been up since stupid o’clock to get here and I’d been up since even earlier because I had an exam at nine in the morning – which I fucking rocked, by the way, without caffeine too – and when it’s rush hour it takes me well over an hour to get to uni.
Anyway. Yesterday morning we got up and got ready and went to town where he bought me breakfast, and then I showed him around the “city,” as it’s officially known, since he’s never been before. We even found parts of the town that I’ve never seen; then had a walk down by the river at dusk, went for some nice Japanese food for dinner, and came back home for more sexy times – and this time both of us came, he in copious amounts – seriously, I’ve never seen anything like it. This morning we got up and I took him to the train station, where we once again shocked some pensioners, and off he went. He should just about be home by now.
It was a nice weekend, and I did enjoy myself, but I’m not sure I’m in a massive rush to bring him back again. Firstly because, other than having a mutual attraction, we don’t have loads in common really and the conversation dried up and was quite stilted at points. I don’t mind not having a lot in common with the person I’m sleeping with, but when they’re with you constantly for two days it can get tedious.
And secondly because once on Friday night and twice on Saturday, he phoned his boyfriend. I don’t have an issue with the fact that he has a boyfriend or that he’s cheating on him while his boyfriend thinks he’s at a conference, I just don’t want to hear their painful interactions over the phone
So yeah, not a massive rush, like I said. If and when he gets rid of the boyfriend and kicks him out, and if we discover we have more to talk about, then sure, by all means, but I’m not sure I see that happening any time soon.
A few people who I know IRL have mentioned that they’re not sure who is and isn’t on the scene any more, so I thought I’d give a quick summary of all the people I’ve encountered since I first got here at the end of September and why they are or aren’t still on my radar:
The Sardine was the first person I hooked up with a few days after I got here. He seemed keen to meet again but his texts were getting incessant and he wouldn’t take no for an answer so I eventually just stopped replying. He got the hint. Very much off the scene.
I was supposed to see Man in Suit fairly regularly but conflicting schedules keep getting in the way and we’ve more or less stopped talking now, though I wouldn’t be too surprised if he put in a reappearance at some point. Possibly still on the scene.
Lion Boy and I see quite a lot of each other though. He lives nearby and is also a student so we have a lot of occasions where we can bump into each other and spend an evening together. Perhaps even tonight. So, on the scene.
Things didn’t go so well with Music Man though and he is definitely off the scene; he cut off contact quite abruptly with a shit excuse, leaving me reeling for a bit. However, as we all know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else and I wasted little time in getting to…
Cheeky Fifth who I run in to quite a lot. However, he did while drunk start shouting abuse at me in the street for being from where I’m from which wasn’t very nice, and each time I see him has seemed less and less interested so I’ve deleted his number too. I still hang out with his flat mate quite a lot though so expect some nice awkward situations to arise there. For the purposes of this blog though, off the scene.
Then there was poor AC, who after the date we went on and the evening we spent in my bed never got in touch again; and with him being nervous it could well have just been him waiting for me to make another move but really why would I do that when it was mediocre and I have boys queuing up? So, off the scene.
After that there was one night when I had a very very quick quickie with a guy from a hookup site but it was barely worth mentioning it so I didn’t blog about it. Off.
And, lastly, you probably still remember Stwc from my most recent blogs. You would think that with him being 200km away and having a boyfriend that would be him off the scene, but far from it. We’re in touch all the time and we’re planning to meet again as soon as we can, either here or in his capital city since that’s about halfway between us.
There we go, I hope that’s clarified things for those who were curious!!