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.