Posts Tagged bisexual
Three months goes by surprisingly quickly, doesn’t it? Hi, Blogosphere!
It’s been a bit of an odd three months of kind of drifting through life, no longer in education for the first time, freelancing to get by; when I last wrote I’d moved back in with my family for the foreseeable future. Fortunately, while hindsight may always be 20/20, the future is something we’re blind to and that living situation didn’t last very long (Not because of any familial fallouts or anything – it’s just that living under those conditions and in that damn village is not for me. At all). So I’m now back in the city I did most of my undergraduate in and living with a certain central European you may have read about before and her – our, really – flatmate. We hooked up once after I arrived back in the country but before I moved in, and established a no-sex-while-living-together rule which so far we’ve stuck to, even having slept in the same bed some nights in the winter when it was cold/one or the other of us was upset/whatever. She’s also just started seeing this guy she’s absolutely smitten with – actually all of us in the flat and our close friends really like him, so more power to her. I’ve no idea how long I’ll be living here, but that’s kind of interesting in a way; I’ll probably move country again around Easter, with any luck.
I’m still in touch with That Guy I Was Kind Of Seeing, after a blip in communication around early October when he didn’t speak to me for a couple of weeks. Mentions have been made of a possible visit but he also wants to Skype soon for a “proper open discussion about what the deal is with us and go from there” which sounds ominous (and for being the person that wants to have this conversation he’s surprisingly good at dodging Skype, so it’s taking a while). More news on that when I have it.
And I’m also spending a fair amount of time with this other guy I met on OKCupid in October who’s sort of halfway between a friend and someone I’m casually dating. He’s the first person I’ve ever “dated”-ish from the same country as me, I realised a few weeks in, which is interesting/weird (I don’t need to think before I speak or say “Sorry, accent thing” when there’s a miscommunication, which being a linguistic geek I find really fascinating and I wonder vaguely if it impacts on the type of communication we have but anyway that’s not really the point). We get on pretty well and are from pretty similar backgrounds – we actually were both in the same School at University, he in the year below me, but we somehow never met – but there’s not much of a spark and he’s also painfully obviously in love with his best friend which neither of them seem to have realised or aren’t willing to accept, and as I said earlier I’m planning to emigrate again soonish anyway so with all that in mind I don’t really think this is going to be anything substantial in the long-run. But he gives good head and we’re having fun right now which is the main thing, right?
So what can you expect from sexwithdexxx over the next few months? There won’t be any massive changes in the content though I am hoping to write more of the article-style posts which featured in the blog’s early days so this doesn’t just become a monotonous list of casual encounters and innuendo. Nothing too much is planned beyond the first couple of posts – which, of course, hinge on not being cancelled on in the near future – so your guess is as good as mine as to what you’ll be reading should you choose to stick with me.
And so with that little summary out of the way, all I can really say to you all is Happy New Year and hopefully you’ll be hearing from me again before too long!
Almost exactly two months to the day since the day we first kissed, TGIKOS and I said an indefinite goodbye yesterday, as tomorrow he’s moving as was planned and, having been rejected last week from the job in the same city for which I’d applied, I’m not (or rather, I am but 650km in the other direction back in with my parents, depressingly, for the foreseeable).
So we spent the night together on Wednesday and on Thursday we had a conversation about how this unlabelled de facto relationship was and how we’ll continue to interact in the future (there’s no question that we will). It’s been a lot of fun, we’ve spent a lot of time together and gotten to know each other really well very quickly (and the sex has been great – my housemate who lives in the room above me always maintained she never heard any noise coming from my room at all, but the when he was here she could hear everything), and though I’m not thrilled for things to have to come to an end due to factors already in place and outwith our control when we met, as far as endings go it’s been a good one.
The plan, for as much of a plan as there can be in a situation like this, is that we’re still friends and we’ll continue to talk a lot, though probably not as much as we do now because 1) new job and social life for him means less time and 2) that’s not healthy anyway; making the effort to visit each other and we’ll almost certainly have sex when we do. I’m really looking forward to seeing him again, though I’ll miss him a lot as well which is unpleasant, but far preferable to an animus ending full of bitterness and resentment. It’s been a great summer with him.
In the “city” I’m living in at the moment, there is one (1) gay bar. Just the one, and to be blunt it’s kinda shite. The drinks are expensive, the floor is sticky, it tends to have more than its fair share of creepy people; but the LGBT society go there, I go there sometimes, just because I feel more comfortable in LGBT*-friendly environments. I’m happy to sacrifice the atmosphere the swish fancy bar round the corner offers in favour of feeling safe somewhere.
In this bar there works a twink whose name is the same as mine. It’s not a very common name (I’ve only met three other people with it) and to make matters weirder, he uses the same nickname I do. I’ve spoken to him maybe once, other than to order drinks, months ago when I was blind drunk. Yesterday he popped up on Grindr to say “nice name,” and we got talking a little bit; today he asked what I was doing tonight and I didn’t have any plans at the time, so he invited me over to his for some fun. It turns out he lives in the house above the bar (handy that, very central too) which is closed today, so I went over before I met some friends for dinner in the centre.
He was a few centimetres shorter than me and slim but toned, brown hair and, the cherry on top, big brown eyes. I started out going down on him but after a few minutes he pulled me up and took me in his mouth from below, and quite well too; we rolled rolled to the other side of the bed so I was on my back and he kept going, and it was at that point I noticed the rather large mirror leaning on the wardrobe giving me an excellent view of what was going on. I’ve only seen myself having sex in the mirror once before but I do quite like it because, narcissist that I am, I like the look of my naked body.
After a bit more rolling and sucking I asked him if he had a condom; he did, he put it on and straddled him as he fucked me (the boyfriend and I have been experimenting with various positions to see which one is easiest for me to bottom from and that seems to be the one). Once he got going he came fairly quickly, and stayed inside me and kissed me as I finished myself off on his chest.
As far as sex with a random stranger goes, it was really quite good, easily 8 out of ten. I’ve sent him a follow-up message on Grindr to let him know I’d be up for doing it again or making it regular; he seemed quite reluctant about seeing me again as I was leaving though so I don’t have too high hopes, but we’ll see.
When I was in my last year of high school, I got quite involved with an LGBT youth group in the capital city, largely thanks to my then (and now) best friend who had been going for longer than I ever did and who eventually ended up working for that organisation for a while. Every Wednesday we’d get one of the school buses we weren’t technically allowed on, to go to one of the two towns in our school district at the time that had a train station (it’s quite rural) and get changed from our uniforms on the train and go to the youth groups and, occasionally, they’d take us away for a weekend for various projects (I’ve written about one encounter that I had in those days here). During one long conversation that had went beyond all reasonable time of night, one of the older people there said to those of us that were still up that “there’s a big difference between having sex and making love, and when you’ve done both you’ll know the difference.” At the time it sort of awed me, but I didn’t really believe it and, as years passed and my sexual experiences increased in number, began to believe it even less.
Now, though, that cynical part of me has been quashed. (There are plenty more of them, but that one is gone at least). On Friday the Boyfriend came around to spend the night before I went to the coast to visit a friend and he went to a different part of the coast to visit his family, and pretty much as soon as he came through the door we were all over each other. I initially had him tied up with his arms and legs to the bedstead while I had a little play around with him. And then, suddenly, as I was straddling him and looked down at his face and into his eyes, there was this really perceptible shift in energy or emotion (I’m aware I sound like a hippy, hear me out) and I suddenly felt this really massive wave of connection and I really felt then how he felt about me, and so without even thinking about it I untied him and we started making love.
I can’t really describe the way it was other than just amazing and intense at the same time – arms wrapped around his shoulders, chest to chest, about as much skin touching as possible, kissing and whispering and just being really close. It was intimacy the likes of which I’ve never experienced before and it was really mind blowing.
It wasn’t mind blowing in the same way that mind blowing intense sex is, in the that was a really good fuck way – because that can, and does, come from a random person you have little to no emotional connection with. It was just a really fantastic, close experience and I feel far closer to the Boyfriend for it than I did before. I know I’ve had my doubts about him and us and I’m not saying that they’ve all dissipated, far from it; and there will continue to be problems and strife in the future, I’m certain. But I’m also certain that I am incredibly lucky to have met this wonderful person (through some very odd circumstances), to be in a place emotionally where I can feel accepting and deserving of the love and happiness we bring each other (because there are times when I really don’t), and to be physically in a place that’s relatively accepting and tolerant of same-sex couples (depressingly few places in the world); and that I am very in love.
I’m posting this because this blog is supposed to be a fairly full and accurate account of my sex and love life and while there are some things that I omit, largely unpleasant stuff, by desire or necessity, without this type of thing I’d be leaving out a large chunk of the first substantial relationship since I started writing in December 2011 and a break-up post would look a little out of the blue.
Like any couple, the Boyfriend and I have our share of ups and downs. The ups are wonderful, but the downs are never very pleasant. We seem to have been at each others throats a lot recently – not in the “hand around the throat during intercourse” sense – and, yes, the possibility of a break-up has been mooted more than once. Topics of conflicts range from the quotidian (“What do you mean you forgot the bread?!”) to miscommunication to open relationship related problems (him not wanting me hooking up with someone I had a romantic interest in when I first moved here or me being upset when he turns up with love bites from someone else when we don’t give them to one another, by agreement).
The good times are great though; and he is incredibly caring and affectionate; this weekend when I was so hungover I couldn’t sit up he came from his city to look after me and even endured Eurovision with me) and even stayed an extra two days to talk me down from the metaphorical ledge when I was going insane stressing out about my interpreting exams.
My main concern, which I’ve raised with him, is this.
- I’m not sure I’m convinced that the good times are worth the confusion, upset, and sleeplessness of the bad times. Furthermore the fact that it’s only been not quite four months and already we argue like this, doesn’t really fill me with confidence.
- I’m not sure where I’m going to be – physically – in three or four months’ time. I could be literally anywhere on the continent (today I’ve already been contacted about job openings in the Czech Republic and Éire) and long distance is just icky.
Because of that, a break-up seems inevitable, and I wonder whether it’s better to jump before we’re pushed? At the same time, I don’t want to stop seeing him, being with him, cuddling him, having him in my life, because I’m in love with him. It’s all very complicated. On the whole, I think we make each other happy, and throwing in the towel this early due to vague uncertainties seems a bit defeatist.
In other news I’m also conflicted because I’ve been offered to participate in an MTV documentary featuring young people talking about sex, their sex lives and thoughts and attitudes towards sex. I’d love to be part of it because I think it could be a really good way to get a fairly sex-positive message out to more people than this blog will ever realistically reach (daily page hits have been in decline since the start of this year, probably because I’m not posting as often as I once was) but that assumes they’ll portray me in a positive light rather than editing what I say to make me look like a sex-crazed nymphomaniacal lunatic, which is possible. There’s also a very loud part of my brain – let’s call that bit Rational Dex – who tells me that having that kind of thing out there, viewed by potentially millions and easy to find on-line, would not do my career the world of good. I know that the same could be said of this blog but a casual reader here wouldn’t be able to recognise me in the street or office precisely because there are no photos of me here, and to the best of my knowledge you can’t find this by googling the name that’s on my CV. Decisions decisions.
Two days ago I got a message on one of my hook-up sites from a guy who lives a couple of hours away, coming down here to visit family. My profile on that site says something along the lines that speaking more than one language is an asset as far as I’m concerned, and in his message he asked which languages I spoke; his profile said he was interested in languages too, so I asked him the same question an it turns out he has a degree in Russian (and that he did his year abroad in the same place as my friend Hitraya, but they weren’t there at the same time).
From the way his messages sounded (“Well if I’m free I’ll let you know…” “Sorry I can’t be more specific…”) I assumed that he was just interested in chatting and that we wouldn’t actually meet, but today I was in town and he text me; it turns out I was in a shop he works for in a branch in his own city, and he offered me his staff discount (40%! Hello!) so of course I said sure and along he came and, true to his word, the discount happened. He looked as good as he did in his photos; 26, around my height (185cm, if you’re wondering), maybe two or three kilos heavier if that; dark hair, cut fairly short, with designer stubble, and of course, Big Brown Eyes. Yum.
We went for a coffee, and had a chat about our times abroad – always interesting to hear about other peoples’ experiences like that, and it turned out he’s actually been on holiday to the city I lived in in Italy, which not many people have (I usually have to explain to people where it is!). When we left the café, I invited him back to mine, and we jumped on a bus.
Unlike my bad experience with That Wanker from last week, this was really quite good! First of all, he was a good kisser; everything was reciprocal; he’s versatile too but bottomed for me. I think some of my experiences with the Boyfriend might have ruined me a little, because I now seem to have trouble staying aroused if I don’t have a hand around my neck, but this guy was very obliging about that. We switched between a few different positions before I finished myself off over his chest as he fingered me a little, kissing the whole time, and then he came in my mouth, before we got cleaned up and headed back into town. He was really easy to get on with, easy to talk to, and he’s said that if I’m ever in his city I should let him know because he’d like to fuck me; likewise, if he’s back down here any time before I leave (only 4 months to go!!) then fingers crossed for a repeat performance.
My maternal grandmother, bless her, is almost 73 though despite being an ardent Catholic and her age and hailing from a mining village in northern Europe, she’s remarkably worldly-wise and tech savvy; she owns a blackberry, which yes she does know how to use, and is on Facebook, and even has the two things set up so that any time one of her 19 grandchildren post something on Facebook, she gets a text telling her about it (I’m exaggerating slightly; there are indeed 19 of us grandchildren on that side of the family but not all of us are on Facebook). Today, though, I took the unusual step of deleting my own grandmother from my friends list on Facebook. Let me explain why.
Though her opinions on non-heterosexual, non-cis people seemed to have undergone something of a metamorphosis since mum outed me to her two years ago (hint to any parents of LGBT* people out there, don’t out your kids to the rest of the family, it’s not your story to tell and it’s hugely disrespectful). She even recently took the unusual step of trying to set me up with her friend’s gay grandson, though with a five year age difference and 500-plus kilometre distance between us that was never really going to work out now, was it? (We do talk though, and as he is now single as of yesterday we’ve established that the next time I’m home we’re probably going to hook up.) I thought, perhaps naïvely, that the “gay people can never lead a normal life” grandmother I remembered from my high school days had been replaced with a more open-minded version. I’m starting to think I was wrong.
As my flight back to my university town (I’m on the plane just now, I seem to be composing a lot of blogs late at night on large modes of transport these days) lands quite late and, as I’ve said before, the airport isn’t in my city, I’m staying at my boyfriend’s tonight, also because I haven’t seen him in 9 days and could really use a cuddle right now. Two days ago she asked me if I would be able to get back to my city so late at night; I replied that I can’t, and that I’d be staying at my boyfriends because he lives closer to the airport. She stopped talking. And today she asked me if I was still planning on “staying at your friend’s tonight?” to which I replied, that yes, I am, and that he’s my boyfriend, “I told you the other day.” “I know, I remember” (and since facebook displays for all the world to see, I’m in a relationship with him). No apology, no correcting herself, nothing of the sort. Conversation just stopped. So, I deleted her from facebook, because I’m quite annoyed, and I think I’m right to be. Deleting someone from Facebook, of course, isn’t exactly a terrible thing to do to someone, but the message that”you are not someone I want to have information about my private life” I find appropriate here.
If she doesn’t condone relationships which don’t fit her religious ideal, that’s not great but it’s vaguely understandable, yet my oldest cousin has a live-in girlfriend which doesn’t fit the Catholic ideal and she refers to her as his girlfriend even though she dislikes her intensely; my brother and his partner aren’t married, but his girlfriend is afforded the same respect of being acknowledged as being so, and their newborn baby is acknowledged as her great granddaughter. My younger cousins’ three-week long relationships get to use the title of girlfriend or boyfriend too; so why won’t she acknowledge my boyfriend as being such?
The only explanation for it I can see is that she doesn’t seem to think that a relationship between two people of the same sex is as valid as one between two people not of the same sex. I’m aware that this is a fairly common perception among people, though I doubt it makes up the majority opinion in my country any more, but I don’t associate with people I know think like that if I can at all help it. And so I’m choosing to take a step back from her as well. I don’t get on with most of my extended family and rarely see them but my gran is one of the few relatives I feel particularly close to and so knowing that she thinks of me, rightly or wrongly, as somehow being worth less than the rest of her family or the general population – since my choice of partner isn’t afforded the same respect as everyone else’s – is extremely hurtful. If she’d met my boyfriend and decided she didn’t like him at would be one thing (though as I’ve said she does call opposite-sex partners she dislikes by their proper title) but that’s not the case. I find this insulting and hurtful and I’m sorry, no. If you don’t think my private life and relationships should be afforded the same basic fucking respects you pay everyone else’s, then you can’t be privy to it or part of it.
Part of me feels like I’m being really harsh here but most of me is angry, upset and, having decided to cut out a close relative from the bulk of my private life, I also feel a bit bereaved. What do you guys think? Am I being petulant? Is my anger justified? What about my actions? Feel free to leave a comment below or email me at email@example.com if you want to get a dialogue going on this.