Posts Tagged TMI
I thought I’d have more time to blog once my exams had finished but apparently not – though to be honest, there’s not been a huge deal to blog about, sex-wise, and I’ve had friends staying with me the last few weeks and will have this weekend too, which is why Flashback Fridays have been conspicuously absent.
So, my sex life has been a bit weird recently. On my birthday three weeks ago I slept with someone I really probably shouldn’t have slept with, but whatever, it’s been a long time coming and it’s not like it was me who was being unfaithful. A one-night stand really isn’t worth losing a friend over, but it’s more his actions than mine that made that happen. (Actually, that might be a topic for next week: how not to be a dick to your friends once you’ve slept with them).
I also went on An Actual Date With Romantic Potential but nothing really came of it. We got a bit too drunk, we kissed, I haven’t heard back from him so can only assume he’s not interested. Shame, he was really beautiful, and quite funny too, but oh well. Probably best to avoid any potential romance for the next while anyway since I’m moving countries soon (yet again. I’m 22 and so far have lived in five countries… I will put down roots one day, honest).
And last but not least, I’ve had sex once or twice more with the guy from my last post about sex. It’s convenient that he lives so close by, and it’s exactly what I want from that kind of relationship. I arrive, we have sex, I get up and leave. I don’t even know his last name and that suits me down to the ground, for the time being.
Anyway, that’s just a brief summary of events. Like I said, I have another friend staying with me this weekend but normal service should resume next week!!
I arrived at University in the September, and moved into student dorms/halls of residence (depending on where you live) which were at the edge of the city. The halls I was in were quite small, there were only maybe 250 students there, spread out into blocks. I got there on the Friday, and on the Saturday my best friend from school came to spend the night at mine for some fun. We were hanging out before we had dinner at the reception area where some people were still arriving and getting their keys, and a girl I later learned was called M arrived with her suitcase and parents in toe. It turned out (I learned by eavesdropping on her conversation with the receptionist) that she was from central Europe, sparking off what I’ve called my central European fetish and lending itself well to my friends’ calling her The Slov, which somehow sounds insulting even though it’s not really a word.
A few weeks later – it must only have been the beginning of November, if that, that by some string of events I’d found myself in her room one Friday night with a bottle of Bacardi (it was a present from my grandmother, of all people. She gave me it before I left, along with a hardback black notebook, “for your special addresses”. She clearly saw the writing on the wall). I knew she had a boyfriend, back in her home country, and I’d even seen him once when he’d come over to visit her, but clearly my 17-year-old brain didn’t care. We talked ourselves in circles for hours culminating in me eventually asking outright whether I could kiss her. “You can try,” she said. I did.
We ended up on her bed, not naked but topless at first, and I was confronted with boobs for the first time in a sexual context which baffled me. What the fuck do I do with these? I thought. It turns out they’re actually quite good fun when you get the hang of them though. That night we only had oral (which I was later told on no uncertain terms that I was abysmal at, it being the first time I’d gone down on a girl), but we were up for hours having fun in just about every other way we could think of too. I think in the end I was awake for a day and a half and then had to go and sleep until Monday.
That lead into what can only reasonably be described as a tempestuous relationship for the rest of that academic year, the following summer, and a full semester-and-a-half of the academic year which followed it. For most of that time we were actually a couple, which looking back on it is weird because she was insufferable a lot of the time as was I, and we weren’t very compatible personalities either. Still, it was what it was; she was the first person I ever said “I love you” to in a romantic way, and at the time I meant it. The first time we had sex in the traditional understanding of the word must have been in either the January or February following that first encounter, after she’d definitively split up with her ex and we’d become a couple. I think the only thing that was normal and healthy about our relationship long-term might actually have been the sex, come to think of it.
Three years after the first night we spent together I was at a party not far from where I live now, and who should turn out to be there by sheer coincidence but a girl that M went to school with in her home country and her boyfriend, who was – you’ve guessed it – M’s ex from that same time. After we worked that out we had quite a good laugh for the first while until either he worked out which of M’s exes I was or got drunk enough to do what he’d wanted to do in the beginning, and he jumped me from behind and punched me in the face a few times. It was a bit scary at the time but looking back on it now just seems a bit ridiculous; firstly, that he was even there in the first place, and secondly, that three years on he still cared enough about it. Masculine pride, eh?
Bruga has a friend from home visiting over the weekend and wanted to show her some of our night life in the city, so last night the three of us, along with Pan, went out dancing. It was a really fun night, though God only knows where Pan ended up. (He has a habit of vanishing in the middle of a night out, or deciding to stay when everyone else is leaving).
He and I were stood at the bar and after Pan had ordered I commented that the barman was cute. “Talk to him,” said Pan, handing me a fiver. So when said barman came back with Pan’s pint, I paid, and immediately realised that made it look as if Pan and I were a couple. Oops. There’s always a way out though, so when the barman came back with the change and handed it to me I asked his name, which he gave as M; “Hi M, I’m Dexxx, and you’ll be my barman this evening.” M blushed and we went off to dance. (Special thanks to KittyMama for the opening line).
Even though the place was busy – not packed like it is on a Wednesday – I did get served by him for the rest of the night, and barely even had to queue. Not my first drink after that encounter but the one after that, I asked “Could I have a vodka lemonade and your phone number please?” (I seem to have this idea in my head that I live in New York and people actually say this stuff to bar staff. As far as I know they really don’t but whatever, it worked) and he sort of started for a second and then went, “Not while I’m working…” and turned away to get my change, having an animated conversation with one of his colleagues at the till. Then as he gave me my change his hand lingered on mine for a second and he continued, “… but you can give me yours!”
Now, I don’t know how many of you have tried to find a pen in a night club, but for me it was certainly a first and it’s really not easy. I had a bit of an aha-moment when I realised the toilet attendants have to fill in time sheets, so I got a pen off one of the friendly ones of them I’d been talking to earlier in the evening. It always pays to be nice to almost everyone. I put my number down on the back of a receipt, making sure it was the right number this time and that my writing was actually legible and went back to the bar.
At this point Pan and I ran into a very friendly girl who was in the club for the first time, and befriended her. She offered to buy us both drinks and I said “Well I’m actually flirting with one of the bar staff…” so she just handed me a twenty and told me what to order. Once I did, and this woman (I think her name was L?) had added three shots onto the order for us, I slipped the receipt with the phone number on top of the twenty and handed both over. I thought L’s eyes were going to fall out of her head at the temerity of it but I explained the rest of the story later. Anyway, barman put our order through the till (giving us the shots for free, cheers pal) and my number in his back pocket.
Boom. That’s how it’s done.
I suppose that technically we can’t term that successful until I get a text from him, so we’ll see whether or not that happens. But the free shots and the fact that he took my number are small victories in themselves, and at any rate it’s a more successful night than Pan’s since he ended up sucking off a 39-year-old tourist in the toilets…
Last week I woke up to an email from the lovely Teri over at The Narcissist’s Blog informing me that she’d decided to give me the T.M.I Blog Award – majorly excited!!! Thanks Teri!!
The TMI Blog Award honors those blogs that discuss everything in detail and do it well. These bloggers aren’t afraid to discuss their most awkward, embarrassing and intimate experiences with honesty, humor and little to no filter.
Here are the rules
- Thank the person who presented you with the award.
- Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.
- Share an awkward, embarrassing and intimate story in 250 words or less.
- Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.
- Present the TMI Blog Award to 5 – 10 deserving blogs.
- Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment at their blog.
The award is aptly named as, like you know, I am the master of the overshare. In one of my classes this year I was known as TMID (Too Much Info Dexxx) and that was before I had a sex blog and people knew about it.
One of the reasons I’ve not posted this before now is because I couldn’t come up with a story that was suitably awkward, embarrassing and intimate to be shared. I’ve since consulted The List (of people I’ve slept with, not the events magazine) and had a fun trip down memory lane. So here we go then, with the only really awkward story I remember from before this blog.
At the end of my second year of university I had just turned 19 a lot of us were about to leave for the summer and then go on ERASMUS to various places across the continent, so we decided (or rather, K1 and K2 who were living together decided) to have a party. At said party there was a boy – he was 23, and doing a Ph. D in Chemistry. As the party was mostly frequented by Polish people the vodka was flowing and so Chemistry Boy and I ended up making out in the kitchen until I had a brainwave – some of the flatmates had gone to a club, it was barely 1 a.m. “M’s room is empty”. Off we went. About fifteen minutes later the bedroom door opened and there stood K1, not at all shocked or even remotely surprised, and we thought we were about to be admonished but all she wanted to know was where her cigarettes were, then she left us to it. Not long after that, though, the door opened again to reveal M, who was shocked and surprised but very apologetic. We decided to stop then and as I was dressing, Chemistry Boy said “come back to mine. I’m going on holiday tomorrow so you’d have to leave quite early…” I didn’t even let him finish his sentence before exclaiming, without thinking, “pfft, I’m not that interested.” That awkward moment when you realise what you’ve just said…
Anyway. That’s all water under the bridge now, so it’s time to present this award to some others. The award goes to…
I’m only giving it to 4 blogs because I’m actually really bad at keeping up to date with blogs generally, but these are the ones which stand out for me.