Roadblocks

I have struggled a bit (a lot) trying to find inspiration and motivation to blog again. Have you noticed? I feel like lots happened, and nothing happened at the same time. It’s been five months since my last post, and while I never stopped dating completely, I did take it very easy. It’s been a summer of festivals, parties and there have barely been weekends that were not planned completely full. And, I’ve bought a house in another city! Especially that one feels huge to me. It (I thought) meant having to make a final decision between settling down and continue to travel the world. Only a few weeks ago I realized one does not cancel out the other. So I made a big commitment, but I feel like it will force a much needed change.

The biggest reason I didn’t feel motivated to write was because nothing changed, and I felt like I had not progressed even a little. I am still single, got frustrated, disappointed and even upset all over again. I spent a lot of time thinking about the whole dating thing, all things I’ve written about before here. My Facebook feed is flooded with engagements and marriages this summer. People flutter from one relationship to the next and I’m still where I was five months ago. But sometimes, just sometimes I am quite pleased with that, especially when I remember to have fun with it. But a lot of times I get a little bummed, when I haven’t managed to overplan my weekends and I sit alone on a Friday night. I think we all know how that feels. FOMO, anyone?

Anyway, it’s not like nothing happened at all. There’s a few things worth mentioning just because they’re good stories.

During the heatwave this summer, I set up a date with swimming pool guy. He had a pool in his backyard. I saw possibilities, try and blame me. We went back and forth a bit and settled on a swimming date only a date later. Not in his pool, but we went to a lake close by. He came and picked me up by car which is something I normally wouldn’t do, but I could not muster the thought of riding my bicycle in the heat. We both brought stuff to fill a picknick basket, and off we went. We found a quiet spot, took off our clothes and jumped in. I didn’t really care getting in bikini on a first date. Conversation was easy, yet at times a little awkward. He wasn’t much of a talker. When we finally made out I found out he wasn’t a great kisser, but to be honest, I just wanted to get laid. So we got dressed, he got a good look, and I made him drive back to my house.

We skipped etiquette, stumbled onto my balcony, and got naked pretty quickly. When he asked if I wanted to take my panties off myself or if he could rip them off, I told him to do it. I wasn’t wearing anything special. I was not disappointed, he was very rough about it. It didn’t take him long to figure out what turned me on. He put his hands around my neck, and there wasn’t much I wouldn’t let him do. We took it inside where he went all out. The fact that it was so freakishly hot added to the whole dirtiness of it. We were both drenched in sweat, not in the least place because we took hours. More specifically, he took hours. HOURS. And then he didn’t, and I was over it a little. It was three in the morning, and I had work the next day. He didn’t seem to mind much, we jumped in the shower, and he asked if he could stay.

We had a quiet breakfast in the morning (which I made him, why?!) and then took off. When he texted me later, he said that he thought the sex was amazing, and fantastic and hot and he’d like to see me again for that, but that he didn’t feel a spark. I told him I was fucking tired of people yakking about sparks. That I was sure he had enough ladies in his contact list to fuck, but that I wasn’t going to be one of them. I was tired of being good enough only to fuck, and at that point I didn’t want to be another fuckbuddy. Looking back now I could have kept him on, but I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t want to do that anymore.

So I’m back again, continuing to be in good spirits I hope! It feels like I’m always talking to someone, one of these days it has to happen right? I am leaving the best story for the next blog. I’ve been super high and super low on that one, but it’s a long story.

Mediocrity

I had been meaning to write a final post before the year ended, but the truth is I spent the last two weeks either drunk or hungover. I don’t work between Christmas and New Year’s, so naturally it was spent socializing. I’m paying the price for it today! Sick and back to work tomorrow. Anyway. I normally write one post per date, but wanting to wrap it up I will include all three I had over the last fourteen days.

The first date I had was with a guy from Tinder (of course). We met for drinks and got along fairly well, and while he ticked all my physical appearance boxes, hipster beard, undercut, tall, I hated his smile. That sounds terrible, but when he smiled, he looked like a six year old boy. He was much more attractive when he put his serious face on. He’d been married at the age of twenty five and divorced by twenty eight, and has a history of depression. All things I could live with, though the depression part would worry me. It was getting pretty late, and he said I could sleep on his couch if need be. The prospect of sex still sounded pretty good to me, so I agreed. When we got to his place, I was thoroughly impressed. He lived right downtown but away from the noise, and had a very stylish masculine apartment. Very industrial, but with a few cool touches like a rope swing in the living room. Impeccable taste. And then he said ‘I will go get a pillow and covers for you.’ I stood there, utterly flabbergasted. What guy lets a women he brings home sleep on the couch?! When he got back into the room, he looked at me and kind of seemed at loss for what to do or say. But by that point, I was angry and done. I have an excellent, expensive bed at home and somehow I got suck on this guy’s couch. I told him to go to sleep, got out my phone and ignored him. He left. I typed out the story to my friend so she’d have something fun to read when she’d wake up, and I settled on the couch. Then ten minutes later, he comes back into the room, scurries around, grabs my coat and goes to the balcony to smoke. I pretended to be asleep. He’d missed his window of opportunity. Before I fell asleep, I decided to sneak out in the morning. When I woke up at nine, he was still sound asleep in the bedroom. But when I picked up my phone, I saw he had sent me a message saying he’d had a good time half an hour after we’d gone to sleep. I mean. for fuck’s sake. He’s sleeping ten meters away in the other room and he sent me a fucking text?? So I snuck out. Hours later he messaged me he hadn’t noticed my leaving. I pretty rudely replied that that had been my intent, and that no one had ever made me sleep on the couch, ever. He confessed he never meant for me to accept the couch, but he was too drunk to turn that situation around. A man that is not assertive enough to get a woman to sleep in the same bed with him is a no go for me.

Date number two was with a musician, one that actually looked like my musician ex as well. He came to my town for drinks and when I saw him, I thought he was alright, but another one of those too sweet. The night was alright, he ended up missing his train so came home with me. We were both ridiculously drunk. As in when we got home, we had to sit on the floor and try to drink water. We tried to have sex. As in, he tried, but had had too much to drink to get it up. He did a stellar job in sixty-nine so I’ll forgive him for it, but the next morning I wanted him to leave. He told me what a great time he’d had about four times. Don’t like that. I’m not here to validate you. Also, once is enough. It creeps me out. Thankfully he left at nine, texted me again to say the same thing and did it again on Tinder(!) the next day. I let him down gently a few days later.

Date number three was on the day before New Year’s eve. It was a spontaneous one, I was being challenged on my being impulsive, so I had to prove it. I went to his city for drinks, and when I walked in I was relieved that this one was finally attractive to me. He seemed to be a bit awkward in the beginning, but he had a good smile and was eloquent. We went on to the next bar, and I found out he lives in one of the fanciest areas, has paid off his apartment in full, has quit his job and money wise, is able to sit on his ass for the next year. He’s thirty two. I was impressed. As the night went on, I caught him on a few yawns. After about an hour of that, I told him I was gonna go home. Either he was tired or bored. He was tired, but promised to switch to water because he didn’t want me to go. So we had a few more drinks, and eventually went home. We hadn’t even made out. His apartment was huge. And fancy. He gave me champagne. Eventually we made out on the couch and took it to the bedroom. We fooled around for a bit and before I knew it, he’d put on a condom. Not even sure if he was fully hard but before I knew it, it was over. I think it lasted shorter than ten minutes. He took care of me afterwards, but I was a little surprised, though I hid it. I hope the alcohol was to blame, and I also thought I smelled a hint of weed on his beard. We fell asleep, or he did, and I found out he’s the cuddling kind. Yay. The next morning I made the mistake of going to the bathroom and when I came back, he was dressing. No morning sex. Crap. It was a little awkward, so I didn’t stay for breakfast, though we’ve been texting a bit, so he might be a little interested. I might go and find out this week.

So that’s how I wrapped up the year. I’d say having sex on the last day of it would be a good omen for this year, but at the same time I am done with mediocre dates and worse, mediocre sex.

And then let’s not forget about my poker player. He’s still on my mind. A lot. We texted a bit two weeks ago, I asked him how his move was going, he replied with a photo essay including a photo of his dad. I should probably, at some point, tell him he’s on my mind. Just casual like that. I’d like him to come back, I want to see him again. I want to know if he thinks of me.

Once you go black

I had two dates this week! The first one was with a guy whose hair was even redder than mine. Two pale people sitting in a bar… I met him at a super cute cafe. Lately I haven’t been so excited about dates anymore since I always wind up with guys that are nervous and find myself having to work hard to make them feel at ease. I’m tired of these type of dates. I like my men assertive. It seems like they are equal to fairy dust.

Anyway, the redhead was calm and easy to talk to, though he was nervous. He kept touching his face. We had a coffee with apple pie, switched to wine and got along just fine. His job isn’t super interesting, but he’s spent some time abroad as well. He keeps ordering drinks and while I’m not bored, my mind wanders off to the fact I still have to take a train home and I already know I’m not super interested in seeing him again, so I kinda want to get home. Once we call it a night, he actually pays the whole tab. That hasn’t happened in a while. Only two days later he sends me his phone number through a Tinder message, and I give him mine. He still hasn’t texted, so I’d be happy to accept we were just being polite.

Then I had a Tinder date last night. I was not excited about that one either, and even considered canceling a few hours before. He had come across a little needy, a few lame jokes… the works. But I went through with it. Happy I did! He was already at the bar when I arrived, and was better looking than I had been afraid of. His smile was fantastic, very boyish. We did a small pubcrawl, ran into a few colleagues of mine, which was too quick a meeting to be awkward, and when his last train home time was coming up I suggested he stay with me.

We went back to my place, had another wine for show and quickly moved to the bedroom. After we hurriedly undressed and he shoved his dick in my mouth it became very clear very quickly that the ‘once you go black’ saying was definitely true for this one. The man was huge. I’ve never seen a thicker dick. Foreplay was minimal, which I didn’t mind as his skills needed improving, and at that point I just wanted to get fucked. And did he. He was rough, hair pulling, choking and all. Good stuff. After a thirty minute break, he was ready to go at it again. He was going at it so hard I had to tell him twice I needed a minute. Also, because he took a super long time coming, and eventually didn’t. Guess the break wasn’t long enough.

After a bad night’s sleep, he was clingy which I only like if I’m into someone, we had another quickie. After a shower, I kind of ended it quite abruptly. It was clear we didn’t have much else to talk about. He was being super nice and I could tell he cared, but I am just not a happy chirpy person in the morning. If I like someone I want them to stay but if not, I get super awkward. He was a nice guy, and if he calls I’d go out with him again but if not, I’d be cool with that too.

Done Chasing

My Tinder sexdate from last Saturday happened! Up until an hour before, he was still texting me, and I could tell he was anxious. I told him we’d go for a drink, and if either of us didn’t like it, there was still plenty of time for him to get home. I was getting a little irritated myself, but when he got on the train, I went to pick him up. When I arrived at the train station, he was already there, and relieved to see me, as he’d been worried the bag-lady at the door was me. We went to a bar and while I could tell me was a little nervous, it was fine. He was a talker and I think he’s  just naturally a nervous person. He looked like his photos, though he was a little shorter than me and maybe he looked a tad older than his thirty three.

We had a few drinks, and when they cranked up the music, he wanted to leave. He paid (!) for the drinks, and off we went to my place. Had another drink, and thankfully he didn’t wait too long before making his move. After making out for a while he said he was glad I was a good kisser. Great. Off to the bedroom. We quickly undressed  each other, and after he pushed me down on the bed, he immediately went down on me. I remember the times when you wouldn’t do oral on one night stands, but I ain’t complaining. Unfortunately he didn’t excel, and so when I got bored I flipped him on his back, and it was then I realized he still had his briefs on. Even more, when I took them off, he wasn’t hard. Oh boy. My efforts by hand only got him half hard and he then told me to not worry, sometimes it took a while. Okay. I switched it to a sixty nine, and while he licked me, he put a finger up my ass. I came right then and there. I love ass play and loved that he’d picked up on it somehow. In the meantime, he had gotten very hard, and I could taste the pre-cum. Time to stop. I got him a condom, and he fucked me in missionary.

He fell asleep quite quickly afterwards, and even though he’d told me he was a spooner, I don’t think he touched me all night. In the morning, after a bad night’s sleep for me, I wanted him to go. He wasn’t into morning sex, which is fine, but then I want you out the door by nine. He did not. He took forever getting up, wanted to talk about the sex, and finally got up at ten thirty for a shower after I’d told him to a few times. He was gone by eleven. All in all, definitely a good experience, no different than picking someone up at a bar, and I’d do it again. He texted me that night he’d had a good time and good sex, so I guess it worked for him too.

Then, the guy I had a date with on Friday night has been in touch as well. I say in touch, but really it’s been me. I am the one to initiate messaging, and even though he responds super quickly and enthusiastically at that, I don’t think I’ll message him again. If he wants to see me again he’ll have to make some effort, and if not, that’s fine. I’m not gonna chase after him.

The Stud texted me last night to ask how my weekend was. I told him I’d had a date and a sleepover, which is his euphemism for sex. If he tells me about his little adventures, why wouldn’t I? And then I didn’t hear from him for a day. When I texted him this evening to ask what was up with that, he sent me a bunch of messages about himself. Not one question about my being sick (which he knew) and what not. And then he said he would be a little busy for the next couple weeks when I asked about meeting up. Call me suspicious, but in my mind, that’s an excuse for ‘I don’t really want to.’ And then he told me he had finished the business case for the sponsoring thing, and just needed to translate it. Well well. I feel like I am being used. So the plan is to wait for the case, respond to it professionally but inconclusive, and then wait for him to come up with a meet-up plan that is worthy of my looking at his business case. And if he doesn’t in the very near future he will get a piece of my mind.

I hate being used, and I have a sneaking suspicion he is in it for just that. Have the fucking guts to say it then.

I am very close to being done with him if won’t make some serious effort soon, and I am done chasing all these men. I’m over it. I’m tired. I deserve better.

All the sex

I fell off the blogging train! It’s taken me forever to write, and I wish I could say I have had a million dates or found Mr. Right in the meantime, but none of that unfortunately. I have been busy, July has seen a heatwave, an airplane fell out of the sky, my sister has moved to another country, and I’ve got a work trip to China coming up. (yay)

Let’s start at the beginning. The Stud. Yup, still in the picture. I even saw him two weekends in a row. Last month, he asked if I wanted to come to a festival in his town. It’s a traveling festival of small theaters that promote their new season by putting on thirty minute shows for cheap. So there’s a bunch of theater tents, food and wine out in the open. It’s awesome. And because he had worked on two of those festivals in other cities (because he works for a theater) he got us free entrance, food and shows. Sweet deal. So I went to see him on a hot Friday afternoon, wearing a hippie dress, determined to make up for the non sex last time. So we wandered around and saw a few shows. He asked me what I thought of two, which put me on the spot a little bit since he knows theater and I don’t, but I think I managed. When we went to get dinner the conversation drifted to dating once again and he mentioned how he still didn’t understand how he managed to ‘get’ me. I decided to bite the bullet and tell him a little bit about how hard it is for me to talk about feelings, and how I take things as disinterest when I don’t feel someone is engaged. I told him how I hadn’t felt like our first date and that I had been pleasantly surprised afterwards, which made him a bit shy. By the end of the night, we’d drank three bottles of wine between us, but were not feeling buzzed. We went to see another show, and called it a night at around one in the morning.Back at his house, we had another glass of wine but both of us had trouble getting it down, and we were pretty tired. So, off to bed. We get right to it, and I have to say, while the sex itself is good, it’s kind of the same every time. He fingers me or eats me out, I do the same for him, he gets on top, and then we switch until he comes. Perfectly fine, but I feel like it should be more adventurous, especially considering his background. Then, when he rolls off the condom, he asks if it’s possible I’m bleeding. No. Fuck. We examine ourselves and the condom, and see nothing, but the inside of the condom is a little pink. When I clean myself up in the bathroom, I see that it was definitely me. Crap.

The weekend after, when he comes back from a kid’s birthday party at his friends, he asks if I feel like coming over and watch a movie. The weather is shit, and couch potatoe-ing together sounds pretty good. I pick out a movie which turns out the be boring, and we both have troubles making it to the end, so instead we just make out. When we get into bed, he quickly puts me where he wants me and goes down on me like he hasn’t before. It’s awesome, and he’s so into it, I come fairly quickly. It’s made him super hard as well, and I happily suck him off. I guess I’m one of those few that actually likes giving head, especially when my efforts are being appreciated. When he tells me to stop so he can put on a condom, I ignore him, and just keep going. I don’t want to be dealing with blood this time around. He warns me he’s coming, but I still don’t stop and take it all in. He’s pleasantly surprised with my change of plans, and I just smile. The next morning is lazy, but when he comes out of the bathroom with a hard on, I practically jump on him. I’m not satisfied yet, and want a proper fuck. He gets the message, starts licking me quite roughly and isn’t afraid to use his teeth. And then before he can get back into his own routine, I maneuver myself on all fours in front of him, and he gets the message. He went to town. It was awesome.

And then last week, he texts me saying that he has a cheeky question. How would my company feel about sponsoring his sports team on their way to a world cup in twenty fifteen? I was so disappointed he asked that. I hate feeling like people use me for that kind of stuff. And it’s worse when friends ask. I have given him stuff before, but from my wanting to. I guess now he felt like it was worth a shot. To me, it meant he hadn’t listened to me at all when I had told him all that during dinner. I took a day, and then turned the situation around. I’d put him to work and let him work out a business case. I won’t do anything with it. But in return I can now ask him for stuff. Like the use of his city apartment when he’s not there and I want to go partying.

Then yesterday, I had a date. It’s through a new website that’s a little pretentious. You have to get invited, and then get accepted by people that judge your photos. But I made it. I got to talk with a cute guy, and chatted with him two nights straight. We then switched to text messaging, and on Thursday he asked if I wanted to go for drinks. I did. I was quite excited to meet him, conversation was super easy, we have a colleague in common, and he seemed to be super relaxed. He did admit he was a bit shy, which made me a little anxious of having to lead the date (hate that) but he wasn’t at all. As soon as we met we hit it off, and pretty much talked until I had to get back on the train. He took me to two real nice places, and then dropped me off at the train station. This morning he texted me his ice bucket challenge. I would definitely go on a second date with him, though I didn’t think there were any sparks or anything.

And tonight I am supposed to have a Tinder sexdate. Yay! He should be here in a couple hours, though I half expect him to cancel still, or to not go through with it on the spot. He has a big mouth, but he comes off a bit immature and needy. He fires random questions at me (are you spiritual?) and admits he’s a little nervous, though he’d been bragging about going home with every single date he’s been on. And he was a pain in trying to set this up. He wanted me to come to his place, which is fine, but then went into a lengthy discussion about where we should go because he doesn’t live downtown. Maybe we could meet at the train station so that we could see if it was gonna work. Hell no. I am not coming to be looked at and then then turned down within 5 minutes and then having to go back. I told him he was a pain, and I think he realized he might not get laid this weekend, because now he’s coming to my town. We’ll have a drink and see how it goes. I am giving him the benefit of the doubt because he’s so hot, and I hope my gut feeling is wrong on this one!

The Ginger

I went on an OKCupid date last night. I hadn’t been talking to him for too long, but knew that he is a professional musician, able to live off of his passion by touring with bands across the US and Europe. He’s now back in Europe and taking it easy for the next few months. We had quite few similar things in our profiles, and he had good photos.

And so last night we met up in a city  halfway for both of us as we live an hour and a half away from each other. We went for drinks and while getting there he mentions how he is disappointed that my hair is not as red as his (he’s a proper redhead), but that the rest of me is alright, and he liked my shoes. Ah fair enough, dry sense of humor = good. So we get to the bar, sit down, and talk for hours straight. We talk about all the things you’re not supposed to talk about on a first date, religion, politics, past relationships. He’s very clear about being uncompromising. He doesn’t do labels, doesn’t do ultimatums. You’re in it or not. He does what he does and he will chose work or music over other things. Walk into it with your eyes wide open and don’t complain afterwards. I like his honesty, I do well on clarity. He’s not shy about saying he is having a good time, likes what he sees, and me? I smile and appreciate the no-nonsense.

The first time we check our clocks to make sure no one misses a train home it’s close to midnight, which means we’d been talking for four hours straight. And he has missed his train.  He shrugs, kisses me and asks if he can go home with me. I say yes, and stress out about the state of my apartment. This was the least I was expecting for tonight, and in a way, I had been relieved that this would not be an option as we live far away. But well, it’s happening and I feel okay about it. So we hop on the train, and on my bike to my apartment and get home before 1.

Naturally things progress, and we end up having sex, which was perfectly good, and non awkward. Afterwards, we have a shower together and try to get some sleep as I had work in the morning. He’s a spooner, mentions that I have a banging body (yay) and we fall asleep.

In the morning, he still looks the same (you never really know, do you) and we just lay and talk for a bit. By the time I should actually have gotten up we engage in a little bit of morning sex, but neither of us come and we call it a day. Still it’s not awkward, which makes me a little uncomfortable, because usually by this time I can’t wait to get rid of them. We shower, I get ready for work and he lounges around for a bit. When we leave the house, he fixes my bike for me (the tire had gone flat from the night before) and we set off to the train station for him, work for me. I sit on the back and love getting a ride to work. Doesn’t happen often! When we get to the station we say goodbye with a quick kiss and he says he’ll be in touch.

I continue onwards to work where I only arrive 10 minutes late, and have to explain to the girls why I am late and if that has anything to do with last night. We laugh and they ask what I’ll do next. I will do what always do; wait. I wait to see if they change their mind, if they were just being polite and I wait until I am 100% sure they are actually into me before I invest time and emotions.

I don’t have to wait long; I get a message before lunch that he’s home and has had a good date. We text back and forth for a bit, and both say that we’re tired and would like to meet again. No dates are set, but I feel good about it. Until, later in the day, I remember one thing he had said last night. “If I really like someone, I have no immediate need for sex”…

Ouch.

Midnight Bootycalls

I’m in the middle of one as we speak. Let’s back it up, shall we?

Anyone remember the rugby player from Fiji I was talking to online? Well, he’s been very hot and cold. We’ve tried to meet up twice, and he cancelled very last minute both times. With valid reasons that were actually true (he’s added me to his facebook and instagram) but still. Not into that. We had decided to meet up again tonight for a drink. But this afternoon, I sill hadn’t heard from him (as usual). So I sent him a note, to which he replied: ‘Probably not babe, I need to stay off the beer’.

Ok. 1: They do serve other beverages at bars. 2. I am not forcing beer down your throat. 3. What the hell kind of lame excuse is that? So I told him that I wasn’t into the yes no maybe thing, and that we should leave it. He was quick to apologize, saying he just moved here (no you didn’t) and that he needed time to settle but that we’d meet up for sure. Whatever.

So here I am, in my sweats on the couch, when my facebook messenger goes off. ‘Do you want to come over tonight?’ Well hello. Bootycall, anyone? I gave it a few minutes of thought, and then told him I can’t tonight. Really, I want to, I really do. He’s so fucking hot. But I am trying to be better. (And I’m on my period, which is actually the real excuse). I asked him if he was feeling lonely, to which he said he just wanted some company, and told me again to come over. I imagine he usually gets away with this stuff, so I’ll give him a bit of a hard time. I have no choice, as much as I wanted to!

Also, Louis is totally on again. I had to tell him again I wasn’t about to have sex in the bathrooms at work. Apparently he wants it so bad he wants to come to my house again. Last time we’d talked about it, he found it awkward. Guess something is eating him. I cancelled on him for last week though. Not sure if I want to do that whole thing again.

Look at me! Being such a good girl.

He’s back.

Louis. The colleague that cheated on his girlfriend. With me. And that’s exactly as classy as it sounds. I hadn’t contacted him after I returned from the US 3 weeks ago, and since I hadn’t heard from him either, I figured that was the end of it. Wrong. I got a text from him on Monday saying that he was just back from holidays now. We texted for a little bit, he tested the waters, I wasn’t so into it as I had been. Yesterday I had a meeting in his building and I didn’t see him, but an hour later I received a text that read “you shouldn’t wear those jeans if you don’t want them to be taken off.” It made me smile, but I think I’ve cooled off from the whole thing, and I am kind of surprised he hasn’t. What the hell is wrong in that relationship?

Also, life is hard when you fuck up. John is a dick after all. I ran into him a few times this week. He was alone, I was alone, and he completely ignored me passing by an a deserted hallway. Nice. So tomorrow, we are supposed to go on a group run, and I know he is going. Thursdays is my yoga class at work, but also I want to go running. Though the idea of facing him is holding me back. Just don’t feel like it. So what to do? In my language we have a saying that translates into something like ‘shine for your absence’; and I think I might just do that and go to yoga. At least I won’t make an ass out of myself in front of him and avoid any awkwardness.

Ugh. I just want someone to tell me it’ll all be ok. And I could do with a good hug.

Oh and also; I started talking to a professional rugby player from Fiji online who is just too good looking to be real. If his pictures are for real (and they look like it) he is way out of my league. But hey. So worth a shot!

Be a dick about it

You remember John. The one I shouldn’t have. I never used to see him at work and yet this week, I’ve run into him three times. Hello’s exchanged, no biggie.

Yesterday, I sent out a group email to my relay race team to ask for their leg times as I needed to compile them for a sweepstake. (Anyone wanna take a wild guess at who the slowest runner was?) So the answers start trickling in, as did John’s. He had avoided the ‘reply to all’ and sent me a private one to say that he had delegated the task of keeping his times to someone more responsible, which would be anyone else but him. I though it was as a positive sign, and sent him a ‘responsibility was debatable anyway :)’ email. He replied with a ‘Think the whole team was very irresponsible.’ Full stop. I took it as an asshole way to cut me off and to reprimand me for thinking I could hint at it. Which I wasn’t, by the way.

I took an hour, had a shower, and decided not to be harsh like I intended but send a reply he could take two ways. And lo and behold, he took it well. Maybe I had misinterpreted his previous message. We exchanged a few more about nothings, until 11pm when he said I should stop working as he was going to, and enjoy the last hour of my Tuesday. So I guess we’re on good terms again. Which is good, because we’re all supposed to have drinks sometime soon. Still, I don’t feel so good about the whole thing, I feel like the air is heavy. I’d feel so much better if we just had that drink, got a little drunk, made a stupid joke about it and get it out of the way. How very girlish of me. Or maybe he could just flat out hate me and that’d be clear enough. Hate the hot/cold. Anyway.

Last Saturday, I went out with Selma, who needed to get laid. Her words. She told me it had been two years, and she needed some. I am very much not used to her talking that way, so I was amused, to say the least. We have had conversations about why it seemed easy for me to do whatever I wanted and why I’m not bothered by casual sex, and she’d always said she wished it was the same for her, but she just couldn’t. I guess she got over it. She had spotted a guy she wanted, and then chickened out. And I figured out why she takes two years as well. This woman is difficult! As soon as she’s approached, she shoots them down with sarcasm. Not good. Eventually, I struck up a conversation with the guy at the bar, and at the end of it, he invited himself and his friend over to our table. I gave Selma advance warning, and told her to be nice.

A few more hours pass, and somehow (and this is where it becomes somewhat vague) we decide to go to my house as I live the closest. I am being told, in two separate conversations, that both men are only coming along for me. That’s not good. I’m not even flattered, because the guy Selma’s after turned out be 22, and a whiny little bitch. So I shut him down and focus on his friend. Who’s not incredibly hot, but he’s nice and he has something to say. At my place, a bottle of champagne gets opened and things go downhill from there.

I get summoned into my own bedroom by the friend, and leave Selma and her guy to it in the living room. So the friend is Asian looking, shorter than me and sadly, the small dick prejudice was true for this one. But Oh. My. God. He was incredible at everything else. In one of my posts I’d written that I’ve never been lucky enough to encounter a man good at oral sex. Until now. Seriously, I am still smiling when I think about it. He had too much to drink to get it up, which meant he completely dedicated all his time to me. I am talking hours of oral and hand jobs. I lost count of the amount of orgasms I had. At some point Selma and the other guy left, and I never even noticed. I was dragged all over my own house, and I’m sure I left a trail. Those couple of hours, he was a god. I get weak in the knees just thinking about it now. Lucky me. He woke me up after 1,5 hours of sleep, and this time, got it up. He was still small. And again, lucky me because he was out for anal sex.

Right after he left I got a text from Selma, that she’d finally gotten laid. The whiny guy had taken her home and somehow she’d had the guts to invite him up. Good for her, guess that’s out of her system now. I’d say that was a night well spent! As for my oral god, don’t know his name, didn’t get his number, he disappeared into the early morning, and I am completely cool with that.

Regrets

You might remember I talked about a trip to the US I was taking for work last week. Well, that has come and gone, and I’m back, and not completely unscathed, if you will! Let me start at the beginning.

You may even remember that I went for a running event. I went to participate in what could possibly be the biggest relay race in the world (yup, google that and you’ll know where I’ve been) that spans just about 200  miles. About 50 teams from offices around the world in my company participate, and we went with about 200 people from my office. We were made up of teams of 12, and in my team, we all happened to kind of know each other. Technicalities.

So I arrived a few days early, did the tourist thing, and then as of last Wednesday, we were in full fledged pre-race programs. We visited our head offices, trained some more, did some teambuilding and had lots or carb and protein filled dinners. (Read burgers and beer.) On one of those nights, I happened to be the last woman standing at our fancy hotel bar, together with, let’s call him John. John is the last man standing and I am not surprised. He’s British and knows where to put it. John is in my team and I had never really talked to him, because he always seemed like kind of a dick. Anyway, we finish our last drink, and decided to hit a famous strip club in town. Colleagues had told me to go there, and he was up for it. Though once we hit the elevator, he made his move and pushed the button for his floor. We got off, ran into his roommate in the hallway, and before I knew it, he was told to ‘go hang out’ for a while.

John latched the door, and he is not as drunk as I thought he was, as he has no problems getting it up. So we get to business. I have to ask him twice for a condom, and twice he bluntly tells me ‘it’s not happening’. In my inebriated mind (or that’s what I tell myself, I wasn’t that drunk) I am thinking ‘a little longer, I’ll stop on time’. He is a fantastic kisser, though that is hardly good enough reason. Somehow I snap out of it though, and leave him. Just in time, as his roommate has had enough and wants to get back into the room.

Back in mine, I take a shower, get into bed and hate myself for what has just happened. I can’t believe I’ve gone that far, with another colleague yet again and this time someone else knows. I manage to fall asleep, but wake up feeling exactly the same the next day. I’m disgusted with myself and don’t know what to do. We have another day of teambuilding and during the actual race, we’ll be together in a van for 30 hours. I don’t see him at breakfast, which is good, but once we get on the bus to go to the office, he’s there. He mouths a ‘okay?’ and I nod. During the day I stay away from him a little, but he doesn’t make special efforts to do the same. Eventually we go through a little small talk to test the waters, and it’s not too awkward.

The next day, the race starts, and I decided to be as good as this thing as I normally am. And so we’re stuck in the van with our other 4 teammates, joke around, do our runs, and I am the navigator for a while when he drives in the middle of the night. All goes well and there is no awkwardness. At occasional times we are alone when he walks me to my starting point or when others are sleeping, and it’s all good. Sometimes I feel he is about to take a breath and address the situation, but he never does and neither do I. I feel that there are things unsaid, and I have to bite my own tongue. I am not that girl. He’s nice to me, sticks up for me when the vicious gay guy in our van bitches at me, and apologizes when the team is not there for when I finish the race in the last leg. I can’t help but think he does this out of guilt, after all he hated my guts and he must be nervous about opening my mouth.

We’re on the same flight back, as well as his roommate. We all have breakfast at the airport, have a horrible flight with puking, screaming kids and then say our goodbyes at our home airport. He and I are the last ones to wait for our trains, and as I only have 2 minutes before mine leaves, we have a quick hug and don’t say much. And today, not exactly looking my best, I run into him at the office. Awesome.

So all in all, I have myself to blame for this. I don’t feel any less awful about it than I did last week. When will I learn? I keep saying I deserve better, but maybe I don’t. I am going to let this go completely, but feel unhappy about the whole thing. Ugh. Feel free to comment with your advice or judgements!