If I remember correctly, the "no strings" context between Cord and I lasted a few weeks. And like I said, something always gives – we were no different. Unsurprisingly alcohol was flowing when things took a turn, but the chain of events began earlier in the day. I had been out the night before and had woken up in his bed; he had gone to the gym early so I lay in for a bit and opened his laptop to check Facebook and the usual routine. He was still logged in, and at that point I made a choice – I clicked into his messages.
And there, near the top of the screen was a very recent exchange between him and Sol, the guy I had my first rebound sex with (in this post). I made another choice without hesitation and clicked straight into the message, to find a conversation which I will now copy-paste to you (I saved it in my email drafts for future reference, yes, I made some dubious choices that day). Also I fixed the grammar and capitals because it's bad enough to read without the sloppy punctuation ;)
C: Just a quick one. Heard you were talking to Rylan in [a club] the other night and that's obviously fine but just wondering if you told him about our silly little drunken encounter? Just checking.
S: Hey Cord, I didn't actually know who Rylan was at the time and your past etc and obviously I didn't say anything when I found out. Not told anyone so you don't have to worry.
C: Haha worlds colliding. Thanks. I think he may take it a little sensitively if he found out. Cheers for that. Hope all is well.
--then a few days later--
S: Hey, also just wanted to say there's actually nothing happening with me and Rylan, those messages made it sound like you thought there might be. Was a drunken [club] thing ha.
C: Oh no don't worry i was just wondering whether you may have accidentally let slip we had had a few drunken fumblings. Just a bit of damage control but cheers for the discretion.
[Firstly, "a little sensitively"? ME? SENSITIVE?? SENSITIVE??? well maybe just a little..]
At that point I couldn't help but laugh, but worry crept in from the fact that I couldn't place when this may have happened; as in, was this while we were together? The wording specified no timescale, and even with my best detective/nosy bitch mode enabled I couldn't pin-point whether it was before or after the split. In fact, Sol was being a slimy prick with his words, not only did he wriggle out of the fact that he DID know who I was, but he also shrouded our own encounter – "nothing happening with me and Rylan" could just as easily mean "we aren't seeing each other.. anymore" as much as he intended it to come across: "Rylan never put his dick in me". Well, I did.
Anyywayyyy I don't want to make a big deal out of this because it isn't like I pulled my hair out over it, and it was just the starter. Cord returned from the gym and offered to make food, which I accepted (food often beats principles in my book). I didn't sit on the information for long, I confessed to opening his laptop and spewed out something about Facebook being open at the messages, me seeing Sol's name and reading it. I hadn't really thought of how he'd react.. angry at me for the intrusion? Upset if he'd possibly cheated on me?
Visible relief washed over him, he was actually happy that I had found out because he didn't know if he could bring himself to tell me, though he had hated holding the secret. We talked, and I learned that:
It was 4 days after we broke up (ouch?)
He was incredibly drunk (more understandable)
They had "2 minute floppy sex" (I always cringe remembering that phrase) which Cord barely even considers sex.
It was my turn to confess again; I told him I'd also slept with some people.
"More than one..?" he asked with surprise and a hint of hoping for a negative reply.
"A few.."
If I'm honest, as childish as it is, I wanted to feel that shallow superiority that I had done more than him, that I was beating him in the race to recovery. I did not tell him at that point that Sol had jumped from his bed to mine, I wasn't sure if I should. But later that night, during pre-drinking, the secrets unfolded further and I divulged. This time anger showed its face, but directed at Sol, not at me. We shared the discomfort since neither of us had realised we had a mutual hookup, and in a way felt played by this outsider. But things between us remained amicable, if a little perturbed. Unfortunately for me the worst was yet to come.
The taxi had been ordered to head into town, and I was with Cord in his room while I tousled some product through my hair. As if stirred up by my own hands, a question entered my head: I asked Cord if he had used protection with Sol. The question was almost rhetorical as I assumed the answer was yes. Yet his eyes widened as if he was suddenly remembering his mistake, and I knew his response before he uttered a word..
"no.."
At this point I can't remember whether I said something or not, but moments later I left the room because – as cliched as it sounds – I couldn't bear to look at him. I retreated to the bathroom, locked the door and just stood there, the effects of the alcohol neutralised. I felt disgusted and betrayed, the fundamental trust we had held on to despite breaking up in that instant meant nothing. I've made mistakes, a lot of them, but this felt like the most base abuse of trust. Although Cord didn't know at the time, Sol had tried to get me to enter him bare as well, and if he tried that with both me and Cord, how many others had he been unsafe with? I felt at risk, and Cord was the reason; not some stranger I pulled in a bar, but the guy I loved more than anyone or any thing.
In my head I tried to count the number of times after the encounter him and I had slept together, but whether from the drink or the mindfuck I couldn't pin it, I knew at least 3. We had never used protection, why should we? I had been safe with the others and he claimed he hadn't slept with anyone at all. Even if he had genuinely "forgotten" about the risk with Sol, I still couldn't see how I could forgive him for this. Yes, you could "2 minute floppy sex" [cringe] is really not much to worry about health-wise, but what cut more than that was that we had got together several times afterwards.. "everyone makes mistakes" of course, but his biggest mistake was not telling me once what had happened, despite countless opportunities (Not to mention plain lying when he stated he had not gotten with anyone, which I believe is "documented" in this> friends with benefits post) and that was where the betrayal lay. It was without a doubt the lowest point of the whole break-up saga.
The drunk night out, which I still attempted – I am Irish after all – predictably ended as a disaster. I told a few of our friends what had happened, I hoped a bit of peer support would help me salvage a decent night from the mess and maybe distract myself. However, after a good few drinks the bottled emotion became too much as I watched Cord smiling and talking away. I had to get out of there before the imminent breakdown spilled out. Out on the street I ran back to my place – might as well complete the tragically pathetic scene, fleeing with tears down my face and all that ;)
Texts and calls were coming in thick and fast by the time I made it back, so I turned my phone off to block them out, but not before seeing the date.. Feb 14th.. I downed a pint of water, poured myself another and slumped on the sofa. I didn't try to sleep, instead I just sat there in the quiet, thinking, remembering how a few months earlier I had happiness in the palm of my hand, and now my fist was clenched around nothing but broken trust and corroded memories. But there in my mind, yet again, against all sense and better judgement, I could feel that I still cared.. that was why this hurt so much.
Monday, 9 April 2012
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Friends(?) with Benefits.
OH WELL.
So it was, that after what seemed a preordained twist of fate, Cord and I fell back into bed together, both unable to give up the physical side of our connection. We lay in bed most of the next day, no longer boyfriends but something nondescript, something vague – maybe simply nothing. Our conversation, whilst enjoyable, was subtly restrained; how could we talk as if nothing was different?
My head, which was sluggish as the last of the mdma trickled through it, struggled between enjoyment and regret, and ended up in neutral turmoil. Was this a mistake? The question rolled around my brain, and I couldn't answer it. In the short-term this could be good fun, and I always knew it was going to be hard to give up our sex, but thinking of the long-term was where the worry lay, as my biggest fear was that I would never be able to fully move on until I had cut virtually all ties. Being the one on the receiving end of the break-up made me wary that carrying on any semblance of communication with him was going to damage me further and leave him relatively unscathed. The phrase "sleeping with the enemy" seemed apt; after all, I was in bed with the guy who a mere 2 weeks earlier had broken my heart. On top of that, I was more than aware that a friends with benefits arrangement can never last, because something always gives.
Predictably, despite my doubts and fears, we did indeed fall into such an arrangement. Some of the hottest sex either of us have ever had ensued over the next couple of weeks. There was a sort of ferocity and primal necessity to it that I don't think can be had when a couple is in a "caring relationship". It wasn't a case that Cord and I needed this, but we both wanted it – it was lust in its blazoned adulterated glory.
And so, a questionable "friendship" was sustained, which for a short time worked because things were amicable (and because we had great sex), he wanted me in his life just not as his boyfriend, and I wanted.. well, I wasn't really sure, perhaps the familiarity made me want to keep him around, perhaps something more was pulling my strings.
There were so many unknowns. Evidently I was nowhere near recovered and in no place to figure things out, yet this same confusion kept me in touch with him, against intuition, against advice. I didn't want to let go. (I should probably play Celine Dion right about now to complete the tragic cliché.)
But like I said, something always gives.. and we were no exception. The night before Valentine's Day (how appropriate...) events took another turn as truths emerged from both sides. Alcohol and secrets, a recipe for disaster.
Sometimes I pine to be a child again, playing the Sims and eating giant strawberries. Then adulthood beckons and it's time to start fucking up, but fucking up can be so much fun!
.."but fucking"
So it was, that after what seemed a preordained twist of fate, Cord and I fell back into bed together, both unable to give up the physical side of our connection. We lay in bed most of the next day, no longer boyfriends but something nondescript, something vague – maybe simply nothing. Our conversation, whilst enjoyable, was subtly restrained; how could we talk as if nothing was different?
My head, which was sluggish as the last of the mdma trickled through it, struggled between enjoyment and regret, and ended up in neutral turmoil. Was this a mistake? The question rolled around my brain, and I couldn't answer it. In the short-term this could be good fun, and I always knew it was going to be hard to give up our sex, but thinking of the long-term was where the worry lay, as my biggest fear was that I would never be able to fully move on until I had cut virtually all ties. Being the one on the receiving end of the break-up made me wary that carrying on any semblance of communication with him was going to damage me further and leave him relatively unscathed. The phrase "sleeping with the enemy" seemed apt; after all, I was in bed with the guy who a mere 2 weeks earlier had broken my heart. On top of that, I was more than aware that a friends with benefits arrangement can never last, because something always gives.
Predictably, despite my doubts and fears, we did indeed fall into such an arrangement. Some of the hottest sex either of us have ever had ensued over the next couple of weeks. There was a sort of ferocity and primal necessity to it that I don't think can be had when a couple is in a "caring relationship". It wasn't a case that Cord and I needed this, but we both wanted it – it was lust in its blazoned adulterated glory.
And so, a questionable "friendship" was sustained, which for a short time worked because things were amicable (and because we had great sex), he wanted me in his life just not as his boyfriend, and I wanted.. well, I wasn't really sure, perhaps the familiarity made me want to keep him around, perhaps something more was pulling my strings.
There were so many unknowns. Evidently I was nowhere near recovered and in no place to figure things out, yet this same confusion kept me in touch with him, against intuition, against advice. I didn't want to let go. (I should probably play Celine Dion right about now to complete the tragic cliché.)
But like I said, something always gives.. and we were no exception. The night before Valentine's Day (how appropriate...) events took another turn as truths emerged from both sides. Alcohol and secrets, a recipe for disaster.
Sometimes I pine to be a child again, playing the Sims and eating giant strawberries. Then adulthood beckons and it's time to start fucking up, but fucking up can be so much fun!
.."but fucking"
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Sex With My Ex... On E
Turning points. Sometimes you don't see them coming, often you won't realise they've been..
Almost 6 weeks ago I had one of those days. To label it "good" or "bad" seems somewhat irrelevant now, what happened happened, and the events of this post pushed me down a path that – looking back – seems inescapable, and has had a massive bearing on my position at the minute. Now, in the past I've written about my somewhat wasted experience of mdma, which you can read about here (disclaim: totally fabricated, drugs are bad, don't do drugs, I've never done drugs, I'll never do drugs, I make all this stuff up). This time I was going to make sure I didn't squander the social experience and make the most of it.
Now as previously stated, I am far from a druggie waster, and I can pretty much count my experiences with illegal substances on one hand. Compared to some of my friends at uni who basically live so deep in a drug haze they've forgotten the real world, I'm a fairly clean boy. Booze? Well sure, I'm young and Irish, but when something has a "Class" branded to it I'm hardly a tweaker. I do appreciate the risk and that it's against the law, and I under no circumstances would recommend someone else do it, it's a matter of choice, though to choose against it is obviously the right choice. Do not do drugs.
With that out of the way, let's get down to the nitty gritty: on that night I had sex with my ex boyfriend (in the interest of time let's just reserve judgement for now, though if you've followed this saga I can probably make a decent guess at what you're thinking). We had managed to stay away from each other for about a fortnight, though had fallen back into texting. A close mutual friend's birthday was likely to force us to encounter each other, although Cord was very reluctant to attend; some of his worries in texts were:
I chose the steak.
I first saw him in the pub before we went to the club. His eyes – with massively dilated pupils – lit up when he saw me, and he pulled me into a strong embrace. It was clear he had missed me, and not just because he was flying high. The rest of the night in town played out almost like any other, except with overflowing joy and more uninhibited dancing. It was a great feeling, there was enjoyment all round. Cord and I both knew what was going to happen once people headed home, there was an understanding between us, like a kind of gravity that we knew would pull us to each other. At one point I felt it was necessary to ask him if we needed to use protection later that night.
"Well.. I haven't slept with anyone, have you?" he asked.
"No," I lied. This was towards the end of my Grindr spree, but I'd been safe, there was no need for him to know, he wasn't my boyfriend any more, and since I wasn't – and wouldn't – put him at risk I saw no sense in disrupting the content vibe of the night.
Our group stayed out until the club closed, at which point Cord and I walked back to his, with one of his housemates who held a strange sort of supportive skepticism about the situation. We spent half an hour in the living room, downing water and winding down from the night. At this point it was about 5am, and the two of us said goodnight to the housemate and headed upstairs. There is a sort of disconcerting quiet in that kind of circumstance, as we ascended the few flights of stairs to his room at the top of the house, both knowing exactly what was about to happen.
I was first into the room, and took off my jacket. It had barely touched the floor when I felt his arms round my waist and his kiss against my neck, he couldn't wait any longer than I could. I turned to face him and our lips met with longing and necessity, there was no going back now, neither of us would be the one to stop this.
The thrill of the sex was heightened, flared, catalysed by the drug. The tingle of skin on skin, so familiar yet so unknown, the bass tempo in our chests thrumming heavily as we pressed against each other, riding two kinds of ecstasy to a delayed and prolonged climax.
I fell asleep in his arms, exhausted and unthinking.
In those last moments of consciousness, what tomorrow would bring I didn't care.
Now, dear reader, you are perfectly entitled to judge and call it a mistake and say I'm just going to get hurt again; I would say all of those things, in fact I already have, silly silly Rylan. But this guy.. I don't really know how to put it into words, it's like.. it's like when I'm with him I feel invincible and completely helpless at the same time. Mulling on the break-up almost incessantly since it happened made me realise that for the most part it was my (for want of a better word) "fault" that he felt it best to part ways, the way I had become I would have slowly destroyed us both. Now of course I'm not under any circumstances trying to make excuses for him, his decision hurt me to my core and it is self-preservation instinct to feel resentment to a threat, but having said that, it should be made clear that I was not a great boyfriend, I'd even go as far as to say I was occasionally a complete dick. In my eyes he was always the kinder, more stable of our pair, yet he cried many more times than I did in the weeks after splitting up. His emotion through the break-up spoke volumes; he didn't want to end us, but he needed to. For both our sakes. I know if I was an observer of this situation I would probably warn the individual to exercise extreme caution considering the way things were left. I will not try and justify my actions on this occasion or for the circumstances that followed, which brought more mindfucks, a few bombshells and maybe, just maybe against all the odds, a little bit of defiant hope.
As for this blog, I am still a fair bit behind on posting, but have faith you are being caught up to the present slowly but surely, it's simply because the last two months have been an explosion of drama that I've been lagging. I flew back home to Ireland yesterday for the Easter holidays (spent St Patricks Day travelling, very boring), so now I have a solid month to catch up on posts, and hopefully on uni work too... I'm also supposed to be fluent in French by May, so by sheer procrastination of the more important chores I'll probably get the blogging done in no time :)
In keeping with the twists and turns my life has taken recently, my music taste has been somewhat.. different. Might want to turn your volume down (or up).. this one's a beast.
Nero - Doomsday
Almost 6 weeks ago I had one of those days. To label it "good" or "bad" seems somewhat irrelevant now, what happened happened, and the events of this post pushed me down a path that – looking back – seems inescapable, and has had a massive bearing on my position at the minute. Now, in the past I've written about my somewhat wasted experience of mdma, which you can read about here (disclaim: totally fabricated, drugs are bad, don't do drugs, I've never done drugs, I'll never do drugs, I make all this stuff up). This time I was going to make sure I didn't squander the social experience and make the most of it.
 |
| yellow diamonds in the light |
With that out of the way, let's get down to the nitty gritty: on that night I had sex with my ex boyfriend (in the interest of time let's just reserve judgement for now, though if you've followed this saga I can probably make a decent guess at what you're thinking). We had managed to stay away from each other for about a fortnight, though had fallen back into texting. A close mutual friend's birthday was likely to force us to encounter each other, although Cord was very reluctant to attend; some of his worries in texts were:
"I think I'd just come over and get off with you."Fuck that, I thought, I was dripping with lust, and memories of our bare sex drove me to convince him to join us later in the night, after he'd done his own share of mdma. Now, I don't know if something more than horniness fuelled my persuasiveness, but the least I can say is my primal urgers were dominant, even over any lurking "feelings" I may have had. I would have settled for another guy that night, but that's like having a plain McDonalds hamburger when you can have a perfectly cooked fillet steak.
"I would so try and get with you... I'm so horny... it's probably not a good idea."
"Worried I'll do something we'll regret."
I chose the steak.
I first saw him in the pub before we went to the club. His eyes – with massively dilated pupils – lit up when he saw me, and he pulled me into a strong embrace. It was clear he had missed me, and not just because he was flying high. The rest of the night in town played out almost like any other, except with overflowing joy and more uninhibited dancing. It was a great feeling, there was enjoyment all round. Cord and I both knew what was going to happen once people headed home, there was an understanding between us, like a kind of gravity that we knew would pull us to each other. At one point I felt it was necessary to ask him if we needed to use protection later that night.
"Well.. I haven't slept with anyone, have you?" he asked.
"No," I lied. This was towards the end of my Grindr spree, but I'd been safe, there was no need for him to know, he wasn't my boyfriend any more, and since I wasn't – and wouldn't – put him at risk I saw no sense in disrupting the content vibe of the night.
Our group stayed out until the club closed, at which point Cord and I walked back to his, with one of his housemates who held a strange sort of supportive skepticism about the situation. We spent half an hour in the living room, downing water and winding down from the night. At this point it was about 5am, and the two of us said goodnight to the housemate and headed upstairs. There is a sort of disconcerting quiet in that kind of circumstance, as we ascended the few flights of stairs to his room at the top of the house, both knowing exactly what was about to happen.
I was first into the room, and took off my jacket. It had barely touched the floor when I felt his arms round my waist and his kiss against my neck, he couldn't wait any longer than I could. I turned to face him and our lips met with longing and necessity, there was no going back now, neither of us would be the one to stop this.
The thrill of the sex was heightened, flared, catalysed by the drug. The tingle of skin on skin, so familiar yet so unknown, the bass tempo in our chests thrumming heavily as we pressed against each other, riding two kinds of ecstasy to a delayed and prolonged climax.
I fell asleep in his arms, exhausted and unthinking.
In those last moments of consciousness, what tomorrow would bring I didn't care.
Now, dear reader, you are perfectly entitled to judge and call it a mistake and say I'm just going to get hurt again; I would say all of those things, in fact I already have, silly silly Rylan. But this guy.. I don't really know how to put it into words, it's like.. it's like when I'm with him I feel invincible and completely helpless at the same time. Mulling on the break-up almost incessantly since it happened made me realise that for the most part it was my (for want of a better word) "fault" that he felt it best to part ways, the way I had become I would have slowly destroyed us both. Now of course I'm not under any circumstances trying to make excuses for him, his decision hurt me to my core and it is self-preservation instinct to feel resentment to a threat, but having said that, it should be made clear that I was not a great boyfriend, I'd even go as far as to say I was occasionally a complete dick. In my eyes he was always the kinder, more stable of our pair, yet he cried many more times than I did in the weeks after splitting up. His emotion through the break-up spoke volumes; he didn't want to end us, but he needed to. For both our sakes. I know if I was an observer of this situation I would probably warn the individual to exercise extreme caution considering the way things were left. I will not try and justify my actions on this occasion or for the circumstances that followed, which brought more mindfucks, a few bombshells and maybe, just maybe against all the odds, a little bit of defiant hope.
As for this blog, I am still a fair bit behind on posting, but have faith you are being caught up to the present slowly but surely, it's simply because the last two months have been an explosion of drama that I've been lagging. I flew back home to Ireland yesterday for the Easter holidays (spent St Patricks Day travelling, very boring), so now I have a solid month to catch up on posts, and hopefully on uni work too... I'm also supposed to be fluent in French by May, so by sheer procrastination of the more important chores I'll probably get the blogging done in no time :)
In keeping with the twists and turns my life has taken recently, my music taste has been somewhat.. different. Might want to turn your volume down (or up).. this one's a beast.
Nero - Doomsday
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
Rebounding: Trying Out Grindr + Guys 2 - 7
In the interest of speeding the catch-up and also avoiding this blog turning into a "look how much sex I have" diary, I'll wrap as much of these events into one post, as they all fall under the umbrella of a rebound-sex fortnight. The previous post about my one-night stand with Sol was important to single out, not only because it was my first after the break-up, but also for the reason that it would come back to bite me in the ass with relation to Cord and events that must wait to be explained. These are less game-changing, but this saga as a whole has undoubtedly played a part in other events that follow, so best to make a post out of it. Not only that, but it has also been momentous to me, not particularly in a "good" or "bad" way, just in a way..
It was over the course of a fortnight or so that my sex life had a burst of new life. After re-experiencing this thrill of being single only a few days after the end of the relationship, I developed quite the appetite. While I was with Cord, this was the one aspect of single life that I always thought I hadn't had my fill of, and I figured I would make the most of this shitty situation. In hindsight, I see now that these hook-ups were simply a distraction, in a way they numbed my need for my ex and also filled the substantial spaces of free time that his absence inevitably left. All I wanted was some here-and-now fun, which was the reason I quickly found myself for the first time on Grindr. The city where I attend uni is small, unreasonably small for a city, it sometimes feels more like a massive village. Hence finding gay guys is a chore; there are no gay clubs (there are barely any straight ones), one "gay-friendly" pub and a serious shortage of attractive men. So I figured it couldn't hurt to take a peek. One semi-naked photo later and the notifications started pinging.
Guy 2:
Three days after my first one-night stand, I found in one of the "clubs" (read over-hyped pubs) in town, phone battery was low but some efficient messaging set me up with a guy who was up for a few days from London, his black-and-white pic was nice and I was drunk – I realised how quickly this could become a habit, I mean it was just so damn easy. He had a Welsh name but when I met him his skin was quite dark, which was curious to my alcohol-fuelled stupidity: "So if you're from Wales, why are you dark?" He rolled his eyes and mentioned his Iranian mother; turns out that rare combination of genes seems to make for cute faces.
As I soon found out, this guy was a bottom. After months upon months of regularly letting Cord top me, I was realising that in single life I apparently came across as more of a top, and judging by Sol and this guy's comments, a pretty good one ;) The compliments massaged my ego. In the morning when I awoke with puffy sober eyes, I will admit I was hoping he would leave fairly swiftly, but he wanted to cuddle and more, and I didn't have the heart to ask him to go, so I obliged.
Guy 3:
The only of the rebound guys that I had physical contact with more than once. I feel sorry for what I did with him, he simply came along at the wrong time and wanted so much more than I was willing to give. In my defence, I explained early on that it would be a mistake for me to try a relationship at any point in the foreseeable future, as it would inevitably crash and burn in a pile of rebound rubble; I was anything but over Cord, and I couldn't see myself dating this guy, though he was great to talk to. Taking my warnings on board he came to bed anyway. The first night, after we went to a pub and I had a few pints (for the record, I rarely drink beer and so the booze crept up on me faster than expected), he asked to stay. Kissing and head ensued, nothing more. He showered me with compliments on how "good" I was – it made me uneasy but I guess encouragement is not to be sneered at. Unfortunately his persistent insertion of his tongue into my ears was really not doing it for me.. He woke me up at 5am for more head, in the morning I was extremely tired.
Two nights later, during a heavy snowfall across England, he asked if he could come round to watch a rugby match with me. Eh, what?? Is that supposed to tempt me? Clearly we're different kinds of gay. But he did suggest we get a takeout, so I gave in.. food and drink: two ways into my pants. Though in a text he stated "just to chill, nothing more", after we/he watched the match, he soon leaned in for the initial kiss. Into bed we went, only this time he wanted to go further, and he wanted to top. Semi-reluctantly I let him, though after 10 minutes of semi-reluctant not becoming more than semi we had to stop, so we did oral and finished.
I really wanted him to leave, and I think he realised it.
To be less of a shithead I messaged my friends and asked that they message me inviting me to the pub or something. A few granted my request, and I made my excuses that I had to head out, though I'm not sure he would have stayed anyway.
We have texted sporadically since but I think we both know there's nothing more to be had, at least I hope we both know that..
Guys 4+5:
What's that? 4 and 5 you say? Yep, I finally ticked a threesome off the imaginary list. With a married Colombian and Hungarian. My my what an experience. This was one of my more careless encounters, as I realised in sober hindsight how dangerous it was to leave a club by myself at 1:30am to get a taxi to an address in a part of the city I've never been. Stupid stupid Rylan. But at 5am I was navigating myself safely home with Google Maps on my phone, wearing a sweatshirt one of them gave me since the city was at this stage covered in solid ice. Not only did I get a free sweatshirt, but the kindly fellows made me an amazing sandwich :) drunk food sorted! All in all a good night, though my ass ached for a fair while and I wished I could have topped. Guess that's the price to pay for ticking a popular "I Have Never" box.
Guy 6:
Not much to say about this one, we chatted for at least a week before meeting, and he was a nice guy, 25, tall and handsome and kind. And maybe in another world something further would work..
Guy 7:
The last in this saga wasn't from Grindr; no small feat to find a decent looking gay guy in this city by natural means. "Natural means" in this case involved me asking my camp friend outright to find me a good-looking guy. He took the challenge with gusto, and 3 minutes later was dragging me towards one of his friends from Panto Soc (Pantomime Society – I never even thought of that place to plunder gay men, how foolish of me). We left together, got some food on the way back and then went to bed, it was all very satisfying, I even thought for a moment that at some point I could see myself having something more with him.. but as with guy 6 I never exercise those thoughts for long.
So there it is, my number jumped from 3 to 10 quickly since becoming single. Hitting the ground running and all that, it really has been a new world for me, one that I could get all too familiar with and welcomed into, but thankfully for my own sake I've slowed down, not least because I've exhausted the Grindr supply of my type of guy in this traditional city...
This post has taken me an age to sit down and write, I'm glad it's out of the way now because it's time to get to grips with the events that followed that have been shaking up my life in ways I thought I was done with. Because there's always going to be one guy who never really goes away, no matter how much he needs to..
To round off, this tune is slick on so many levels. Not usually my kind of genre but this one has me obsessively hooked. Give it a try if you haven't heard it (excellently explicit lyrics so if that's not your thing give it a miss, thought if you're reading this blog I guess you won't mind.)
It was over the course of a fortnight or so that my sex life had a burst of new life. After re-experiencing this thrill of being single only a few days after the end of the relationship, I developed quite the appetite. While I was with Cord, this was the one aspect of single life that I always thought I hadn't had my fill of, and I figured I would make the most of this shitty situation. In hindsight, I see now that these hook-ups were simply a distraction, in a way they numbed my need for my ex and also filled the substantial spaces of free time that his absence inevitably left. All I wanted was some here-and-now fun, which was the reason I quickly found myself for the first time on Grindr. The city where I attend uni is small, unreasonably small for a city, it sometimes feels more like a massive village. Hence finding gay guys is a chore; there are no gay clubs (there are barely any straight ones), one "gay-friendly" pub and a serious shortage of attractive men. So I figured it couldn't hurt to take a peek. One semi-naked photo later and the notifications started pinging.
Guy 2:
Three days after my first one-night stand, I found in one of the "clubs" (read over-hyped pubs) in town, phone battery was low but some efficient messaging set me up with a guy who was up for a few days from London, his black-and-white pic was nice and I was drunk – I realised how quickly this could become a habit, I mean it was just so damn easy. He had a Welsh name but when I met him his skin was quite dark, which was curious to my alcohol-fuelled stupidity: "So if you're from Wales, why are you dark?" He rolled his eyes and mentioned his Iranian mother; turns out that rare combination of genes seems to make for cute faces.
As I soon found out, this guy was a bottom. After months upon months of regularly letting Cord top me, I was realising that in single life I apparently came across as more of a top, and judging by Sol and this guy's comments, a pretty good one ;) The compliments massaged my ego. In the morning when I awoke with puffy sober eyes, I will admit I was hoping he would leave fairly swiftly, but he wanted to cuddle and more, and I didn't have the heart to ask him to go, so I obliged.
Guy 3:
The only of the rebound guys that I had physical contact with more than once. I feel sorry for what I did with him, he simply came along at the wrong time and wanted so much more than I was willing to give. In my defence, I explained early on that it would be a mistake for me to try a relationship at any point in the foreseeable future, as it would inevitably crash and burn in a pile of rebound rubble; I was anything but over Cord, and I couldn't see myself dating this guy, though he was great to talk to. Taking my warnings on board he came to bed anyway. The first night, after we went to a pub and I had a few pints (for the record, I rarely drink beer and so the booze crept up on me faster than expected), he asked to stay. Kissing and head ensued, nothing more. He showered me with compliments on how "good" I was – it made me uneasy but I guess encouragement is not to be sneered at. Unfortunately his persistent insertion of his tongue into my ears was really not doing it for me.. He woke me up at 5am for more head, in the morning I was extremely tired.
Two nights later, during a heavy snowfall across England, he asked if he could come round to watch a rugby match with me. Eh, what?? Is that supposed to tempt me? Clearly we're different kinds of gay. But he did suggest we get a takeout, so I gave in.. food and drink: two ways into my pants. Though in a text he stated "just to chill, nothing more", after we/he watched the match, he soon leaned in for the initial kiss. Into bed we went, only this time he wanted to go further, and he wanted to top. Semi-reluctantly I let him, though after 10 minutes of semi-reluctant not becoming more than semi we had to stop, so we did oral and finished.
I really wanted him to leave, and I think he realised it.
To be less of a shithead I messaged my friends and asked that they message me inviting me to the pub or something. A few granted my request, and I made my excuses that I had to head out, though I'm not sure he would have stayed anyway.
We have texted sporadically since but I think we both know there's nothing more to be had, at least I hope we both know that..
Guys 4+5:
What's that? 4 and 5 you say? Yep, I finally ticked a threesome off the imaginary list. With a married Colombian and Hungarian. My my what an experience. This was one of my more careless encounters, as I realised in sober hindsight how dangerous it was to leave a club by myself at 1:30am to get a taxi to an address in a part of the city I've never been. Stupid stupid Rylan. But at 5am I was navigating myself safely home with Google Maps on my phone, wearing a sweatshirt one of them gave me since the city was at this stage covered in solid ice. Not only did I get a free sweatshirt, but the kindly fellows made me an amazing sandwich :) drunk food sorted! All in all a good night, though my ass ached for a fair while and I wished I could have topped. Guess that's the price to pay for ticking a popular "I Have Never" box.
Guy 6:
Not much to say about this one, we chatted for at least a week before meeting, and he was a nice guy, 25, tall and handsome and kind. And maybe in another world something further would work..
Guy 7:
The last in this saga wasn't from Grindr; no small feat to find a decent looking gay guy in this city by natural means. "Natural means" in this case involved me asking my camp friend outright to find me a good-looking guy. He took the challenge with gusto, and 3 minutes later was dragging me towards one of his friends from Panto Soc (Pantomime Society – I never even thought of that place to plunder gay men, how foolish of me). We left together, got some food on the way back and then went to bed, it was all very satisfying, I even thought for a moment that at some point I could see myself having something more with him.. but as with guy 6 I never exercise those thoughts for long.
So there it is, my number jumped from 3 to 10 quickly since becoming single. Hitting the ground running and all that, it really has been a new world for me, one that I could get all too familiar with and welcomed into, but thankfully for my own sake I've slowed down, not least because I've exhausted the Grindr supply of my type of guy in this traditional city...
This post has taken me an age to sit down and write, I'm glad it's out of the way now because it's time to get to grips with the events that followed that have been shaking up my life in ways I thought I was done with. Because there's always going to be one guy who never really goes away, no matter how much he needs to..
To round off, this tune is slick on so many levels. Not usually my kind of genre but this one has me obsessively hooked. Give it a try if you haven't heard it (excellently explicit lyrics so if that's not your thing give it a miss, thought if you're reading this blog I guess you won't mind.)
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Rebounding: Guy 1
[I'm now about a month behind with posting. What's done is done and my god the influx of mess and regret has turned my head into mush, but bear with me and hopefully in the coming weeks I will have you up to speed. This post is when the pace really started picking up, towards the end of January, and this event aided the setting in motion of one of the most emotionally mind-fucking periods of my sheltered life, which at the time of writing is still somewhat in bits and pieces, I'm just not sure which bits to pick up yet, so the mess continues..]
It was a Saturday and I wanted to get drunk. I heard that Cord had been out the night before, and though it was not a healthy way to approach the break-up, I felt annoyed that he was quicker to be out socialising and having fun while I moped around. A friend of mine was attending a birthday in town and invited me along, which I quickly accepted. It was not a typical night out for me, as I usually stick to the student nights mid-week and also the venue was not the usual pop music hive that I prefer. But hey, I figured no better time to break the mould and branch out.
I quickly realised that a night without pop music was not my cup of tea.. One of my friends was going to leave after having a chat with a girlfriend, so I leant against the wall and waited, playing with my phone like a typical antisocialite. There was seating near me, filled with drunk students, I glanced over and immediately recognised Sol. When I saw his face, my mind hurtled through several thoughts and memories. The first time I had met him, I was with Cord, but there was history between them prior to my arrival; in first year they had a brief make-out session, and I knew what he looked like through Facebook (obviously). So when he first approached me on a night out with my then-boyfriend and went to put his hand on me, Cord was faster than even me to intervene with one polite hand that guided Sol off me while the other shook his hand in re-introduction (so it wouldn't look like a blatant "get the fuck away from my boyfriend" gesture..). This had happened at least a year before this present night, but the memory flashed back as I stood in this club and realised that things were different now, I was single. Though it wasn't by my choice, it didn't matter – single is single.
Our eyes met for several moments, just long enough for understanding to pass that the interest was not platonic. I looked away back to my phone, waited the obligatory interlude, then returned my gaze to his and... yep, he was still looking at me, in that moment you know it's as good as done.. This was it, I was going to throw myself out and just go with my urges, if I had to find a silver lining it would be that I always felt I hadn't had enough single experiences before Cord, so now would be my time.
Half an hour later we left the club. On the walk back to my flat, amid bouts of alleyway kissing, I felt it necessary to remind him of the morsel of history between us, but more importantly the history between him and Cord. He half groaned but claimed to not be sure who Cord was. I could smell the bullshit before the words even left his mouth, but what did it matter if he wanted to lie about it, he was still going to end up in bed with me. Not my problem, he knows the deal now, I thought to myself. Whether he knew or not, we both agreed not to share what happened to friends, details fine but strictly no names.
His skin felt so different from Cord's.. it was surreal to be running my hands over a new body, guilt free. The worry that I wouldn't be able to get hard because of thoughts of Cord disappeared faster than my inhibition, it's just like riding a bike. As a very straight-acting gay, Sol struck me as a top, but he admitted that when drunk he turns into a "total bottom", complete with a ravenous urge to "eat out", which was a bonus for me. He wanted me to do him, and I obliged, using a condom for the first time in almost 2 years. It still felt good, but of course the extra magic was lost, a necessary sacrifice to make when, ahem, re-entering single life.
After a brief session I pushed myself off him and lay on my back, tired from the drink and the hour, which was fast approaching daylight. He got on top, clearly wanting to relish the encounter more. He positioned himself between my legs, and I watched him carefully as he reached over to the bedside table and picked up.. just the lube. I knew what was happening, but I waited a little longer to be sure. He applied some to himself and then made to lean into me. I stopped him:
After the sexual energy petered out, he spooned me and did a lot of caressing. I wondered if this is what one-night stands are supposed to be like..
Morning arrived and we spooned some more in our drowsy hangover moods. He dressed and left..
I knew I was going to want more easy thrills, the distraction and the confidence boost were big selling points. Yes perhaps a one night stand 5 days post break-up from a 20 month relationship was a bit soon, but I didn't want to think of the consequences on my conscience, I just wanted more and I wanted more fast..
It was a Saturday and I wanted to get drunk. I heard that Cord had been out the night before, and though it was not a healthy way to approach the break-up, I felt annoyed that he was quicker to be out socialising and having fun while I moped around. A friend of mine was attending a birthday in town and invited me along, which I quickly accepted. It was not a typical night out for me, as I usually stick to the student nights mid-week and also the venue was not the usual pop music hive that I prefer. But hey, I figured no better time to break the mould and branch out.
I quickly realised that a night without pop music was not my cup of tea.. One of my friends was going to leave after having a chat with a girlfriend, so I leant against the wall and waited, playing with my phone like a typical antisocialite. There was seating near me, filled with drunk students, I glanced over and immediately recognised Sol. When I saw his face, my mind hurtled through several thoughts and memories. The first time I had met him, I was with Cord, but there was history between them prior to my arrival; in first year they had a brief make-out session, and I knew what he looked like through Facebook (obviously). So when he first approached me on a night out with my then-boyfriend and went to put his hand on me, Cord was faster than even me to intervene with one polite hand that guided Sol off me while the other shook his hand in re-introduction (so it wouldn't look like a blatant "get the fuck away from my boyfriend" gesture..). This had happened at least a year before this present night, but the memory flashed back as I stood in this club and realised that things were different now, I was single. Though it wasn't by my choice, it didn't matter – single is single.
Our eyes met for several moments, just long enough for understanding to pass that the interest was not platonic. I looked away back to my phone, waited the obligatory interlude, then returned my gaze to his and... yep, he was still looking at me, in that moment you know it's as good as done.. This was it, I was going to throw myself out and just go with my urges, if I had to find a silver lining it would be that I always felt I hadn't had enough single experiences before Cord, so now would be my time.
Half an hour later we left the club. On the walk back to my flat, amid bouts of alleyway kissing, I felt it necessary to remind him of the morsel of history between us, but more importantly the history between him and Cord. He half groaned but claimed to not be sure who Cord was. I could smell the bullshit before the words even left his mouth, but what did it matter if he wanted to lie about it, he was still going to end up in bed with me. Not my problem, he knows the deal now, I thought to myself. Whether he knew or not, we both agreed not to share what happened to friends, details fine but strictly no names.
His skin felt so different from Cord's.. it was surreal to be running my hands over a new body, guilt free. The worry that I wouldn't be able to get hard because of thoughts of Cord disappeared faster than my inhibition, it's just like riding a bike. As a very straight-acting gay, Sol struck me as a top, but he admitted that when drunk he turns into a "total bottom", complete with a ravenous urge to "eat out", which was a bonus for me. He wanted me to do him, and I obliged, using a condom for the first time in almost 2 years. It still felt good, but of course the extra magic was lost, a necessary sacrifice to make when, ahem, re-entering single life.
After a brief session I pushed myself off him and lay on my back, tired from the drink and the hour, which was fast approaching daylight. He got on top, clearly wanting to relish the encounter more. He positioned himself between my legs, and I watched him carefully as he reached over to the bedside table and picked up.. just the lube. I knew what was happening, but I waited a little longer to be sure. He applied some to himself and then made to lean into me. I stopped him:
"No way."Yes I was drunk, but that didn't make me stupid or gullible. The way I saw it, if he was so willing to do that with me on a one night stand, there would be others, and more people = more risk.
He looked up, "Hey, I'm clean. I'm a medic, we get tested every few months."
"No way," I repeated, "Put a condom on."
"Ah it doesn't matter," he said, rolling off me. He opted for no sex rather than safe sex.
After the sexual energy petered out, he spooned me and did a lot of caressing. I wondered if this is what one-night stands are supposed to be like..
Morning arrived and we spooned some more in our drowsy hangover moods. He dressed and left..
I knew I was going to want more easy thrills, the distraction and the confidence boost were big selling points. Yes perhaps a one night stand 5 days post break-up from a 20 month relationship was a bit soon, but I didn't want to think of the consequences on my conscience, I just wanted more and I wanted more fast..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)