Sweet disposition

It’s not that I’m stuck about how to write about our time together. I know exactly what I want to say, I just don’t want to.

It’s like I keep trying to ram a sock in my mouth to keep the words from spilling out because secretly, as I think we all kind of are sometimes, I’m a huge, filthy, disgusting, appeasing sap.

I had one of the best, most romantic weekends with him. Spontaneous, fun, romantic. All I ever want. Simple. The problem is now he’s gone and I’m working on compartmentalizing away those feelings and trying to brush them under the rug.

To show how cool and casual am I about this whole encounter.

Cool and casual. That’s me…right.

The thing is, I’ve done this kind of thing before, we all have, but somehow it was different. He was different. Or do I just keep telling myself that because he was able to keep up with me? Because I either go full tilt or not at all?

I keep preparing myself to be disappointed by people, for them to show their true colours and I’ll get disgusted and shut them away. That part is easy because I know what I want and what I don’t want. I’m not picky, I just refuse to settle anymore.

There’s definitely more layers to him than he leads on, but not knowing doesn’t bother or concern me, and I’m not really sure why. He showed more than enough flaws that would typically turn my head, but then again…so did I.

So, here’s the problem, aside from the distance, aside from the mercurial attitude that changes faster than the tide—he is an expert at this. At turning his feelings on and off and he’s so good at it, he’s so good at doing it so quickly he doesn’t even see it as a problem. He sees it as genuine because for him, in that moment, it is and that works for him.

It doesn’t work for people like me. Stupid, blindly loyal people like me who stay in abusive relationships because they’re stubborn and committed. Because I was convinced it was my fault and I had to fix it. Loyal to a fault and even after you burn me I’ll keep icing the wound and trying to find ways to dimmer the flames until I finally cut you out of my life forever and never want to even mutter your name. That kind of loyalty is dangerous and stupid.

He did exactly what I was afraid he would do, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.

I know if I ever show him this post he’ll hate it, he’ll scoff, get angry and accuse me of lumping him together with other guys. Maybe even being too dramatic. Probably being too dramatic.

He told me from the start, I just didn’t listen carefully.

He’s very good at getting what he wants.

 

In my sink…really?

There’s a few things that happened a few months ago that I hadn’t had time to post about about.

Mostly just dates, less kinky stuff for now.

I went out on a really great date a few months back, we went for a walk, went for dinner. Ended the night with shisha and invited them back to mine for a drink. As soon as we got back to my house they were complaining about having the shakes, being really warm. I got him some water and he excused himself to the bathroom…for twenty minutes. Came back out and said he should probably head home, he was really embarrassed but didn’t feel well. Maybe half hour later I was getting ready for bed, brushing my teeth and when I turned the tap on in the bathroom…the sink was backed up with vomit…He threw up in my sink. 

The next day I woke up to a string of texts from him apologizing for being ill, I responded that it was an involuntary bodily reaction but…why my sink? He denied it, offered to help snake the drain, but I lost interest.

A week after that, was talking to someone on tinder for a few days, they asked me to go to dinner and I agreed. Just as I had left the house, we exchanged numbers so he could text me when he was outside my building. As soon as I got him number, put it into Facebook…he has three children and a wife. I immediately called my roommate and debated what to do and as I pushed the door into the parking garage, I ran right into him…

So, we went out.

It was alright. Skirted around his separation and his half dozen children. He wanted to come over and drinks some beers, luckily my roommate came home and I told him I had to turn in. I’m no longer sleeping with anyone I find boring. It’s my new thing.

Little less talk.

I’m extroverted, I write a blog about sex. I have my moments of shyness too. I like to tell people that I write and people find the topic interesting, but I’m always torn about whether or not to tell men that I’m on dates with/dating that I have a blog because the first question is always,

“What are you going to say about me?”
“What’s my pseudonym going to be?” 

I don’t normally like to write about dates or certain situations because I like it to pan out naturally, which I guess is me kind of just sitting on my hands waiting for it to be over. Does that mean I’m setting myself up for failure? Or just remembering important details to write about later while not actually enjoying it while it’s happening?

Or I’m just overthinking it.

Again.

Can’t say I’m surprised…

I found out I have chlamydia.

I find slightly ironic, because I started sleeping with someone on the regular that has genital herpes. I really wasn’t concerned about getting herpes because I’m pretty well versed on STI’s…and then I find out I have chlamydia.

I’m 80% sure I know who it was.

I slipped a few weeks ago and slept with The Russian. He called me out of the blue and I had deleted his number because I don’t see the point of keeping numbers of individuals I no longer talk to…I now keep my contacts so Health Services can contact them.

“Hey…how’s it going.”
“Good…uh…I’m sorry, who is this?”

He has a Russian name, but tells people his English name, so he told me his English name and I totally blanked. He wanted to know if I wanted to hang out…

We don’t hang out…we’re not friends.”
“Oh, well, uh, you should come over and get drunk.”
“I have plans, I’m off to the pub with some friends.”

A week later I drunk messaged him when my friends tapped out early from the bar. He dropped me off the next morning, as I exited he told me I should call him again. My response, “Yeah, that was weird.”

It sounded much less bitchy in my head.

I ended up running into him yesterday at the bar. I turned tail and avoided him but he came up to me on the dance floor and slurred how hot I looked, how he was trying to be respectful but I was too tempting.

I decided in that drunken state to ask him why he never went down on me. He looked a little surprised and replied, “But…you said you liked dick.”
“I do…but I can’t always get off that way. You never actually touch my vagina. What the hell man?”
“Oh…well, I’m actually really good at it…” *insert drunken ramblings*

did not go home with him that night, nor did I mention I think he’s the one that gave me chlamydia. He can deal with that phone call today from Health Services.

Double Trouble

Right before I matched with this particular individual, this was probably beginning of December, I had started this kick on honesty.

I knew I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted, but I wanted sex, I didn’t want to sleep over and I couldn’t have a relationship. People are generally pretty acceptive of this.

So, I matched with this guy on tinder, I cooed over his pets and he suggested I add him to Facebook. Normally this is a big no-no for me as I’m pretty big on my privacy, but I thought fuck it, he looks harmless enough. Sure enough, Sherlock here put two and two together, realized he had kids and a wife.

I asked if they were still together and then he explained they were polyamorous. I already knew what this was and I knew I wasn’t interested. I’m a selfish partner in the sense that I like the attention on me, but that being said when I’m dating a person, I devote myself to that person. I don’t have the energy to dote that much on two people. He had asked me what I was looking for, I stated sex, hang outs, nothing complicated.

He agreed.

He lied. They were looking for a unicorn.

I could fuck both of them, there would be two people to hang out with, always someone to cuddle, that was up late, always someone to text me back.

That sounds like a great set up, right?

No.

Not for me.

What happened? I kicked my roommate out. I was needing some alone time and so I said I needed some space because I was depressed and exhausted all the time. I self harmed and they freaked out. Told me that they would drop me if I ever did that again. Instead of it being about my issues that I needed time to process, they made it all about them. I got snapchats of her crying, he would send me pictures of her crying, videos saying she missed me. “Why was I doing this to them? Why wouldn’t I let them be there for me?”

When we did hangout, if I checked my phone he would teasingly say, “Oh, are you texting another guy?” Or when I wanted to go home, “You’re just ditching us. Probably going on a date with someone else.”

The more I asked for space, the more they tried to smother me so eventually I pulled away entirely. I told him I was honest from the get-go about what I wanted and he promptly told me I was a little bitch and deserved the treatment I got from my ex.

So, yeah, we went on group dates, we had threesomes, they took me to sex club, but ultimately it was too much of a controlling environment. I wasn’t allowed to see other people, I couldn’t express myself, couldn’t open up. It was all about them.

Obviously that’s not the case for all poly couples, but it wasn’t for me.

Let’s get this over with…

So, I slept with a few people from say September-November.

  • Fucking Ginger Asshole. This was a huge mistake. I was pretty deep in my depression at this point, my ex-roommate and I were going out drinking probably four to five times a week. I left my work uniform at work because I never knew what state I would show up in. It was 4am on a Saturday, we were just getting in from the bar, had both struck out, so she decided to invite her booty call over, and I decided to go to this randoms house.
    I decided to drive.Absolutely shit-faced. I got an ‘unsafe left turn’ ticket that cost me $145.00 because a cop blew a red light and I swiftly turned into the left lane. I composed myself but even after evading a DUI, I still went to his house. He was watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show porno, and came all over my chest way too quickly. Does that make him an asshole? No, not really. The week after, same thing, I drunk drove to his place because he was too lazy to come to mine and after telling me the week before he was unemployed, as soon as I got there proceeded to tell me he had to be up early in the morning so I would have to leave after…I was visibly drunk off my face and he proceeded to tell me I was fine to drive home…I did that to myself.
  • This one is easy. Met this guy at a karaoke bar, roommate went home with his friend, I took him home. He told me about how he and his ex had just broken up and he just wanted to be held. I told him I didn’t like cuddling and why would he come home with me if he didn’t want to fuck? (Double standard, I’m aware.) We cuddled until he got a hard on and he fucked me for all of four minutes. I later ran into him at my local watering hole and mid-dancing I proclaimed, “Hey! Didn’t we fuck?”
  • Lithuanian aka tattoo snob because his cost over $1,200 and took 22 hours so mine was a ‘simple’ tattoo. He actually invited me on a really nice romantic date, we hung out for a bit and just so happened to have sex after. (I have a problem with fucking on the first date…and by problem, I mean I do it all the time.) He asked me on a second and third date, and then ghosted me out of no where…
  • In between my dates with the Lithuanian, I went out with Ginger Straightedge. Who was just a fucking whiner. Late to our date, complained about the location, complained I picked up a pub even though he didn’t drink coffee, or tea. He didn’t want to go out for food…So what the hell was I supposed to do? In his tardiness, I got drunk figuring he was just going to stand me up. When I took him home he was obsessed with my ass. Fingers, tongue, all of it. I tried to suck him off and he slapped me away, he was uncut and he stated it was really sensitive…So we couldn’t fuck, he wasn’t very good at going down on me so, exacerbated, I put my hand on his shoulder and said it was okay, but thanks for trying. He called me a bitch, and I told him to get fucked. #winner.
  • Tiny Bumble. This guy I fucked, purely because I stood him up three times. Three times I invited him over for sex, he showed up, and I either bailed, passed out, or found something else to do because he took too long to get here. It was sweaty, gross, he came all over my sheets and later found out he was a previous patient at my office. I just remember his weird shoes and cut off pants. I should have realized after sleeping with him that men in open relationships aren’t for me, they don’t seem to try as hard.

After that, I took a three week break…and then I started seeing a Couple.

So, you’ve fucked half the city and you’re still not over your ex…

I haven’t really talked about my ex, aside from my first post.

I like to play off the significance of the relationship, but really, we were together for almost five years. We moved across the country together, lived together for two and a half years. He was with me when my grandmother died, when I was having issues with my father. We went to weddings together, camping, all that stuff that love sick things couples do.

We fought, like most couples. We had some pretty fair rules for fighting at the beginning, no name calling, nothing physical. Photos of us were frequently commented on by our friends with, “Relationship goals!”

I was a total idiot with how completely and utterly unabashedly in love with him I was. Am.

Constantly told by family members how I bent over backwards for him, meal prepping, cooking dinner, doing laundry, cleaning the house. It was only until the last six months of our relationship I started asking for him to chip in more. By that point, he had moved to the guest bedroom and was living there all the time. I had recently been diagnosed with a mental illness that came as a pretty harsh blow and naturally because I spent so much time taking care of him, he didn’t know how to take care of me, and at times just refused.

We were also separated from our families, I had difficulty making friends when we first got here but I continued to lie to family and friends that everything was fine.

I have a ridiculous amount of pride, even writing this post is difficult for me, so admitting that he and I had problems was not something I was comfortable with.

*Trigger warning for domestic violence and abuse below the cut. * 

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Apteryx owenii

Let me just start off by saying this was very clearly supposed to be a one-night stand.

It was 12:30pm on a Saturday night, I was in the smoking section waiting for my friend and some nitwit decided to make a comment that my white hair made me look like a Neo-Nazi. To which I went off on a big rant and informed him that my grandfather was a POW so I took particular offense to that comment.

In front of me was a tall, dark haired guy who laughed and shook his head and the guy’s belligerent comment and remarked, “You really don’t know how to pick up women, do you mate?”

He and I stood and talked for a bit, he bought me some beers, we ended up making out, and he came back to my place.

The sex was weird.

He was really loud, grunting and guttural. I had just got the outline of my sleeve the day before and he proceeded to drag his nails across my back and arms to the point I yelped out in pain. I just remember being annoyed by the entire ordeal because he smoked and the smell bothered me. I was drunk and frustrated, so at one point I just rolled on my stomach to block out the grunting.

About half way in my roommate came home and stumbled into my room without knocking and he was still inside me…He rolled over and I shrugged it off as she went on drunkenly rambling about making us all pancakes in the morning.

He was overly affectionate as I don’t like cuddling after sex, I don’t like to be spooned all night, in fact, maybe just head out after we’re done, is that cool?

The next morning came and my roommate stumbled out of her room with a tit hanging out proclaiming she was in no state to make breakfast so the kiwi and I took coffee orders and went down the street. He held my hand, which always make me uncomfortable because to me, hand holding is reserved for people I care deeply for, as silly as that is.

He told me about growing up in New Zealand, emigrating in Canada, his business, his band and political stance.

His was a nice enough guy, just at that point in my life I was far too emotionally unavailable for what he was looking for. The four of us went out for breakfast when he and I got back, like a weird little one-night stand fucked-up family.

Kiwi asked for my number during breakfast, saying he wanted to take me out and get to know me better and I mumbled my number as my roommate teasingly pinched my leg under the table.

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