One Ball met from me from work. As did the Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With. We went for coffee, chatted, laughed, joked… It was a pretty awesome evening. It made me very happy to see my Bestie and my new guy getting along so well. Until the Bestie went home, and One Ball gave me a ride back to mine. Then he dropped the newest bombshell in this saga that is our “Relationship”.
Let me just fill you in on the background stuff – he already lied to me once. He told me he had three kids, and then he admitted he had five. They were all with the same Mom, they had been together for around 7+ years, and then they broke up. I hate kids, but this was something I was coming to terms with. I asked questions about his kids; I took a real interest in them. The worst thing is it wasn’t forced interest – I actually gave a shit. His kids are a long way off from being in my life, and I have come to terms with the fact that there is an ex-wife in the picture. Then came the next fucking drama. After the Bestie left, I got in the car and we drove to mine.
“I have a new bombshell to tell you.”
He has no more than the five kids, which is a relief, but they are not with the same Mom. There are two Moms. There is the first girlfriend, who we shall call Ms. A, with whom he had three of his brood. Then there was the second; the one that later became his wife, who we shall call Ms. M. He had two with the latter. The eldest child is 7, the youngest is 3. All of a sudden, I have two exes to deal with. I am an incredibly jealous and paranoid person; something I have never hidden from him. Can I deal with two exes being in the picture? Ms. A is now married and had another child, which means that his brood has now technically extended to 6 kids!!! I cannot keep up. It’s official – there are now too many kids and too many women.
I have so many problems with this right now. Firstly, how can a man lie about his own fucking kids? Surely these should be what he is proudest of most in the world? How could he 1) lie about two of them, and 2) lie about the women he had them with? If he wants to date a woman, surely he needs to date someone that will take his kids on board, not leave him because of them? If any relationship is going to work, the kids have to be in the equation at some point, especially if he is thinking long term.
I could deal with him lying about the three kid/five kid thing – that almost made sense to me; I understood why he did that. However, if he was brave enough to tell me the real amount of kids he had, surely it would have made more sense to tell me the truth about the Mothers’ of his kids as well?! Am I really that much of a monster that he couldn’t have just told me the truth? I took the three kids on board, then the five kids; surely it would have told him that the two Moms would have been taken on board too!
It just feels like every conversation we ever had has needed to be repeated twice, and now it needs to be re-done a third time to get all the information right that he already lied about.
I have so many questions in my head right now – it’s a blur of puzzles that I can’t set down straight. There are a lot of kids and not many years – was there an overlap? How is his relationship with the two Moms’? Can I deal with this new snippet of information? If he can lie about the kids, and then the women, what else can he lie about? Am I unapproachable? Have I put myself on THAT much of a pedestal that he can’t be honest with me about the biggest things in his life? Can we get over this? Can I get over this? Now I don’t know what to do?!
I like him a lot; more so recently than at the beginning. I was starting to feel a real connection with him, and the thought of a relationship with him actually pleased me. I was starting to have real feelings for this guy, and now I don’t know how I feel. Can I forgive him for his two massive lies? Is this a bad sign for things to come? I’m lost right now. I start to get close to a guy and then this shit comes out AGAIN? What else is there to come? I knew there was a gut feeling I had, and now I know I’m right! The thing that makes it worse is that the last time we slept together, it was very different. It wasn’t hardcore fucking with pulling hair and scratching nails; it was something else. It was slow, and sensual and passionate. It had feeling – it meant something! He held my hands above my head, and kissed my neck as he fucked me. He played with my clitoris for ages, teasing me and caressing me. It was amazing. It was, dare I say it, love making? Well, almost anyway. Now I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing. He told me he would understand it if I got out of the car and never spoke to him again. So…. I got out of the car. And we haven’t spoken since. That was two hours ago, and he hasn’t text me. Nor have I text him. I told myself if he text me, I would go talk to him. I would let him explain himself. I would listen and seriously think about what we were doing. He hasn’t text me and this makes me really sad. I really thought he would. Maybe he’s just giving me space? Maybe it’s time I just gave up on him. It can never just be simple, can it?
Wednesday’s film – Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
I don’t normally follow through with much in life. I have the attention span of a goldfish. However, my two week breakup course is still in full force. Every night for two weeks, I am going to watch another movie that you’re meant to watch after a breakup. Given its a few months late, but hey, later is better than never and all that bullshit. I’m going to cry all the tears I never cried. I’m going to do it all, and then hopefully, he’ll be out of my system. It’s probably not going to work, but who really needs an excuse to watch tear-jerker movies and eat lots of chocolate ice cream whilst crying in bed? Not me 🙂
The film is a thought provoking one. Jim Carey and Kate Winslet play two very different characters from what we are used to seeing them play. It’s a good film though. The jist of the film, for those that haven’t seen it, is whether or not you would choose to erase all memories of an ex, if you had the option.
“Would you erase me?”
This had me thinking. Would I? Could I? If I were to forget about exes, huge chunks of my life would disappear. I would never have travelled so far and wide if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have been through any of the shitty experiences; I would never have become the person I am today.
I wouldn’t know how it feels to be cheated on. This means that I would love more freely and I wouldn’t be as cautious as I am today when it comes to giving my heart away. I wouldn’t instantly become curious when I get one of those “gut feelings” that, up to now, have always been right. I wouldn’t question the guy when they were working late. I certainly wouldn’t drive myself mad with all the things that COULD be happening while they are not by my side. Saying that, I wouldn’t even have a “gut feeling”, would I?
I wouldn’t have been beaten by The Husband. Or that guy at school. Or the guy that punched me right outside my house. Or the “incident” with The Big Love. I wouldn’t flinch whenever a guy raised his voice, or made a sudden movement. I wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweats.
I wouldn’t have that scar just above my lip. Or the scar on my back from when I was thrown into the a door handle. Or the scars on my feet from where I was dragged around a parking lot. Or the scar on my hand from where I was stabbed with a screw driver. Or the scars on my legs that I did to myself. I definitely wish I could erase those parts of my life. However, if I hadn’t been through those things before, or at least remembered them, I would probably forgive again. And it’s true what they say – a leopard cannot change his spots. It WILL happen again. They probably weren’t sorry.
I wouldn’t have felt the happiness that I felt when I was with those guys. Being curled up on the couch beneath a blanket watching The Big Love play video games. Eating a midnight picnic with Number 4, (the guy that punched me in the face outside my apartment) to celebrate our one year anniversary. Or the amazing sex that we had. The comfortable feeling I had with the husband when we were actually doing alright for a few weeks. If I couldn’t remember all of that, I wouldn’t know how GOOD love could feel. It’s hard to remember the good as well as the bad, but the good makes it all worthwhile, right?
I wouldn’t have travelled at all if it hadn’t have been for those guys. I wouldn’t have made it to the other side of the world. I wouldn’t have moved to the other country in Europe, and in turn, I wouldn’t have seen all the other countries that I did. I wouldn’t have gone to the war zone. All of these things happened because of those guys, and in turn, I wouldn’t have met those amazing friends and enemies, or experienced all those things I did. And those things I wouldn’t change for the world. Those memories, the good and the bad, were the best memories of my life.
I wouldn’t have felt the pain of a miscarriage. Nor would I have felt the joy of marriage. There wouldn’t have been family feuds, or get-togethers. Would I really want to erase all of that stuff? As much as I’m in a slump right now, unable to get The Big Love out of my head, wallowing in self pity eight and a half months too late, would I really be prepared to lose all of those memories?
No, I wouldn’t. I love those memories, and the entire process of falling in love, falling out of love, and everything in between. I have felt love, and I have lost it, and that’s more than a lot of people can say. Could you really hate your time with someone so much that you would be willing to completely erase all memory from them out of your mind? As much as those people hurt you, or weren’t what you wanted them to be, didn’t they help to mould you into the person that you have become today? I know that I would be a very different person if it weren’t for those guys, and possibly one that I wouldn’t have liked much. I know when not to forgive, when enough is really enough, the power of drugs over a person and the way they are, and much more…. I like to think I’m smarter now. Bitter, hurting, yet smarter. So in conclusion, no I wouldn’t want to erase them.
Would you?
Today I decided upon another breakup film. I’m slowly working my way through the list I should have gone through when The Big Love and I first broke up.
Sunday – 500 Days of Summer
Monday – The Holiday
Tuesday – Closer
Why am I doing this? Because I can. Because I have to. Because I’m driving myself crazy with my pathetic obsession over The Big Love and I am determined to get him out of my system once and for all.It’s been 8 and a half months and this has to stop. Now.
I had originally planned to spend the next two weeks making my way through the breakup list of films, crying myself to sleep, and getting him out of my system. Today I made progress; I threw away the cards. You know the ones – the birthday cards, Christmas cards, valentines day cards… I threw them all out today. Next would be the letters. Some day soon, but not today. The cards were purging enough.
Anyway, my plans were somewhat skuppered last night because One Ball came over. He came over and we fucked. As much as I like this guy, last night he was my toy. Nothing more, nothing less.
Within minutes of him being here, we were making out. A few minutes more and we were naked. Now I don’t know what it is about this guy, but I’m a different person when I’m with him. I don’t know if I’ve built up some confidence, or just act differently because he’s someone new, but sex with the lights on doesn’t terrify me with him. In fact, I love it!
The usual games commenced – his wandering hands slid into my wet underwear and got me off….twice! It was good and it was hard. It’s been a while since my last sexual escapade, which is probably the reason behind the obsession with The Big Love again. I digress… My jeans came off, his top too. It was impatient – his jeans were halfway down his legs and my sweater still on when the games began. He tried to go down on me, but yet again I said no. The ropes came out… He wanted to tie me up. Still I said no. I probably would have let him go down on me if he had been more persistent. Instead, we settled on a compromise. He teased the fuck out of me. He held my hands above my head by the wrists and told me he was in charge. He wouldn’t let me kiss him…. He was right there and he wouldn’t let me! It drove me crazy. His cock was just there; he was millimetres away from entering me and he waited for what felt like an eternity. Then I felt it…. One fucking hard thrust; it hurt and I loved it!
From there, things are a blur. He fucked me hard, and rolled me over. I rode him hard and I came hard. I was over the bannister, (I have an attic bedroom) and then I was hanging out of the skylight window while he pounded me from behind. Then we found my computer chair. I rode him facing away from him, then he turned me around and I was straddling him. My hands were tugging at his hair, and his hands were pulling mine. He bit my collarbone and growled at me again – “I’m still in charge!” It took an age and he didn’t cum. We decided to stop for a breather; I had a smoke and he had a drink. He said that he had stopped himself from cumming within a minute of being inside me, and now he was struggling to cum. I asked him why? I had already cum twice before he even fucked me; it was Okay for him to be quick. If I hadn’t cum, it would have been a different matter. He said he wished I had told him that before. We spooned for a bit, and then I did the “Butt nudge.” You know the one – you nudge your ass towards his cock and hope he takes the hint. He did. Within a few minutes, we had both cum and stayed there for a few minutes, basking in the scent of our own sex.
The other thing that amazes me about being with One Ball is how comfortable I feel after we have fucked. I was naked; he was naked, and we just laid there for a while, letting our breathing subside, our bodies intertwined. He kissed my neck, and I held his hand. He’s into me. I can tell. How can I tell him that last night was just about sex? Fucking amazing sex, I’ll give him that, but sex still the same. There was no feeling, just pure unadulterated passion. His back had my scratch marks everywhere. There was a bite mark that I left on his chest. His shoulders had blood where I had dug my nails in, and his hair was disheveled from me tugging at it with fury. It was a war zone. A delicious war zone.
It was good – I needed to get some Big Love tension out, and One Ball was my punch bag. I feel bad for him really, he doesn’t know what is going on in my head, or how much I’m using him. He’s the guy I can have angry, passionate sex with, and he thinks I’m the girl he’s going to fall for. He’s already told me how much he is into me, and how much that scares him. I’m going to break his heart, and if I’m brutally honest, I’m not really that bothered. I didn’t realize I had this wealth of anger within me, and the only way that I seem to be able to get it out, without hurting myself, is by hurting someone else. For the moment, its during vicious sex, but after that….? Who knows?
Could I eventually learn to turn this great sex into something more? There are other factors behind me not wanting more with him – the fact he has kids, the fact he doesn’t want anymore, My Mr. Grey, he’s only here on a course…. Ideally I should tell him that we have no chance of going any further but I can’t do it. Nor do I want to.
What kind of a person have I become? I can tell you what I have become. The line I just head in the film “Closer” has summed it up in one sentence – “You fucked up slag”
Do you want to know something? I’ve realized that I’m not looking for a relationship. That’s why My Mr. Grey and I aren’t in a real relationship yet. I’m not ready. That’s why The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of wasn’t enough, and The Lapdog before him. In reality, I’m not a “fucked up slag” like he said in the film – I’m a girl that has experienced a wealth of pain, over and over again,and I want to have nasty, passionate, angry sex with a man that’s going to give me that without commitment. I want the best of both worlds – sex that you would normally only get in a relationship, minus the relationship. I guess I’m just trying to fuck The Big Love out of my system. And every other asshole before him that fucked me up.
It’s Sunday night, I’m tucked in my bed at midnight, watching 500 Days of Summer. Why am I watching this film? Because Google tells me I should do. According to the “Rules of a Breakup”, you need to cry, get angry, and watch a series of breakup films. I’ve not really done those things, and it seems I’m no closer to being over The Big Love than I was 8 months ago, so I’m giving it a bash. 500 Days of Summer… Bring it on.
It had me thinking; how long does it take to get over someone? Reports seem to suggest half the time you were with them, but I don’t think this is strictly true. The Big Love and I were together for two years, but the last four months of that two years we weren’t really together – it was on and off; more off than on. Technically we were probably only together for say 20 months. Then there was that month we broke up at the beginning of the relationship too, so 19 months. Which means that after 9 and a half months, I should be over him. It’s 8 and a half months and I still feel the same tug on my heart strings when I see messages on Facebook between him and his girlfriend that I felt 6 months ago.
Should it still hurt this much? Personally, I blame The Perfect Penis post for this latest rant. Him and his damn perfect penis.
The good thing about our breakup was that I moved to the other side of the world, back to where I originally came from, and cut all communication. There have been a few messages exchanged; nothing exciting. You’ll know them if you’ve read previous posts. Despite the fact that I didn’t go through the post breakup heartache of seeing him/texting him/ bumping into mutual friends etc, I still hurt. It still hurts. My heart hurts. I think I’m over it every now and again and then something will come up and it hurts again. First it was the perfect penis post. Then it was the letter I wrote to him that I found on my hard drive – the one I never gave him but probably should have done. Then I put some paperwork away and I found an old letter from him. A letter that said “I will love you forever” If only I had known at the time “forever” meant “until I get bored”
I never got the chance to say goodbye. He knew I was leaving; I had my flight booked and my bags packed. That night I got home from work, and he left. I finished packing and my girlfriend picked me up and took me to hers. We watched The Holiday and I cried. I cried a lot.
I never said goodbye. I never got to see if he had tears in his eyes, or any sense of sadness for our parting of ways. I never got to see any hint of regret, loss, grief…. It was probably for the best. If I had seen tears in his eyes, I would have clung on to anything and we were most definitely over. Did he leave because he couldn’t bear to see me leave? Or did he genuinely not care?
I will never, ever forget that feeling that rushed through me when I carried my last bag to the car, shutting the door behind me and leaving my key in the mailbox. It was panic, fear, excitement, intrigue, sadness, anger, hopefulness all at once. Was he going to stop me? Was he going to come to my friends house? What about the airport, true romantic film fashion? Was he going to realize a week after I had gone home and flown to the other side of the world to get me back? Did we just need space? Were we really over?
5am came and I got dressed for the airport. Still no sign of him.
I got on the first flight. No call, no text, no sign of him.
I got on the second flight. Nothing.
I got on the third flight. Zilch. We were really doing this.
I got home. Nothing.
The second day I got a text – “Glad you got home Ok”
That was it…? Two years, no goodbye and that shitty text? Fuck him.
8 and a half months later and I still haven’t had the surprise knock on the door, text message or call. I think the time has finally come to start believing we are really over. 8 and a half months of Facebook stalking, not enough crying, too many thoughts and too much hopefulness. God I’m ridiculous.
On the plus side, I’ve lost weight, found my sense of style again, regained some confidence, and a little bit of happiness. The last 8 and a half months have been the driest my eyes have been over recent years, with The Big Love and The Hubby. I guess that says something. I’m not sad these days. That’s a good thing.
One part of my past I haven’t yet shared with you is my sadness; my depression, my self harm and self hate. Another story for another day.
I guess I’m just waiting for that day when I wake up and he doesn’t pop into my mind at least once during the day. It’s happening less, I guess, than it has been. I think One Ball is helping with that, and My Mr. Grey and the Guy I couldn’t get rid of helped before him. I’m just struggling to let anyone into that part of my heart. I don’t think it has been repaired yet, so I can’t offer it out to anyone. It’s just a frustrating process; almost like a waiting game. Surely it won’t go on forever?
So for now, I’m crying while watching 500 Days of Summer and writing the newest pathetic post for my blog. Just a few more months and hopefully this chapter of my life will be over. And that time cannot come soon enough.
A lot of the material for my blog comes to me randomly – conversations at work, conversations with friends, reminiscing, and more recently when I am looking at the blog’s of others here on WordPress. This has happened to me again today, and as much as I certainly don’t want to steal the content of others, it definitely got me to thinking.
The Perfect Penis – this was a post by the Best Sex Blog and as soon as I saw the headline, not only did I have to read it, but my mind automatically flashed back to the Big Love. Now I’m not sure if I am allowed to post a picture of a penis on my blog, or if I am allowed to use a picture of his penis, but I had to talk about it. I shall refrain from using the penis picture for now. I don’t know if a man can pick their penis out of a line up, but in the worst case scenario that someone I know comes across this blog, or worse – him, I wouldn’t want to upset anyone.
The Big Love had the perfect penis. It was my first circumcised penis, and to be totally honest, I hadn’t seen it before we had sex, so it all came as a bit of a shock. So much of a shock, in fact, that I had to call my Mama and tell her, and ask her what to do with it. This happened after our first time, of course; it would have been a bit weird if I had just called her mid-fuck. Where I come from, there isn’t a lot of circumcising, so it was all a bit alien to me. When I do the whole foreplay thing and I give the guy a mini hand job or head, I use the foreskin as a bit of leverage. Does that make sense? However, on this particular penis, there was none of this, so I quickly learned that a lot of spit was needed. Anyway, I digress.
His cock was the most beautiful cock that I had ever seen in my life. It wasn’t too long and it wasn’t too short; it was simply perfect. It had the right amount of girth to make me feel as if I had a good sized cock inside me, and just the right hint of length to feel it deep within me. The fact that it was circumcised definitely helped – it made it the neatest penis I had ever seen. When he was sat down, the tip just reached his bellybutton. I couldn’t tell you how long it was because we never measured it, but to me it was simply perfection.
There was nothing I enjoyed more than having his cock in my mouth. I’m pretty sure he knows this, as he definitely had more blowjobs out of me during our two year relationship than he had ever received in his life. He did the usual tale – “no girl makes me cum through a blow job”, but of course, we overcame that. His first blow job from me was about 40 minutes long, but after that initial one was over, I managed to get it down to as little as two minutes in some instances. One of those instances was when we were on the other side of the world, driving through the aftermath of a tornado. It was my first ever tornado and we were storm chasing but never quite got there. As we were driving along, all of the excitement had gotten me intensely horny so I reached over, unbuckled his pants, and gave him head. He came the hardest he ever had in his life, or so he said. The amount that went down the back of my throat definitely backed up his story! I guess I’m digressing again – back to the perfect penis.
Since the Big Love, I have slept with 9 people; some of them new, some of them recycled exes. I have compared every one of them to his. There I go with the whole comparing thing again! There was the drunk guy who I couldn’t remember, the other drunk prick that I can’t remember, but I do remember it not being hard all that much, the friend that I did while I was a wing-woman who, again, I couldn’t remember, and the fireman who was so blah it’s not even worth remembering.
The Lapdog has come pretty close to perfect penis status – his has a lot of girth though, and was a bit longer than the Big Love’s.
My Mr. Grey – well, we all know how good his penis is! And his hands, his tongue, his everything…. He has piercings though, and I prefer mine without. His is fun and all, but a little too “industrial” for my liking.
The Guy I couldn’t get rid of has a MASSIVE cock! It’s really long but too thin.
Which leaves me with One Ball – his cock is almost perfect but there is one drawback…. It’s not circumcised.
The Big Love has ruined all penises for me, and I’m angry with him for that. I’m now looking for a man that has a cock that is about 5/6 inches long, with a pretty big girth, has no foreskin and is smooth and pink and beautiful.
In my life, I have been lucky. I’ve only come across a couple of tiny penises. There was Number 2 – his wasn’t all that long, maybe three inches?
Number 17 – he made me laugh, was pretty hot, and had a great smile but his penis was tiny; definitely not bigger than my little finger. I went back a few times though, so there must have been something about him that I liked.
Then there was Number 18 who actually had the smallest penis I ever would have imagined possible. I doubt it even topped an inch and a half when hard. We only had sex the once and I honest to goodness couldn’t even feel it. How he managed to cum inside me, I don’t know. We couldn’t even use a condom because it was so small. This was stupid, of course, but I was young and I’m much more sensible now….. kinda.
So is penis size really that important to us girls? I know that I couldn’t have sex with a guy that had a small penis repeatedly, but then at the same time, a massive cock isn’t the best either – The Guy I couldn’t get rid of is a perfect example of that. Sex is a very important part of the relationship for me, and if I couldn’t even feel the connection with his cock, there would be no relationship. I would cheat for sure.
I need a cock that is big enough to hurt my insides when my legs are up on his shoulders, and I want one that makes my mouth feel full when I give him head. However, if I met the perfect man that had everything about him I liked, would I be able to sacrifice the penis? To be brutally honest, no I don’t think I could. I NEED a good cock. I would even go as far as to say that I CRAVE a good cock. I think I have found my “soulcock” – The Big Love. I’m just worried that there won’t be another one like it…. Applications are being taken 😉 How about you? Have you found your perfect penis? What about the guys, how would you rate yours? Is size really that important….?
After a conversation at work today, I realised the men in my life were a mess, and more than a little confusing. For my own benefit, as well as to keep you in the loop, I have decided to get the update down in black and white. There’s a few men in my life right now. There always is.
There’s My Mr. Grey. I haven’t really been paying him a lot of attention these days. I don’t have the patience to deal with him while he figures out what he really wants. I adore him, I tell him I love him on an almost daily basis. He can work out what he wants and then let me know. It’s funny though, my mind has been consumed with One Ball recently, so I haven’t really texted My Mr. Grey, but it seems to have kicked him into touch. He invited me to a wedding at the end of this month that I simply cannot afford to fly to the other end of the country for, so instead, he has been constantly texting me and has decided he is going to try and come to my end of the country instead. Apparently he misses me so much, he just cannot keep away.
Then there is One Ball. We were meant to have had our second date tonight but I cancelled. It’s heading towards the end of the month, and my funds are running low. On top of that, I can’t really invite him back to mine. I live with family again after leaving my Big Love with absolutely nothing. My family is a messy bunch, and to be fair, the state of my crib embarrasses me, and I don’t have the time or the inclination to keep cleaning up after everyone. The thing is, One Ball is in the same boat – he has recently left his missus and has practically nothing himself. I could easily invite him over to mine, but to be fair, I quite like him and I don’t want to hand it over on a plate; something that would easily happen if he proves to be as good of a kisser as he already is in my head. You know when you just look at someone’s lips and you just KNOW they are going to kiss like a pro; that’s how I feel when I look at him.
One Ball gave me his list of what he wants from a woman, and although I don’t want to blow my own trumpet, I reckon I have pretty much all of them. He wants a girl that is strong willed, independent, funny and dirty/kinky. I tick all of those boxes, right? His favourite celebrity that he would like to date is Pink. This makes me happy. I’m bleach blonde, pierced and tattooed, and have my own unique take on the punk look, especially with my ever changing coloured hair. Currently, I have white blonde hair with blue dipped ends. Very Pink! I guess in conclusion, I’m still kinda smitten by this guy and I cannot wait for our next date. I almost wish I hadn’t cancelled. He is seeing his kids this weekend, and I probably won’t get a chance to see him now until Monday. It’s Thursday right now. That seems like such a long time away!
The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of – after the “Please don’t text me again, ever!” text message, I had a couple of apologising text messages, and a call from a withheld number that I assume was him. That’s it for now. I kinda miss him. I miss talking to him. There is no chance I would ever forgive him for what he did, what he said to me, and how he made me feel however. I have secretly unblocked him on one of my phones in the hope that he might get in touch but it hasn’t happened yet. I guess he’s still fucking his way through the dating website, one girl at a time. Asshole.
The Lapdog. I haven’t heard much from him recently. His girlfriend tried to add me on Facebook, and he called me at 4 in the morning, but since then, nothing at all. Maybe he has finally got the hint? I do think about him from time to time, but not enough for me to ever want to contact him again. I’m done with all that crazy!
The Big Love. I messaged him on Facebook recently to see if he would send me something home. It took a joint, a lot of re-writing and a big deep breath to send it, but I did. That was yesterday, and I have heard nothing yet. I guess he’s over it then. Huff and puff. I’m not going into another Big Love rant. Does this mean I’m on my way to being over it?
So there you have it. I don’t think I’ve missed any of them out. It doesn’t look so confusing now, but I do need to remember that the exes are exes for a reason, and if they are trying to contact me, I should just find more ways to avoid them! Heartache is a matter of choice. You either let them get you down or you don’t; it’s as simple as that!
There is nothing like a good bit of reminiscing when you are experiencing a dry spell with men, and this got me to thinking about firsts, (and talking, after a rather in-depth conversation at work)
I have decided to compile a list of firsts…. Those moments in your life that change things forever. You know the ones – your first fuck, your first kiss, and your first sexually awakening moment. I decided to start this blog, not only because I have had sexual experiences that most women, (and men) would only ever dream of therefore I should shout about them, but also because I want to be brutally honest about everything that I have been through. And let’s face it; in the past, I have been through an awful lot. More than most others at my young age, I would imagine. I apologize if this gets a little boring, but it was in my head so I wanted to talk about it.
My first crush
My first crush, unless you are counting Tom Cruise, who I had a major crush on in high school, was a guy I later fucked once school was over and out. This guy was Number 6. He was hot, tanned, ripped, a little bit of a nut job, and while we were at school, completely out of my league. At school, he was a bit of a jerk, especially to me. It turned out that he wasn’t that great in bed, and the night was soon forgotten about. Still, I liked him, I wanted him and I got him. I really am a spoiled princess.
My first kiss
Ah yes, the awkward first kiss. Mine was with a guy I couldn’t stand. He bullied me at school, and I think back then, we had this weird flirtation that now would probably be known as the whole 50 Shades of Grey scenario – submissive and dominant; him being the latter. It was all tongue and saliva and neither of us were very good. It was in the center of the locker room outside the technology block at high school. We were in the middle; everyone else was around us in a circle, “egging” us on. It was awful.
My first love
1) I have problems when it comes to choosing my first love. I thought I was in love with those guys in my younger years, but when you compare it to the way that you feel when you love later on in life, it is virtually nothing. I like to think it was Number 1 – the guy whose “banjo string” I broke. We dated for 10 months – this is a long time when you are just 13/14. It started off rather bizarrely – I was bullied very badly at school, and he was one of the popular kids. He tried to keep it a secret when we first started dating at the beginning of the 6 weeks school Summer holidays, and when we returned back to school, I told him we either went official or we went to nothing. To my shock and surprise, he decided to go official. He was popular and I was dating him, which in turn made me rather popular. It was weird to be on this side of the fence for once – I was beaten rather badly by both boys and girls at school, and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t.
He was a bit of a dick to be honest – he once hit me in the form room at school, resulting in all the other boys pouncing on him. He cried a lot. He was also very controlling. He hated me smoking, hated me going to the cafeteria without him, and hated me hanging out with my friends when he thought I should have been hanging around with him… It was a little crazy to be fair. Every spare moment away from school was spent together, and although I know a lot of first relationships are like this, it was all a little intense. We broke up heading into exams – I did better than expected and he did worse. I guess that says a lot really. We copied a line from the hit film “Ghost” – “Ditto” was our secret way of saying “I Love You”
2) I can’t work out if he was my first REAL love, or if this next guy was. He was Number 20. It was passionate, (for a 16 year old girl anyway) and it was awesome. Thinking back to him still makes me smile. At the time, he was amazing in the sack, but in all fairness, I didn’t know any better yet. I went back there a few years ago, and it wasn’t all that. There were rumors that he cheated so I slept with his best friend. I then cheated on Number 4 with this guy, and almost messed it all up. It wasn’t worth it.
I remember being very sad about this guy when we broke up – I was living with my Nan, and when he TEXT me, (oh yes, I got the text breakup) I cried into her lap for an hour or so, until I picked myself up, dusted myself down, and went out for a good old alcoholic bender with his best friend, (yet again) to get over it.
I don’t know which of these were my first loves. They certainly weren’t my GREAT loves. Almost like mini-loves; the ones you have when you are younger that sets the scene for how you are going to love others after them. They impacted me, of course – the first never took my underwear off when we slept together, and even now I have this weird thing about getting stark-bollock naked. I don’t like men seeing my frou-frou. If I get head, it has to be with the lights off. The second set the path for my crazy love of mental sex – he tied me, blindfolded me and teased me, and all of this was just our first time in bed together.
My first GREAT love
There is most definitely a difference between your FIRST love and your first GREAT love. My first GREAT love was my husband – a man that I would have done anything for, and put up with a lot from. He cheated on me repeatedly, he physically and mentally abused me, he left me with no money AT ALL for weeks at a time, and in short, he completely destroyed me. It took every ounce of my strength to walk away from him, and even then I couldn’t have done it without a little help from Number 29.
I loved my hubby with everything I had. He cheated at the beginning of our relationship and I forgave him. He cheated not long after we got married and we moved to a different country, and I forgave him. He repeatedly cheated – it was as if he had a problem. In reality, the problem was mine – I let him get away with it, therefore he was bound to do it again and again. We got married too young; it was the whirlwind romance. This was in 2006, and I still haven’t managed to divorce him.
Do I still love him? Yes, of course I do. I stayed with him through the worst things that you could ever have imagined. He split my face open with one punch that was so forceful, he left half of his knuckle in my lip and I had to have it removed, and then have stitches. This was the worst of it all, I think. That was the first time he had actually HIT me. He had dragged me around a parking lot by my hair before, cutting open the front of my feet where I was dragged. He spat on me, he used to put his hands around my throat to shut me up, to the point where I had great big welts across my neck. I have photos of this still, and every time I come across them by accident, it shocks me. Was I really willing to let a man make that much of a mark on me? Apparently yes. What else did he do? He used to hold my wrists to the point where they were bruised. Again, I still have these photos. He once locked me in a cupboard in my house. My upstairs and downstairs neighbors knew all about this, but of course I denied it. It was the hole in the face/hospital night that got things out in the open, and this is where my downstairs neighbor started phoning my Mama. This is when shit got real.
Things were bad between us – he trashed my flat before we got married. He left me without any money once we had moved, snapping the bank cards so I couldn’t get access to anything, and then left the country for 4 months with his work. During this 4 month period, I heard from him 3 times and he slept with 5 other women. This was while I was practically starving; having to borrow money from my family so I could afford “luxuries” like food, tampons and toilet roll. I resorted to borrowing money from my family and friends in order to survive, and also, for the short duration that my Internet bill WAS paid, I tried my hand at online freelance writing; something that has stuck with me and that I still do today. Was this enough to make me leave? No, of course it wasn’t. I was an abused woman; something I couldn’t say back then, but now I say with the strength of a woman that was lucky enough to get out and overcome it. Even now when men make fast movements around me, I flinch. If a man shouts at me, I have a panic attack. He destroyed me, or at least a little part of me. I would never let him destroy me completely. I would never let any man.
Towards the end of our relationship, the only time we ever really got along was when we were both high on cocaine, something that repeated itself with Number 29. It was a disaster that I am glad I managed to escape from. He is in a long term relationship now with a girl that looks exactly like me. I wonder sometimes if he does to her what he did to me. We no longer talk, for obvious reasons, and even when we try to discuss the divorce, it ends up in a big fight. Ignorance is bliss for now. Until I can afford to get solicitors to get rid of him for me.
The thing about us was that when we were happy, we were deliriously happy and we had it all. He made me the happiest person ever. The problem was it was only ever good for a few months at a time, if even that long, and it soon went back to shit again, with some other woman happening, or another trip to the hospital for me. We lost a baby together. It wasn’t planned and I didn’t even realize I was pregnant. He was distraught about the situation. Me, on the other hand, well I just thought throughout it all that I had a lucky escape.
He was my first GREAT love.
As you are probably aware, I have been single for a little while now; about a week or so. The thing is the guy I managed to get rid of has become somewhat of a “text sexter” – not that I’m complaining of course. I need material to get me off just like the next person. The thing that confuses me the most is how a person that can be so sexual in a text message is that bad at the foreplay in real life. I’m not kidding you – this guy drives me nuts with his texts! It’s as though he’s giving me a taste of what I’m missing….
For example, last night I was watching a firm Angelina Jolie film of mine – “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” Now I’m no lesbian, (not that I am against them) but I like the female form: I appreciate it in all its glory, and from time to time, I love to dabble in a bit of girl on girl love. In fact, it drives me mental – I love it. I couldn’t be in a relationship with another chick, but in bed, I simply adore it. I have more than my fair share of experimental encounters; let’s just leave it at that.
Anyway, I indulged the guy I managed to get rid of in a fantasy of mine; one that quite clearly is never going to happen – Angelina Jolie in her knife-loving, blood-sucking, crazy-ass fine form with me and another guy in the bedroom. I have a thing for pain, knives, blood, etc. On the outside I am a normal person though, I promise! 😉
This lead us to a frenzied text sex session in which we obviously both come to climax, and in made me realize – this guy just gets me! It made me miss him. Only for a minute though, and then I realized how much he annoyed me.
Is it wrong of me to keep texting this guy in such a sexual manner? I mean, he knows the score; I’m not looking for a relationship, nor am I contemplating getting back with him. Is he sexting me in a bid to lead to more, or is it just two people indulging in a little light text sex with great results?
The thing about sexting is that it gets more than a bit complicated. I only have so many hands, right? With a phone in one hand and my clitoris in my other – I get a bit flustered. I just need another hand… I feel a little selfish in some respects – he gets me off with his great words, and then I pretend I’m still doing it after I’ve climaxed to get him off. Sometimes I don’t even bother – I just pretend I have fallen asleep. I do appreciate that this is rather nasty, but he doesn’t seem to mind too much. He just tells me in the morning that he had a great wank last night after I “fell asleep!”
This brings me back to my point made in my previous post “I Think We Need to Break Up” – Do I need to fake a relationship in order to not have to fake a great orgasm? I think for now, I just need a relationship that is solely based on sex. Now, with the men around these days you would think that this kind of relationship wouldn’t be too hard to find. It would appear, however, that the only men that I seem to attract are completely the opposite of what I am looking for. All the guys in my life want the big “L” word; the big love story. Where are the men that just want to use and abuse? Why can’t I find someone that just wants to use me for sex? That would suit my current situation just perfectly! The thing is if I found that kind of man, I would probably end up falling in love with him and getting my heart broken again. It’s like a Catch 22 situation, really!
So now I’m back to furiously masturbating while my sexually deprived body lusts after every man in sight. If it carries on like this, I’m going to end up reliving my older days though my blog – the days when I had great sex…. I guess I’m being just a tad melodramatic. It has only been a week or so after all! I just like sex – is that so bad?!
There’s this guy I work with – he’s not attractive to me AT ALL, he’s not my type, I don’t look at him and want to jump on him, but for some reason, we seem to have this mild flirtation going on, and in short, I have been thinking about him recently. Now I do appreciate that I am single for the first time in a long time, and I am also not getting laid, so I am pretty much ready to jump on anything that moves at this point, but regardless of all of this – what is going on in my head?!
This guy has a child – this is a massive no-no for me to begin with. He is arrogant, difficult to get along with, completely against everything appearance-wise that I would go for in a man, and we fight like cat and dog at work. You know when you think to yourself – this is wrong but I’d still do it anyway and never admit it to anyone; that’s where I am right now.
So what’s the attraction with this guy? He’s very reserved; he had a lot of custody problems with his child and the Baby Mama who sounds like a crack whore. It takes a lot to crack him, and for him to trust anyone, and everyone has commented at work that he has taken to me very nicely and also very fast. It took a male colleague a year to get accepted as a friend on Facebook, (his Facebook was once used against him in court with the custody battle, so everything is SUPER private) yet it has been just two months and we are already Facebook buddies. I guess in short, I cracked him. We have this mild text flirtation going on outside of work hours; something that has been cracked up a notch in the recent days that I have found myself single again. I just thought it was a bit of friendly banter at first, now I’m wondering if there is more in it.
So what’s the deal? Am I truly interested in this guy or is he just a plaything until something else, (better) comes along? Is it a bit of friendly banter for him, or am I technically leading him on? He’s not super ugly, so he can’t be short of female admirers. He’s just not the type of man that I would go for.
Now we have a policy at work that you are not allowed to diddle your colleagues, so I know nothing would really happen between us, but I did have this very interesting dream last night, which is what prompted today’s post. In my dream, he was a master in bed; something that shocked me, even in my unconscious state. I can’t imagine him to be good in bed, but in all fairness, I have been wrong about this before, so I shall hold my judgment. Not that I’d ever know anyway. He has been on my mind a lot recently, especially during our friendly text flirtation, and I find myself smiling to myself whenever I receive a less than clean text from him. Could I possibly like someone that goes completely against my grain, and if so, could we get away with it without anyone at work knowing? And – how uncomfortable would it be if he were to be shit in the sack, so to speak, and then I had to face him almost every day at work? OK, I have just answered my own question – this is a bad idea, you slut, and leave the poor single Papa’s alone!
So, I haven’t been around recently and I apologize to my readers for this. It’s been a pretty hectic week to be fair so I thought I’d give you all an update. So the Mama Bear stuff – she got her blood tests back and they were all clear, so that is good. She had an ultrasound and they found nodules, and we are awaiting the results of those to see if she needs a biopsy. She is in better spirits thankfully, which means that we all are, and my sister now knows about it all so I don’t have to watch my mouth. I’m not very good at keeping secrets and I can never remember to think before I speak, so trying to keep a secret like that for very long would have nearly crippled me!
Now for the man… Well, Wednesday night he came over and we had a bit of a mini fight. He wants my time all the time, and I simply cannot give it to him. Between my Mama, my job, my freelance writing on the side, and my friends and family, I don’t have a lot of time, and I have recently come to the conclusion that I simply do not have time to be a girlfriend. I need a fuck buddy that is there when I need him, and gone when I don’t. It turns out the man was already having reservations about the lack of time we were spending together, or the fact that we didn’t feel like “boyfriend and girlfriend”, so not only did I manage to break up with him somewhat successfully, I also managed to make him believe that it was his idea. Score!
He was fine Wednesday night. I decided to let him stay and obviously honored the parting blowjob. I broke his heart in a roundabout sort of way, so it was the least I could do.
Thursday morning we woke up and he started getting all girlie on my ass. Now I don’t mind a bit of emotion from a guy, but considering that we have been dating since April, and in a relationship since the beginning of June, I personally feel that this meant far too much to him for such a short amount of time. I mean, I know I’m kinda cool, but I’m not really anything special, and for him to react in the way that he did Thursday morning, and right up until now, I just feel that he was being a tad melodramatic.
We both agreed that this relationship wasn’t going in quite the right way for either of us. He’s 28, so there is a good chance that he is going to want to settle down at some point soon, and I’ve already done the marriage thing and I haven’t divorced that twat yet, so I’m certainly not looking to settle anytime soon. Also, he wants a proper girlfriend – holding hands, public displays of affection, lots of time together, etc. Right now, that really isn’t my thing. So, the sensible option was for us to break up and for him to stop wasting his time on something that wasn’t going to go his way at any point soon.
Firstly, when he left me on Thursday, he decided to tell me that if we were meant to be together, we would end up back together. Sweet. This morning, I woke up to messages from him telling me that he didn’t want us to break up and he thinks we gave up too soon. Seriously? How many more times do I have to tell this guy that right now, a relationship is not for me? It was one of the biggest reasons why The Lapdog and I didn’t work out! It’s funny because the current guy picked up on my reactions to The Lapdog and the things that he did, and commented on how I was jealous. I fought against this to the death of course, but he does have a fair point. This brings me very nicely to my next point – last night I missed The Lapdog’s birthday party, and I feel like a pile of shit about it to be honest. I didn’t go for a few reasons.
Firstly, I couldn’t really afford it.
Secondly, he had invited a guy that I tried to date when I first came home from the other side of the world, and it all just got a bit weird. Also, this guy and the Lapdog actually hated each for years, so I’m not really sure what’s going on with that situation. From what I can figure out, the guy I almost dated is the best friend of the Lapdog’s girlfriend, AKA the Bitch. Hence the invite, I’m assuming.
Thirdly, I don’t want to see the Lapdog sucking the Bitch’s face off the entire evening. I’m single now, so technically I’m not getting laid. I’m going to want to have sex with the Lapdog, and I know that I can’t because he has a girlfriend now.
In short, I am back to being single. I am back to not getting laid. I am also back to staring at my ceiling, feeling more than a little lonely, wishing I had someone to snuggle up with, just like I did last night. However, I would rather be single than not happy with the guy I’m with, so I guess I made the right decisions. Or so I hope….
Not So Sex in My City! 