Back on the Horse

After getting over my initial partying, catching up with friends and trying to organize my mess of clothing, it was time for me to come up with a new plan of attack on life. I wasn’t entirely sure where to go or what to do, but I wanted the new and improved me to fulfil any longstanding goals and follow any and every dream.  I began to wrack my brain, constantly posing the question “What do I want?” The first thing that came to mind was for years I’d been saying I wanted to teach English overseas but never took any steps to actually do it.  I figured now was the time to stop saying it and start living it.  After all, it would put my English degree to use, let me test the teaching waters, give me writing material and give me the chance to make money while travelling, what was left to ponder?  I began fine-tuning my plan.  I researched a variety of TEFL experiences in a multitude of countries and finally settled on Indonesia.  Why?  I’ve always wanted to travel Southeast Asia, particularly Indo.  The cost of living is low, while a teaching salary is relatively high.  Most schools assist in securing teachers a work visa and provide accommodations and flight reimbursement.  I vetoed China as too hectic and dirty, Brazil as too sketchy and South Korea because I read that as a people they are very adverse to visible tattoos (D’OH!)  A little more research into Indonesia and I discovered that obtaining a TEFL certificate on top of a university degree is a government standard.  No sweat, I would register for an online program, get a serving job to save up while having ample time to complete said certification.  I set to work handing out resumes and quickly secured a job at a local watering hole.  Perfect.  Now to register for school, but that’s when I ran into some setbacks.  Mainly, a crying, on the verge of bankruptcy father who begged me for some money to keep him going.  Next thing I knew I was in the hole fifteen hundred bucks (I know, I know, I just wrote an entire post on not succumbing to guilt, but he’s my father and he asked for a favour, I owe him my life.)  Gone was my money for school.  On top of that, my job wasn’t going so well either.  I was working three day shifts a week at the pub and grossing a whopping $35 in tips, along with measly pay checks.  I was solely living off my credit card and even though I was living with my mom she was still charging me out the ass for rent.  I received invitations to attend elaborate weekends in the city and my credit card limit crawled closer and closer to “maxed out.”  It seemed to me that I would never reach my goal, but instead die broke and alone in the shitty joke of a town that I had vowed never to return to.  Finally, things began to look up for me.  My dad got a job and began to pay me back, after months of banter back and forth, my insurance company finally decided to write-off my car and offered me an obscene amount of money for it (which I gleefully accepted.)  And my brother encouraged me to apply for a summer serving job at the resort he was working at located in a well-known tourist town (of which there were mumblings of me definitely securing the position.)  I enrolled and began my certification.  Things were finally coming together and I was on my right path.  Then, I met Matthew…


Another one of my goals was to be an all around better version of myself: workout daily, eat healthy, no drinking, being more positive and happy, making more time for friends and trying new things that would normally make me uncomfortable.  The last resolution was what brought me out that night.  An old co-worker invited me to an EDM show at the headquarters of the local university radio station.  The idea alone scared me to shit.  Show up alone (and sober) at an unfamiliar venue?  Scary. Meet up with someone I hardly knew and meet her new girlfriend and homies from her polyamory club?  Horrifying.  But I resolved that rather than bail, I would put myself in a potentially uncomfortable situation if it meant possibly meeting some new people in my hometown and hey, if it went to shit at least it would make for a good story, right?
Cut to me standing alone at the bar.  The hot guy I’d been eye fucking had just left with another girl and my friend had completely disappeared.  I was contemplating if I should just finish my cider (while looking cool and unfazed) before fleeing the scene and returning home for a night of Netflix, when the guy beside me suddenly turned to me and said, “That’s really cool of you!”
“What?” I responded, clearly confused.
He gestured to an old lady in sequins, cutting a rug on the dance floor. “It’s nice that you bring your mother clubbing with you!  I bet you taught her those sweet dance moves didn’t you?”
I could’t help but laugh and thus began my introduction to Matthew.  He wasn’t traditionally good-looking, I wouldn’t have picked him out in a room, but his confident nature intrigued me.  He told me he was from the town over and had just moved home following a failed business stint in the Philippines.  He was in the midst of starting his own web design business, but was also an amateur stand-up comedian and aspiring writer.  A man who shares my sense of adventure and creativity?  Amazing.  As we continued to talk we discovered more and more similarities between the two of us.  When my acquaintance finally reappeared she announced that she was leaving and asked if I wanted a ride home.  I was torn.  I knew the sensible thing was to go home, but I was so intrigued by this character, so I took a huge risk and chose to stay.  Things quickly got intense on the dance floor with Matthew grinding against me and constantly trying to go in for a kiss.
Wow, this guy does not waste any time I thought.  But still, I continued to ignore all common sense by going to an out of town after party with he and his friend.  After a night of drunken debauchery (and me constantly insisting to Matthew that I would not be sleeping with him) his friend insisted the two of us crash in the spare bedroom.  After a whole 10 minutes of resisting, I gave in and sex happened.  And happened.  And then happened again.  Before I knew it, it was morning and we had spent the entire night fucking.  I’d had countless orgasms and we were starting yet another round.  It was the best sex I had ever had in my LIFE.  When he drove me home in the morning, we stopped at Starbucks.  Every time his arm went around my waist it sent thrills down my spine.  When he dropped me off at home, exhausted and rug burnt, I found myself already beginning to miss him.  Imagine my surprise when I soon discovered he was the ex of an old friend of mine.


I felt riddled with guilt at the discovery, but how could I have known?  They dated years back when I was living out of town.  I’d heard stories but never met the guy or even saw a photo.  I knew if I wanted to see him again I would have to get my friend’s clearance.  I told her what happened (minus the sex details) and she actually encouraged me to sleep with him.  “He’s great in bed and really well endowed,” (yes, yes he is) “he’d make a great booty call” (minus the fact we were both living with our moms) “but… and this is not coming from a jealous ex-girlfriend perspective: do not date him!  He’s egotistical and superficial and a shitty boyfriend who only cares about himself!”
Whoa!  I reassured her that the last thing I wanted was a boyfriend (the truth) and that I would keep her advice in mind, but her words scared me.  Two days later when he asked if I wanted to see a movie I made up a paltry excuse.  The next day when he invited me out for drinks I didn’t respond, nor did I answer when he called.  Feeling slightly guilty for blowing him off (and incredibly horny) I resolved to call him the next night to make plans.  What was meant to be a 10 minute conversation was suddenly going on 2 and 1/2 hours and we’d made plans to spend the following day together.  WTF?!  How did the situation get away from me?
He told me I was easy to talk to, I melted.


Our day together was fun, albeit frightening.  We went up-island to some tourist shops and he was constantly trying to hold my hand or lean in for a kiss until I expressed my displeasure for anything resembling PDA or any date-like activities in general, but there was one form of physical activity I was keen on.
“Hey, my mom’s at work for a couple more hours if we want to head back of my place…”
Post coitus we were driving in my car and giggling like school girls.  We stopped for coffee and to recharge and talk some more.  I was hooked.  Following that day my face would light-up whenever his name graced my caller ID.  He had his place to himself for two weeks of which I spent most nights there having mind-blowing sex and long conversations.  I made excuses for dropping off the face of the earth, but finally came clean to my friends.
“OMG, he’s your soulmate the psychic described!”
“But it’s not even spring?”
“It’s February, that’s close enough!”
Soulmate?  Matthew?  The words alone made me cringe, but there was no doubt I was infatuated with this man.  But what about me and my plans for the future?

During a crazy party night in the city I drunk-texted Matthew to tell him I had networked a potential client for him.  When I received no response I realized how clingy I had come off.  Trying to round up business for him at a party?  Pathetic! (The conversation had actually come up naturally, but still.)  That night I couldn’t sleep and felt myself beginning to panic over the whole situation: my ex, my life, everything.  I told myself if Matthew never spoke to me again I would move on with grace and dignity.  That’s when it dawned on me just how much I really did care for him.  The next afternoon I texted an apology for my drunkeness.  He responded to say how flattered he was that I was repping his business at a party.  I smiled from ear to ear.


As time went on we began shifting more and more into couple territory without ever assigning the title or even discussing the nature of our relationship.  As we grew closer I began to see those little red flags my friend had warned me about.  He praised me for my psychical attributes and nothing else.  He steered every conversation back towards the topic of him.  He name dropped and bragged about how rich his friends were.  On top of that, he hated camping and everything outdoorsy (BOO!) and honestly believed that having tremendous wealth was the most important goal in the world.  He interrupted me and talked over me and argued every stupid thing.  I realized that I had worked so hard to get away from an uneven relationship and here I was in almost the same situation. I resolved more than ever to get myself away from my surroundings and begin my new job and new life in a new community.


A week before I was to move, he left for a bachelor party in Barbados.  I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to have an awkward goodbye with him.  He kept suggesting that he would come visit me while I was hoping to make a clean break.  Especially after my friend finally admitted that she was actually pissed off at me for sleeping with her ex.  He tried to call me twice from Barbados, once I was out with friends and rudely dismissed him when he tried to launch into a huge story about his travel troubles.  The second time I did not answer.  He texted me once when he got back to ask how my move was.  I never responded and we haven’t spoken since.  It’s funny how for a while there I was convinced this man was the one for me and since I left his company I haven’t given him a second thought.  The true definition of a rebound.

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3 thoughts on “Back on the Horse

  1. Pingback: Unspoken Rules of Dating |

  2. Pingback: I Love Sex |

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