A Matter of Sheer Convenience

So I backslid.  Big time.  I reconnected with LipRing.

It started off somewhat innocently.  After not hearing from him for almost a month, I got a random message from him:
“Hey, do you still have my USB?  Can I get it back?”
My response: “SERIOUSLY?!
He was all, “Yeah, no rush or anything.  I just remembered you had it.”
I was seriously annoyed.  Not a peep from this guy for God knows how long and now he’s harassing me over some cheap USB stick that he lent me.  Just fucking replace it!
I told him that if he wanted it, he could come get it anytime.  He said he was too lazy at the current moment (even though he lives all of 5 minutes down the street) and that he’d get it some other day.  That further enraged me.
Then, he started chatting me up, asking me how I was doing.  I called him out on it and asked him if he was using the USB thing as an excuse to talk to me.  He swore he wasn’t and that it actually just popped into his mind and he wasn’t sure if I was still in town.
“Whatever,” was my reply.

A few days later, he messaged me to inform me that his roommates were out of town and that Kennedy and I should come over and have a few drinks.  I said that she was at work and I had work early in the morning.
“So?  You can still come over, have some drinks, some sex, see what happens.”
I lost it at him.  I asked him if he really expected both of us to show up at his house and fuck him.
He quickly tried to defend himself saying that he really did want to just have a couple beers and thought he’d ask us if we wanted to do something.  The sex thing was (apparently?) a quote from Anchorman that I totally missed.  He was super apologetic and admitted that re-reading his message, he could see that he came across as an asshole.
I admitted that perhaps I had slightly overreacted and we got to chatting.  Even though I still thought he was a total shit head, decent sex in an empty house was beckoning me.  After several not so discreet hints, I finally told him I was coming over.
“Really?  Even though I’m such an asshole?” he teased.
“I have needs.  But I don’t have to come over…” I told him.
“No, no, I’m just kidding.  Please do!”

The first time we had sex it was boring and over too quickly.  When he rolled off me and asked if I’d finished, I laughed and said, “Believe me, if I had cum, you would have known.”
He looked embarrassed and asked for another try.  We lay in bed chatting and then he got his second wind.  The next sex session was way better and I did finally finish.  When he pulled out, there was quite a bit of blood.  I was mortified and truly had no explanation (sometimes I just bleed for no reason… I’ve been tested for every STD and come up clean, I currently have an ovarian cyst that I tend to blame, but truly it’s a phenomenon I do not understand.)  Luckily, he was really cool about it and genuinely did not think it was a big deal (unlike a guy I dated who after a similar incident NEVER SPOKE TO ME AGAIN.)
I didn’t hang around, I went home as soon as possible.  Then I tried to convince myself that was I was doing was alright, it was just sex and I still had the upper hand.  Right?

Last weekend, it happened again.  We were chatting, both of us planning to go out, both of us pre-drinking alone.  He suggested I come by and have a drink with him before meeting my girls at the pub.  I walked down to his house and we had a couple beers and then I walked into town.  He messaged me and suggested that if I was keen, I could come by his house again on my way home.  I told him I would consider it.  The pub was closing and my vision had become blurry.  Everyone in my group was beginning to scatter and I announced that I was going to visit my booty-call.  All the girls scoffed, “You can’t have a booty-call in a town this small.  Everyone will find out.”
I shrugged, unconcerned since my introverted self is virtually anonymous in this community, and began my sex mission.

At his house, the two of us smoked a joint and then retired to the bedroom.  We hooked up twice and it was pretty good, being stoned made it a lot more fun and the fact that he was a bit more attentive was a nice touch, but I still wasn’t very impressed.  But the best part came after the sex, when our two warm naked bodies fit perfectly together beneath the thick duvet and we fell asleep cuddling to the sound of pouring rain outside.
I realized that maybe I wasn’t keeping him around for the convenience of sex, maybe I liked the occasional attention and enjoyed knowing that there was one person who was maybe, sort of, into me.
It’s sad, because I sincerely do not like him.  He’s not my type at all, I would never consider dating him and I don’t really enjoy the sex, yet I won’t entirely let him go.  Because at least he’s something.
My ex and I broke up a year and a half ago.  In that time, I have met one person that I actually liked.  That was a year ago.  Since then, I’ve met one person that I was attracted to, LipRing.  Now that I know that type of person he is, it’s obvious that he’s not for me, it’s just disheartening.

To make matters worst, when I got up at 7 am for work, I politely asked if he could drive me the 4 blocks down the street as he usually offers and it was pissing rain out.
“I didn’t tell you?  I got busted drinking and driving and my license got suspended for a month.  Sorry.”
“Can’t you just drive me home?  There’s no way you’ll get caught driving in a cul-de-sac, first thing on a Saturday morning.”
“I can’t take any chances, sorry.”
Later I found out that he takes the risk and commutes 40 kilometres to work during the week.  But God forbid driving me home.  Far too dicy.
I’m finally ready to let him go completely.  It’s not summer anymore, all those people I once knew have left.  I have a new job, I’m moving into a new place, I have new friends in my life.  It’s time to leave LipRing in the past and move onto bigger, better things.
I’m not ready for a relationship, but I want the next person that I sleep with to be special.  I want there to be anticipation and excitement.

Assholes like him have no place in my life.  Convenience no longer cuts it as an excuse.

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One thought on “A Matter of Sheer Convenience

  1. Pingback: We’ve Come A Long Way |

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