0

A Risky Return

I paced the floor anxiously.  I stood up, sat down, stood up, sat back down.  I let out a disgruntled moan.

The time had come.  My cousin and his wife would be returning from their trip in only a couple short days and I needed to make a decision on where I would go next.
My mother and I were meeting in Bali in a month’s time, so it seemed silly to begin a new job and settle down in a new place, only to have to pick up and leave soon after.
I didn’t want to stay where I was so I considered travelling for the month, but was seriously low on funds.  I tried to find a temporary job doing farm work or fruit picking, but did not receive a single response.
The only option that really appealed to me was returning to the surf town.  I reasoned that I could get my old job back, have a few couches here and there to crash on, and that it was necessary because I really truly missed my friends and needed them in my life.  All that was true, but maybe the real subconscious reason for my decision was that I wanted to see Nick, even though my heart started pounding and my skin started sweating anytime I thought about seeing him.  It had been nearly a month since his announcement and I had yet to respond.  I knew that seeing him would be inevitable, so I decided to try and be the bigger person and call a truce.
My fingers trembled when I dialled his number.  After an eternity he finally answered, I took a deep breath and firmly spoke my peace.
“I’m trying to be happy for you, because I know that this is all you’ve ever wanted,” I told him.
“That’s not true -” he interjected.
“Do NOT interrupt me.  I’m speaking now,” I spat and he shut right up.  “Anyway, I’m coming back to town and I know we have all the same friends and I know I’ll have to see you so I wanted to tell you that I don’t hate you and that we’re cool, but in no way can I ever be your friend.”
He said he understood and thanked me for my call.  I hung up the phone and got to work planning my return.
Oh dear God, what have I done?


I had changed and so had the town.  It was noisier and more chaotic than I had ever remembered, chalked full of all the visiting summer vacationers. I felt reborn and vowed that this time around I would be the most social version of myself and say yes to every experience offered to me.

I met up with Kyle and the two of us walked the beach.  Of course, the second person we ran into was Nick…  He and Kyle chit chatted, while I stood off to the side.
“Nice to see you,” Nick smiled at me, “Otis is in the truck if you want to say hi.”
I spent the rest of their conversation cuddling Otis, who had become a full-grown dog in my absence.
After finally escaping the awkwardness that felt like it lasted a lifetime, I received apologies from both guys for putting me in such a situation.  I told them both not to walk on eggshells around me and that I was fine, but the minute I walked into Kennedy’s house I began drinking heavily…

That night we celebrated my return with an epic chicken dinner cooked by Jill, followed by lots of wine and joints and cigarettes, followed still by a quick ride into town where we would proceed to dance the night away.  I met up with heaps of friends including one in particular who had messaged me earlier in the day named Fred.

… A little backstory on Fred: He and I met shortly after I first moved to town.  Jill and I were sitting on the beach and a group of guys walked by and called out ‘cheers!’ to us while simultaneously tipping their beer bottles in our direction.  They were cute, friendly and drinking so we decided to join them.  They were a group of local street artists and I hit it off particularly well with Fred.  We all ended up getting loose at the bar.  Fred and I snuck out the back to smoke a joint and laugh about our same stupid sense of humour.
“You’re really cool, we should be best friends.  No, seriously, we should be best friends,” he insisted.
After that, we chatted back and forth and he ended up meeting me at the drum circle.  He insisted I come to the bar to have a drink and dance with him. It was getting late and I had work in the morning so I told him I was heading home.  He leaned in to kiss me.  In all my stoned glory, I dodged his smooch and yelled out, “Did you just try to kiss me?!”
“Um, yeah that was my intention…”
I was all too aware of some of his chick friends standing out of his line of vision and filming the entire scene on their phones.  I felt so incredibly awkward, truthfully, I was attracted to Fred in a lot of ways and I was curious to kiss him, but I had just started dating Nick and didn’t want to betray him.  Instead of explaining any of these things, I just turned around and ran out of the bar.  After that, Fred and I were less friendly, but we’d still chat here and there, I’d run into him every so often and we’d have a drink together…

But this time, dancing at the same bar where he first made a move, I didn’t turn away when he leaned in to kiss me.
When everyone began parting ways and heading home for the night, Fred turned to me and asked me to spend the night with him.  Back at his house, drunk and turned on by the prospect of a new partner, I threw him down on his bed and attacked him with all the prowess and seduction within me.
He was tender and attentive, thumbing my nipples and kissing my breasts.  When he took off his pants my jaw dropped at his size, the largest I’ve ever had without a doubt.  He fucked kind of fast, which was slightly painful, but I managed to slow down the tempo.


 

I woke up, naked and sprawled across his bed.  My mouth was dry and I was disoriented, but something had woken me up.  It was an older man standing in the open doorway, we made eye contact before he slammed the door shut in embarrassment.  I had a sudden flashback of stumbling into a grandiose house, chalked full of expensive looking art pieces.  And then it hit me: Fred lived at home.  Fred lived at home and we had just spent the entire night having loud, boisterous sex.  I was mortified.  Even more so when I had to get up and be introduced to Fred’s dad and even more so when he had to drive Fred and I into town because apparently we had cabbed into the middle of butt-fuck no where and Fred had lost his license earlier in the month due to a DUI.

Once in town, we went to part ways.  He asked what my plans were for the night and I told him about a show I was meant to go to.  Not even an hour later he messaged me saying he had gotten a spare ticket and would see me there.  I couldn’t help but grin.
“Be careful,” all my friends warned, “He obviously likes you a lot.”

My friends had ditched the show and I hadn’t seen Fred anywhere.  I was just about to leave myself when there he was, leaning against the front door frame, chatting to one of the ticket girls.  When I saw him, he looked embarrassed as he pulled me close to him,
“I was just trying to guess where this girl is from.  I thought Germany, but my friend thought Russia so I had to come over and find out,” he explained nervously.
I just laughed and brushed it off, happy that I had finally run into him.  We spent the rest of the night dancing, drinking vodka and making out against the bar.  When he took me home I told him how uncomfortable I felt meeting his dad.
“My dad really likes you, I’m glad you met him.  I don’t bring girls home very often, and I want you to get to know my family because I want you to be around a lot.”
I blushed.  My friends were right, he obviously did like me… a lot.


Fred asked to see me the following night, but I told him I needed a night to myself.  He expressed his disappointment, but asked me if he could cook me dinner at the beach on a following night.  I could barely contain my excitement at the prospect of such a romantic date, but felt sideswiped when he mentioned that a couple of his friends would be joining us.  Ashamed that I had misread the situation, I desperately texted Jill and begged her to join us.
Once we were all sitting and I was desperately trying to relax, who should walk over, but Max and Brandon and Kyle and bevy of the rest of Nick and my shared friend group.  I knew they were also planning a barbecue but thought they had chosen another spot.  To my horror, they decided to join us and I let out a huge sigh of relief that Nick was not amongst them.
Long story short, we all got stinking drunk and Fred and I disappeared back to my tent, but ended up just passing out on top of each other.

I woke up covered in sweat and with a vicious hangover, I rolled over and groaned with the pain.  Fred awoke and suggested we treat ourselves to a lazy hungover day at my campground.  We smoked weed and swam in the pool, smoked more weed and got breakfast, smoked even more weed and had sex and then smoked a little more while hanging out in the jungle.  We finally left the grounds to catch sunset and smash a pizza on the beach.  We parted ways and promised to get together soon to watch a movie, but after that day things changed drastically.


Fred stopped responding to my messages, whenever I’d see him out he’d make an excuse to leave, yet he would tell me how beautiful I was and kiss me in public, but then I’d hear stories about him leaving with other women.  I confided in my friend Reese and she insisted none of it was true.
“I know Fred really well, he’s not the kind of guy who picks up random girls at the bar.  He’s a sensitive artist type.  Trust me, he’s a good one.”
Maybe so, but it seemed he had moved on from me and I wondered desperately what had changed.

On Aussie Day, high on M and feeling alone, I made the mistake of calling him up and telling him I wanted to see him.
“I’m fucked up,” he admitted, “I want to see you too, but I don’t know if I can make it back into town, you could come here though.”
“Why don’t you text me the address and I’ll try to get a lift,” I suggested.
“Yes, that would be awesome.  I’ll text you right now, I really hope I get to see you.”
I never received a message and I spent the next day wallowing in my hangover and hating myself for being such a fool.

A couple days later, I saw him out, but walked away before he could notice me.  Sitting down on the patio with my friends, I tried not to notice him leave with a skinny brunette.
When Reese arrived and I told her, she was in disbelief and disappeared to get the scoop from one of Fred’s friends.
“Okay babe,” she said upon returning, “this is going to hurt really badly, but it’s better for you to know so you can move on.  That girl he left with is his girlfriend, apparently they’ve been dating for a while.”
Ouch.
“And on top of that, supposedly he fucks a new girl every week.  I’m so sorry, he had us all fooled.”
Double ouch.

I tried to be strong and laugh it off like I didn’t care, but I fell apart.  All the Nick issues I’d buried inside came bubbling to the surface.  I told everyone I didn’t want a boyfriend, but I’d used Fred to distract myself and to replace that giant gaping, Nick-shaped hole in my life.  I cried, a lot.  I could not stop.  I left the bar and went home where I cried myself to sleep.


At 7 am I staggered into work hungover, sleep deprived and depressed.  My co-worker and I smoked a joint before starting on our cleaning duties and the weed helped numb me.  In fact, all I’d been doing since I’d returned was drinking, smoking weed and using hard drugs and the chemicals were reeking havoc with my emotions.  On top of it all, after finishing my shift, I received an angry phone call from my dad, accusing me of being a shitty daughter.
“You’re right,” I admitted, “My life is an absolute mess right now, but I’m going to try harder.”
I wanted to go back to sleep, but my tent was too hot so instead I met some friends at the beach.  The moment I got out of the water I made eye contact with a smiling Fred, walking towards me, blissfully unaware of the revelation I’d just received.
I panicked.  I had no idea what I wanted to say to him.  So I did what I do best and quickly ran away from the beach.

That evening, I was still too terrified to face him, but instead constructed a long text message.  I knew it was the cowards way out, but I didn’t want to see him and I had to get some things off my chest for my own sake.
I just told him that I thought we were friends and he really disappointed me by being like every other Aussie guy.  I explained that I never wanted a relationship, but would have appreciated honesty and a bit of respect.
He apologised for being distant and blamed it on his upcoming move, before asking me to hangout the next day.
My response?
“The reason I’m saying these things is not because of you being distant.  We live in a small town, and I’m not an idiot.”

I didn’t expect a response and wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get one.  I seriously questioned my judge of character, took a deep breath and tried to make the most of my remaining days in town, thankful that I had Bali to escape to.

 

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0

Over Before It Begun

I suppose you did me a favour…
Now I can get back to putting myself first, showing myself all the love I deserve, spending some quality time with me.
Although I wish I didn’t feel so stupid and shitty about it all.
But things happen for a reason, and the day it all imploded was the day I received an offer to good to pass up.
From destruction comes creation.
And every time I leave a city, I’m running from a broken heart…
Then there is a new place, a new face, a new epic romance and another crushed dream.  So onto the next one I go.
Maybe some people aren’t meant to be in a relationship, maybe they’re meant to wander alone.
You know, you really did do me a favour.

I just wish I hadn’t loved you so.

0

The Blister on my Heal

It started as a slight irritation and then grew into a dull ache.  Soon enough it was a full blister, throbbing with pain, oozing with every step.

How ironic that her flip-flops were the cause.
Because she’s just that: a constant hurt that won’t subside.

He lent me the sandals, one day after the dog destroyed mine.
“Just keep them,” he suggested with a shrug.  “It’s not like she’ll be coming back to claim them.”
They were two sizes too big and covered in a hideous pattern of flamingos.  Even Jill commented that they looked wrong on me, yet I continued to wear them.

Perhaps I was too lazy to find new ones or maybe I was just used to being surrounded by reminders of her

When we first met, his closet was filled with all her stuff, everything she left behind and intended to return to, but never did.
When we decided to date exclusively, he removed up all her things and set me a picture of his half-empty wardrobe.  It made me smile briefly, until I realized the clothing had simply been boxed up and pushed out of sight, but not quite out of mind.  Just like her.  The bulk of it may have been packed away but some items still remained.  Her pink heart covered raincoat was still shoved under the seat of his car, a constant reminder of how fresh his wounds really are.

They still talk, comment on each other’s various posts and photos, but I know it’s never about me.  Because in her case, I’m the one out of sight.

Sometimes I wonder if I am the most insecure woman or the most naive fool who ever lived.
I can’t remember ever feeling such intense jealousy and resentment, especially towards a total stranger.  It’s disgusting.

Yet, he’s not without his own fears: that I’ll meet someone else, that I’ll up and leave, that I’ll change my mind.  In the end we both run the risk of getting hurt, we both have the potential to break each other’s heart, but that’s no reason to call it quits.


Since we made that transition into exclusivity I’ve felt bogged down with uncertainty and anxiety.  I’m constantly weighing the pros and cons, debating whether I should just up and leave, or try harder to let my guard down.  I wonder if he genuinely likes me or just sees me as something he needs to lock down.  I’m not an object, I’m not his personal prostitute, and I’m not her or his ex-wife.  I’m just me.  I don’t know how to be anyone else.
I know we have no staying power, but right now, being with him makes me happy.  Too happy.


I’ve thought a lot about it over the last couple weeks and have come to a realization.  The reason my relationships take on the same forms, it because I always get in my head about them.  I can’t decide if I should pull away or totally commit and I drive myself (and my boyfriend) absolutely crazy until it decimates and I fall to pieces, fearful that I’ve fucked up and made the wrong decision.
What if this time, rather than waste so much time and energy thinking about him, I focused it on myself and let the relationship run its course?  I’m happiest when I feel independent, so why not continue to live my life on my terms, whilst having a beautiful boy on the side.  My rules, my schedule, my life and if he has a problem with it, then the door is right there.  I need to put myself first and this so-called relationship second.

Easier said than done right?

0

Moon Musings

Why shouldn’t I write here?  Underneath mother moon, so full she looks likely to burst.  She shines down upon me, inspiring me, my cancer self ruled by her glorious power.  The waves crash beside me and I can see just fine, so why not?  The sea.  My fucking one true love.  Just being in it’s presence, hearing its gentle lullaby soothes me.  

Here I sit, asking myself: Is the reason I feel alienated from my co-workers because I alienate myself?  I spend a lot of time with Nick and probably miss out on potential bonding time.  In retrospect, maybe I spend all this time with him in an effort to get out of the hostel.  I like the people I know and the snobbish ones, I don’t care to know.
And Nick.  What the fuck should I do about Nick?!  He has kids!  But we did finally discuss them…

It was one night night, after he sleep sex attacked me (it’s like he’s sleep walking, but all he does is feel me up and mumble gibberish) we both ended up wide awake and talking.  As much as I dislike being woken from my sweet slumber, we end up having our best conversations in the veil of darkness, partially awake, partially in a dream.  It was during one of these conversations that the subject was broached.  He said that he would like to have kids, someday in the future.  I responded, “I was under the impression you already have children…”
He got really quiet and finally said, “Yeah, I didn’t know how to tell you.  I was going to, that night at the brewery but then you and Jill started talking about how you would never date a guy who had kids and what a turn off it was…”
Shit.
I apologized, but scolded him for not telling me something so monumental.  Yet, since my discovery and now that I have had time to reflect on it, I feel okay about it.
He began telling me about his ex-wife who he met at his time as a Youth Councillor through his church.  She was a recovering drug addict and 6 years his senior who convinced him to rush into a relationship, marriage and kids… Things got violent apparently on her part, although she accused him of such behaviour as well.
“This doesn’t change the way I feel about you,” I told him and knew I meant it.
Maybe because they’re not physically present in his life, it’s easier to cope with.  Or maybe it’s because I still don’t see a future for us, even though I kind of, sort of, want to believe it could be possible.

It’s all so confusing for me.  When I’m with him, I feel amazing; I’m confident and relaxed and completely myself.  When we’re apart, I’m relieved and yet, I miss him.  Like I said, it’s all very confusing.
The other day he referred to himself as my boyfriend and even though I keep saying I don’t want to label it, I felt tingles.
Deep down, I know I’m just filling some big hole in my life.  Wow, I had completely intended to write ‘his life‘ but instead I wrote ‘my life‘.  Isn’t that telling?  Total Freudian slip.  There you have it.  We’re both using each other in the same way.  And perhaps, just for right now, it’s okay.  This thing we have may be fleeing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be intense and raw and beautiful all the same.  Perhaps, knowing it has an expiry date is what makes it so easy to love so honestly and openly.

Oh Nick, what are you doing to me?  Did we meet in another life?  Or several?  You’ve got me such a fucking mess.

1

Fear of the Unknown

Why don’t I want to write about him?
Why can’t I really talk about him?
Even when I do let myself think about him, it’s for brief moments, in small flashes, I never let myself go to deep.

Is it because I think he’s some fleeting image not meant to last?
Is it because I know it’ll never work out?
Is it because I know if I let myself think too hard about him, I’ll talk myself out of it?
Because the last thing I want to do is stop… The way I feel right now, I couldn’t if I tried.

Not when he’s always looking at me intensely with those bright eyes, a faint smile on his lips.  And when I ask why, he simply says, “You’re so beautiful.”
Not when he wants to cook for me, open doors for me and massage me, just cause he can.
Not when he picks up a case of ginger beer for me, because he remembered that I mentioned I was craving it the other day.
Not when he has a rock hard body, perfect penis, beautiful face and an accent I could die for.
Not when he is the best sex of my life.
No. Fucking. Way.

I tried to convince myself I was in control and it was all under my terms, but this weekend I realized how hard I was falling and now I’m terrified of hitting the rock bottom.


When I think back, it started a couple weeks ago while I was scrolling through Instagram.
I came across a photo that made my heart race.
“Sunday hikes with this guy <3” her caption read.  The photo hadn’t even finished loading, but I knew what it was and yet still, I waited.  I subjected myself to the pain of seeing her and Dan standing in front of a big tree, smiling, arms wrapped tightly around one another.
I already knew, but this confirmed it; I didn’t expect it to sting so bad.
But it was this incident that gave me the extra incentive to message back the cute guy I’d met at the bar and ask him out.  I wanted to move on, I wanted to meet a nice guy and experience some intimacy and I didn’t want to wait.
Apparently, this guy did not want the same things as his texts went from flirty to downright creepy.  I told him to forget it, but I still really wanted to go on a date, I’d actually been looking forward to it.  That’s when I decided to test the old ‘third time’s the charm’ theory and get back on Tinder.  I’d struck out in Canada and New Zealand, but maybe Australia would be a different story.

I matched with my first local guy and he messaged me right away.
He was sweet and asked a lot of questions and made interesting banter other than the usual small talk.  His pictures didn’t show much of his face, but he seemed pretty cute.  He asked me if I’d ever skateboarded and when I said no he invited me to join him for a skate.
On my way to meet him, a guy cruised by on a skateboard while I was coming in on my bike.  I looked him over and smiled and he smiled back.  Could this be the guy? I wondered, hopeful.  He passed without a word.  Damn, too good to be true!
I locked up my bike and wandered down the parking lot and saw him walking back and we both started laughing at ourselves for missing each other.  We walked down to the beach so he could stretch out.  He was very talkative, kind of ADD, but I didn’t mind, it took the pressure off of me to talk.  He treated me to ice cream and the two of us skated down the bike path and continued into another parking lot.  We chatted, quoted stupid movies, laughed and had a sword fight with two sticks.  I walked with him back to his car and we hugged goodbye.
“I’d really like to hangout again,” he said.  “Can I add you on Facebook?”
“Sure, I can give you my number too,” I stated boldly.  He was cute, sweet and I’d had a fun time.  Besides, I was pretty sure he was hiding a banging body under his shirt and I was keen to find out for certain.
He mentioned he and his mates possibly going for beers and I suggested maybe Jill and I would meet them on the weekend.
The moment I got home, he messaged me saying how cool I was and how glad he was to have met me.
This is all too good to be true, what’s this guys angle?!

He messaged me again a couple days later asking if I wanted to check out a waterfall with he and his puppy.  I happily agreed.
When I climbed into his ute, his ridiculously cute puppy climbed onto my lap and gently licked my face.
“This is Otis, I just rescued him two weeks ago.”
Are you kidding me?  That’s fucking adorable.
We chatted intermittently on our walk down, mostly he talked, about anything and everything.
When we reached the waterfall I was dumbstruck.  It was incredible, like something out a picture book.  It was a little cool, but I didn’t care, we both dove into the perfect pool full of glowing lily pads and lined with deep cavernous rocks.  I finally got to see his beautiful body and it did not disappoint.
He turned to me and said, “You’re really cool, and I don’t think I can just be your friend.”
“Oh yeah?” I replied nervously as I looked down and giggled and he swam away.  I wanted nothing more for him to come back and kiss me.
We both said very little as we started walking back.  An anxious Otis had burrowed into my strewn clothing and they were covered in mud.  I could only laugh as he apologized profusely.

Back in the car he asked me if I’d ever been to a particular neighbouring town, when I shook my head no he asked if I wanted to check it out and grab a bite to eat.  I was meant to meet Jill, but was getting the feeling she might bail, besides I was intrigued by this creature and wanted to see where the date would go.
Neither of us quite realized how far away it was and when Jill messaged me asking if we were still hanging out, I began stalling until she eventually decided she was too tired anyway.  I felt like a bitch, but I didn’t care, I now had an unlimited time to spend with him.
We sat outside eating fish and chips and giggled while cuddling on the bench for warmth.
We started back and had been driving a while when he suddenly slowed and pulled over.
“This is really lame, but I just really want to kiss you.  Would that be alright?”
“You shouldn’t ask, you should just do.”
“I’m not a great kisser,” he admitted.
“Shut up,” I grabbed his face and kiss him gently.
When we parted he said, “But I am good at this,” and began kissing down my neck.
Oh my!
We made out in his truck for a few minutes, our hands exploring each other’s bodies while Otis squirmed uncomfortably between us.
“I don’t think I can keep kissing you like this without wanting to do more, but I don’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable.”
“I don’t feel rushed or uncomfortable,” I said, throwing him a wicked smile.  What the fuck did I want to wait for?
“We can cruise by mine, feed the dog and see if the house is empty,” he suggested as he had just moved back and was living with his mom, but she was practically living with her boyfriend so he pretty much had the house to himself.

We stopped in another town so he could show me the river.  We walked along it with Otis while we cuddled and flirted.
We got to his empty house and sat talking some more when he suddenly asked me what I liked in the bedroom.
“Umm, no one’s really asked me that before,” I stammered.  “I’m pretty open to most things… What about you?”
He shrugged, “I’m easy.”
Shortly after, he looked at me hungrily and said, “Let’s go to the bedroom, I want to get you naked.”
We both stripped and kneeled face to face on the bed, our bodies barely touching as we kissed.  By the time his hand began exploring between my legs he moaned, “God, you’re so fucking wet!”  I was actually dripping for him.  I didn’t even know my body was capable of such a feat.
He fucked me with his gorgeous cock for close to two hours and in every different way.  He explained he had trouble finishing with a new partner, I had orgasmed twice so I didn’t care.  We finally stopped for sustenance and stood naked in the kitchen nibbling chips and cookies.  It was 2 am so I stayed the night, resting peacefully in his strong arms.

In the morning he made me breakfast and drove me to work.  I felt myself growing grumpy as he fussed around with the dog before announcing he forgot we had to empty the tailgate first.
“I’m gonna be late!” I snapped.  I tried to reign in my annoyance when he called a friend and offered to pick him up (thankfully, the friend declined.)  It’s been hard, but I’m trying not to worry about time as much because here, people generally don’t and it’s rather refreshing.  I did make it to work exactly on time by some divine miracle and gave him a quick kiss before running in.  I tried not to give him too much thought, but whenever I pictured his naked body I could feel the wetness creeping in.  He was great but I had some concerns.  From what he told me and what I’d seen on Facebook, I’d pieced together that he had dated an Irish girl for over a year and even went overseas for her, but she dumped him saying it was pointless since she didn’t plan to return to Aus.  He travelled alone for a while before returning.  They’d only been broken up a couple months and were still in contact.

Saturday night rolled around and his friends had all ditched, but he still wanted to hang with me and Jill.  Nervous, I made an excuse to blow him off, but after a few drinks, some gushing and Jill’s encouragement, I invited him to meet us at the brewery.  We were wasted, he was tipsy and Jill was giving him the third degree.  He danced with us, bought us beers and drove Jill and her bike home.  I was so impressed and turned on, I had to have him.
Back at his place, I vaguely recalled making out with him on the floors of his garage (?!) and trying to have sex but failing miserably. I woke up never remembering falling asleep.  I was meant to meet some friends for coffee in town but I was still drunk and despite his encouragement I was too terrified to take his standard ute.  On top of it all, there was no way I was leaving this beautiful, naked creature without having some better sex.  I messaged and politely ditched a much too understanding friend and climbed back into his arms.

By early afternoon our conversation had somehow led to me being bound to the headboard by my wrists while he thrusted deeply.  We both had earth shattering orgasms and were enjoying the aftershocks when we heard his name being called from across the house…  His mom… I rushed to dress while he called a greeting to her and hurried to close the bedroom door.  We tried to sneak out the front door but I ended up meeting his mom, after not even a week of knowing him, with her sons fresh load leaking from my vagina.  I could feel how red I was from my orgasm and my growing embarrassment.  We rushed off for a canoe, but because I hadn’t planned to go home with him, I didn’t have a bathing suit or change of clothes.  We canoed to a more private part of the lake then I put on his singlet and waded out into the tea tree infused lakes to rinse my body, while he climbed tall trees.  The awkward nervousness reared its ugly head when he talked about his ex contacting him and chastised me for kissing him too much.
We grabbed a bite and went back to his house where I struggled to make a better second impression.
I felt sufficiently awkward and I’d hinted to Jill that I’d meet her at the beach, but he begged me to stay another night, but I was tired and embarrassed and wanted some space so finally he reluctantly drove me back.

Jill and I downed a bottle of wine on the beach then went to the brewery to watch her new Tinder friend perform with his band.  That night is an entire story of its own but I ended up doing M and dancing with a ton of gorgeous men at the after party.  The guy who was hosting the party was this beautiful Israeli with long chestnut curls.  When we hugged goodbye he whispered, “Come back and see me again,” and it sounded like a threat and a promise and it made me tingle all over.  That night I had an epiphany: I had to stay single this summer.
I was resolved to stick to my decision even though I was dreaming of being in his arms as I was coming down.

The next day, while creeping his Facebook I made a startling discovery: He had TWO KIDS and an EX-WIFE that he NEVER MENTIONED!!! I was mortified and hurt and angry, I wanted to confront him, but Kennedy talked me down and made me realize that it was probably a hard thing to discuss and he was probably worried he’d scare me off.
I wanted to ask him to slow things down, but I didn’t want him to think the two things were connected so I resolved to wait for him to tell me in his own time.

The next night at his house, while fussing around cooking spaghetti bolognese for me, I finally admitted that I liked spending time with but things were moving too quickly and I didn’t want a relationship.
“I don’t want a relationship either, especially not with a backpacker,” he promised. “But would you hook up with other guys?”
I assured him I wasn’t looking to, but if something were to happen I wouldn’t beat myself up over it.
“Just use protection I guess… I probably won’t hook up with anyone else, but if you want to…” he sounded hurt.
But after an incredible night together, he was singing a different tune as he drove and we further discussed it.
“I think I may like this sex-friend thing,” he said, smiling.

Despite my cries of protest, I still spent the entire day with him.
We saw a pod of grey whales, walked Otis on the beach and stopped for snacks.  He begged me to stay another night, but I reiterated my need for space.

Determined to act single, I went out with Jill on Friday night.  That is yet another story in its own, but we got wasted, picked up two guys and after getting kicked out of their hostel, sat on the beach smoking a joint.  We snuck back in and began cuddling with our respective men.  We started fooling around by my spins were so bad, I had to keep stopping.  It was almost as if some higher power was trying to stop me.
In the morning, when I was slightly more sober we tried again.  Despite his large dick, I couldn’t get into it and insisted we give up.  I kept thinking about this awesome guy I already had and when I admitted my guilt to Jill she screamed “OH MY GOD YOU LOVE HIM!” as I rode wobbly away on my bike.

I caught a couple hours of sleep and survived work, but was over the moon when my second cleaning job got cancelled.  I was meant to go to the birthday party of his friend’s girlfriend and even though I was terrified of meeting his friends, I was desperate to see him and thankfully, Jill had agree to join me.
We rolled up with his friend and followed by a few others.  The ‘party’ consisted of a handful of his friends, the girlfriend’s entire extended family (I’m talking little kids and old people who seemed perplexed by our presence.)  It was an intimate, uncomfortable environment and I couldn’t be happier to have outspoken, friendly Jill there, even if she was swearing loudly at kids.
He wandered off and I got stuck talking to some musos.  One of his friend’s girlfriends cornered me to gush about how much they liked me over his ex already and how glad they were to have me in their crew.  I couldn’t help but feel flattered.  The party died down and the old people dissipated and those remaining began getting wild.  We smoked cone after cone and I got on really well with all his friends.  Even though he was loser pissed and useless, forcing me to take charge and set up our tent, I was ecstatic when I finally got to wrap my arms around him in [semi] privacy.
I looked into his eyes and realized my feelings for him were stronger than I cared to admit.
I’ll sensor myself a little here, but we got wild.  This 30 year old, former Christian who had only been with three other women, was turning into a freak before my very eyes and I loved it.
Every position he wanted to try, every thing I suggested, he was in to.  We were so free and open about our desires and past experiences, it was exhilarating.  When I said this to him, he looked at me solemnly and said, “I just want all of you, in every way.”

The next morning, we banged again and joined the others to eat egg and bacon sandwiches and swam in the frigid pool.  We returned to his house and Sunday Fundayed it.  Soon it was only the two of us and he whisked me off to the bedroom to fuck before cooking me butter chicken and then fucking me again.
In the morning, I bemoaned going into work and wished I could spend the whole day naked with him.


Now, I’m here.  So lost, but totally unconcerned with it.  I haven’t brought up the kids and don’t plan to, because honestly, I’m not really ready to have that conversation.  Right now it’s fun and breezy and although we talk like lifelong friends, avoiding such topics makes me feel like they don’t exist or will simply go away.
I fucking like this guy a lot, but there’s no future for us.  I can’t stay and he likely can’t leave.  Besides, he’ll probably end up taking his ex back and leaving me high and dry.  But are those potential issues problems enough to deny myself happiness now?  Is the smart thing to end it now before we both get hurt?  Cause I can’t get sucked into a relationship and I’m just beginning to think I’m too flighty to ever remain tied down, but maybe… just maybe… he’s the exception to the rule.  I don’t know what will happen, I suppose only time will tell, but right now…

He’s the only man who has treated me like gold simply because he thinks I deserve it; or asks me questions about my family; or doesn’t care about my wild past and uncertain future.  He’s the greatest guy I’ve ever dated and I’m not about to throw that away for fear.

0

Itching for Intimacy

I was finally nearing my new departure date and as excited as I was, I felt that I needed to make more effort to be social, before it was too late and I would have to say goodbye and possibly never see some of these people again.
I guess that’s what brought me out to the “Christmas in August” party that night.  I’d been invited, all my friends were going, it sounded fun and festive and besides, I already had something for the gift exchange.

It was enjoyable, but a smaller gathering than I’d imagined and we all ended up at the local bar.  I was well-pissed and my crew and I smoked spliff after spliff.  Somehow, at some point in the night, I had attracted the attention of a gorgeous French man named Felix.  The festivities were winding down and Felix was really putting on the moves and trying to convince me to come home with him.  I’d seen him come on strongly to Kennedy in the same smooth manner, but I was still tempted, I’d always thought he was such a babe.  After a little push from one of my girlfriends, I gave in and Felix and I abruptly and discreetly made our exit.
Back at his house we had hot, drunken sex and although it was hazy, I remembered it being good.  Definitely the best sex I’ve had in the country.
In the morning, we were both feeling worse for wear.  I lay out on his deck in the sun, falling in and out of consciousness, while he got ready for work.  I went with him into town, feeling a little awkward and not knowing what to say.  To my surprise, he asked for my number when we parted ways and a couple days later, he asked me to hangout…

At the time, I was at my digs, way out in the country and we struck a deal that if he came and picked me up, I would supply the weed.  I expected nothing more than for us to get stoned and get it on, after all, whenever Ted and I got together I would barely be in the door before his tongue was down my throat, his fingers peeling off my clothes and his strong arms leading me to the bedroom… So I was taken aback when Felix asked if I wanted to have a couple beers at the beach and watch the sunset.
We sat overlooking the water, listening to French rap on his car stereo, and passing a spliff back and forth.  We talked a lot, about anything and everything, I had no idea that the two of us had so much in common.  When it grew darker, we went into town so he could pinch the library WiFi to check something on his phone.  Of course we ran into heaps of people we knew and they all gave us that knowing look while they asked what we were up to.  Ah, one of the many drawbacks of living in a small town, your business is never your own…

The two of us stopped for groceries and a bottle of wine and together, we cooked a nice pasta dinner while sipping wine and smoking doobies.  We sat on the couch and the conversation flowed as easily as the vino.  Eventually, we retired to his room to enjoy a more passionate and intense sex session and then passed out in each others arms.
In the morning, we had sex again, but it was hard to focus as I could hear various people coming in and out of the house and talking loudly outside his door.
We came out to investigate and there were a bunch of random friends of his absent roommate, hanging out in the living room smoking weed.  I had a couple puffs, but began to feel awkward.  I hate that ‘walk of shame’ feeling and even though I really wanted to shower, I asked Felix to drop me off in town so I could run some errands before meeting up with a friend for coffee.  But mostly, I wanted to leave because I had really enjoyed our date and was scared of the inevitable rejection and pain that would surely ensue…

That night revealed some deep emotions that I’d been fighting to keep down.  It became glaringly obvious that I was craving some real intimacy in my life.  As much as I denied and avoided it, I wanted to get to know someone and maybe even care about them; I wanted to talk all night until the sun rose; I wanted the beautiful experience of making love to someone and really feeling connected to them.  The realization was truly terrifying.  Dan was the last guy I liked, the last guy who took me on activities resembling a date.  That entire experience left me feeling so stupid and vulnerable, that I’d been dodging it ever since by filling my life with meaningless sex with a string of unworthy men.  But even though I realized that I wanted to date, I still felt too frightened of caring too much, or getting let down.

I hoped to run into Felix again, but I never got in touch with him before I left.  I was too confused about my own emotions and still convinced that I had imagined the whole night.

I’ve resolved to continue shoving these thoughts of intimacy aside and keeping myself as distracted from men as possible this summer.  God help me.

1

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Today I googled myself.  I was hoping to find my old MSN Profile (apparently they don’t exist anymore?) to access old high school photos.  What I found instead was my old blog I kept in high school.  It was a little disarming since it contained my full name along with extremely personal details and real names of those involved.
The posts were fairly dull and contained huge time lapses.
Some stories I had completely forgotten about and so I had a good chuckle while skipping down memory lane.

Eventually, I stumbled upon a post that made my eyes well up with tears.

I was ranting about my best friend Dillon.  I complained about how clingy he was and bemoaned that fact that he obviously liked me.
“I DON’T like him,” I had so venomously stated, “Why can’t he just accept that?”
I went on to describe how at a party at Dillon’s parents I had hooked up with our friend Arthur.  Dillon made some snide comment in which he referred to me as promiscuous.  I was outraged and angrily asked the cyber world: “Why does he think he owns me cause we’re going to prom together?  The only reason I accepted was cause my first two options bailed and I didn’t want to go stag.”  Ouch.
I was shocked at my cruelty and callousness.  Dillon is my best friend and has been since high school.  Sure we’ve had fights and falling outs, but not back then.  Back then we’d just begun getting really close, he’d done no wrong at this point.
I clicked over to my next post, it begun with an email I had copied and pasted:

“I realize you’re mad and you have every right to be.  I wasn’t trying to call you a slut, but I can see how it came off that way.  So, I’m sorry.  Something like this was bound to happen eventually.  I just have to accept the fact that we’re not going to happen.  So yeah, I’m sorry about what I said and I hope you forgive me!”
My heart broke when I re-read those words (and apparently did at the time, according to the remainder of my post.)
I knew Dillon liked me, but the story I usually tell about how we came to be friends went something like this:
He liked me, we went on a date.  I wasn’t feeling it, I told him I just wanted to be friends and we have been ever since.
It’s a story I tell myself more than anyone else.  The truth is, I hurt him, badly.  He cared about me and probably still does and I never gave him a chance.
I began to see the light a little when trying to describe the nature of our relationship to Kennedy.  I mentioned that his one and only girlfriend and my ex both told me the same thing:
He’s in love with you and always will be.  How can you not see it?
But still, I denied it, I refused to acknowledge it, I pushed it out of my mind.  Sure he had liked me at some point, but that was 10 years ago, he’s moved on.

What if that’s just a story I tell myself so I can hide from my own guilt?  When I met Dillon, he was a nice, sweet, lovesick little puppy.  He was a virgin until after we graduated.  Then he started reading Tucker Max realized, ‘Hey! Assholes really do finish first!’ so he set out to become one and he succeeded.  And it worked.  He got laid.  A lot.  At 27 he is an intelligent, confident man about to finish law school.  Beautiful women throw themselves at him, they trip over themselves to be with him, they blurt out they love him after sex, they pine after him when he pulls away.  He’s never had a real girlfriend (well, one for a few months) he always finds something wrong with them.  Yet something tells me, it’s because he’s still patiently waiting for me….

I think about how it must have been for him, watching me date my ex from Hell.  Seeing me get treated like shit and yet always going back for more.  Witnessing me suffer at the hands of a man I claimed to love.  Becoming an asshole himself in the hopes it would get him ahead.  Then watching me launch straight into a new relationship with a nice, normal, virginal guy, and his own cousin no less!  No wonder he became so bitter!  No wonder we didn’t talk during those relationships.
I recall talking to his brother who said, “You know he’s a jerk cause he likes you right?” and me whining, “If he likes me, why can’t he be nice to me?  Win me over with kindness…”  Of course he wasn’t.  He’d tried that before and it got him instantly friend zoned.  Besides, why would he when being a dick was proving so successful?  Now I sit here, with the heaviest question on my mind:
Am I responsible for the person Dillon is today?  Will he always be bitter and alone because of me?
I know it may sound like the most self-absorbed, presumptuous question in the world, but its the first time I’ve seriously asked myself this and I’m scared it may just as well be true.
Holy fuck I’m an asshole!

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I have wondered what it’d be like to be with him.
We talk openly and honestly about sex and I have no reason to doubt he’d be incredible in bed.  I don’t find him unattractive though he’s not really my type.  But what?  What could ever happen?  We couldn’t be together, we’re too different.  I know “opposites attract” but we are on opposite sides of the fence on every issue.  He wants to go back to our hometown and be a criminal defence lawyer, he wants that materialistic security.  I want to travel the world, be a happy bum and avoid responsibility and commitment forever.
Years ago we promised that if we hit a certain age and were both single we’d marry each other.  But now I’m questioning if I ever want to get married, let alone do it out of convenience and social pressure.  So what, should we just fuck?  Just to see what it’d be like?  Maybe ruin our friendship and for what?
I love Dillon, I can’t lose him.  We’re living our separate lives in different countries, but he’s always been there for me, we’ve always kept in touch.

A long time ago I had another best guy friend.  Our relationship was awesome and open, we had the best times together.  He told me he loved me and I said I couldn’t.  He wouldn’t relent, he said he loved me and wanted to be with me.  He treated me like gold and refused to give up.  One night camping, in a drunken haze, we hooked up and it just felt right.  He asked me again to be his girlfriend, but this time I said yes.  He was my first and I was totally and utterly in love.  Then everything changed.  I changed, he changed, we couldn’t just be us, we were like this one entity.  He grew cold and turned on me.  He broke my heart in the cruelest and most malicious way.  I felt all the pain and anguish from all those years ago as I re-read my heartbroken entries,  After that I vowed never to date a friend again.  But I did.  I met him and he loved me and one day I saw that I might love him too.  So we gave it a shot.  I still love him but I broke his heart and he’ll never forgive me and I’ll never have his friendship again.

I guess it’s better to have loved and lost than always wondered what could have been, but not this time, not in this case.  I can’t lose Dillon.

I guess I’m still a selfish asshole.