The date with Alan goes well. So far so good! He seems intelligent, a good spirit, happy and easygoing. If I had met him in a vanilla context I don't think I would have guessed at his sexual nonconformism. I wonder how many other people slip beneath my radar. Alan fields a volley of semi-serious questions from me. I learned this bad habit from Virgil who has a talent for making people feel quizzed and laughed at simultaneously. He answers well and asks a few of his own. I am overtaken by an urge to confess and admit to peccadilloes one really shouldn't give up on a first date (such as having an awful temper and the shoddiest thing in my internet dating history). We have an awkward kiss at the end of it (I nearly fall over my bike) but the chemistry is there.
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Showing posts with label sleepovers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleepovers. Show all posts
Monday, 7 May 2012
Monday, 16 January 2012
Exercise some mind control
I am trying not to catastrophize. It's one of my new strategies. I don't like bursting into tears while on the tube or getting my bike out of the bikeroom. Also I don't think that encouraging unhealthy trains of thought will help me to feel better about the situation. I don't want to wear my neuronal pathways any deeper.
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Sunday, 27 June 2010
Sleepovers, Part 2
By the time Ruby had claimed her orgasm it was 3am. I had work the next day. While she went to the bathroom we talked about what to do. We hadn't actually planned for this and it felt awkward. I don't know whether Ruby had expected to stay but the date felt over.
Virgil and I differ on the question of sleepovers and it is an ongoing thread of our discussions about etiquette in open relationships. I would neither want or expect to stay the night with people I had had sex or played with for the first time (and maybe not ever). I'm not uncaring but I need to know people better for that kind of intimacy.
We offered Ruby the sofabed but she refused and she didn't want us to call a cab. Ruby said she would walk home half an hour through the back streets. We were unable to dissuade her and she left, although she did send a text to say she was safe at home and had seen a huge fox on the way.
Today Virgil was feeling guilty but I wasn't. As a man he has a more developed sense of chivalry. I'm about 6 inches taller than Ruby but I've done my share of walking alone late at night. Sometimes you can't afford a taxi but sometimes you just don't want to pay for one.
Although we both have a sense of Ruby as an adventuress, her vulnerability is more appealing to Virgil than it is to me. He's feeling quite protective about Ruby, more so than if she was someone he was seeing as a single. I think Virgil has romanticised her slightly and I suspect that he will do this with future playmates. Why should she be hurt by us? I like Ruby, although I don't yet know what she wants from our relationship.
Seeing Virgil seduce Ruby gave me a great deal of pleasure. He was charming and gentle with her. He says that in normal circumstances he would want to hold someone and cuddle them for at least an hour after they had come so I suppose we'll have to make her come earlier next time. I was wrecked the next day.
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Virgil and I differ on the question of sleepovers and it is an ongoing thread of our discussions about etiquette in open relationships. I would neither want or expect to stay the night with people I had had sex or played with for the first time (and maybe not ever). I'm not uncaring but I need to know people better for that kind of intimacy.
We offered Ruby the sofabed but she refused and she didn't want us to call a cab. Ruby said she would walk home half an hour through the back streets. We were unable to dissuade her and she left, although she did send a text to say she was safe at home and had seen a huge fox on the way.
Today Virgil was feeling guilty but I wasn't. As a man he has a more developed sense of chivalry. I'm about 6 inches taller than Ruby but I've done my share of walking alone late at night. Sometimes you can't afford a taxi but sometimes you just don't want to pay for one.
Although we both have a sense of Ruby as an adventuress, her vulnerability is more appealing to Virgil than it is to me. He's feeling quite protective about Ruby, more so than if she was someone he was seeing as a single. I think Virgil has romanticised her slightly and I suspect that he will do this with future playmates. Why should she be hurt by us? I like Ruby, although I don't yet know what she wants from our relationship.
Seeing Virgil seduce Ruby gave me a great deal of pleasure. He was charming and gentle with her. He says that in normal circumstances he would want to hold someone and cuddle them for at least an hour after they had come so I suppose we'll have to make her come earlier next time. I was wrecked the next day.
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Sunday, 13 June 2010
Sleepless
There's nothing like a broken night's sleep for feeling hateful.
At 2.30 on Saturday morning a karaoke party woke us. We lay listening to drunk girls belting out anthems until 4. Finally we slept, until 6.30 when a dawn rave broke out downstairs. It was quite unbelievably loud.
I went to the window. Next door's bijou barbecue looked like a junked robot in the morning light. A girl was prancing about on the flat roof below, cheered on by out-of-sight male voices. Furious, and having only a phone in my hand and not a gun, I took her photograph.
From the alley at ground level a man's face looked up at me. I scowled at him and shrugged interrogatingly. "I'm police," he said. "Will you come down and talk to me?" He held up his ID and I said I would meet him out on the street. I took my phone with the picture of the girl so that we could prosecute her for brattishness and having no consideration for people who are sleeping and have to work the next day. As I left the window I could hear the policeman shouting something at the people on the roof.
I walked around the empty block but couldn't find my way into the alley. The music stopped. It was quiet. I went back to bed, lay listening to a Jeeves and Wooster radio programme entitled Joy In The Morning and eventually slept again.
My rancour toward this total stranger lasted all of the rest of yesterday. To deliver my internal rant more effectively I christened her Julia. In my imagination she had been caught and prosecuted. The scene was a municipal building - maybe a police station or court house. Julia cried. She apologised and put on her best voice to explain that it had just been thoughtless fun.
I was scornful and implacable. I told Julia that she deserved what she was going to get, which realistically would probably only be a caution or a fine. I said it would teach her a lesson in her over-privileged life to not always have her own way. Did she think that she could simply do whatever she wanted? Julia's transgressions, of staying up all night (probably) taking recreational drugs, being inconsiderate of sleeping people and showing off in front of boys, were considerable. She deserved the harshest penalty and my deepest derision.
I was scornful and implacable. I told Julia that she deserved what she was going to get, which realistically would probably only be a caution or a fine. I said it would teach her a lesson in her over-privileged life to not always have her own way. Did she think that she could simply do whatever she wanted? Julia's transgressions, of staying up all night (probably) taking recreational drugs, being inconsiderate of sleeping people and showing off in front of boys, were considerable. She deserved the harshest penalty and my deepest derision.
So right but yet so wrong. My inner Melanie Phillips, yesterday risen like a Jungian archetype, has now subsided. Julia is safe, if not exactly forgiven. But the next time my neighbours play techno in the early hours I will report them immediately to the landlord, the council noise team and the police. I have all their numbers in my phone, and I will be taking photographs.
And by the way, don't football fans talk a pile of utter shit?
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Saturday, 24 April 2010
Sleepovers
Connor disagrees with Dee's view that it's easier if you can vet the other partners and know what's going on. In Connor's opinion open relationships only work when you are in separate cities. Yvonne works for an airline. "Out of sight, out of mind," says Connor.
Virgil and I met Connor and his girlfriend, Yvonne, through a contact site. We went on a date a couple of months ago - and still might have a foursome with them, but we haven't yet. The only definite hitch is that Yvonne has a trout pout and it weirds us out slightly, but she is from south America and I think it's a bit more normal in that culture.
Connor and I are in a similar situation work-wise, as in we do a similar thing and neither has enough work. I'm talking to him while we have coffee one morning. We're about to do a skills swap, so it's sort of professional but we're hanging out too. Connor is of the opinion that men are totally different to women in that they can happily fuck without the least bit of emotional attachment, or even much physical attraction come to that. He adds that a man will never leave the woman who will let him have sex with other people, her generosity and self-assuredness securing his everlasting adoration and commitment.
I'm not convinced. Virgil has a much more emotional, romantic perspective on sex with other people than I do. We have already had a conversation about sleepovers that illustrates this perfectly. It's a day or two after the date story breaking and we're talking about my reaction to the news. Specifically, my shouting "I fucking hate you!" before slamming the bedroom door, pacing from room to room crying, passing a mostly sleepless night, crying again in the morning (I'm back in our bed by then, generously rubbing his face in my misery) while Virgil looks stricken and confused.
"How do you think you'll handle it if I go out one evening and don't come back that night?" he asks. "What are you talking about?" I say. Virgil says quite emphatically that although he has had a couple of one-night stands in his life he almost always spends the night with people he has had sex with. He says that to not be able to do this would cramp his style severely. He points out that public transport stops at a certain time. "You didn't sleep with me the first time we had sex," I counter, "Even though I invited you to. You came round on a Sunday afternoon; we went to bed; you left at nine. Sex can happen at any time of day. It doesn't have to be late in the evening."
I recoil at the thought that Virgil would want to actually sleep with another partner. That kind of affectionate intimacy is something I save for special. I love the warm entanglement of Virgil at night and the cuddles we have. "What, you have sex with someone and then get up and leave?" he asks, somewhat unnecessarily. Of course I do. That's normal when you're having casual sex, isn't it? I am pretty sure that is what most people do. Virgil finds that sterile, perfunctory and a bit sordid. He says that he doesn't want to have that kind of sex and that sex without romance is empty and unexciting.
"What do you mean by romance?" we ask each other. I could scream with frustration. I feel like I know nothing anymore. I can't even explain myself anymore. I know what I mean when I say romance. I know when I feel romantic about someone and I know when I don't. Virgil says that, barring sex parties and orgies, almost everyone he has ever had sex with has registered somewhere on a scale of romance. I imagine a fairground test-your-strength game, where you hit a bell with a hammer and it sends a marker shooting up a pole. That's not me: I have two scales. Romance either is or isn't there. It's a qualitative shift, not a question of degree.
Virgil is driving a hard bargain.
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Virgil and I met Connor and his girlfriend, Yvonne, through a contact site. We went on a date a couple of months ago - and still might have a foursome with them, but we haven't yet. The only definite hitch is that Yvonne has a trout pout and it weirds us out slightly, but she is from south America and I think it's a bit more normal in that culture.
Connor and I are in a similar situation work-wise, as in we do a similar thing and neither has enough work. I'm talking to him while we have coffee one morning. We're about to do a skills swap, so it's sort of professional but we're hanging out too. Connor is of the opinion that men are totally different to women in that they can happily fuck without the least bit of emotional attachment, or even much physical attraction come to that. He adds that a man will never leave the woman who will let him have sex with other people, her generosity and self-assuredness securing his everlasting adoration and commitment.
I'm not convinced. Virgil has a much more emotional, romantic perspective on sex with other people than I do. We have already had a conversation about sleepovers that illustrates this perfectly. It's a day or two after the date story breaking and we're talking about my reaction to the news. Specifically, my shouting "I fucking hate you!" before slamming the bedroom door, pacing from room to room crying, passing a mostly sleepless night, crying again in the morning (I'm back in our bed by then, generously rubbing his face in my misery) while Virgil looks stricken and confused.
"How do you think you'll handle it if I go out one evening and don't come back that night?" he asks. "What are you talking about?" I say. Virgil says quite emphatically that although he has had a couple of one-night stands in his life he almost always spends the night with people he has had sex with. He says that to not be able to do this would cramp his style severely. He points out that public transport stops at a certain time. "You didn't sleep with me the first time we had sex," I counter, "Even though I invited you to. You came round on a Sunday afternoon; we went to bed; you left at nine. Sex can happen at any time of day. It doesn't have to be late in the evening."
I recoil at the thought that Virgil would want to actually sleep with another partner. That kind of affectionate intimacy is something I save for special. I love the warm entanglement of Virgil at night and the cuddles we have. "What, you have sex with someone and then get up and leave?" he asks, somewhat unnecessarily. Of course I do. That's normal when you're having casual sex, isn't it? I am pretty sure that is what most people do. Virgil finds that sterile, perfunctory and a bit sordid. He says that he doesn't want to have that kind of sex and that sex without romance is empty and unexciting.
"What do you mean by romance?" we ask each other. I could scream with frustration. I feel like I know nothing anymore. I can't even explain myself anymore. I know what I mean when I say romance. I know when I feel romantic about someone and I know when I don't. Virgil says that, barring sex parties and orgies, almost everyone he has ever had sex with has registered somewhere on a scale of romance. I imagine a fairground test-your-strength game, where you hit a bell with a hammer and it sends a marker shooting up a pole. That's not me: I have two scales. Romance either is or isn't there. It's a qualitative shift, not a question of degree.
Virgil is driving a hard bargain.
Read more!
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