Home alone on a Saturday night, attempting recovery from a drunken Friday night, I've decided to take a trip down memory lane and record those heart-stopping, knee-weakening, name-forgetting kisses of my past.
(Bear with me, I'm bored and sentimental)
The Top 3 in no particular order (cause I could never decide):
Tree Boy - I was out with my friend, fairly inebriated, and saw an incredibly cute guy walking along. I bounded up alongside him, got chatting and ended up climbing a tree together. Cut off from the world, lights twinkling through the leaves, the classic "lean in, face caress, eye gaze"... it was incredibly cliched and incredibly romantic, but every girl loves a little Hollywood cheese.
Ex Boy - My boyfriend and I had just broken up. He was having family problems, I was depressed and lonely and we were both as vulnerable as hell. There was sexual tension and residual feelings and when we gave into it, the kiss was passionate, urgent but most of all desperate. It was something that we both needed so badly. We needed to feel.
NZ Boy - I was hanging out with an English boy at a backpacker's hostel. He fell asleep while we were watching a movie in the common media room. I was lying next to a NZ boy with a killer smile and an adorable accent. He kissed me softly and sensually. It wasn't foreplay for what was coming next, we were lost in the kiss and all that existed was his lips and mine.
And of course, you can't have the fabulous without the really, really shit...
I cheated on a boyfriend with the worst. kisser. ever. Think darting tongue, clanging teeth, dry lips, bad breath, no rhythm, all with the passion of kissing your grandma. Terrible mistake on my behalf for I should've fucked up a great relationship with someone who was actually worth it. Right?
Where are they now?
Tree Boy? Well due to a little issue of him living in a different part of a country, I never saw him again after that night. Although, if I'd had my way, he would've been chained to that tree...naked...for my own personal pleasure. God damn he was sexy.
Ex Boy? We're friends. There's still some weird, awkward, "I've seen you naked and I'd kinda like to again" thing going on between us. However, I don't think either of us have the guts (or the stupidity) to act on it. He is truly a decent guy and the girl who ends up with him is a lucky, lucky woman.
NZ Boy? We dated. We had mind blowing, earth shattering sex. We fell in love. And he was the alcoholic who broke my heart and shattered my trust in men. I still miss him like crazy but am yet to decide whether it's because I miss him or it's because I miss having someone who looks at me the way he did, who holds me the way he did and who loves me the way he did.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
And that's how it is.
I posted a comment earlier tonight on the lovely Dateable Dork's newest post about men and their ability to disappoint. The fabulous phone calls and first date experiences that turn into zip, zero, zilch. It didn't used to bother me that much, cause all I was looking for was a hot guy with whom to have mutually consenting, adult fun.
But there's this Boy.
I met him online. His profile was basic, boring, uninformative and his picture less than great. Yet, for some bizarre reason, I decided to respond to his contact request. We hit it off on instant chat, had similar results on the phone and had an amazing first date (enhanced by our fantastic kissing chemistry ... a topic which deserves an entire post in itself). He was sexy, could actually hold a decent conversation in person and make me laugh. Plus he texted me immediately afterwards, saying what a great time he had. (Men, take note, it's not creepy! It's sweet and considerate and is a great indicator as to whether I'm going to hear from someone again).
Two days later, he flew several thousands of kilometres away to work for two weeks. I admit, I had my doubts as to whether I would have an contact with him, as it seemed a lovely excuse to not call, especially considering that he was going to be without mobile reception. Low and behold, I get a text on my phone from an unknown number. It's The Boy on his work phone. We've now been chatting most nights, and he's counting down the days till he gets back (Come on! Collective "awwwww" please!) I crave the conversations now. He has this uncanny ability to make me forget about everything that's happened and everything I have to do. All that exists is him, and me.
I don't want it to turn into another disappearing act, I don't want another "friend with benefits", I want a guy who's going to stick around, who can make me feel on top of the world, without having to be physically on top of him. I don't know if The Boy can do this, but I know for certain that he has changed my way of thinking. I deserve, and I want, someone who wants more than sex, and who wants me for more than sex.
The Canadian band Stars have a song called Barricade and whilst I'm not a football rioting gay man by any means, this song has always had some sort of resonance with me. In particular the starting lyrics:
But there's this Boy.
I met him online. His profile was basic, boring, uninformative and his picture less than great. Yet, for some bizarre reason, I decided to respond to his contact request. We hit it off on instant chat, had similar results on the phone and had an amazing first date (enhanced by our fantastic kissing chemistry ... a topic which deserves an entire post in itself). He was sexy, could actually hold a decent conversation in person and make me laugh. Plus he texted me immediately afterwards, saying what a great time he had. (Men, take note, it's not creepy! It's sweet and considerate and is a great indicator as to whether I'm going to hear from someone again).
Two days later, he flew several thousands of kilometres away to work for two weeks. I admit, I had my doubts as to whether I would have an contact with him, as it seemed a lovely excuse to not call, especially considering that he was going to be without mobile reception. Low and behold, I get a text on my phone from an unknown number. It's The Boy on his work phone. We've now been chatting most nights, and he's counting down the days till he gets back (Come on! Collective "awwwww" please!) I crave the conversations now. He has this uncanny ability to make me forget about everything that's happened and everything I have to do. All that exists is him, and me.
I don't want it to turn into another disappearing act, I don't want another "friend with benefits", I want a guy who's going to stick around, who can make me feel on top of the world, without having to be physically on top of him. I don't know if The Boy can do this, but I know for certain that he has changed my way of thinking. I deserve, and I want, someone who wants more than sex, and who wants me for more than sex.
The Canadian band Stars have a song called Barricade and whilst I'm not a football rioting gay man by any means, this song has always had some sort of resonance with me. In particular the starting lyrics:
"Trapped on the terraces, I looked at you and knew
You were the only thing that mattered
There was no one for me, but you"
You were the only thing that mattered
There was no one for me, but you"
Despite how much I've denied it to myself the past year or so, I want the happy ending. I'm not asking for marriage, I'm not asking for the white picket fence. I just want to be the only thing that matters to someone.
And that's how it is.
And that's how it is.
The Beginning?
Well, I thought I'd join the popular masses and put my deepest and darkest thoughts, secrets and scandals on the world wide web for everyone to have a squiz at. I'm assuming few people will be reading this, but the narcissistic side of me hopes many do.
I don't understand society. I don't like society. I've done many a uni assignments basically detailing my dislike and contempt for our society, exemplifying the way it fucks us up. They say that those of us in the western world have the ability to be individuals, that we don't live in a dictatorship. This is bullshit. If we are allowed to be ourselves, why do the majority of us spend our lives detesting the person we are and wishing we were someone different. In most cases, the person society tells us we should be.
Let's get this straight. I'm not an emo, I'm not a teeny bopper, I'm not a brainiac, I'm not an airhead, I'm not beautiful, I'm not ugly, I'm not thin, I'm not fat, I'm not popular, I'm not a geek. So in today's superficial, stereotyping, hypocritical society, I do not exist because I do not belong.
And that is just some food for thought. But don't eat too much, apparently we're in the middle of an obesity epidemic (even though almost 10% of the population suffers from anorexia or bulimia).
Don't get me wrong though. I am actually quite "normal", in the non-literal, categorical meaning of the word. I have friends, I have family, I go to university, I date boys (note, I didn't say "men" :p), I want to do something with my life...help people, go places, be someone. But if all that fails, I'd like to be content with who I've become and have amazing stories to tell my Grandkiddies.
I've never been one for keeping a diary, despite many attempts of trying (mainly fueled by Hollywood's romantic notion of having bookcases full of stories of one's past). Maybe this whole blog thing will work, maybe it won't. All I know is that there are things I can't tell my best friend, my mother or the guy I'm currently wooing, so perhaps divulging to random internet strangers is the answer.
I don't understand society. I don't like society. I've done many a uni assignments basically detailing my dislike and contempt for our society, exemplifying the way it fucks us up. They say that those of us in the western world have the ability to be individuals, that we don't live in a dictatorship. This is bullshit. If we are allowed to be ourselves, why do the majority of us spend our lives detesting the person we are and wishing we were someone different. In most cases, the person society tells us we should be.
Let's get this straight. I'm not an emo, I'm not a teeny bopper, I'm not a brainiac, I'm not an airhead, I'm not beautiful, I'm not ugly, I'm not thin, I'm not fat, I'm not popular, I'm not a geek. So in today's superficial, stereotyping, hypocritical society, I do not exist because I do not belong.
And that is just some food for thought. But don't eat too much, apparently we're in the middle of an obesity epidemic (even though almost 10% of the population suffers from anorexia or bulimia).
Don't get me wrong though. I am actually quite "normal", in the non-literal, categorical meaning of the word. I have friends, I have family, I go to university, I date boys (note, I didn't say "men" :p), I want to do something with my life...help people, go places, be someone. But if all that fails, I'd like to be content with who I've become and have amazing stories to tell my Grandkiddies.
I've never been one for keeping a diary, despite many attempts of trying (mainly fueled by Hollywood's romantic notion of having bookcases full of stories of one's past). Maybe this whole blog thing will work, maybe it won't. All I know is that there are things I can't tell my best friend, my mother or the guy I'm currently wooing, so perhaps divulging to random internet strangers is the answer.
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