We have all had the excellent relationship, the fantastic connection, someone you can tell everything to BUT the sex is bad. I am not talking love cuddle bad but sack of spuds bad. What do you do? You are already in “love”.
I have been trialling my theory this week and have been having sex with a guy to determine if the sex is good before we get into a relationship. Last night we talked about bad sex with ex’s and we decided we had the best idea. Sex is the best way to get to know someone.
We have not been dating that would be too strong a word we have just been having sex. During this time I have learnt more about this guy then I have in 3 actual dates with other guys. I know he is good in bed – which is the main thing – but when you are in between throwing each other around the room that is when the real stuff comes out. When your guard is down and your laying on the bed trying to catch your breath and chatting about anything that comes into your head. It is no longer forced like it is in a bar because you have already got the awkward stuff out of the way.
Who knows how this will turn out he may be another notch on the bed post so to say but my god it will be a well rocked bed post.
Surely the title says it all?
I’m sat here in bed, two days on from kissing my colleague goodbye outside the restaurant we had just brunched in, with my head pounding like hell, fighting the waves of nausea washing over me and – quite frankly – dying to get home to my bed to rest, recover, and more importantly, process what the hell had happened the night before.
How on earth did I arrive at this point?
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A gay girl friend of mine hit on me in a drunken state one night in rural Thailand I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I was in another country and no one knew me. It is that great feeling you have when you are travelling that you could be anyone you want to. Well on this occasion I was drunk enough to be inquisitive and slept with said friend we will call her B. It was a strange feeling although if you have read some of my other blogs you will know that it wasn’t my first time with a women although it was my first time with just the two of us in a room.
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I’m going to tell you about D. Partly because I’m not ready to write about A, and partly because of his bizarre behaviour today.
I met D on Tinder about a year ago. His conversation was rather sparkling for a while, and the rapport was far more constant than it is with the average tinder match. We didn’t arrange to go out for some time after matching (unusual for me – I tend to arrange dates sooner rather than later because I hate the concept of getting to know each other virtually). Our first date was at a speakeasy in Soho where we strangely drank curry and bread flavoured cocktails. He didn’t look much like his photos, but that didn’t matter – it was obviously him. And he was nice.
(Well… he was until we ended up at a second bar where he committed the terrible, terrible crime of trying to show off by making a (very attractive) absolute fool who was loitering around look silly, and ended up looking far worse himself. Thinking about it, the first date wasn’t great.) Read the rest of this entry