Today I feel like a million dollars. Unfortunately it’s a million Zimbabwean dollars. I have been awoken by a neighbour’s car alarm far too early (which is not good for my Rage), and today I must make the final preparations for… Guildford! At least that should provide some distraction. I spend, these days, a great deal of time thinking about Mark, and while I was out and about yesterday endless thoughts of him led me down a kind of Memory Lane of my own ‘sex-life’.
Being out now it’s difficult to reconcile the cognitive dissonance I handled in my youth. And a misspent youth it was too thanks to my neglectful parents (who were far too busy concentrating on other things to pay attention to what I was getting up to). From 14 I was frequently out all night; 15 I was regularly getting drunk and out clubbing all weekend; and 16 I was spending several days away at a time unchallenged and unapologetic. You would think I might have been a bit more adventurous with my sex life, and sexuality. But no; the first time I held hands with a boy we were both 15 and it was, of all places, in the computer suite at school. First time I had a sex with a man I was 17 and it was in the cupboard under the stairs at a party [charming]. Even at university there was only the very occasional assignation – if anything I was ‘meeting’ fewer men than when I was in high school. What a pity.
So, I suppose it isn’t really surprising I spent some months making up for lost time. And, to be honest, I’ve indulged pretty much every fantasy (with mixed results!). A couple remain but the fact of the matter is simple logistics make exploring those somewhat unlikely. Anyway, I now at least very much know what I like!
But now I have me a boyfriend and he’s the only one for me, be he never so invisible and inattentive. Of course, I’m still trying to expand my social network as well though, with the odd setback. A guy I met last night, for example, thought for some reason I was trying to sell him cocaine. Two steps forward, one step back – and all with my foot in my mouth. Quite the contortionist am I!
On Friday night I had two distinct dreams about Mark. In the first he was having a cigarette and he invited me to have one and I remember saying I couldn’t join him because if I started smoking again it would kill me. Hidden meaning?
In the second he called me and wanted to see me because something had happened and he was very upset and I was so pleased I was the person he turned to, to feel better again.
Fidelity to Mark is not in itself a problem. Yet after seven weeks of… this… I wish, I wish, I wish, we were spending more time together. I’ve been reduced to emailing my diary for the next two weeks in the hope he’ll find some room for me!
I’m beginning to wonder how at ease or confident he is in this relationship. I have no experience to speak of really but – perhaps he doesn’t know how to handle this any more than I do. Maybe I’m not giving him the right signals or something? I would hate to ruin this because of some silly thing that I do, which is one hell of a mental straightjacket.
He makes me happy. This relationship doesn’t. Help!
Maybe I should be more like the cat in this. Watch it. Watch it! Did you watch?
1 comment:
Your Zimbabwean dollars line made me laugh!! :) Thinking of you xx
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