"If I were a boy I think I could understand how it feels to love a girl, I swear I'd be a better man"
Now what have I done? Look at what I've gone and done! Great. Just. Great.
Awesome.
Minus the awesome.
You know, I think it's funny, or cute, but the next thing you know I'm sitting in the corridor, drunk and crying down the phone to Livvi, because HE DOESN'T WANT TO FUCK ME ANYMORE.
Jesus, who would want to fuck me? I'm a crying, belligerent mess on the floor. I just want to stand myself up, give myself a good couple of smacks across the face and shout, "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN!" Because being a crying heap on the floor isn't a good look for me. In fact, it's the complete OPPOSITE.
So what did I do ladies and gents that's so terrible? I resurrected Trilby boi. Don't remember him? He's the one that I hooked up with and then he got a girlfriend roughly about three days later. They then got engaged but have since broken up leaving him single once again.
Yeah. THAT guy.
I don't know what possessed me to breathe life back into that relationship (not that we even had a relationship of any kind), but safe to say that after about a month and a half, I get a little frisky for some man-loving and apparently I'm so desperate I don't really care where it comes from anymore. Well, I'm desperate and cheap. Who can afford to keep going out to club after club, getting ridiculously wasted and hoping that some guy will want to come back home to do the nasty? And who knows if he'll even be decent between the sheets! No, no. Trilby boi is a definite guarantee good lay and is only a quick five minute bus journey down the road (I guess I could walk for free, but I'd prefer to conserve my energy).
So one random Wednesday, I saw that he was on MSN (HE added ME, for the record) and for shits and giggles, I told Trish that we should send him a message, fuck with his mind a little bit and play some mind games on the guy that hooked up with me and then casually tossed me aside without thinking twice. It would be fun. It would cure our Wednesday Boredom Blues. It'd be interesting to see what he had to say for himself.
We then proceeded to have a TWO HOUR LONG conversation about....oh, I don't know what about. Trish was doing most all of the typing and I was just cringing next to her shouting, "I WOULD NEVER SAY THAT. DON'T TYPE THAT."
After that epic long conversation about nothing, we then continued with the text messages. It was about two weeks of flirting, building up, intense sexual tension and me constantly declining his invitations, because he wasn't just gonna get it like that (also because I was waiting to go and get the contraceptive shot in my left ass cheek so I don't have to worry about babies for the next three months, and no sexy times is allowed beforehand; that was a very difficult waiting time for me).
Well, we finally hooked up. FINALLY. After two weeks of waiting, after a very hot, sexy preview, after me going to the bop, getting stupidly drunk and crying because I was stood up on the Friday, after no text messages all weekend!
We finally had sex.
And it was good. It was better than good. It was MIND-BLOWING. Amazing. Fantastic. Out of this world.
Yeah, you get it. It was awesome.
But here's the thing.
I remember the sex being amazing and it sure did live up to my memory's expectations. I do not, however, remember him being amazing. I remember him being the exact same way that he is still to this day: arrogant, condescending, patronizing and on occasion, rude.
Honestly, no wonder I drank when I was around him. I didn't understand half of the things he was talking about. How many times does our water get filtered in between leaving the water plant to the time it reaches our taps? I don't know! Who cares about this stuff? Aside from people that work at water plants? I don't want to talk about hash and how it's been baked in the sun and it's the purest form of weed. I just want to smoke the shit. No, I don't know who the comedian with the handlebar mustache is, I just think he's really funny. Can't we just watch the telly?
WHO BLOODY CARES?!
Yeah, our personalities definitely don't click. They don't mesh. They don't gel. They aren't a good combination in my honest opinion. But our sexual chemistry is dead. on. We get along fantastically when he isn't talking about how he built his computer from scratch.
Then I thought, maybe I'm being too harsh? Perhaps he's just super smart and lacks a little bit in the people skills department. I don't get the math numbers he's throwing out and he doesn't get my funny Americanisms that seem to confuse him ALL THE TIME. Maybe I should give him another chance and stop over thinking shit like I always do and go with the flow. Besides, he has the next six months worth of movies already in his possession (he's a pirate) and I could do with a film night plus sexy times.
Whatever the reason, I'm going to try again later on this evening and see what the results are.