There’s a rather excellent exchange in Queer as Folk that goes something like this:
Alexander: “When you have a wank, do you think about him?”
Vince: “What sort of question’s that?”
Alexander: “Do you think about him?”
Vince: “No.”
Alexander: “Congratulations, he’s your boyfriend.”
By this definition, this boy is definitely not my boyfriend. I’m a bit more than in love with him – I am obsessed by him in a way that cannot be healthy. He takes my waking thoughts and as much of my spare time as I can find between work and writing and drinking and sleep. What’s worse – he takes up the fantasies that were previously reserved for the faceless strangers who’d play out scenes of angry fucking behind my closed eyelids.
In short: when I have a wank, I think about him.
I think about him bracing himself, restraining me, fucking me in the ass. I think about his whispered words and his hard kisses and the far-too-infrequent slaps he sometimes gives me. I think about the quick, sharp, angry strokes with which he fucks me.
Get out of my head
This boy commands my attention in a way that others don’t. I joke with him that it’s because of his dick. His dick which is wonderful, thick, almost permanently solid – straining at his jeans as he grips my arse, or slips an idle hand down my top. And I joke about it because the truth is worse – it’s not just his dick: it’s him.
He’s warm, he’s kind, he’s funny. He’s beautiful. He has big arms and hands that envelop me like I’m tiny. He says utterly ridiculous things in an accent that makes me drool. He wraps me in big sweaters and brings me coffee, like this kind of calm happiness is the most normal thing in the world. He swings quickly from gentle to passionate, and every time he does it takes me by lustful surprise. And when I get angry or unreasonable he nods, and listens, and tells me I’m not mad, then holds my big, mad head in his gentle hands and makes me feel like a normal person again.
It’s a trap
Rather ridiculously, I am more terrified of writing this than I am any of the other stuff. I can talk to you about group-gropes in a sex cinema, my excessive love of spunk, or the fun I’ve had with piss-play. But telling you that despite my lust for any guy with a nerdy charm and a solid dick, right now I’m just not in the mood for group sex and spanking circles, is pretty fucking tricky indeed.
The fact that writing this entry is a bit like pulling teeth lays bare all of my own prejudices about love. That love is a pathetic shadow of the independent lust on which most of my recent relationships have been based. I feel like, having mastered the art of being happy on my own, and withdrawing from boys who have too much emotional control over me, I’ve failed if I ever think too much of them. I’ve failed if I love them, or miss them. Above all, I’ve failed if I can’t put them out of my mind for long enough to have a wank about someone else.
I’m just going to smash everything
It’s not that I haven’t been in love before – I have. But I’ve never loved healthily – I don’t know how to be in love casually. I want to be able to do this to just the right degree.
On a night out drinking there’s that brilliant moment when I’m merrily drunk, having fun dancing and flirting and chatting and smoking endless cigarettes, and I think the night’s perfect. Then one more drink and I’m grumpy and spinning and weak and desperate to go home to bed. Love is the same.
I can like guys, I can lust guys, I can fuck them with a desperate, panting enthusiasm yet still remain healthy and in control. But then just a bit more – a few more nights spent sleeping beside them, a few more hugs that don’t end in a fuck, a few more secrets exposed and intimate discussions and suddenly it’s all too much. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, and worst of all I can’t come without thinking about him fucking me into submission. And I can’t be in love this hard without overdoing it.
So I fuck men and I play with men and I flirt with men and I follow them from pub to bed to pub to strip club to pub to bed and back again. And I hope that they’re just friends, and I tell them that they’re just friends, and I break up with them when they’re more than friends, because I don’t ever want them to become precious.
If I can’t fuck or wank without thinking of a specific someone, then that someone has become precious to me. He’s special enough that most of the time I don’t want to fuck anyone else – I barely even think about anyone else when I’m lying horny on the sofa thinking about what I might wank to. I know what I’m going to wank to – the same fucking guy who’s in my head even after he’s left my bedroom.
I’ve accidentally become monogamous. And worse, I’ve accidentally created a relationship so precious that I’m in danger of smashing it. I’m at the merry stage of drunk and reaching for another pint and smiling because the night can only get better and I’m so happy and I’m dancing and I’m horny and I want more oh please let me have more and just another pint and another dance and I just want to stay here a bit longer and I’m definitely not going to be sick. I promise.
20 Comments
*sigh*
I’m torn. On the one hand, I know exactly what you mean. On the other hand, I’ve also been in his position; and having someone tell you that they have to stop seeing you because they like you too much, is a bitter pill to swallow.
Good for you!
I don’t agree with the QAF line either; I wank a fucktonne more when I’m actually seeing someone I am in lust/love with, because – like you said – they’re always in my head. And often what they’re doing in my head is gloriously filthy.
Enjoy it. Don’t run away because it’s scary when it’s still fun. Things should end at the natural time, not because we’re afraid of giving into it; I’m sick of people doing that. Let yourself be happy :)
I feel like sending this to my current obsession with a note that reads “Oi! This is how I feel about you!” because I think it’s romantic but realistic. I like it.
That’s the sweetest thing I’ve read in a long time. Thanks for making me smile, the internet’s been far too grim recently.
I really hope you enjoy it and don’t get too freaked out by the whole thing. Good luck!
Beautiful thing to read. What a wonderful, and yet terrifying situation you seem to be in. The best of luck to you.
I don’t know if I can agree that you can love ‘too much’, that’s your own perception and isn’t reality. It seems to me that you men at a distance, perhaps out of fear of getting hurt. And being vulnerable emotionally is a lot tougher (or at least, as tough – I haven’t been in the situations you have) than being vulnerable physically. Trust me, I have my own issues with trusting people and men in particular but the fact that you’re willing to take a chance sometimes says to me that you want to be in some kind of relationship with someone you can give all your love to.
I really hope both of us don’t drive ourselves nuts with our trusting issues and realise how lucky we are to find someone to really care about and have them feel the same way. Love the blog and love the honesty of this, it’s raw but it’s real. Don’t fight so hard.
Whoops, ‘keep’ men at a distance. I also have dyslexia so it’s all win here.
A good piece, and one that leaves me with a simple question:
What is it that scares you?
There’s something that seems to frighten you about the thing with this boy becoming a relationship, indeed about any relationship becoming too formal in this way. If this thing is going to become something, I think you need to unpack that fear. It could be that fundamentally this kind of relationship isn’t for you, but you owe it to yourself to explore why this is the case, if this is the case.
Sorry if this was psychobabbly bullshit.
Hehe, I suppose I invite this kind of ‘psychobabble bullshit’ by going all emotional and writing about feelings and things. To put it in dangerously simplistic terms: I do not like the idea that I will either get my heart broken or break someone else’s. I prefer casual fucking to undying love because – quite simply – the vast majority of relationships end. And I do not like the ending. The best way to escape the ending is to not begin things in the first place. Rather unfortunately, though, I am not an emotionless automaton, so I do occasionally fall into situations where people become special, and I have to admit that – although it horrifies me – it’s also bloody lovely.
Apologies for the thread necromancy (and upon re-reading the possibly corny analogy), but:
I ride a motorbike. I will very likely come off in an accident that breaks at least one limb. Will that hurt like fuck? Yes. Am I going to stop riding just because I know that’s probably coming? No.
In my very simple head, I’ve mined enough “happiness cash” out of that activity to pay any fee further down the road and still be in profit.
Riding is bloody lovely. There’s nothing else like it that I know of. The thought of crashing horrifies me, but that’s a possible (not certain) problem for later. I’m too busy enjoying the road to worry about it. Maybe you should try to try the same?
… that said, I’m catching up through your blog backlog in order so have no idea what’s happened in your life in the last 3 months and whether you’ve traveled to new and beautiful places with the boy or crashed in a hedge. I hope it’s the former :-)
I like the phrase ‘thread necromancy’ almost as much as I like your analogy. You make a good point – sometimes the fun is worth the risk that everything will go tits-up in the future. To answer your question, the boy and I have not yet crashed into a hedge and – most importantly – his helmet is still well and truly intact.
Ride safely =)
I actually surprised myself by how much of this I can relate to! It’s terrifying isn’t it? I recommend you just sit back and enjoy the ride, but actually doing that (or telling myself to do it) is the hardest thing in the world.
GOTN, I’m currently in this situation also. Ignoring all the psychobabble – I feel lost. Confused, scared and exposed like I’m stood infront of a full theatre on an empty stage – spotlight on me.
There’s something about monogamy, something petrifying. How does anyone overcome it? You love sex and keeping emotion at arms length, feeling the full pleasure and force of a man – yet when he expresses his emotions we run, bury our feelings and lock them up.
You explanation makes wonderful sense – not liking the end. Hurt. Though we get hurt anyway.. My question:
Can we overcome our fears and take this god damn plunge?
I do hope so. Id like to not be afraid of emotions for eternity, I don’t know about you… X
I can see both sides being older and have been in both places, Now 35 married and with an amazing 2 yr old son.
I miss the freedom and thrill of being single, the tingle of a strangers kiss, but yet I know a safety that means I can relax deeply with some one I can trust and will not leave.
Lots of people have fallen in love and stayed with one person, it may be it is what humans do.
My story comes, as it were, from the opposite end of the human relationships scale. I met my OH back in 1990. We met one morning going to work on the train, chatted for a couple of trips, went on a few dates before she and I “went back to her place”.
Unbeknownst to B, by then I think I was head over heels. I was just like GOTN. I’d found the axis of the universe, by total accident, and it was B.
I was *terrified*. Because I was utterly vulnerable, with no defences against anything she said or did. When you truly love somebody, that’s how it has to feel, or you can’t be truly open.
So, GOTN, being afraid is *totally right* because you’re in *love*.
You and him are past the raw rush of the very first passion of lovers. Now he means something more than a damn good fuck.
Awesome. I’m in the stands *cheering* for you right now.
Because the damn good fuck part hasn’t gone away. That part of your relationship is still right there. Its been reinforced with another, deeper layer.
I know how you feel. You want to put distance between you and him, to protect yourself.
Now is not the time. Take a deep breath and centre your soul. Because coffee and sweaters and comfyness hints at something.
He loves you back.
And, dear Lady, you’re worth it. Oh god yes. Anyone as passionate as you (look at this blog : it’s not just sexyness, it passionate) reserves to be loved, her whole life. You’re worthy of that.
But don’t take my word for it. I’m not the one who matters here.
Ask the guy who brings you coffee :-D
This post is *perfect*. The whole damn thing. It’s a recurring theme with me, and one I’m currently in again. I’m trying to back off because feelings make things so complicated and I hate complicated but my head is full of this person. Sigh!
Thank you!
Wowh. Now also looking back at this. Accidentally monogamy may be overcome? Bad choice of words
Oh god yeah this hurts to read back. I should listen to the wisdom of my past self and not let myself fall for men ever.
Damn sorry for the unintented hurt.
Grieving a good relationship doesn’t pass and it shouldn’t.
It’s just that this text is proof that early own you were pretty wise. And for me having read back and forth this sentence “ I’ve never loved healthily” now continues “and now I did and it’s over and that’s ok and it hurts but still I did it”
(Ouch I will stop rambling and poking my fingers into other peoples emotions and return to finishing the draft sex story that might become a guest contribution)
It’s OK, it’s more ‘hmm that’s interesting’ than anything else. I have very strong memories of how intensely I did *not* want a boyfriend around this time, and how wary I was of falling into love with someone and ending up getting too tied in and thus making it inevitable I’d get hurt, so it’s interesting to read this back now and if I’m honest it’s nice to be able to be a bit smug and go ‘SEE, Present Me?! Past Me fucking TOLD YOU SO!’ Please don’t worry about unintended hurt – hazard of the job, when your job is ‘to very publicly have feelings’ =) Also OOOH I am intrigued and excited by possible guest contribution – looking forward to reading it if you do choose to submit!