Growing a Pair, Part Two

I’d like to just leave a list right here of all the awkward from hanging with the guy from Ivy University:

When I got to his place, the door was sort of propped open and I knocked to find him sort of just standing in the middle of the room with his shirt off. He just started apologizing and getting dressed and I stood in the foyer laughing hysterically while he tried to explain that it was really hot in there and he had not gotten my text that I was outside.
He kind of awkwardly apologized for my random crisis that I had when he found me. And then, for the first time ever, I saw my tumblr on somebody else’s computer. Which was really strange.
He very graciously allowed me to look at his knives and then I very awkwardly accidentally cut my finger on one. So, uh, yeah, things usually get uncomfortable once somebody starts bleeding.
He, out of nowhere, guessed with perfect accuracy the third location in this post. And then jokingly complained that now he wasn’t going to be able to go over there without it being a “blowjob place, gross”.
He figured out who Byron and Blue were. He knows them. And when he put two and two together, his face was a mixture of the expressions one might have if a) you find out Santa isn’t real and b) you find out Mark Wahlberg used to be Marky Mark. Like, the two of those blended together.
We wound up chilling for a little bit with one of my other friends and I was telling her something that wasn’t sexual had been mentioned on this tumblr and he was like, “oh, yeah, you said…” and I sort of gave him the glare from hell because I was super paranoid.
He handmade this really awesome flogger and since I’m a huge fan of DIY and being a bitch, I asked to see it in action. He let me hit him first which honestly consisted of me flailing the thing in his direction, freaking out, and then saying I wanted to do it the “kink.com” way. Which was basically just me, once again, flailing the thing in his direction and freaking out.

Growing a Pair, Part One

So, I paid a visit over to Ivy University the other day. I have been talking to the guy from my school who found my tumblr and he informed me that he would be in town. We’ve discovered we have a bunch of mutual friends so I figured I may as well get to know him.

This turned into possibly one of the most uncomfortably fun afternoons I can think of.

And, yeah, whatever. I got flogged. But it was purely academic. I swear. Just let me explain.

I went out and had a really lovely dinner with my friends tonight. We were laughing, chatting, enjoying ourselves. Until, suddenly, Elle walked in with one of her friends to get some pickup.

It was incredibly uncomfortable. Because while I talked to SG a lot about my feelings over the situation, I haven’t shared with her how I felt. I just had sort of decided that this and a few other things were enough of a reason to cut her out, at least for now. She’s not a positive presence in my life at all.

I tried to act like I didn’t see her, but she made a beeline to my table to say hello. I was polite, but didn’t give her much more than that. I don’t want to be confrontational. And I especially don’t want to let her know how much what she did affected me, because that would just be feeding into it.

I didn’t say goodbye when she left. But, it upset me how uncomfortable and small around her I felt. I absolutely hated it. It was even worse to explain to my friends why I had not been particularly friendly to her. I haven’t told very many people about the whole SG debacle because I didn’t want to start anything.

Fortunately, the rest of the night was lovely. But I just can’t stand how much I let certain people affect me.

The Winter Formal, Part 3

I started talking to a guy I didn’t recognize who approached me. He seemed nice enough and was certainly good-looking enough. His family was from where I had been abroad the previous summer and so we were speaking in the language, making jokes, and getting to know each other. He was impressed that I knew a thing or two about motorcycles, but I was starting to see something vaguely sketchy about him showing me tons of pictures on his phone and his increasing efforts to pull me away from my friends.

We were all dancing and I felt my phone vibrate in my clutch in my hand, but I ignored it as I felt him move against me. He was all right, but I felt him push my hair aside and then…

It was just this long tongue lapping up and down my neck and collar bone. It’s wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t enticing. It was slobbery and strange. I looked around and my friends were gone. I reached down to open my phone to text them and ask where they were, to find a message from my friend saying, “just warning you, he doesn’t go here and he’s really creepy. I hooked up with him once.”

Ugh. I made an excuse, saying my friend was having a meltdown and ran upstairs to find someone.

Since this story went over so well with you all, I’ve decided to write down another similar memoir. Why? Because my sex life does not always run as smoothly as tumblr makes it seem and sometimes really awkward stuff comes up. Things aren’t always pornirific.

Take, for example, my first threesome.

A friend who I was getting intimate with and I really wanted to try to have a threesome. However, we were scrambling to find a third party and just couldn’t turn up the goods. At first, this may have been because our standards were absolutely ridiculous:

He needed to be male, as we just figured there was way too much taco at the party in the first place.
He needed to be on an equal playing field with us intellectually.
He needed to be unattached from any other women.
He could not be one of my or her exes.
He had to have a general respect for lesbianism more than just the simple male-gaze “two chicks making out” sort of fascination.
He needed to like some of the same authors and musicians as us, which we had listed out and assumed that mutual taste in literature and music would equal a sort of ying-yang feng shui experience that we would all be buzzing from afterwards.
He needed to be at least an 8 on our individual scales of attractiveness and he couldn’t have a beard because that kind of scratch plus eating pussy was on par with one of Dante’s rings of hell.
And so on and so forth with increasingly ridiculous criteria for what would be a one-time, completely random sexual experience.

We turned up with no one. The people were either too close to us to be threesome material or could not meet the list of standards we had set.

So, we decided to lighten our approach:

He needs a functioning central nervous system.
He needs a penis with the ability to get erect.

It was like we’d taken the safe-search off of google. Suddenly, half of the population that was our age had met the requirements for a threesome. But, we still held out. Our schedules were kind of busy and we just couldn’t bring ourselves to pick someone.

And, then, finally, the threesome happened to us. This sounds positively Biblical, the whole waiting for grace thing and then being granted it when you stop pushing so hard and trying to make it on your terms. Which is actually super appropriate, as I had just left church and was headed over to hang out with her and one of our mutual friends.

I honestly wasn’t really in the mood to hang out that day. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before for whatever reason and I felt like I had been hit in the face with a brick for waking up to go to church that morning. I probably should not have even been driving, I was so exhausted.

Which is why, when I arrived at my friend’s place, I almost fell asleep on the couch. And then at her kitchen table when we decided to eat something. And then on the toilet when I went to use the bathroom. So, my friend finally declared that we should all just take a nap for a little while.

The three of us climbed into her bed. He was in the middle, we were on either side of him. Before I drift off, I notice her looking at him with this sudden realization. It was as if she were going to say, “dear me, (redacted), I just realized you have a functioning brain and a functioning penis. How could I have not seen it before?"

And then I fell asleep.

I wake up an hour or so later to fell a hand on my butt under my dress. I kind of blink a few times, looking over my shoulder, and see the two of them smiling at me. Then, they start making out. I think this is sort of an invitation, but I decide instead to just fall back asleep.

He pinches my ass. I open my eyes again. I try to go back to sleep. He slaps my ass. I groan and mumble out, "I just want to take a nap.”

Now, you have to know that I literally will never elect going to sleep over messing around. I am notorious among people I’ve been with for never wanting to sleep, which really means never wanting to stop playing around. But this was different. I was deliriously tired.

This is why the two of them assume I am trying to be coy. So he kind of rolls me so I’m between them and they’re both kind of trying to make out with me and grope me as I attempt to sleep. Please don’t interpret this as rape. I was getting plenty aroused and I was very much into him. But, by the same token, I was really flipping exhausted.

Finally, I just tell myself that if I just keep my eyes closed and do this threesome stuff at the same time, it’ll be the best of both worlds and will totally work. This works for about three minutes of sexy pawing and shared moaning before I start to drift off again.

At this point, there is also heated debate about switching spots. She wants to be in the middle. He would like to be in the middle, also. The middle is apparently a coveted spot. But, I am way too tired to roll over or do much of anything about the fact that I am kind of being, in their words, the threesome brat.

Nobody wants to be known as the threesome brat. Threesomes are all about teamwork and this automatically makes you a bad team player. And while it was clear to me that I had to take one for the team here, I just wanted a gosh darn nap.

Finally, my arousal overpowers my tiredness and I’m able to put my best foot forward. The only issue is we have no idea what we’re doing and there’s always a third party kind of at a loss of what to do/where to put themselves. Threesomes rarely work as well as they do in porn. You just run out of spots and someone’s left clamoring for a cranny they can slide themselves into.

We finish a few “rounds”, by which I mean we try a few different permutations of people-arrangements until someone orgasms. Lather, rinse, cum, repeat sort of deals. By this point, my thighs are literally soaked in myself. I am practically shivering from it all. She’s smiling like a kid on Christmas. The threesome is a success. The uphill struggle is over. Everyone’s happy, I am swimming in post-orgasmic bliss and reveling in the fact that despite the rocky start, this may be one of the best encounters of my life, and things just can’t get better.

Except I fall asleep again.

In my last waking moments, it wound up that I’m kind of the odd man out at this point. I kind of crawl around them on the bed like squirrel searching for a buried nut. Then, I just get tired again, curl up on the edge of the bed, and fall asleep to the sounds of her sucking him off.

This is apparently terrible threesome etiquette. Once a threesome brat, always a threesome brat, I suppose.

I really am at a loss again as to a moral for this story. I guess don’t get tired and have a threesome. Or be awake when you have a threesome. Or just don’t get tired.

Tonight, my friend from high school threw a barbecue. I saw some people I hadn’t seen in years, others that I had seen last week. It was a nice, cool evening and we sat around outside, shooting the breeze and sipping beers until the bugs started to bite.

At one point, I was talking to a guy who I hadn’t seen in quite a while. He said he had just come from work. I asked what he did and he responded that he was now a massage therapist. When I tried to strike up conversation about the life of a masseuse, he corrected me that this was usually the term, at least within the business, for someone who gave happy endings instead of loosened up muscles. Oops.

Feeling like it would be a nice gesture, I decided to make an appointment with him. I tend to store all my stress between my shoulder-blades and, while I’m pretty relaxed right now, I know it’s still tighter in there than it should be. So, I made the appointment and he, out of nowhere, whips out the lotion and starts doing something to my left leg. For the next ten minutes, I hobbled around as one leg was significantly “looser” than the other. Everyone around us was pretty amused.

Later on, I asked him what I was supposed to wear, to which he responded, “um, clothing you’d be comfortable taking off?"

"I’m going to be naked?” I asked in an awkward lull in other conversations. Suddenly, people were looking at me. I felt myself blush.

“Um,” he was clearly getting just as uncomfortable, “I mean, that’s usually how it goes.”

I nodded and chuckled nervously. I’d known this guy since I was ten and the whole concept was somewhere between way too awkward and incredibly hilarious to me. I realized that I would be comfortable with a complete stranger than someone who I knew, even though I was sure he wouldn’t try anything. However, I managed to respond, “I mean, just as long as you don’t touch me anywhere.”

“That’s kind of going to be hard,” he said. I cocked a brow and he quickly added, “because you’re kind of paying me to touch you, I mean.”

This should be interesting.