Let’s talk about emotion (for once)

December 12, 2014 § 5 Comments

There’s a pretty solid theme running through these posts, I realise. I love sex, I really do (you’d never have guessed right? I know. Completely closed book, me), but you know what I love more? Love.

Cliché as it is, I’d take love over sex any day, as most gals probably would. For now, I’ve focussed on the sex part, because hey, I’m young, I’m in zero rush to settle down or find “the one” or any of that. But, when there is that occasional glimpse of a relationship that involves more feeling than fornication, it can be quite nice.

I met someone.

I usually don’t get “crushes”. There are guys I’m attracted to, guys I like as people, guys I enjoy having sex with, but very few guys I could see myself committing to. I don’t know if I’m scared of commitment (yes) or just quite picky (nice try), but the idea of a relationship with someone doesn’t come up very often for me.

I liked this guy from the moment I met him. We have so much in common, similar personalities, similar senses of humour, the real deal. He’s my age, but by far the most mature 20 year old I’ve ever met, he’s almost certainly more mature than Frank, and that dude’s 30. Or maybe my perception has just been skewed from living with 18 year olds for the last 3 months.

The only problem was… this guy had a girlfriend. I’m not sure if that made him more appealing to me (I did Facebook stalk her and damn, she’s a bloody 24 year old gorgeous Brazilian girl. Why God, why), but either way I pushed the thought aside, as he’s definitely not the sort of guy to fool around.

However, there was this bar crawl

We found ourselves at the same pre-drinks, then at the same mega-club, and eventually dancing together. After some pretty heated moments on the dance floor we broke apart, I left to cool off. He has a girlfriend. Leave it.

I went and found the hottest guy I could in the smoking area and asked him to dance. He was so taken aback by my forwardness, he couldn’t stop telling me how this “never happens” as we danced, but I was getting nothing out of it. I made some rubbish excuse and went to find my friends. I was finally forgetting about Klaus, we’ll call him, when across the dance floor there he was. We caught eyes almost immediately and he came to join us. I wasn’t sure if it was me or him doing it, but we kept ending up next to each other, and his arms were soon around my waist once again. We were there for so long we didn’t realise our friends had left us, dancing alone again.

Our bodies grew closer, and it wasn’t long before our moves became more passionate and dancing lead to… kissing. It was one of those incredibly intense, alcohol-infused, I know we shouldn’t be doing this but I really fucking like him kind of moments. It seemed to last forever and I never wanted it to end. When it finally did we were both a little lost, just standing there on the dance floor embracing each other. He’s in a committed relationship. He loves her.

I took his hand and we went outside where we breathed some fresh air. The tone was pretty solemn. He was clearly facing some serious inner-conflict and I felt guilty as fuck.

He looked at me and asked if I was ok.

Me? You’re asking if I’m ok? (seriously, can I marry this man?)

We talked a little, and he confessed he didn’t really want to be in a relationship anymore, something that was highlighted when he realised he had feelings for someone else. I couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of delight. I honestly never thought this would happen.

Neither of us felt like dancing anymore. But there was such heightened emotion we couldn’t help but kiss again…and again.

Eventually we walked home. I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. He just kept asking me if I was ok, and what I wanted. I wanted to shake him – this isn’t about me! Why are you so fucking selfless and lovely?!

As we reached our point of separation, we hugged for what felt like eternity, I didn’t ever want to let him go. The embrace became yet further kissing. I wished I could have stayed there forever, because I knew as soon as it ended it wouldn’t happen again. At least for some time.

Even if he did break up with his girlfriend, they were together for so long and it was such a serious relationship, there’s no way he’d be ready to be with me for a good couple of months. I wouldn’t want him to. After being in a relationship for that amount of time you need to be single and rediscover yourself again, the last thing I’d want to do is fuck with that.

Which only made our encounter the more bittersweet.

It’s so rare I meet a guy I think I could really be with. I only hope we can remain friends and then maybe one day, if he’s ready, we can give it a go. Although I can’t help but fell time-pressured, as next year is his year abroad, and the year after is mine. I realise I’m getting ahead of myself…but I can’t help it. What if…?

Want more disgustingly honest renditions of the mess that I call my lovelife? Come join me on Facebook and Twitter.


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