kisses a plenty

Curly has been out camping for almost a week, due to a bet lost by his friend, and just got back yesterday. I joined him and one of my co-workers for a night on the town. 

 

Gin & Tonics and shots all around made for a very wet night. Curly living near by made for me inviting him up. I wasn’t really planning on sleeping with him, so we just ended up sleeping in the same bed. Woke up around noon and had a make out marathon. Making out is seriously under rated. 

If Curly had been at all pushy about getting in to my panties he probably could have, but since we were already in that post coital state (without even having sex), where you can just hang out in an extremely relaxed way the tension never got that heated.

No, actually, when he was making an effort to leave it got a bit heated, but then we lost our track, talking and what not, and for some reason didn’t get as far as to banging. Now that I think about it it’s pretty weird. Maybe it’s because I’m not so hot for him really. All of this is, after all, the result of one impulsive kiss in a club…

And how will I balance this with Turtle? It’s possible that I’ve bitten of more than I can chew here… I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

leave your girlfriend at home!

Goddamit!

I’ve arranged to see my best friend Funky Town this evening, and I’m visualizing us having a quick drink at the sky bar before we head to his tiny apartment and sit down in the couch and catch up. It’s been ages since we’ve had a chance to catch up, and I want to know what’s going on in his life. We’ve always been very tight, on the same wavelength, but ever since he got a girlfriend he’s, understandably, been harder to reach. Especially when we both insist of moving out of town as soon as the other one settles back in.

As we’re opening the door to his apartment building he says: “I just promised Twigs I’d check in with her when I got home…” His girlfriend, you see, lives in the same apartment building, only two floors below him. I silently sigh, but smile, and say: “Sure.” I mean, what else am I gonna say…? Anyways, he opens her door, says hi, yadayada, and then invites her up! “Why don’t you come up, when you’re finished writing e-mails?” I curse on the inside. Me and Funky Town stroll on up, sit in the sofa and chat. And just as I’m about to ask him how things are going with Twigs, she enters. And she’s gloomy. And it sucks that neither of them seem to understand the fact that just because we all know each other doesn’t mean he has to invite her, or that she should tag along, in everything me and Funky Town do. 

I don’t dislike her, or maybe I do a little actually! Since I now recall being slightly disappointed when he told me that she was his girlfriend. But I only dislike her (and only very slightly, for she is a decent human being, if a bit boring…) for the fact that she’s always too sensible and a little dull and me and FunkyTown have always been crazy people. She doesn’t ever let go and let herself be goofy, which has also made FunkyTown kind of restrain himself whenever she’s around. 

I really thought I’d carefully hinted that I wanted to have him for myself for one evening, but apparently the message was not recieved. So now what do I do? 

And to further my frustration I later found out that they’d spent the entire week end together and just gotten back. Together. I mean, come on…!

dykes everywhere!

Back in my hometown I drag my best friend to the gayest club in town. We start of with a glass of wine each and end up spending more time sitting at a table with a bunch of very young dykes than on the dance floor. One of them is a bit cooler than the others. An etchnic chic with a piercing through her lip. She’s flirty but she keeps dissapearing. When she reappears for the umpteenth time she sits her jeaned but down next to me and, drunk as we both are we kind of fall in to a hug. I smile and tell her I’ve missed her and she kisses me on the side of my still smiling mouth. Which leads to a make-out-session. Mmm… soft lips.

If she hadn’t been living with her parents I’d follow her home (since I’m here visiting mine as well). Unfortunately we’re not in a Tokyo full of love hotels. The fact that she’s only 18 doesn’t really bother me, but I feel the need to tease her about it anyways. “Has anyone ever told you you’re insanely cute?” she asks, and no, no one has ever used that phrasing actually… And then we part ways in the night. Best friend was probably a little bit surprised, but she’s the only one I’ve told that I actually slept with a girl when I was in Tokyo… She handled herself splendidly anyways. Gotta love her.

It was a fun night, but the memory of those kisses doesn’t really reverb like the one electic kiss I shared with Curly. Not that I’m really in to him, but kissing a girl is mostly very… “…so?” Feels completely natural and not as electric, if you know what I mean… Or maybe it was just this girl.

the story of my first boyfriend

My first boyfriend, Elf, was the alpha male in a group consisting of seven guys and me. Even though I didn’t really think I was that pretty I somehow managed to get a kiss from him, and then he was hooked. And so was I. He was my first boyfriend and he loved me, and everything about me, with a passion.

A year in to the relationship I spent the night at his house and we started talking about war and politics (up until then all we ever did when we spent the night together was have sex) and I suddenly realized I was dating a 1700th century conservative. Soon I found out he’s opinions about religion and fat people (!) were also a bit twisted and surreal (both religious people and fat people are stupid without exception, apparently.)

Nevermind that. We were young and in love! It wasn’t until he started getting insanely jealous of one of Funky Town, the other guys in the group whom I got along really well with that things started to fall apart. Mine and Funky Town were very fond of teasing eachother, poking eachother, having thumbwars or any other kind of wars and go shopping for clothes together. I thought of him as a brother and it never crossed my mind that he was a boy and I was a girl. But in Elf’s head we were conspiring against him and he demanded I not see Funky Town unless he was with us as well. It would have been a somewhat fair request if not Elf had the habit of sleeping and never answering his phone until 4 p.m.

I really did try to please Elf, but after a while I felt like I was breaking my back trying to make him feel comfortable. He explained that it was simple: If I really loved him, it shouldn’t be a problem to chose him over Funky Town. But in my head I was thinking: If you really loved me you wouldn’t make me chose between you or one of my best friends…

It all came crashing down when Funky Town one day said jokingly: “When you and Elf have kids they’re probably going to be…” I didn’t hear the rest. I think I panicked at the thought of a future with Elf and the thought of ever having kids with him made my head ring. So I broke it off. The three years we had together ended with a crash when he punched his fist through the bedroom window when I was in the bathroom. I did try to stay friends with him, because I still kind of loved and cared for him, but he kept trying to control me and was forever dissapointed whenever I didn’t put his needs first.

Even though I was the one who’d broken up with him it hit me really hard. Everything and anything made me cry and I stayed in bed for a week. When I finally got up and back out in to the world Funky Town was a great support. Without a jealous Elf to consider he quickly became one of my best friends in the world. And when Elf realized me and him couldn’t be friends and started contacting everyone we knew making them chose sides, Funky Town stuck by me. A remarkable thing, since he was Elf’s friend first.

ex boyfriends’ girlfriend

As I am now severely addicted to the hateful facebook since I keep checking Curly’s status all the time (he’s discretely matching me, half replying to my status updates) I stumble upon, Elf’s, my first boyfriend’s page. He’s on a friends-list of one of our old mutual friends (or not so mutual as it turned out), and although I cannot see his profile I can, for some reason look at his photo albums as long as he’s tagged the mutual friend of ours…

My inner voyeur takes over and I click around, watching glimpses of his life and after a while I make the conclusion that one girl might be his girlfriend. She’s definitely pretty and she looks a little bit like I did when we were dating. Long brown hair, very natural look, cute, petite, smaller boobs that I have but her stomach is toned. And not toned as in “she probably works out” but just as in instead of smooth you can hint that she has some muscles under there. And. It. Drives. Me. Nuts. To the point that I put my shoes on and ran to the gym. “Why?” you wonder? Because as much as I know that I fall in love with people not because of their looks but because they’re fantastic human beings, I can’t seem to apply this on myself. In my head all guys are constantly comparing me to every girl they ever dated or just had a crush on…

 

work out

Goooood, I wish I could have sex instead of going to the gym!!!

I don’t want to work ouuuut. I want to get laaaiiiiid.

 

What? Frustrated? Me? Pssssh…

just like friends!

I restrain myself and refrain from making first contact when I see that Curly’s online on facebook. I just want to steel more kisses to keep the chills going. They’re already fading away a little…

 

And I’m talking to Rumble on msn. About his work. I haven’t talked to him in the longest time. It’s going really well actually. Talking like friends. Asking what he’s been up to and what not…

chills down my spine

I’m not a total infatuation junkie. I’m not.

But certain things, like one sweet, juicy kiss in a club, can echo throughout my entire day sending chills of “mmm” down my spine. So every time I’m reminded of the kiss I can’t help but giggle inside, not because of Curly, but just because it tasted so sweet. I wonder if that kiss is sending chills down his spine too, or if it’s only me.

And I’m forcing myself not to write him a message on facebook (seriously, I hate facebook, but in these kind of situations it can be a very useful tool!) just because he’s “online” and I have nothing better to do at the moment. But it’s fine. Play the game, yadayadayada…

Maybe I should go to bed early toinght so that I’m well rested tomorrow.

Alice, Alice, Alice…

I forgot. 

Play the Game.

the secret code of handsqueezing

It’s five in the morning. I ended up going out with two people from work, one of which I don’t usually hang out with. After a couple of gin & tonics we were joined by yet another guy they work with whom I’ve met a couple of times before, a tall and blond guy with curly hair and a bit of an australian accent, and his friend, who had a nerdy/cute look going on.

So we find a club and go dancing, dancing, dancing, and it feels so good! Letting out all my frustration on the dance floor kind of. At one point me and Curly ar walking through the crowd and ah he’s leading the way he offers me his hands and which is not an uncommon thing to do when you don’t want to get separated, but he squeezes my hands so tight*. For some reason I squeeze his back as if my life’s depending on us getting back on the dance floor together. And there’s something about squeezing people’s hands in crowded clubs. There must be something psychological there, because you build up some sort of… I don’t really know… energy maybe?

Anyways, later on, when I find him alone in the crowd and we’re looking for our friends he gently strokes my back, almost as if by accident. And that’s the fucking universal sign (in a club) that someone really wants to make out with you! So I crane my neck to see if I can see any of our friends, and when I can’t I lean in to him and shout in his ear: “Curly, do you want a kiss?” And after an initial minor shock and a “wha?” he looks down on a spot beside me and says “Yes, please.” His curly hair is like a curtain, but I do give him a very, very sweet kiss. Kind of innocent but juicy at the same time, and it just tastes… so good! He says something about one not being enough but by then I can spot one of the others and I just give him a laugh and walk over to her as she seems to be looking for us. And that’t it.

That’s all I need to redeem my confidence. We spend the rest of the night dancing with our friends and generally having a blast, but without any more kisses or indications of the one we already shared.

 

*and let me tell you, just as I’m writing “…squeezes my hands so tight” I get a facebook message from Curly. He wants to know my number and thanks me for a lovely evening “…and that one kiss was nice”. I give it to him before I go to sleep.

I am so back in the game.