Something I've decided to post about as a sort of catharsis...
I've written here a lot about my positive experiences with sex and women, and posted a lot of sexy pictures. Most of the stories - okay, all of them - have actually been about p4p, or "pay for play" sex. It's not that I haven't had "regular" or "ordinary" sex. I have. And maybe one day I'll post about the positive experiences there.
But today's not the day. Today I post bittersweet memories, snaphot-syle, about the negative ones. (And before anyone asks, no, these did not drive me to have p4p.) The one thing in common between all the stories is that we didn't have sex, but this isn't the cause of my less-than-sanguine musings.
The sweet tease...
...was an old friend, but one I only met occasionally when I was living overseas, during my intermittent trips home. I thought there was something there when I was home for quite a while, one time. We hung out, watched movies, had coffee, dinners. My feelings for her grew, maybe even largely against my will - if that makes any sense.
She was very sweet, the kind of combination girl-next-door and Asian-Japanese (although she wasn't Japanese) waif, with some other elements thrown in.
(Not her. Obviously.)
I guess I was thinking about other things at the time, and not paying attention to how she actually behaved around me. Nice, friendly, but not exactly warm. In fact, she was someone who turned out to be quite an ice queen who didn't call me up to hang out; it was almost always me who did the calling. Even so, there was a fair bit of flirting going on. Or so I thought. Things dragged on.
One night I kissed her on the lips as I said goodnight at her doorstop. She didn't kiss me back. From then on I knew better, and I never called or saw her again.
Getting involved with someone close to you is sometimes not a good idea. Getting involved with someone with whom you are a financial services client of -- that's a very bad idea. This is not one of those horror stories, but something milder.
So I couldn't my "luck" that we clicked on a personal level, and before long were going on so-called dates and snogging like adolescents. She was - you guessed it - a Milf (Mother I'd love to f***). A divorced mum of one kid. I could accept that, even if others I know of, didn't.
Thankfully the whole thing wasn't long-drawn out. For, when I left home to work overseas, this was the death knell of the so-called relationship. And the way she broke up with me? Classic. Not classy.
Lesson learnt: never go out with your personal banker.
Brown sugar, caramelised
In my country, they are sometimes referred to as "brown sugar". It can be an insult, a derogatory term. It depends on the context, and who says it. It refers to a certain ethnicity, linked to their skin tone. But it was such a brown sugar I met when I was working overseas.
An old aquaintance, we got in touch with one another under decidedly very non-romantic circumstances. She was visiting for a work project the city where I was based, and on the last day of her work there, we met up. She had planned a few extra days there for a holiday, so we would have some time together, if she wanted.
We hit it off and caught up on things. I didn't know her well (and up till today, I still don't) but we connected immediately. We went for dinner, drinks, clubbing...then supper. We talked, in that late-night cafe, into the early morning hours.
The second night. After another night of dinner and drinks, I felt the vibe so strongly between us that I told her bluntly, "I don't want to spend tonight alone."
And she replied, "Okay." She never hesitated.
We went back to her hotel room. She went into the bathroom and changed. She came out in a tank-top and a pair of black, sexy hip hugger panties. She told me, as started to make out on the bed, "I don't want to have sex."
(Not her butt either, obviously)
I said I understood. We'll do everything she wanted, but no sex. My head was spinning in a good way, and not from the alcohol. We had a nice night together, kissing and cuddling. She had to leave in the morning. I promised I would see her again, and soon, for I would be taking regular trips back home.
But this was not to last.
As with ordinary sugar, volatile chemicals are released when brown sugar is caramelised. These fickle, temporay feelings show just that -- their true nature.
She gave excuses. Among them: "My parents are very strict; they want me to go out with and marry someone who's [of a particular religion]." Perhaps they were real reasons, but who knows. I realised at that point that I never got to know her well enough; there wasn't enough time. And this was even after I went back home a couple of times after her trip to my then-adopted city. On my second visit home, she only had the time to see me once. Or so she said.
And that was to break up with me, with the said excuses mentioned above.