He was hot, he was french – like authentic french like when he spoke I felt like I was back on the Seine river with a crepe in my hand- and he was into me. He was here for 3 days and last night was his final might, he lives thousands of miles away, i would probably never see him again. Perfection.
I wish I could tell you tales of a sexy roll in the hay where he whispered french nothings in my ear and made me scream in another language but alas, I stand before you LAME as they come. I said no and walked away.
I can hear you screaming in anguish, WHY WHY?? You owed it to all the straight women of the world to bed this man! Well, allow me to explain the millions of thoughts that went through my head. The following will be much like kicking over a bucket full of rusty nuts and bolts that really dont go anywhere or fix anything but everyone has lying around in the shed. You might stare in disbelief at me, wondering how could these thoughts be occurring to be while a hot frenchman kissed my neck – but please go acquaint yourself with bi-polar disorder and the ridiculous amount of anxiety that can come with it despite being on your correct dose of medication. You may still yell at me in the end but please know that I give zero fucks because I found out last night that I am making a habit of valuing what I want over what other people want from me. (Oh you saw values and thought this was going to be a self-righteous post about one night stands being for sluts and whores, nope sorry, you’re in the wrong part of town. So reverse and hang a left at judgmental-dick lane and you’ll find yourself back in nobody-fucking-asked-you ville – ta ta!) [whoops! did I not mention this blog contains profanity?]
Anyways, onward to the explanation!
- When we kissed, there were no sparks. It was nice but not “omg, I just got wet”. But that may be because…
- I wasn’t horny. Seriously, medication has the strangest impacts on my life. You would think that not being horny would be a terrible side effect but no, it’s great. I have made STUPID decisions because I’ve been so horny I couldn’t think straight. So it’s actually really interesting and new to make a decision with my head and not my crotch. That’s not to say i have ZERO sex drive, oh no, I still have one! But now it’s a regular sedan instead of a Mcclaren F1 car.
- I was scared. Not of him, he was the consummate gentleman – he never forced me or made it too difficult or anything. Which was almost panty-dropping in itself. But no I was scared i would suck at sex. I don’t do it that often and I do it with partners I’m in some kind of relationship with, whether it’s a romantic or platonic relationship. (Yeah sorry, I’m totally fine with friends getting together for casual sex.) So i feel like the mistakes I make are covered by the way those people feel about me but with a guy who doesnt know or care like that, one mistake would damn me to the depths of horrible sex encounter. Add that to the fact that the asshole who i giddily and stupidly gave my virginity to was sleeping with someone else (that i didnt mind) and often compared me to her and angrily so (that I did mind because she had been having sex for years whereas I had only just started and dicks hurt when you’ve just met them!). That all was a recipe for prolonged fear that I never really got over and I was terrified i would just SUCK! and not the fun way.
- I wasnt wearing my nice undies. Usually I am happy to get undressed because i LOVE the way i look in my panties but i didnt know I was going to see him so i just threw on a thong that used to be black but washed so much that’s it now got that greyish cast which screams “I’ve seen better days.” Though this was a terrible excuse, it was dark and I was about to get naked, im pretty sure he didnt care what my panties looked like.
- I was a little hairy. I usually go fully shaved but I was trying a new thing where I left a square patch above and I havent been … um…. manicuring the lawn so I was afraid it’ be a jungle and he’d be horrified. Again, not that great an excuse because it’s not unbearably long, you can’t plait it!
- I was afraid he’d think I was a slut. Society typically frowns on my sexual views and I dont have much self esteem so my self worth is usually couched in how other people see me so despite not minding a hook up, the idea that he would walk around and say how he fucked this little slut and she was such an easy little bitch made me want to leave immediately. Which is also sad cause he was so kind to me, he had these lovely kind eyes, deep down i dont think he would have done that. Even when I left and i was walking to my car, he called to me “hey, drive safe!” and he smiled. yes yes i know WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?? (See bipolar diagnosis for suggestions…)
- It’s fitting that I end on number 7 because that’s my favourite number. I plain old just didn’t want to. Usually if met with a situation like this where I dont want to engage sexually but the other party does, being a people pleaser i NEVER say no. I take one for the team, I act the part while hoping it’s over soon. In a situation like this where I showed up at his house at 1am in the morning and we talked and started kissing, I would feel like I had wasted his time and thus owed him the sex. However, I walked away. I chose me. I didnt want to, I didnt feel like it. I didnt know why and instead of trying to rationalise and give myself a good reason to be allowed to leave, I just did. I didn’t think about it. I didnt think of valuing his time over my peace of mind, I didnt think about valuing what he wanted from me over what I was feeling. I just walked away. I have learnt to value myself. I am allowed to walk away from things I don’t want despite the exit upsetting others. I get to choose. I never felt like I had a choice before, I was to be used by other people. Before, I would have been so grateful that such a guy would deign to look at me that I would feel i needed to sacrifice my body as repayment for such a blessing. Now, I dont have to atone. (Interesting parallels to the Christian doctrine which I believe, Jesus saves, sometimes through medication.) He wouldnt be the last one and I didnt need to scrabble at everything handed to me because i was worth something and I could have something else.
It did make me think about what i wanted when i was home in bed. And maybe I’m not the one night stand kind of girl anymore. I’ve never had a one night stand but I always figured I would if presented with the right opportunity. However, that was in the days of clouded judgment, right now I know I want a relationship. I thought I’d be fine with pit stops along the way but I realise I want to wake up next to someone, call them on the phone, text them, talk about our days and our shows and our lives. I want to invest in someone and apparently that might preclude me from getting hammered by a french guy.
I messaged him when I got home to say i was safe and that I was sorry and i confessed that I was afraid i would be bad and that he would think I was a slut. He said that was all nonsense that he doesnt subscribe to, and he’s been genuine so far so I believe him.
I doubt we’ll ever speak again but I’m really happy for that encounter – it did a lot for me. It made me feel like I wouldnt be alone forever and I stand a shot at love after all and it let me know that i had come to value myself in a way i never thought possible or thought myself deserving of. (yeah sorry i know, dont end a sentence with a preposition.)
Here ends the bucket of bolts lol. Have you ever had a hot one night stand? Tell me what I’m missing in the comments or feel free to yell at me about the french guy, you know you want to. 😉