I understand that it takes two to tango. I willingly opened myself to him. But that’s not what I care about. I’ve opened myself up to guys in the past without feeling a type of way about it.
I just wanted to mean more to him. That’s all. We were having a good time, getting along, having fun. I wanted it to mean something for both of us. Not love. But mutual respect and care. I knew exactly what I was doing when I was walking around in my underwear, giving him lap dances and laying in his arms. Of course I knew nothing non-sexual would come of it. But asking him whether if circumstances were different we would be together and him saying no just made me feel like if we’d had sex it would have meant nothing. Maybe that’s just me being naive. It’s fine anyway.
He’s just been sending mixed signals throughout the whole weekend. Him dragging me into his arms while I’m fast asleep. Him holding me, stroking and caressing me, kissing my neck. Maybe he just wanted a fuck after all and it was all a ploy.
I’m not sure how I feel. Maybe disappointed. I know that he’s in a different country to me and maybe he doesn’t want to give me false hope. I don’t know. But some things just aren’t logical. You want them regardless. Distance is a barrier but it’s something worth overlooking for someone you feel is worth it. Maybe all of this was wishful thinking. I’m glad we didn’t have sex. I would have felt worse.
That aside, the moment itself was crazy. We went from kissing to him ripping my clothes off my body. Taking my nipple into his mouth with his fingers inside of me. His hands around my throat, his teeth at my neck. My arms pinned behind my back, my juices overflowing. It was fire.
As in, I was fucking dripping. I was so wet it was ridiculous. Many a time he wanted to put his penis inside me but I stopped him on each occasion. I know how he wanted to wait until marriage and I know how I wanted to wait for the right person. It would have been something we both regretted if it had gone further.
Ok my whole trip wasn’t centred around this whole night. It was great. We had fun. We walked around the city. Sat and chatted for hours. Ate some traditional dishes.
We danced, we wrestled, we messed around. I liked just being around him. It didn’t feel hard or contrived. I could see myself actually being with him. Do you know how tiring it can get spending your time with one person day in day out? But I didn’t feel suffocated by his presence. He made me feel welcome and wanted. It was like finding home.
I’m a bit down at the moment. Maybe it’s the feeling of rejection or maybe it’s the sadness that comes with goodbyes. Who knows? I’ll need to cheer up soon though. Life must go on.
Ok back to our rough and tumble bedroom activity. Like, I remember when getting wet was impossible. My vagina continues to surprise me. Like I got really wet for Igor, but what I was producing last night was something else. It was like someone turned the tap on and couldn’t shut it off. Like I wanted him. I wanted him to have his way with me. To devour me, be consumed by his fire. I was ready to take him in. Make a home for him inside my body and inside my heart. Imagine what actual sex would have been like. All that foreplay stuff was just the tip of the iceberg. What if he took me to a place where I’d never been before? A place I’d never come back from? Fuck me. Anyway I’m glad we stopped. It’s not worth it for just a few moments worth of pleasure.
I was trying to explain to him that I wanted to be with him, but using analogies. It just feels like all of this is bad timing. We’re both in different physical places. Plus he doesn’t want me, so meh.
Does what happened change how I see him? Maybe. Maybe not. Only time can tell.
* * *
I just feel like this was a case of 1) unattainable love, 2) unrequited love and 3) story of my life. Now to drown my sorrow in some alcohol. I do miss him already. But why is a male and female sharing the same bed always a bad idea? Oh well, I’d do it again *shrugs* (but next time, with zero feelings involved).
Anyway I got back to Deraland in one piece. I feel better than I did this afternoon. I guess I was still reeling from the rejection I faced, but life goes on. Now I’m back to reality.
I really don’t see myself meeting the man of my dreams. This was the first time I’d experienced having something that was so close, yet far away at the same time. Someone whom I cared about and cherished, someone who I could spend a whole day locked in a cardboard box with and not get bored. Someone who I could have fun with and laugh with and fight with. Someone who could turn me on with the stroke of their finger. And all the while still out of my reach.
It’s the first time I’ve had hope. That maybe there was someone suited to me. But now, I’m not so sure. I just feel that with any guy I feel remotely anything for, it just won’t work out for me. I really don’t know how I’m going to meet that person who will make my whole life make sense. I know I haven’t tried hard enough for long enough, but I give up. I can’t be bothered. It’s tiring, this whole feeling of incompatibility. Maybe conformity is the way to go? Who knows? Who cares. It doesn’t even matter anymore.