Sex and Relationships

Sex & Relationships.

Sex is one of them things that feels quite nice, it’s lovely to have a bit of the old sex, thing is, sex is one of them things where I’m not quite normal, not that I like to do weird things with animals or anything. I just don’t give sex the credibility it deserves. Ultimately, I don’t have much emotional attachment to sex, to me it’s just a physical act, no more special than shaking someone’s hand. With that in mind it’s fair to say I’ve had quite a bit of sex with quite a few people, unfortunately these people don’t always feel the same about sex as I do, and that has led to a lot of complicated nonsense such as feelings becoming involved and things like that. I learned from quite an early age to counteract this, by doing sex with people that I didn’t know, and then never speaking to them again.
The system worked for quite a while, a regular night for me would be to get quite drunk, take some drugs find a stranger to shag then sneak out all stealth like into the night like some perverse Santa clause.
My first sexual experience was quite a depressing one, one that has probably led to my indifferent feelings towards sex. I was quite young, probably about 6 or 7, and as happened quite regularly at that point we were dragged round to my Nan's flat. The flat itself was a grotty council type, the dated wall paper clung desperately to the walls the smell of stale smoke filled the air and the yellow tinting of nicotine stains gave the whole place a slightly sepia look about it. It was on one of these trips that my step-granddad violated me. It was all eerie and cold and rough and painful, I remember calling out to my mum I knew she could hear me cos I could hear her talkin as he pushed his winkle into me an I screamed for her, it was a call that was never answered, I remember the smell of stale whisky on his breath and the stabbing pain that ran up my spine as he pushed in an out of my innocent anus, the drips of sweat that fell onto my back, the animalistic grunt as he coated me with his warm sticky semen. Wen we got home, I remember taking a bath, I took down my pants and was petrified to see blood trickling down my thigh, I remember wantin to wash my bum hole to get rid of the dirty feelin but it hurt too much to touch.
Although the visits abruptly ended there, nothing was said of the incident, and I guess I’ll never forgive my mother for not doing or saying anything, she knew what had happened, a few months before my first suicide attempt she brushed onto the subject, it was roughly 10 years later mind, and in my head I’d sorted out all that nonsense, without her help, just one of many things I’d done on my own.
I think this whole thing made me aware of sex too early, I’d stash pictures of naked ladies under my bed and I discovered masturbation quite early too.
For many kids masturbation is just playing with yourself a bit then getting bored, I remember thinking what’d happen if you just carried on past that point. There was one time in the living room an I was lying on me front desperately squeezing the flaccid little fella, till I experienced what I can only describe as some sort of bizarre dry orgasm, followed by a little bit of guilt. Overall though I like it, I liked it a lot an there ain't been no stopping me since!
The casual sex thing was working quite well for me, but I put it to an end after feelin all depressed, I was just feeling like shit after forgetting to sneak out during the night, and having to deal with a lack of drugs in my system and the awkwardness of not having a clue where I was or who I was with. The girl was a nice one, don’t get me wrong, but after several million years of evolution and having the knowledge and ability to do bizarre things like send people out into space, the lovely scientists working on the social etiquette one should adhere to following a one night stand have yet to come back to us with a response. Following the awkward ‘do we have breakfast?’ situation I was in a taxi on my way to work and I started to ponder why I behave the way I do, and how come other people carry on with them serious relationships, them strange things where you actually know the person you’re getting into bed with. It was then that I decided to only have sex in a relationship, and so began several years of celibacy.
I met my first girlfriend at college, a year or so after the re-hab had stripped me of my favorite hobby. Her name was Alice, the first words I uttered to her upon seeing her for the first time were: “I really fucking hate you.”
There was no reason for this abusive introduction, other than my constant need to create an impression and shock as many people as possible. She took it ever so personally though, and whilst hating me back chose to pursue the reason that this random loud mouth hated her so much. It was a glorious, immature affair, friends getting info and feeding it back, much like I imagined everyone must have experienced at school.
As this investigation progressed, we got to know each other quite well, she was a Christian, and I mean a proper one who went to church and wore a friendship bracelet with the initials ‘WWJD’ immaculately stitched into it. Those initials stood for ‘what would Jesus do’ and it was a constant reminder not to sin.
Parts of my previous reputation had gotten about the college, though I’d mostly managed to stay low profile, a new life and all… Still one of Alice’s concerns were with regard to my sexual history, for Alice was a virgin, and she didn’t believe in sex before marriage, and lets face it, there was no way I could persuade her that Jesus would have sex with me, so I accepted that there would be no sex, at least whilst she wore that friendship bracelet.
This whole thing that I had going with Alice was nice, the lack of sex wasn’t an issue cos I’d be all celibate for quite a while an that made things all kinda innocent, we were like best friends, I imagined it’s the closest I’d ever get to a Dawson’s Creek relationship.
Me and Alice would spend loads of time together just having fun, talking, it was truly an amazing experience. The amount of time we were spending together wasn’t all issue free however, and one time that I went to pick her up from the end of the driveway, calling her from my mobile to announce my presence, she emerged from her house with a little note card from her mother, “Hi Chris, I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with my daughter recently and I’d really like to meet you.” It was at that moment I think I realized that things were getting serious, the whole concept of meeting her family right scared the shit out of me, I mean I couldn’t even get my own parents to like me, what chance do I stand with someone else’s parents!? Not much, it turned out. One night while my parents were away she came back to their house with me and we fell asleep watching a movie, it was all innocent, but the next time I went to pick Alice up from her house, her mother came bounding down the driveway, asking me in patronizing tones whether it was appropriate to have young girls stay the night at my house, it was all very scary, not even the amusement of her asking what my parents would think of the situation took the edge off that horrific experience.
Ultimately though things were really nice an I didn’t want things to change, I didn’t want things to mess up, I really liked her, but I was scared.
Mostly I was scared, because we’d got closer than I’d been with anyone my whole life, I was myself around her, I wasn’t a performer, I didn’t exaggerate or entertain her with outrageous stories, and I was scared that I’d get too dependant on her and she’d hate it and want me out of her life.
One summer’s day, I drove her up to the Welsh coast, a 2 and a half hour drive, it was a warm summers day and music was blaring out of my car stereo. I wanted to show her this place, it’s
an amazing wooden platform built over the sand dunes and when the sun sets there the sky performs some kaleidoscopic dance, with pinks and purples and yellows.
This platform was next to  where my Nan's caravan is positioned and going there and watching the sunset was my escape from horrid family holidays, I wanted to share this place with her, this place that meant so much, this place where I could escape from my sorry excuse of a life without the use of needles or foreplay.
I parked the car on the beach, as we ate fish and chips, the sun taking its time to get ready for bed, she’d been out the previous night with some friends, and was telling me about it, then she told me about the guy that she met up with after the social gathering, in the middle of the night, the guy that crept into her house and the guy she lost her virginity to.

HER FUCKING VIRGINITY!

I dunno what hurt the most, my head was overloading with different thoughts, my throat felt like there was a fucking apple lodged in it, I felt sick and empty, my stomach felt like the bottom had fallen out and there was nothing but some black hole of a void there in its place.

I felt so betrayed, and insecure, why him and not me? What did this guy she just met have over me, how was he so great, so amazing that she’d be willing to throw away everything she believed in?

I remained calm, for the whole 2 and a fucking half hour journey home, pretending nothing was wrong, that everything was okay. I felt silly, it’s not like she cheated on me, we weren’t in a relationship, I didn’t want a relationship, it would mess things up, but Jesus things were pretty messed up now.

I went to my Nan's house after dropping her off, my Nan’s house had always been a kind of sanctuary filled with love and freshly baked cakes, I sent Alice a text message: “so I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore.”

At the time I thought our relationship was magical, looking back, I don’t think it was great. Don’t get me wrong there were amazing experiences, like trips to the safari park, or short breaks away stayin in my nans caravan. Ultimately though, it ended, ironically cos she found out she was a lesbian. I learned a lot about life from that relationship, I learned that you can be yourself n people can still like you.