Amazing Sex

Another sex drought… amazing isn’t it. You probably would never have seen that one coming from me would you? It isn’t a recurring theme in my life at all. I love when you start to get to this point after months and months of no sex, that combination point of being dead inside and wanting to jump everything you see in a 3 piece suit and chiseled jaw. Just for your reference the last time I had sex was on Halloween and let me tell you it was not the most fantastic time of my life.

Before I go into the amazing sexcapade of all hollows eve let me take you back one more. I was rereading my posts from last summer when I was in Singapore and I mention I hadn’t had sex since February 2008. Well that’s a mystery to me because I cant for the life of me remember who the hell I had sex with in February last year. Oops. Isn’t that the sign of a whore? Maybe I should start to write this shit down… hint hint hint… if I wasn’t so crap at keeping up with writing I would have several books out and I would be living off the proceeds in the south of France with my Italian lover… but I digress.

So anyways. James dumped me in July of last year… surprise surprise… I knew it was a bad idea going in but I walked willingly and happily into disaster and I loved every minute of our relationship. I still moan it to this day… not to say that I haven’t moved on with my life but I still think what it and I try to figure out if what we had was love or if it was just something masquerading as love. I hear that enthrallment, a very underutilized emotion sometimes dresses up as love and plays with people. Like the rest of us enthrallment is jealous of love and all the attention it gets. Maybe if you’re lucky ill write another paragraph about him later in this post and update you on everything that happened. But right now im talking about sex because I cant get it out of my head.

So the weekend after James dumped me my roommate was in India and I did something that I rarely do. I picked up my brick of a Singaporean mobile phone and I called Bratboy (that was his nickname) to come over and break one or two Singaporean laws with me. I set the mood… Portishead playing throughout the house, 75 candles burning, black underwear. I also drank a half bottle of vodka that was in the fridge before he got there. I was ready. When he arrived at quarter to 4 in the morning I was nearly asleep on the settee in the living room. He showered and I removed his towel and pulled him on top of me on the bed. 12 ½ minutes later he slapped me on the ass and started to clean himself up. Let’s just say if it were a race, he definitely beat me and finished in record time. Most of the time I don’t mind not crossing the finish line. For me its not really about the end of the race, its about how many twists and turns are on the course and the ability and skills of the other contestants. The end is an added bonus. I do like getting close to that goal. Getting close, moving further away, getting close again. It can all be a fun little game. Apparently they don’t play that game where Bratboy was from. Where I like being close lets just say for that evening I was very far. Also, I forgot to mention that he sneezed on me halfway through. Needless to say the evening didn’t live up to everything that I was hoping for but I went for a swim and got a massage the next day and went on with my life. Well I thought that everything was over but I get strep 3 days later and a month later I had mono. So the moral of this story is never never have revenge sex.

But im totally missing my point, I started to write about my night of passion on Halloween and told you about my july sex instead. I get very drunk on Halloween last year. It was a Friday from what I remember and we had an outing with the gay group from work. I drank a bottle of champagne in typical MJ style and proceeded to walk the streets of Chelsea with two friends of mine to dinner. We met up with a fellow Oodler from our Brazil operations who joined us. After dinner the Brazilian dressed as Robin from Batman and Robin, which he will be lovingly referred to from here on in accompanied me to one of the many gay bars in Chelsea. At a dive of a bar in Chelsea I met Superman. Well he was a lame excuse for Superman but his costume had a built in chest and he looked good. Maybe it was the copious amounts of alcohol, the childhood fantasies of Superman, or maybe the stars were in line but I told Robin to take a hike. Literally I turned to Robin, a man whom I work at the same company with, told him I was getting laid and he was going to cramp my style, said it was nice meeting him and pushed him out the door. I kid you not… I pushed him. This is the part of the story that still makes me smile. I’ve said some awful things to people in bars and I’ve had my fair share of awful one liners thrown at me but I have no idea where this one came from. I walked over to Superman and said, mind you this is the first thing that Ive ever said this is person, “can I buy you a drink or do you just want to go back to my place and fuck?” I didn’t waiver, I didn’t laugh, I was dead serious. It was like I wasn’t driving. That isn’t me. But he was on point. Without skipping a beat of batting an eyelash he responded. He poured his drink out on the floor and said, “looks like I’ve finished my drink, lets go now.”

Amazing set up. I would never believe it if I hadn’t lived it. So we have sex that evening. I will spare you the blow by blow, no pun intended, because for this evening of passion the Devil was not in the details. He was no were to be found. For once I needed him to make life a little harder, pun totally intended, and he buggered off, like me having sex for the second time in that year wasn’t enough for him to take notice.

In the span of 15 hours that Superman was at my house he finished the race 12 times. I kid you not it was like a fire hydrant that someone broke off the cap. There was no stopping it once it started. Also, Superman was not so super. Let’s just say I’ve seen bigger Chap Stick containers. So at the end of the event the score was 12 to 0. Again, FAR!!!! But the best is yet to come. So after the first 9 rounds we decide to sleep. I walk him up again and we start to go. 1, 2, 3 and right before the 4 he goes to grab the metal bed frame and rips a gash in his hand. He starts to profusely bleed all over the place. It looked like a murder scene. There was blood everywhere, and unless you’re into horror porn or blood as lube it’s a great way to kill the mood. I kicked him out and showered for 2 hours. Gross.

But I started writing all of this due to the fact that im getting to that point where I want to start to call ex boyfriends, ex lovers, or randars to come over and help me out, if you get my drift. I just have to keep reminding myself that that isn’t a good idea and it never works out the way that I would want it to.