If you’ve ever had anything as weird as this as a *first message* on a dating site, I NEED to hear from you…
This was a bad idea from the minute he started grinding up against me in the club I was in with my best friend. Why we had decided to bring him out with us I have no idea – I think he was supposed to meet up with some of his friends. And didn’t.
So we get back to their parents house (both still living at home with the parents as this WAS a LONG time ago) and my best friend and I go to bed together. We always did this when I stayed over and there was absolutely nothing to it, it was completely innocent. I however was on this night *diverted* to the brother’s room across the hallway.
Funny business ensued after which I made my way back to my shared bed with my best friend / his sister. Yes, I know all the “keeping it in the family” type jokes…
I’d like to say this was a one off, but it wasn’t. However, it eventually became a lesson learnt that I’ve not gone back on to this day – relatives of close friends are off limits.
But, this story has an amusing ending. One of the next girls the brother slept with gave him a STD, so my best friend and I got to repeatedly laugh at him, together, and our bond was restored.
The IT Guy is the other male creature (Ref: Mr Northerner) that has had a notable impact on my life. But for all the wrong reasons.
TIG was the one that made me into the distrusting, scorned, generally unimpressed woman that I still am when it comes to men. He showed me what utter pigs men could be for no real, decent reason. I think a lot of women have *this guy* in their past, and he somewhat ruins them for future males due to the complete rotting to the core that takes place in certain respects.
Anyway. My TIG.
I was a lot younger than I am now, in many ways. I’d just broken up with a guy I’d been with for near on 4 years. TIG was a guy I knew (as ever, through “the professional network”) and we’d historically had a few chats and laughs. We had contacts in common as well so sort of orbited around each other in a larger social circle.
He asked me out one day. I said yes. After a couple of weeks we started seeing each other. All was going ok until I heard mutterings on the grapevine that his ex was coming back to the area – predominantly to get back with him. I heard nothing of this from him, naturally. Alarm bells should have started to ring at this point – they didn’t.
After a couple of months, things sort of fizzled out between us as a couple. Apart from the sex. The sex, throughout everything, was brilliant. Sometime after things fizzled out, we started hooking up casually. A lot. Everywhere. At pretty much every opportunity.
However, by this point, unbeknown to me, he’d gotten back with his ex – again, I heard rumblings on the grapevine but was somewhat uninterested in paying attention to them. What did complicate the situation was that his ex returned to working in the same organisation as him, meaning things had to be kept very discreet, especially in our shared circle.
TIG and I continued to hook up. There’s a saying about time being spent with someone, and how that grows emotion. I’d agree with this. By this point we admitted that we loved each other, and I knew he was back with his ex. He wasn’t prepared to rock the boat and risk his relationship with her, following how ours hadn’t worked out. He also claimed that my temper was quite terrifying to be on the end of – a stance he would use extensively in difficult situations with me over the coming…years.
To Be Continued….
Mr Feline was named so due to his love of cats. I love cats too so this was a welcome quality.
Mr F and I saw each other for a good few months, things were generally ok and there were no significant issues.
Until last week, when he repeatedly forced his hand between my legs and touched me intimately without my expressed consent, when I was half asleep in bed. I was fully clothed and had given no indication that I “was in the mood.”
I feel stupid for allowing it to repeatedly happen, but at one point I thought I was imagining it like some sort of weird nightmare. And I felt guilty (as for medical reasons that don’t need to visit here) that we hadn’t had very much sex recently. And I thought he would stop. I was embarrassed at the thought of having to ask my partner to stop touching me. Or making a “drama” by saying no. Repeatedly telling him that I was asleep was not sufficient.
I left his house after the 3rd time he did it. I was so worried about upsetting him and prompting something unpleasant (as I know longer felt that I knew this man at all) I didn’t say anything. When I commented about his “attention” his reply was along the lines of “can’t blame me for trying / had to give it go.”
I spent the whole weekend in denial that it had happened. Then one morning in the following week, during my commute I started crying. I went to work, but the next day I took advantage of a private appointment to not attend work at all. It was that night I managed to get over my shame and embarrassment to speak to a few of my friends about it. The response was reassuring – it wasn’t my fault, I hadn’t given consent and he had taken advantage of the “lack of sex situation” in a very awful way.
When I messaged Mr F to end things, he apologised a lot but kept saying that he had “misread” the situation. He then said that he’d really miss me. This was somehow one of the worst parts. He couldn’t admit properly that he was in the wrong, and that there was a part of him that didn’t hear “no” – so it’s ok, right, to just access your partner intimately whenever it suits, basically? And sigh, how awful of me to break things off…
I hope to never see or hear from him again, but I fear for the next woman he has a relationship with, as he truly showed no indication of this character to me until it was literally too late.
There are two men that I will write about on this blog that had very notable impacts on my life. Mr Northerner is one of them.
As you will know, I quite like married men. There’s no relationship pressure, you don’t have to wash their socks, you generally get the best of them and they tend to be reasonable conversationalists.
Mr N was the perfect married man. How I met him is irrelevant, but we spent a lot of time together “in the line of duty” and things came to a point after a couple of months of our meeting when we both knew we liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company. It helped that he had a northern accent and stunning blue / green eyes. Both things that I am an absolute sucker for. He was also a lot older than me and worldly wise which I still approve of.
The first time we had sex was amazing. Most men suffer from “opening night nerves” – not Mr N. The foreplay was spot on (!) and we had sex throughout the night in his hotel room. No doubt the neighbours loved it, I’m sure they enjoyed the show as much as I did…
By this point I already knew Mr N and I were going to be involved for awhile. We got jealous when we saw the other flirting with people. We often didn’t need to speak to communicate with each other in a room full of people. I used to make him baked goods as he liked sugar as much as me. He stayed round mine at least 2 nights a week as he worked away from home – his wife thought he was in accommodation with a male work colleague or something along those lines.
But it wasn’t all plain sailing – when Mr N and I rowed, did we row. People knew all about it and didn’t half hear it – the fact that no one ever actually sat us down and questioned our “relationship” was a small miracle.
So, we had a very passionate, fulfilling (on many levels) affair. It went on for about a year and a half. We were generally quite happy with each other during this time, and supported each other through some hellish situations. There are things he did for me that I never properly thanked him for and I wish I had.
However, as the saying goes, all good things come to an end. I stopped communicating with him properly because I’m prone to such things, and he put two and two together and got five – deciding I was cheating on him. Despite the fact that I hadn’t been, after accusing me of it, I promptly went off and slept with multiple people. To say things crashed and burned would be an understatement.
A few months after, I moved away from the area for a job, one of the reasons being that being so close to him in location was too difficult. I didn’t tell him I’d resigned, and when he heard it from a mutual acquaintance, the texts I got were pissed. This put further distance between us as we were as bad as each other at being stubborn – he wouldn’t tell me why it angered him so much that I hadn’t told him direct, and I wouldn’t tell him why I hadn’t told him direct. We both still liked each other but were too proud to say it. We probably both knew as well that there had been too much water under the bridge at this point – what we’d once had was shattered into a thousand pieces by harsh words and sustained periods of silence from both of us. Despite that, on the day I said goodbye to him, I nearly cried in front of him. I didn’t think he was far off it either.
I’ve never asked a married man to leave his wife for me – it’s a line I’ll never cross – but I know no one has made me think about the concept like Mr N did. I knew he loved me although I’d often throw it back at him when he said it, as it seemed pointless.
I’ve pretty much lost contact with Mr N now, although awhile ago he messaged me out of the blue to wish me happy birthday, on the day itself. It made me smile and we exchanged a pleasant few messages. I know he’s no longer with his wife, they’ve divorced and he is now seeing someone I know and I believe they are reasonably happy together, which does please me as even after the vile ending…I didn’t wish him ill.
He always used to say “why let the truth get in the way of a good story?” – maybe one day he’ll discover this blog and this true (yet good?) story will make him smile…?