Sexuality

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Updatity Entry

26 October, 2012 in Just Stuff, Sexuality, Study | Permalink

Thanks guys, it’s hard not to know what is an appropriate expectation. We for the most part, have accepted our mother isn’t going to be the one that shows us pride and celebration. But one of us is still holding on, still going to the letterbox every day with a hope that she’ll find something from her. She’s still caught up in wanting something that will never come. Years, decades, this is why when I hear ‘time heals’ I want to throw something. Time doesn’t do a damn thing, the only healing that happens is when people do that themselves. And I’m not saying she’s been completely lazy and hasn’t done anything, but in this one area she still hasn’t been able to step outside of it, and find a way to set it aside. With her grief and need, and our confusion about what is unrealistic and what is not, the whole thing becomes confusing. I would like to say that we are all at the point where we no longer want a loving supportive family, where it no longer hurts that my family doesn’t give a shit about me, will never acknowledge my success, or even see it as a success. But I’m not there, and I wonder if it’s even possible to be there. I don’t think I’ll ever just not want a family that loves me, but I do hope, and work towards when that isn’t heartbreaking.

So been a few days, I’ll leave that top bit up though.

I have itchy labia. I think it might be a delayed reaction to the antibiotics, so it’s probably thrush. Oh joy of joys, and oh how fucking triggering. But avoiding thinking about that I’m going to bitch about search results online. These are supposedly medical sites, that talk about itchiness of the inner walls of your vagina. Now at first I thought they were actually talking about the inside of your vagina, but know they mean labia, and they label women’s genitals as her vagina. Are we really still that clueless? The answer appears to be yes. And I know this is a sore spot for me, since I’m doing a lot of research into educating young people about their bodies, their sexuality and sexual maturity. So incase you’re reading this and wondering what I’m on about. The word for the general genital area is vulva, the labia are the fleshy areas, sometimes called lips that run along the outside of the women’s genitalia, and the vagina is the opening and tube that goes inside a woman’s body. There’s also the clitoris, urethra and rectum, but I won’t get into all that. It surprises me, and saddens me that so many don’t realise something like that. You know, it would be like a man with itchy balls going, man my penis is itchy today. But then no one mistakes the penis and the testicles.

My mother’s best friend died this week. She’s been a friend of the family for a couple of decades. When she was alive my mother was always bitching about her and how annoying she was and so on. But that’s my mother, that’s how she is about people. It’s her BPD stuff I think. Doesn’t really matter, I know that for my mother the other woman was her best friend. She rang me to tell me. I said the right things, well the socially right thing, I probably pissed my mother off because, again, she’s my mother. Joyce was a nice woman, old fashioned, and a bit of a hypochondriac but she was a woman of her generation in a lot of ways. I’m not sad she’s dead, I mean by that, I wasn’t that emotionally invested in her life, so her death doesn’t impact me. My mother hasn’t contacted me again about funerals or anything. There’s probably a major reason for that, to do with my mother being the way she is, but it doesn’t directly affect me so she can be as insane and vindictive as she wants. But at least I won’t have to deal with refusing to go.

I lost my wallet yesterday. Ok it was only temporary but it was enough to make me freak. I have a little more cash this week because my electricity bill was low. So when I went into get my shopping I decided to stop off for coffee on the way. I brought my coffee and sat down at a table. There was a newspaper there, and usually I don’t bother with the local newspaper, but was bored. I finish my coffee and head to the supermarket. Do my whole week’s shopping, calculator in hand to ensure I don’t go over budget. Was unpacking the trolley onto the conveyor belt thing and I reached for my wallet from my bag only to find it was missing. I had to quickly get everything back in my trolley, step out of line so the next person could get their shopping done. I thought maybe it dropped out, or I left it at the counter for some reason, I went and asked and some annoying woman told me it wasn’t there. I say annoying because she acted like me asking if my wallet had been handed in was a massive inconvenience to her life. I was frustrated with her and probably would have said something if I wasn’t already panicking about having lost not only all my week’s money, but also my bus pass, my eftpos, my university ID. So I couldn’t even get home, without a very long walk. I was heading to the police station (next door to the supermarket) when I thought I should at least check the last place I used it. It was such a relief when I walked in and the barista gave me a pleased smile of recognition. Yes I left it behind under the newspaper I was reading. But for half an hour there it was a major freaking panic moment.

And because I’ve been watching a lot of QI lately

Rambling before Dinner

5 September, 2012 in geekry, Just Stuff, Recovery, Sexuality | 1 comment

I am almost sick. Yesterday I was actually sick but talked to Sean about all the issues I have about being sick and that was scary enough that I managed to push the sickness away. My fear about being sick so outweighs my body’s need to be sick. This morning it was back, but not nearly as bad, more just a slightly squicky feeling and a muffled headache. My sick issues, I feel I need to start addressing them, start to understand all the rules and the whys. Not just as a way to rehash the past or torment myself, but it helps me, to understand all that, to put it to use in overriding some of the rules or challenging them. I was talking to Sean and I mentioned I have three conditions/issues, that I probably should go see a doctor about, but that would be self-serving, being bothersome, and since these issues aren’t annoying anyone else, aren’t making anyone else’s life a problem there is no reason for me to seek help. Sean, bless, tried to get us to go to the doctor, tried to order us to. He said it works, that we’ve told him it works when he gets on our case about going to school, and that its actually helpful for him to do that. And yes that’s true, but the thing is, we aren’t as afraid of Sean as we are of breaking those rules about our healthy/doctors. And now that I write this I also realise, that when it comes to school, we are using Sean like a weapon, not against ourselves, but against the rules about being smart or successful. We are not ready to engage that weapon yet when it comes to our health rules.

We’ve been self-harming our labia a lot lately. Well really it’s just scratching, breaking the skin, picking holes, so not real self-harm, it’s just me being too lazy to use an accurate description. It’s one of the areas of our body we attack a lot. It’s perfect for it, no one gets to see and perhaps comment on the damage, its a tender area that is easy to hurt. Only trouble right now is it is effecting our movements. Walking isn’t so bad, that can be put down to us being fat and waddling because of that. But to sit down or stand up there’s that sharp sting of pain and it is obvious something hurt. We forget that we are out in public more, that people might comment on our actions.

A couple of days ago I was talking to my neighbour and the topic of Stuart Wilson came up. She was, like so many it seems, in the lynch mob mentality. After the ‘normal’ stuff about cutting his penis off, or hanging him from a tree, she brought up selling him to the Chinese so they can harvest his organs (yay lets throw some Asian bashing in). Now I know my views aren’t popular and I’m far in the minority. I get that. But when I said something that castration will only stop sexual assault if the person can’t pick up a bottle, or that we only scream for violence because it’s easier than looking at how our society is, I was told I wasn’t allowed to comment because I didn’t know what it was like for his victims, and until I had that experience I had no right to an opinion. Ok, first, she hadn’t been through that either, so how are her opinions valid. But that aside, the whole ‘unless you’ve experienced it, you can’t comment’ is a damn good way of trying to silence someone. One if you haven’t, then yeah, a lot of people would be guilted into silence. But the other end, if you have had similar experiences, well most people aren’t comfortable telling that to acquaintances, or sometimes even close friends. Wilson is probably one of our worst ‘acknowledged’ sexual offenders, but at the risk of completely freaking myself out, I believe I experienced worse, but I’m hardly going to tell her that, hell I just spent the last hour in high anxiety mode because I wrote that here.

I just finished reading Daughter of the Blood. I loved it, both for the story, and for the idea of being able to write something like that at some stage in my future (dreams but who knows). And I’ve found myself so attached to the idea of Witch.

I need to lose weight. I feel I’ve put on far too much in the last few months. It makes me feel horrible and ugly and so full of hatred. And yet, even feeling that I don’t do anything about it. I brought a McD’s Lamb burger on Monday (and god it was awful), and then yesterday I got myself some mashies at KFC to eat on the way home. It’s no wonder I’m so fat. But then my brain gets all messed up when I start thinking about weight and diets and self-worth. It’s a major tangled web that I always get stuck in and then torment myself for months only to start the process all over again. I hate being fat, I hate myself for the fact I’m fat, but that said, sometimes I just shrug that off and accept it, because facing that I’m fat and doing something about it just triggers the living crap out of me endlessly. It’s better to be fat and worthless, than fat, worthless and tortured.

There’s a woman on the post-grad floor I have realised that I am attracted to. If I was anyone else, I’d probably be considering asking her out. Although that said, I doubt she’d agree, I doubt she’d be someone that would be interested in me, of course I often doubt anyone would be interested in me. I just found it interesting today to realise that after thinking she was derisive and snobby (when I was in the same class as her in my 400 paper), to become someone I actually like. I suppose that’s normal, how quickly we judge people as something until we get to know them. And also how much my opinion of myself I project onto others, usually unfairly. I always thought she looked down her nose at me, that she thought of me as beneath her, not worth her attention. And while I still think she sees me as ‘less’ simply because I think everyone does, I don’t think its that severe anymore.

Reverse Heteronormality

13 June, 2012 in Just Stuff, Sexuality, Study | Permalink

First. My butt cheeks are so damn sore. I’m walking so stiffly at the moment. Will teach me for walking down High Street.

So anyway, moving on from my pained muscles. I’ve been watching the latest season of Masterchef Australia online. It’s really the only version of Masterchef I like, but the point is I am having a reverse heteronormative moment. There’s a man on it, a nice enough man, but I have been assuming he’s gay. He is almost the stereotype. He works as a hairdresser, he has many of the mannerisms and body language that is usually associated with homosexuality. And yet, when they show his home life, he’s there with his wife and children.

Now as someone who identifies as bisexual, I can quite happily say I have no homophobic issues. Straight, gay, dyke, lesbian, bi, asexual, whatever sexuality you want to identify with I’m all for supporting that. So it surprised me how much I have brought into the stereotype. I’m not exclusive about the stereotype, I don’t believe all gay men are effeminate, or all lesbians are butch dykes. But it seems if I see someone who could be placed in a gay box I automatically just assume he’s gay. So maybe its not that I have gay stereotype boxes, but instead I have a straight box and if you don’t fit that image of what it means to be straight I’ll assume you’re not.

So its a reversal of stereotyping and labelling norms. The first guy eliminated was openly gay. He was solidly built, played rugby, big tall bloke, spoke with a Canadian accent but no sign of a lilt. So other than him saying, I play for an all-gay rugby team and this is my partner -insert male name here- no one would question his sexuality, there would be no reason for him to defend his lifestyle choices, and indeed many would say he was performing acceptable masculinity. He was being a ‘real man’. This other guy though, he’s straight, but I can see him having to ‘prove’ that. I can see people saying, oh yeah, he’s just in denial. And a lot of that is because he isn’t acting from the acceptable straight box.

Attack of Trigger Demands

12 June, 2012 in Recovery, Sexuality, Vents | 1 comment

So when I decided to go have a look at the multiplicity related forums on Fetlife, I remembered why I don’t hang out there much anymore.

It appears there has been a push to trigger warn everything in the last few weeks. I never noticed any trigger warnings when I first started going around them. And if there were it wasn’t on nearly every post, even the most innocuous ones. Yes I know a couple of posts were odd to say the best, they made me cringe a little, but when people demand trigger warnings on ads for a date, or talk about alters.

Now I always sighed a little on other sites with all the trigger warnings and splatting and the like. But there was that understanding part of me, that looked at the site and thought, ok, its open to anyone, kids, young adults, the highly damaged and fragile can go to a multiple site and use it for support, so yeah while I think trigger warnings and the like are mostly pointless, if it helps them then that’s what is important I suppose.

But here’s the thing, Fetlife is a bdsm kink sex/relationship site. Yes there are forums that aren’t terribly kinky. We read the Doctor Who one all the time and most of the time it’s just geeky without much sex. But when you’re on Fetlife, surely you have to be aware that discussions aren’t going to always be safe and comfortable, there’s going to be open discussions of sex and kink, there’s going to be the occasional troll, and there’s a lot of alternative people walking around.

Now if you have people in your group that don’t handle that then they need to be stopped from reading, and honestly if you can’t protect your own people from what they might find on a sex-discussion website, then maybe you need to think about whether you want to be part of it. But no, instead people are demanding trigger warnings and sanitation.

And yes, people are capable of making those decisions, and deciding that’s how they want it. I can choose to leave, I could even chose to be a bitch and start writing again purposely avoiding using any trigger warnings. But I really can’t be bothered, so I wander off and let them take forums that were once full of intense and interesting discussions, into a clean and boring ‘survivor’ community.

Tonight’s soap opera episode

24 January, 2011 in Relationships, Sexuality | 1 comment

So an update (or a whine depending on your point-of-view) on the soap opera that is my love life.

For the first time ever, I decided I wanted to have my birthday acknowledged. Just in a small way, I didn’t want fuss, or presents, I just wanted someone to say it was my birthday and that was important. Actually that’s not entirely true, people have tried to say it before but I’ve always brushed it off, negated and ignored it. This last one, I decided I wanted to acknowledge that with someone.

So I asked Brian. I said I didn’t want anything big, or a present, but I wanted him to do something with me for my birthday. A drive out to Outram for an icecream, a walk along a beach. He said, sure, of course. At the time I thought I meant it when I asked. But now with hindsight I wonder if it was a test I knew he would fail, that it would prove how unlovable I am, how unreliable he is and let me pretend to be doing recovery work when in reality I was just finding a more sneaky way to hide from it.

In case you haven’t already worked it out, Brian didn’t do anything. Again, not entirely true, mid-afternoon he messaged me and said ‘happy birthday’ but seriously I don’t think I’m being judgemental when I say that hardly counts as doing something special. And the other thing now in hindsight I’m not terribly surprised. This is the guy that refused to go out in public with me, that always made me feel like his guilty secret. So did I really think he would change, just because I asked. At the time I told myself I thought he would, but then again, sometimes the easiest person to con is yourself.

I saw him a couple of days after that, he didn’t even mention my birthday. I told myself it didn’t hurt, but that was one con I couldn’t pull off, because fuck it it did. He talked about how he was waiting for the new year to change how he was, to make a commitment to having a real relationship with me. He said he’d been walking around with a contract in his pocket for weeks. When I thought I was going to get an agreement with Daniel months ago, the two of us worked out a contract before he disappeared. Brian said he wanted to see it, so I emailed it to him. I admit to being cynical and jaded when he said he was carrying a copy of it. I said the contract had no relevance to him (which is true it wasn’t written for him) and then I said he would never be that type of submissive, that it would require more than he was willing to give me. Which is all true, I would want to see someone I had contracted more than once every couple of months when they felt like it, but I was very… blunt about it. When he left I said have a good Christmas, he told me he’d see me before then. I haven’t seen him since.

I got a text from him on New Year’s Day saying Happy New Year, but that was the last and only time I’ve heard from him. I didn’t really expect him to change, to suddenly be able to let me into his life. But I will have to say, not hearing from him at all, kind of hurts. It touches on that raw nerve of being tossed away when I’m no longer filling a need. My friendship often feels like I am a commodity, that is used up and then tossed aside. Yes I know I have major personal issues, and probably contribute a lot to that situation, but it’s still there. If he suddenly turns up and starts messaging me again, will I talk to him. I’d like to say no, not that he’s a bad guy because really he’s not, but because I can’t keep doing that to myself, can’t keep saying use me. But at the same time, it sucks so much to be so alone, and I’m use to taking the scraps off the floor.

Meanwhile, there’s Holly, who is suddenly talking to me on messenger three or four times a day. She still frustrates and amuses me. She goes on about being horny and wanting a girlfriend, but she’s of the opinion that said girlfriend needs to track her down, turn up on her doorstep. She won’t go out, she won’t date, and although she says she gets hit on by straight chicks all the time, she doesn’t seem to actually try to find anyone. I find it amusing, and I tend to just laugh her off. There was a time when I used to try to tell her that if she wants a relationship she actually has to put some work into it. But I soon worked out I was pissing into the wind, she doesn’t want it, she doesn’t want to have to work, she just wants the fantasy.

And she likes the idea of me fulfilling her fantasy. She tries to get me to get dommy with her when we talk, to instruct her. She also tries to get me to tell her what I’d do with her if I was her dom. I don’t play that game, I refuse to be her cheap and safe fantasy. She also talks about having feelings for me, that I get inside her head. Again, bullshit. This is a woman I’ve known online for over 3 years and we have never met. It’s not like she’s in a different town, she says she’s in Highcliff which ok is across town, but this is Dunedin, so at most 20 minutes by car. If she was attracted to me, if she did actually think about a relationship with me she would have met by now. And yes, I have asked her to meet at least 3 times. She hasn’t turned me down, but each time I have said something about meeting in real life she’s shut down her messenger with some excuse. I still wouldn’t be surprised to find out she wasn’t a real woman, but that said, 3 years is a long time to play that game with one person.

She frustrates me so much. She always complains, about being alone, being bored, not having a life. But refuses to do anything different. Yes my life is boring, but some of those boring parts I actually like, the ones I don’t, well I try to change, as much as I can with my finances and lack of transport. I think that’s what annoys me the most, people who have opportunities available to them, don’t recognise how lucky they are. Ok, maybe part of this rant is she annoyed me today. I said I wasn’t fun, she refused to accept that so I tried to explain. I said I do enjoyable things, I enjoy my life for the most part (so don’t trust her with my trauma issues), but I have a serious demeanour, and my interests tend towards the cerebral, academic, staid. It wasn’t a put down, I enjoy those things, I don’t enjoy what most people consider fun, and I don’t generally like behaving in that free funloving way. It’s just me, I’m not complaining. She, however, told me I was wrong, that I really was fun. When I told her I didn’t like being people thinking they knew me better than myself. She responded by laughing and saying, see you’re fun. It just annoyed the crap out of me, I probably shouldn’t have expected more, and it did show how little she knows of who I really am. But fuck, and yeah it got me rambling.

Mistress or Dominant

12 October, 2010 in Relationships, Sexuality | Permalink

Brian came around for a visit today. Mostly it was just that, a visit and a chat. But he ended up at my feet rubbing them and my calves. It was sweet and well, one thing lead to another and we had a little play. It wasn’t anything major, and I remained fully dressed throughout it all but it was nice. And yes frustrating, he would be so sweet as a submissive, I can see it in him, just there waiting. One touch and it comes up to the surface, but I know he’ll run away afterwards. So I’m not letting myself get too involved in the daydream.

There’s the thing, with Brian it’s personal, intimate and fun. With Owen it’s interesting, challenging and enjoyable. I don’t get emotionally attached when I dominate Owen, I don’t get turned on by it. In a lot of ways I’m playing a pro-domme role with Owen, not in the cold way, not in me feeling used, but its analytical and removed. With Brian there’s an emotional connection, I do find myself reacting to him as a person not just as a dominant. He touches strongly on my dominance side, but also the parts that are personal, that are about connecting to another person.

Last time I spoke with Owen he talked about what would happen when he decided to move on. First I found it amusing he assumed only he would want to move on, that I’d always be available. Anyway, he brought up the idea of being whipped out, basically taking one last punishment before he went off with his new girlfriend or whatever. His idea was if he stopped our arrangement he should still deal with the punishments he had coming. I said no, if one of us decides its over then its over. If he stopped this thing to get out of a punishment, then he’d be shooting himself in the foot because its not like he says its over for a couple of days and then it starts back again.

But the thing is, if he said it was over, then that is what it would be for me. I would say, hey it’s been fun, have a good life. I wouldn’t feel devastated, I wouldn’t feel rejected. I’d wouldn’t need time to recoup. This isn’t to say I don’t enjoy what I have with him, I do, I’m glad for it to continue. But I think after seeing Brian today I can see the difference, see what I would really like. I don’t have any delusions that I’ll get that with Brian, he’s got too many screwed up issues. I know I want more than that cold distant dominant, I want to be more than that, and feel more than that. I think it’s about it’s the difference about being someone’s Mistress, and just being a dominant.

second meeting

24 August, 2010 in Sexuality | 2 comments

A couple of weeks ago I saw Owen. I really didn’t know how I felt about it, whether it was worth doing again. I liked him well enough, but not so much that I felt any strong connection with. He was more, just a guy that was interesting, a slight friendship at the most. Plus the play was, well uneventful. I thought long and hard about continuing, whether it was just settling or I was getting something from it.

Tonight I had another session with him. It was a lot more enjoyable. I still don’t feel I would ever want a full relationship with him. He’s a nice guy but there’s absolutely no spark, no buzz that I have had with others. But the time we spent together was a lot more easy and free-flowing. I’m now far more content about continuing with him. I got far more out of the play with him today than last time and it felt more comfortable.

Still looking for someone to have a proper relationship with, but I can see me getting some enjoyment from this until then.

7 February, 2006 in Sexuality | Permalink

Isabella: I don’t want to be like some Mills and Boons romance novel

Sean: You were standing under a tree holding hands with a man in the rain, you were living the Mills and Boons Romance

The man that lurks around toilets

5 February, 2006 in Relationships, Sexuality | Permalink

I was walking back to my tent to get some more wine and this guy was standing in the middle of the “road” in the field by himself. He said something about me not smiling. I didn’t realise I wasn’t or anything. I was feeling good and well slightly, ok more than slightly drunk. Probably because of this intoxication instead of doing my usual grunt when someone tells me to smile I made some joke about the fact he wouldn’t be smiling either if he had to go use one of those little cubicles (port-a-loos) He laughed and e got talking. There must be something about rallies and the subject of peeing I don’t know how many conversations about it I had over the two days. So anyway back to this man, he introduced himself but you see, I was as I said more than a little drunk and I forgot to repeat it so it’s totally blank I have a feeling it started with a M but I could be totally wrong. So we were standing in the field chatting away. He said he shouldn’t keep me from my peeing, but I felt in the mood to flirt and in the semi-darkness he looked rather cute. Since it started to rain I suggested we go shelter under the trees by my tent after we both peed, him against a fence post, me in the putrid cubicle, on the joys of not having a penis.

We stood under the tree chatting away for a while. I felt his hand slip into mine. It felt rather nice. I jokingly asked if he always lurks around waiting to hit on woman that need to pee. His response only the ones that aren’t smiling. At which he sort of leaned around and gave me the softest, almost platonic kiss and asked if I was smiling yet. No, I laughed. He said he would have to try harder. We were kissing then rather passionately. He told me I was a great kisser which surprised me somewhat. It’s not that I think I’m a bad kisser just not what I would call great. Now this could be all part of his act of seduction and as the night progressed he proved very adept at it. We chatted and made out and chatted some more. When he was fondling my butt a thought crossed my mind. I was concerned enjoying it but worried at the same time. So I asked him, saying I didn’t want to offend him but was he just horny and looking for some available woman when I stumbled past. He said all the right things to that, how his first comment had been a form of friendly hello without agenda, that I was interesting and when I said quite bluntly I wasn’t going to fuck him she said he wasn’t planning to fuck me either, he was just enjoying holding and touching me. Seem we were both mistaken about that. The rain had become quite heavy and he took my hand and lead me to my tent. I had been avoiding going in there not because I didn’t want to be alone in the tent with him. I mean you can’t get more safe than being surrounded by about 2000 bikers one of which is your pysch nurse who has a black belt in karate. It’s just my tent is tiny and it would get very claustrophobic. It actually did at one point causing me to escape from it quickly for a while before I started clawing at the fabric.

We lay there in the dark and cuddled and talked. It’s been a very long time since I have had that, lying in bed (or in this case on the ground) and cuddling and touching and stroking. The people we have been involved with of late all seemed more interested in passing that finishing line than being in the moment. It was romantic, tender and relaxing in a heated sort of way. Of course as things do in these situations things got decidedly more heated and we did end up having sex, a number of times. It was the best sex I have ever had I must say and on discussions with others here it’s been years since we have enjoyed that level of intimacy and pleasure with someone as much as we did last night. It was more about the full experience and then came my bad choice.

We were lying there dozing and I knew I had to ask him to return to his tent. I wanted him to stay, I would have loved him to stay but I had a problem. I knew everyone here was dealing with so much. There were too many new variables to deal with for everyone. We were in a place we didn’t know, sleeping in a tent, lying on the ground with tents all around us far away from the safety of our own home and I was fearful if someone woke up to find a strange man beside us it might push us over the edge we were straddling off and on. He seemed hurt that I asked him to go, and I was upset about it myself but for the sake of the whole community I felt I had to. I think there was also a tiny fear of mine that he would see me in the morning and think he made a mistake. when he left he said he would come see me in the morning. As it was and this is why my decision was the wrong one, for a number of reasons (see next entry when we get around to writing it) we were awake most of the night and he could have stayed without causing stress to the community.

Because we didn’t sleep we got up very early and went in search for coffee. I ended up running into Bob and his partner and spending a while talking with them. I got back and packed up my tent and sat down and waited for a while. He never showed. I don’t know if we simply missed each other or if he didn’t turn up. I wish a number of things. I wish he had stayed, I wish I had coffee with him in the morning to see his face in the light. I wish that sometime I had at least given him my cell number. There is now simply no way of tracking him, hi is gone from my life. Now before that sounds so terribly melodramatic, the guy lives in Christchurch, he wasn’t going to move in with me, hell it’s unlikely we would ever see him again. Last night was what it was, a wonderful experiences that I will cherish and am glad I had, and indeed teaches us more about what it is we want from relationships. It was what it was, but I still kicked myself for the way it ended.

-Isabella