Three months, I'm realizing, is my breaking point at which I need some sort of physical contact with the opposite sex. Back in July, when I had sex with two men in the same week who I never talked to again, I resolved that the next time would be different. I'm gonna wait until it feels right. We're gonna talk about it first and hold off until deciding to see each other exclusively. We'll be responsible and get tested. It'll be with someone I care about.
And then mid-October hit, and I was ready to jump anything that moved. I had been to a party a few months earlier and briefly met a man who expressed interest in me to my friend. I wasn't feeling it then, but last week, when I met up with friends for drinks, they reminded me that he was an option. Feeling desperate, I forced my mind to open to other prospects and against all instincts, I gave in a little: "Tell him to come out tonight."
He did come out, and we spent the rest of the stormy Seattle night talking in a bar. I tried and tried, but I could not muster up an attraction to him, Moreover, I could barely understand him; growing up in Africa and spending years of his life in a UK boarding school had left him with a thick accent.
My friends told me later that he was sprung. I explained that I flat out am not attracted to him and cannot hold a meaningful conversation with him when I understand a fraction of what he says. They tried to convince me, told me stories about how nice/smart/funny/creative he was. I sighed, trying to find another reason to be interested. "Does he have a big penis?"
"Ehhhh, it's average," a friend responded.
This man who I'm not attracted to, who I don't understand, with an average-sized dick asked me to get a drink with him this week, and I accepted. Why? It's that three month mark. I know because the following thought actually came into my head: Maybe if we have sex from behind, I won't notice that I'm not attracted to him, we won't have to talk, and his dick will seem bigger.
Seriously, this is my life?!?
And then mid-October hit, and I was ready to jump anything that moved. I had been to a party a few months earlier and briefly met a man who expressed interest in me to my friend. I wasn't feeling it then, but last week, when I met up with friends for drinks, they reminded me that he was an option. Feeling desperate, I forced my mind to open to other prospects and against all instincts, I gave in a little: "Tell him to come out tonight."
He did come out, and we spent the rest of the stormy Seattle night talking in a bar. I tried and tried, but I could not muster up an attraction to him, Moreover, I could barely understand him; growing up in Africa and spending years of his life in a UK boarding school had left him with a thick accent.
My friends told me later that he was sprung. I explained that I flat out am not attracted to him and cannot hold a meaningful conversation with him when I understand a fraction of what he says. They tried to convince me, told me stories about how nice/smart/funny/creative he was. I sighed, trying to find another reason to be interested. "Does he have a big penis?"
"Ehhhh, it's average," a friend responded.
This man who I'm not attracted to, who I don't understand, with an average-sized dick asked me to get a drink with him this week, and I accepted. Why? It's that three month mark. I know because the following thought actually came into my head: Maybe if we have sex from behind, I won't notice that I'm not attracted to him, we won't have to talk, and his dick will seem bigger.
Seriously, this is my life?!?
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