The List
Everyone does this, I am sure. I just sat down and made a list of all the lovers I have had. It's not the most cheering list in the world, mostly because "lover" is too grand a word to describe some of these people, who seemed somewhat "challenged", shall we say, when they were faced with my willing body.
It's also a little weird because somewhere along the way, I lost count, and my number is higher than I'd thought it was. I don't think the number matters but sometimes I get creeped out by my past behaviours. For all that I'm a decadent, hedonistic, pleasure-focused human being, the sad truth about casual sex is that a lot of the time it's not really very sexy. Maybe this is old age setting in, but these days I think it's a lot more hedonistic to cook and drink wine with a good friend and laugh until four in the morning than it is to rub my sweaty, drunken, naked body against that of a stranger. I mean, that can really be fun, but tends to be quite forgettable. But I digress: perhaps I just haven't had the right casual encounters yet. Or maybe I just have to face facts and accept that for all my supposed craziness, feminism and independence, inside I'm really a mumsy little domestic creature, who always makes sure everyone's teacup is full and that they get a second helping of stew.
(By the way, I'm not actually all that old, I don't think. I'm in my mid-twenties. That's why it's still, just barely, amusing to joke about old age...)
The list sits in front of me, glowing brightly on my laptop's screen. There is one woman on the list (she is my best friend, and I would do anything for her). My other best friend, male, is also on the list. Of everyone else, apart from he-who-it-doesn't-feel-like-fucking-with, I'm only in contact with the married one, and I have been avoiding him like the plague for professional reasons. My first is now married, and while we would probably hang out and have a coffee if we bumped into each other (unlikely as he now lives 4000 miles away) we don't write to each other or anything. Another would get in touch if he were coming to town, as he did in May. Another hurt me so much that it took me a ridiculous amount of time to get over him. The others were all casual encounters and while some had their charms, I'm not really interested in seeing any of them again, even just to hang out.
It all makes me a little sad, but I suppose it would be kind of bizarre to have a whole string of satisfying, cute, adorable relationships behind me, all like he-who-it-doesn't-feel-like-fucking-with. It would be strange to ring them all every few weeks and hang out. And it would be even worse if they had committed sexual violence towards me. I've been hurt emotionally over the years, but I've never been raped, never caught an STD, and I have been lucky enough to find a few people I felt a real sexual connection with.
Stock-taking has to be a good thing. How does your list make you feel?
It's also a little weird because somewhere along the way, I lost count, and my number is higher than I'd thought it was. I don't think the number matters but sometimes I get creeped out by my past behaviours. For all that I'm a decadent, hedonistic, pleasure-focused human being, the sad truth about casual sex is that a lot of the time it's not really very sexy. Maybe this is old age setting in, but these days I think it's a lot more hedonistic to cook and drink wine with a good friend and laugh until four in the morning than it is to rub my sweaty, drunken, naked body against that of a stranger. I mean, that can really be fun, but tends to be quite forgettable. But I digress: perhaps I just haven't had the right casual encounters yet. Or maybe I just have to face facts and accept that for all my supposed craziness, feminism and independence, inside I'm really a mumsy little domestic creature, who always makes sure everyone's teacup is full and that they get a second helping of stew.
(By the way, I'm not actually all that old, I don't think. I'm in my mid-twenties. That's why it's still, just barely, amusing to joke about old age...)
The list sits in front of me, glowing brightly on my laptop's screen. There is one woman on the list (she is my best friend, and I would do anything for her). My other best friend, male, is also on the list. Of everyone else, apart from he-who-it-doesn't-feel-like-fucking-with, I'm only in contact with the married one, and I have been avoiding him like the plague for professional reasons. My first is now married, and while we would probably hang out and have a coffee if we bumped into each other (unlikely as he now lives 4000 miles away) we don't write to each other or anything. Another would get in touch if he were coming to town, as he did in May. Another hurt me so much that it took me a ridiculous amount of time to get over him. The others were all casual encounters and while some had their charms, I'm not really interested in seeing any of them again, even just to hang out.
It all makes me a little sad, but I suppose it would be kind of bizarre to have a whole string of satisfying, cute, adorable relationships behind me, all like he-who-it-doesn't-feel-like-fucking-with. It would be strange to ring them all every few weeks and hang out. And it would be even worse if they had committed sexual violence towards me. I've been hurt emotionally over the years, but I've never been raped, never caught an STD, and I have been lucky enough to find a few people I felt a real sexual connection with.
Stock-taking has to be a good thing. How does your list make you feel?
posted by daphnis at 6:12 AM
2 Comments:
In a word: dejected.
I can pick one redeeming feature, tho': the last on the list was and is the best and to be 100% truthful - which I'm obviously not on my blog - I've a niggling feeling that the potential last will be... different. Not better but different.
I now I've said too much!
orchidea
I have two lists, one "personal life" list. And one other. I don't know the lenght of the other, but through my blog, I'm somehow working my way mentally through that. It makes me uncomfortable that not remembering makes me uncomfortable. The sheer number makes me sad. The circumstances makes me sad. I think ultimately finding my ultimate exclusive relationship, with sex I can enjoy, will more and more help to make me forgive myself for the rest. I don't know if any of that makes any sense...
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