Winging It

My Father's Desk - A Poem

2017-12-09T17:23:00.000-08:00

His glasses, bound in leather,
Sit perched in the centre,
The focal point,
Magnifying a small thin line of neat writing
Printed on the paper beneath them,
Covered in a labrynth of ink -
Of lines and letters.
Sheet after sheet sprawled across the desk,
With only one small corner of mahogany
Peeking through the clutter, like an island.
A ruler lies lazily across the loose pages,
Dotted, at random, with tiny imperfections.
Scratches and pen marks like scars of its past.

His pen, poised and ready for action,
The cap sitting neatly on the wrong end,
Is carefully balanced,
Half on the table, half reaching out towards me,
In the open space between us.

Somebody's First

2017-12-04T11:19:00.000-08:00

So this is another interesting one about sex.
It seems to be a focal point of my life at the moment, but I guess that's the whole point of sexual exploration.

This one's a little different.

I met somebody, at a mutual friend's party. And yes, alcohol was involved, because this is an unhealthy habit I have when it comes to meeting guys apparently. However we spent the majority of the night talking and flirting and I genuinely liked him as a person alongside the initial attraction - which I hate to admit is something I haven't really stopped to figure out with the majority of my sexual experiences.
We ended up back at his place where we would have had sex if it wasn't for a little thing called alcohol. But we can get passed that this time, because we started to chat online a few days later, and in short I have since had sex with him twice.

But today, I was asked about him by a friend who was at the same party, and I discovered he had never had sex before that night.
This is something I definitely didn't know. And I'm still a little in shock, to be completely honest. Yes, the sex was awkward - but isn't it always a little.
But he never mentioned it to me, and I promise you there were plenty of opportunities for him to. I'd outwardly commented, jokingly, on "why is our sex so awkward?". I'd spoken about my ex (I know, oops). I thought we actually got along quite well.
So now I'm just confused. Did he just want to "use" me as a means to lose his virginity. Is the only reason he's seen me, and slept with me, more than once, because he wants experience? Am I merely someone for him to practice on -
Which, by the way, would co-inside if not further the fears I had of only being a 'friend with benefits' because we really only have sex and we don't hang out. Only it would be worse than being a friend with benefits.

My entire perspective on what we were doing and are doing and even could be doing has been flipped around. If we're being honest, I'm just genuinely not comfortable with how the whole situation panned out at this point. Had I known it was his first time. And I know that's not necessarily my decision to make but considering my involvement, I think I'm allowed to decide whether or not I'm comfortable with it?! I just don't know how to feel about him. Which nevermind being confusing and horrible and a whole mix of "I wish things had never worked out like this", it's also bloody annoying, because I really did like the guy.
But being somebody's first is so much more pressure than being somebody's somewhere-in-the-middle.

And just to add on top of that, not to get ahead of myself, but had anything more come out of this, I doubt it would be too long of a thing. Because I'm under the impression you should have more than one sexual partner in your life. So now I'm relegated to at worst, a vessel for him to lose his virginity, and at best, his first girlfriend (which is never the last). Which is just... genuinely upsetting, I guess. Because I was hopeful, for the first time in a while, about where something was going.

Brown Eyes - A Poem

2017-10-16T13:13:00.000-07:00

So many people,
Whose eyes I would call brown,
But not his.

His eyes are not brown,
They are a deep, wooden colour,
Rich, like the earth,
And warm,

They remind me of a lit fireplace,
The soft glow of the flames,
And the feeling of being home.

Sleepy nights,
Spent feeling happy, oh,

His eyes say so much more,
Than his voice ever could,
Ever did.

My Love Life (And My Sex Life)

2017-09-30T17:06:00.002-07:00

It seems strange to think back on my love life. If I don't think too much, I can convince myself that I've had it pretty normal, for my age. But I haven't really.

I think we always want to be more 'experienced' than we are (maybe that's an age thing), which is why I find it hard to actually look back I think. I've only ever had one relationship, and it was a funny kind of relationship. It got very emotionally serious very quickly, especially from his side, however it never got physically serious - we never had sex, is what I'm trying to say. We dated for three months, almost seven weeks of which I was abroad without him.

This is where I sound like a bitch. I broke up with him over text. I just didn't have the heart to do it in person - I don't know if it's ever easy to break up with somebody, but it definitely isn't the first time you ever do. I knew I had to - I no longer looked forward to seeing him, I didn't even want him to be at the airport for me. I knew we didn't 'click', and I knew one way or another it was going to end.

I broke with him at the beginning of the night, and I went out and got drunk, and I lost my virginity to a boy I didn't know by the end of the night.

It's funny, actually, I've only had sex four times, and only one of those times was I sober (if we don't count two rounds in one night).
Two of those times, I never saw the guy again.
And two of those were with the same guy, who I only ever saw those two times.

Interestingly enough, I don't regret any of these. I'm actually quite happy with how I lost my virginity - it might not be how I expected or originally wanted, but I've never really been into romance and 'perfect moments' and I think, to be honest, I just needed to have sex in order to come to terms with myself as a sexual human being and to open myself up to sexual encounters in the future. And I did like the guy, I'll give myself that; he was far more attractive than is in my league and he was also pretty damn good at sex.

The guy I saw twice - well, the second time I saw him was my first ever sober sex, not that I'd ever tell him that. And holy hell, was he good, even if I never told him so. He set the bar a bit high actually, I think, but I definitely don't mind.

But that's it, really. The entirety of my experiences. It sure feels like a lot more than that, and I definitely don't feel scared of sex any more (I was, back in that relationship). But it's not a lot to be honest; I'm completely in the dark when it comes to what a good relationship should feel like. Which is why it's so difficult to know what I'm doing when it comes to liking somebody.
But then again, I don't know if anybody else really knows what they're doing either.

//True at time of writing. Not necessarily at time of publishing. So if you somehow found your way to this blog having helped me 'expand my horizons on the topic, don't worry, I didn't forget. I just hadn't met you yet//

I'm Okay. No, but Really.

2017-09-24T13:12:00.000-07:00

I know it's only been two weeks I've been away but I geared myself up for it as soon as I left. I'm sure you've seen the articles, and the posters, the podcasts, blogs, leaflets slipped under University Hall doors: Homesickness (and how to handle it). And I really did think I was prepared for whatever came at me; crying in the middle of the night to hour-long phone calls home that my parents would pretend not to mind.
But what I wasn't prepared for was... feeling okay. Completely okay.

My parents promised me so much support when it came to missing home, and missing them, that I never even imagined there would be an issue. But I didn't really know what to do when my mum called me to say my dad almost cried on the way home and that they both missed me. I love my parents, I know this, but I just haven't really started to miss them yet.

I know, I know, I'm lucky. Why would I bother to write a post just to gloat about how cool and independent I am. "Look at me, I don't even miss home, I'm doing better on my own."
But it's genuinely very unnerving, when my mum bursts into tears at lunch and my dad doesn't know what to say to either of us, and I blurt out the words 'I miss you too' knowing that they aren't true.

'I love you' and 'I miss you' are two very different things, and I can only truthfully say one. And it's the one they're less excited to hear, right now.

Just A Kiss

2017-09-14T08:32:00.000-07:00

He kisses me softly.
I don't think I've ever been kissed softly before, like this.
Normally I'm kissed hard, rushed - 'when do I get to undress you?' kisses.
But he kisses me like he is taking his time. Like he just wants to kiss me. Before we continue watching the show.
It's nice.

I like soft kisses.

My Granddad Has Dementia

2017-09-14T08:31:00.000-07:00

Or so they tell me, now.

I can't even remember how it started, he got an infection I think. And he refused to eat. And then he started getting tired all the time, and needing to get up in the night.. and never making it in time.

I haven't really seen him much, since he got dementia like they say. I guess that makes me a terrible granddaughter, I probably am. He's very far away, and I've been working, or travelling, and I'm a terrible granddaughter.

That's why it's difficult when they tell me he won't listen to the nurses. He shouts at them in the night when they try to help him. My granddad doesn't shout, he's not the loud one. He listens to everyone. My granddad would never take any help, he'd politely refuse it and struggle on himself.

They tell me he falls over in the night, and it's hard to stand him up again. But my granddad never fell over, that was granny. He used to help her walk. He used to do the gardening every day, and go out and pick the fruit every morning, and he never fell over.

They tell me he won't eat his food. He'll simply refuse to. My granddad always ate his food. Granny was a wonderful cook, she'd stay in the kitchen all day, cook three meals a day for him. She'd pile more onto his plate if he finished, and he'd always thank her with a clean plate at the end. He loved her cooking.

It's hard to think about my granddad like this. I'm not supposed to say that, but it is.

Hostel Showers

2017-09-05T14:23:00.000-07:00

I can't give you the most accurate account of this night, but I can tell you what I do know.

I was drinking, more than normal; I learned this night that I actually can do tequila shots without throwing up. So that sets the scene for you.

And we were at a bar. Or a club. A mix between the two, I think, or possibly just a bar that we had claimed as a dance-floor. At some point, while I was dancing I think, I met a guy named David from Switzerland. And David was attractive.

I know we didn't chat for very long, but we did have trouble figuring out where he was staying (it was the same hostel as me, directly above the bar/club) and that when we did figure it out, we discovered that he was in a shared hostel room - as was I. I know it seemed like a good idea at the time, David, to wander in at roughly 3A.M., and wake up everyone asleep in your room while we got to know each other a little better, but I bet you're glad we didn't.

So we improvised. We went along the hallway, and we stumbled into one of the hostel shower cubicles. A relatively small space with a clothes rail and a shower, and importantly, a door that locks.

I've always thought the idea of shower sex seemed exciting, and certainly fun. I don't know if it was you or the alcohol, David (probably both) but it was not. I don't remember much, but I remember that. Has anyone ever told you that it's extremely hard to have sex standing up when the guy is a lot taller than you? No? Me neither. These are the logistics you don't think about. Is he supposed to crouch in a weird squat? I don't understand. It just didn't work.

So, David, you instead ended up getting what I'm convinced was at least a 2 hour long blowjob (with breaks). And in theory, I love the idea of a rough blowjob, but in practice - pushing harder on my head will not improve my deep-throating abilities, sorry. And a note for next time, as much as giving a blowjob is perfectly fine, especially if you're enjoying it, a little something back would be nice.

Apologies for the less than raunchy story, I probably could have written this into a porn if I'd tried a little harder, but really this sums it up far better. I think it's fair to say I had my first lesson here that sex can, and will, suck sometimes. It's not always hot, and worthy of fantasizing about. Sometimes it simply ends because you get tired, and you want to go to bed.

Sex - A Poem

2017-09-02T11:00:00.000-07:00

It wasn't the way

They told me it should be:

Gentle, quiet,

Dimmed lights.

There were no candles.

I remember feeling sore,

And strangely proud,

He seemed nice - I guess,

To look at, to be with,

To wake up next to.

I still think about it sometimes,

About him sometimes,

About us, naked on my friend's couch.

It wasn't the way

They told me it should be.

A Night in Nepal

2017-09-02T03:23:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd just include this story in my blog because I've found myself telling it in person a few times, when people ask me about nights out in Nepal.

Where I was staying, as a volunteer, was Homestay that chose to introduce a 10pm curfew, and a no-alcohol in the house rule. What this meant is that to go out drinking any later than 10, you had to find a nearby hotel to stay in for the night. This wasn't a problem at all, there were plenty of hotels nearby that were exceptionally cheap - cheaper than one drink back at home.

This only became a problem when you forgot to book a room, and the hotels either closed or filled up for the night before you got there. Which is exactly what happened.

Nights out in Nepal were strange enough. I think the locals, who tended to avoid alcohol, were just fascinated by a group of us drunk tourists whenever we went out, and we would often have groups of sober Nepali people come up to us for a chat while we definitely were not sober at all. I guess we were fun to watch? I can't lie, I do find a good bit of entertainment myself in watching drunk people go about their night when I'm sticking to water.

But that's not what made this night interesting. We got passed all of that; a good night in the local club and a couple of the bars - a quick stop in a strip club (before the show had even started) which we left fairly swiftly after having a look at the prices. And, completely drunk, a whole group of us started looking for a hotel to stay in. Unsuccessfully.

Somehow, during our search, we lost someone. But we hadn't even realised that at this point. Instead we walked around, absolutely shattered at this point, and decided eventually that we would choose a couple of outdoor balcony benches - up a flight of outdoor stairs - that belonged to a cafe, would be a perfect place to spend the night. As if it wasn't freezing, and there weren't mosquitos, we lifted the cushions off the chairs and lay down for the night - for what was probably the worst sleep I have ever had. We literally slept on an open, public, cafe's balcony on the cushions we'd moved from their seats.

Not my proudest moment.

When I did wake up at last, I found almost everyone had made their way back to the Homestay where they'd successfully climbed the fence without getting caught (we had been caught once before, oops) except one other person. He didn't wake up, and I was too tired, so I went back. He turned up about an hour later. Technically, it was morning, so it didn't count as sneaking back in.

Only the next day, when we all finally woke up and looked around a little bit, did we realise we had completely lost one of our group and nobody had any clue where he'd ended up. After a small panic and at least two failed search parties, he made it back just after midday. He also couldn't tell us where he'd been, and was still drunk enough to forget the entire morning after he had a quick nap.

My First Blog Post

2017-09-01T11:19:00.000-07:00

Since the idea of this blog is to be honest - the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth etc etc - I figured I'd better start now. Despite having attempted to write a few blogs in my life, I still have no idea what I'm doing. So in short, please go easy on me...

I'm eighteen years old, and as much as I feel at least a little "worldly" and "experienced" I know that I am not. Which means, using simple logic, that in the next few years - even just by coincidence - I am likely to experience at least a few interesting things. And I guess that's the idea behind the blog. At least one thing worth writing about is bound to happen soon, so here I am, sitting behind a keyboard and preparing to share it with you.

It's probably going to consist of a relatively random mix between actual blog posts, poetry, and whatever else I find myself writing when I'm feeling ~adventurous~. Just to keep you on your toes! But anyway, here goes, I suppose.

Welcome to my blog!