Leaving SG

The past decade has seen me spend many hours pondering the same thought – am I glad I experienced just a hint, a taste of him? – Or would I have been happier overall to have had nothing at all? Was he a curse over my life, or some kind of twisted blessing in disguise?

There’s no doubt my heart broke the day I left him.

As the car veered sharply from the road as it swerved to miss a Western Grey, I remember feeling under whelmed by the close encounter, only slightly raising my eyebrows to a thought of: ‘life: go fuck yourself’.

Reflecting on the incident, it was closer than a near-miss, but the heartache I was feeling was far worse than anything physical that could have happened to me at that point in my life.

The following morning I was woken from my semi-like sleep to the message alert tone on my phone. It read:

“I’m sad you left that way.

I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”

The following day I left the country, devastated.

Had I just met and lost him?

Still so overwhelmed how I could be so affected by one person? I spent the next couple of months travelling South-East Asia pretending he meant nothing to me.

I was lying.

Ten years later, I’m still lying.

The Tormented Soul

Imagine, if when we first started (and I mean before we even first had a serious relationship in life) we could choose either of the these paths:

1) A life filled with content and humble love, consistency, a partnership with somebody who understood you, related to you – a partner who would always be there for you no matter what, your best friend – somebody who will love you MORE than you love them.


2) A life filled with passion and excitement and but ultimately – gut-wrenching heartache? Insane, unexplainable attraction – a love that makes you behave in a way you’ve never known yourself before (a way you’re not always proud of), a feeling of being out of control by the unimaginable feelings you have for this person. The thought of dying in this person’s arms fills you with euphoria. And yet, on the side there’s a hearty serve of incomprehensible sorrow, pain so deep you never knew you could hurt so much – feeling so alive at the same time as wishing you were dead. Somebody you can NEVER shake off, no matter what you do – no matter how far you distance yourself. Somebody you will always love MORE than they love you.

I know the path I’d choose if I could – I’d choose number one, every time. I’d choose it again and again and again.

Trouble is, number two is the drug for a tormented soul – of which I’m in possession of.

Some may say I’m a ‘free spirit’, I say I’m haunted .

Go away, I’m exhausted – before the Oak tree calls me again.

Nice Profile Picture: Cunt.

I met him at the airport, queuing behind him as I waited to pay for my duty-free. When the cashier asked him which flight he’d be returning on to collect his alcohol he replied, ‘tomorrow’s flight’. Given we were in the international terminal, My ears cropped up and I couldn’t help questioning the stranger in front of me, ‘you’re going overseas for one night?’ He laughed, ‘yeah, just for business’. ‘What are you? A drug mule?’ I found myself interrogating. He looked surprised at my forwardness (as was I) and laughed at me even more.

I observed him as he grabbed a couple of 250ml whiskey bottles and said, ‘for the plane’ to the cashier and gave me a wink. ‘Good idea’ I said and followed his lead.

In the departure lounge I decided to have a drink while I waited to board. As I purchased my lemonade as a mixer, I realised I had nothing to pour the two into. So, when the barista working at the coffee shop wasn’t looking, I ever-so discreetly leaned over and grabbed an empty coffee cup.

I sat down and almost instantly, he was standing beside me. I looked up and he was smiling down at me chatting, then asking if he could sit with me. I didn’t resist and welcomed him to my table. I noticed that he himself had some empty expresso cups to pour his drink into. We hit it off right away, he was charming, charismatic, witty and I could tell he’d be a crowd-pleaser. The more we talked I learned of his colourful career studying science, working as a tour-guide, a flight attendant (underlining the ‘non-gay’ type), a writer for a travel magazine and now a business development manager. He’d also lived and worked all over the world, he was beginning to seem appealing to me. What’s more, he brought something out in me that i’d been missing for  a long time – I became aware of how i’d swiftly reverted to my self-assured, witty, former self – the person I was before that cock-sucking, emotionally retarded, failure of all things – Square Jaw, came into my life. Maybe my impromptu trip to chill out on my own overseas was going to take an unexpected turn?

As we heard the final call for our flight I said, ‘typical, now i’ve found someone to talk to, i’ll have to go and sit next to somebody else on the plane.’ He replied ‘no, we’ll just wait until everybody has boarded and then we’ll get on last – see where the spare seats are and sit together.’ Okay, he seemed keen : )

Being the ‘last’ to board, we assumed our plan had worked and managed to find seats together. We were wrong – people continued to board the plane (seemingly from nowhere) and we were forced from one set of seats to another. Finally, we managed to find two seats together at the back of the plane and settled down as we began to taxi to the runway.

For somebody who doesn’t enjoy flying, I barely noticed as the plane lifted from the tarmac. As corny as it sounds, we had an undeniable connection. I could barely remember the last time I laughed so much or the last time life seemed so easy. It was clear he was attracted to me, saying accidentally (on purpose?) lines such as ‘well of course you would look good in a bikini – oh, not that I have imagined you in a bikini! as his hands gesticulated the shape of a woman. Okay then!

There was no space for silence in our conversation, we had too much to talk about. He discovered I was staying on the other side of the island to him and as the plane began its descent, his attempts to persuade me to stay with him (and the friends he was meeting) became more frequent and more desperately enthusiastic. Part of me thought, why not? You are young, single and can do whatever the hell you like! Then, the other voice crept in – you’re depressed and broken, go and sleep in a nice hotel – you DON’T even fancy this guy – he definitely does not have the normal tall, heavy look that does it for you…

As we approached immigration, we tried every bull-shit story possible to try and skip the massive queue ahead. He reminded me very much of me, somebody who will bend the rules and doesn’t generally care too much about what others think – life should be fun and full of surprises after all. Right?

Meeting his friends really put me off, they weren’t my cup of tea. There was ‘Tit’ from Estonia, a skanky old Australian mole and the only one I liked was the other guy (he had a full beard so he’d already struck a chord with me). I didn’t feel extremely welcomed by his friends and so told him I was going to head my own way, as planned. Physically, he would not let me – dragging me along with him and his friends, telling them how ‘cool’ I was. I didn’t enjoy this and halted him, informing I had no need to be accepted by these people which I had never met and that I was doing this trip solo and didn’t need ‘to belong’ to anything…

Before I knew it, we were all driving away from the airport (in the opposite direction to where I was staying). To cut out the fluff, we ended up back at the place he and his friends were staying and the girls buggered off – leaving me, him and his male friend together. We drank a lot (of course) and after his friend left he became even more touchy-feely with me. More than anything, I just felt sad – sad that the person I really wanted to be with is an absolute cunt of a thing and here I had this great guy in front of me, who thought I was absolutely incredible and I didn’t feel anything for him in return.

Staring deep into my eyes, he admitted that he’d liked me as soon as we chatted in the Duty Free area but that seeing me lean over the counter and grab an empty coffee cup for my booze – said that confirmed it for him and there was no way he could let me ‘slip away’ (I had thought i’d been discreet, but anyway…). I felt like I was looking at him through sad eyes, wishing I could move on from my aching past. He touched me when we talked, hand on my leg, brushing the side of my arm – any woman would recognise these signs.

Lightly stroking the top of my foot, he looked at me and leaned in, forcing me to say, ‘I’m not going there with you tonight.’ He didn’t know what to say, I said ‘sorry, but I’m just not ready for something right now.’ He laid down on the bed and told me to ‘come here’. I did and snuggled into him. He cradled me and we spoke for hours, about life, love and searched for the answers to life itself. All the time, he stroked my body and I lay there, limp – just allowing him, mourning for my real love. He spoke about how he thought I was incredibly beautiful, smart and funny. He told me all the things women want to hear – about how it’s been a long time since he’s met somebody who ‘had their shit together’. In the dark, it brought tears to my eyes and I told him maybe I wasn’t what I seemed. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my face, telling me that in all his years of living (he was 42) there were few people he’d met like me – not many who would just book a flight to leave the country only a few hours before it was due to depart (and on their own). I’ve always been that way, it’s second nature – but him, seeing me as this pillar of strength made me question why I was so depressed. I knew the answer and I knew he couldn’t fix it.

All night, he rubbed my back, stroked my hair and kissed my neck – spooning me, trying not to poke my ass with his cock. I was scared to turn around in case our lips met, knowing there would be no turning back. I didn’t want him.

Morning arrived and he invited me to come to the beach for a surf, I declined. He said, ‘look me up or call me at work when you get home and we’ll catch up’, giving me a hug. I spent the next day questioning my own shallowness – he has everything – success, culture, drive, fire and he thinks i’m the best thing since sliced bread – so why the fuck don’t you fancy him? I knew the answer.

A day or so later I decided to look him up on facebook and maybe i’d message him? I thought i’d give him a go, see if the chemistry would come over time. As I searched his name thinking it wouldn’t be too hard to find him given he lived in my hometown, I was struggling to see a thumbnail image which I thought would resemble him. I looked further, clicking on the top few pictures which had the same name as him. It didn’t take me long to register the resemblance in the second picture from the top – there was no doubt it was him, lord knows I’d spent enough hours looking at his face. To say I was gobsmacked would be the understatement of the century. He wasn’t alone in his profile picture – in fact he appeared to have plenty of company in his family selfie. From the three people in the picture, I guessed the one in the middle was probably around six months old.

My heart pounded heavily in my chest and I reacted in an instant, not even allowing myself to catch my breath. My message stated simply, ‘Nice profile picture: Cunt.’

Craving Something Bad

Each day is laced with thoughts of you, the way your warm face feels in my hands and the way I feel laying in bed next to you.

I’ve never felt this way before, in the sense that I feel like I am yours, fully – forever.

Intimately, I think of only you – about serving you and pleasing you. How can it be wrong between us when it all feels so much more than just ‘right’?

When I’m awake I think constantly of you and I have to actively stop myself from talking about you. You’re the last thought to step through my mind as I fall asleep and the first when I wake; and in-between I dream of you. Thoughts of you suffocate me in a way I’ve never known.

I know I’ll never stop loving you.

‘While you were Sleeping’

She stirred as he entered the sheets, hearing him whisper something quietly towards her, “I love you…..”

Had she heard correctly? she thought, hovering in that place somewhere between asleep and awake.

“What did you say?” she asked quietly.

“I love you” she heard him say again.

“What did you say?” she repeated.

“I love you.”

She relished his recurring words, thinking about how she’d never tire of hearing him speak from his heart.

Sighing peacefully with such content, she murmured, “I love you too baby” as she rolled over and nested into the safe area between his arm and chest and drifted easily into her sleep.

Morning came and she instantly recalled the memory, wondering – had it been a dream?

With her eyes still closed she said, “Did you come to bed last night and tell me you love me? Or did I dream it?”

She could tell he was half-smiling from the tone of his voice when he replied, “Yeah, I did.”

She nuzzled into him and wrapped her arm around his hard, wide body. He cupped her affectionately with his left arm, pulling her intimately close to him. Resting her head on his chest she knew more than she’d ever know known before, she loved him.

Minutes passed as she thought of nothing but him. She uttered simply, “I love you too baby”.

I think I have a Girl Crush

It was my first day back at work after returning from an overseas rendezvous with Square Jaw (‘start of something hot‘ guy). I was due to attend an after-work event that evening and quite frankly, the thought of it made me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork; but there was no escaping – I had to attend.

I first noticed Nadine after I heard the words ‘Mother-fucker!’ spoken loud and clear behind me. I turned around swiftly to see a tall brunette wearing a figure-hugging burgundy dress, stood with her hands on her hips, slightly snarling across the room.

She catches my eye as she realises I’ve heard her – I smile coyly at her, almost somewhat embarrassed.

“I wonder if it hurts his back to kiss his own ass like that?” she says.

Not knowing whether to laugh my ass off or pretend I was offended (yeah right, this girl had my attention!) I smile shyly, looking up at her.

“You look like you’re up for a laugh, see that guy over there?” she said, nodding towards the alfa-male in the room.

“Uh-hu.” I say.

“He’s a cunt.” She delivers sharply. “No need to explain why, just do what I say and walk over to him.”

Without a second thought, I obey and follow her lead. Hastily she asks my name and when I tell her she smiles at me, softly taking my hand in hers.

And in true Bridget Jones’ style she says, “Meet ‘Blush’, it seems we do have one thing in common at least – as it turns out, redheads are like Kryptonite to me too.”

I’m still unsure who was more shocked – him or I? As I watch him stumble, searching for his jaw on the ground, I feel myself turn a nice shade of crimson as I quickly realise what she’d just implied.

Head held high and lips pouted, she turns on her heel, grabs hold of my arm and walks us away – followed by a light slap to my rear.

Dragging me to the bar she says “Thanks, let me buy you a drink and I can tell you aaaallllll about what a real asshole that pig is.”

Turns out, this guy is her ex and has screwed her around so much that she’s now into women (or so she has just told him! I’m not sure how much of that is the truth?), then adds how it hasn’t really made that big a difference, considering his dick was the size of a peanut. Sooooo, she’s a spunk AND witty – if only I could meet a guy like her! It also turns out, the woman he dicked was a redhead. Ahhhh! Now I understand.

We chatted and had one too many drinks for a work night. The hot topic was very much about what assholes men are and we near the issue with (my) Square Jaw – I mean, don’t get me wrong the sex with him has been the best I’ve ever had in my life – ever and yet I just know there’s something missing – the mental connection. She related to this on a level I’ve never heard any other (man or woman) do so before, it verged on eerie – almost as though I was talking to a mirror image of, myself.

Time was ticking and I needed to leave. We swapped numbers and agreed we had to meet again. I left, wondering – do I have a mini crush?

Today I received a message from her: ‘Hey ‘Blush’, free for a knees up this weekend? We can talk about what cunts men are….”

Strangely, reading her message gave me butterflies – the type I’ve only had when I have a crush. Does this mean I’m into chicks now? Or just this particular one?

I’m not sure where this is going, but quite frankly, all I can think about is bedding her.

The Start of Something Hot – Part 2

Driving back to his place took no longer than five minutes, but the thoughts that raced through her mind in that short journey were some that would have nicely filled a dirty paperback. Pulling up on the driveway she hadn’t expected to see him right away and instead had imagined walking up to the door and stepping inside to see him; but there he was, already opening her car door.

She followed him down the path and into the house, her heart beating slightly faster than it should be; wondering how this was going to happen – what was the etiquette here? They both knew she’d come back so he could kiss her….

Standing there inside the lounge, she immediately registered his change of clothing. Dressed in a tightly fitted grey singlet, she was instantly captivated by those shoulders, those arms, that chest. Two words popped into her mind; ‘real man’. She struggled to hold back, imagining herself walking over to him and taking him in every way she’d pictured. Instead she tried hard to erase the sinful thoughts from her mind. She could see that he also wondered how they should go about it. Should he simply walk over and kiss her….?

They sat down on the couch together and she instantly allowed her body language to show him she was ready as soon as he was. Leaning back away from her, yet staring in her direction as they chatted; she hungrily examined him and fully outlined his body with her eyes. Her mind continued to race, thinking, ‘he really has the perfect real man’s body….tall and broad, toned and muscular but at the same time, not too much…with just the perfect amount of flesh, not too skinny.’ Fuck, she was aching to put her hands on him. Then, he lifted his right arm up behind his head as she became more than a little distracted with what she was seeing – those arms, seeing the pale underside, shadowed by the deep golden tan from above. She caught herself, realising she would need to explain as she looked back into his eyes, with no idea what he’d just said. ‘Oh, sorry!’ she said, embarrassed. He laughed and told her he knew she wasn’t listening and at that point she revealed the truth, saying ‘I was actually quite distracted by your arms…’

He showed her around his place and she followed him, listening politely as he spoke about his plans to renovate……but there was only one thing on her mind – the thought of his cock inside her. Walking into the garden, the night was suitably dark and balmy and the air was laced with anticipation. Towering more than a foot above her, she absorbed how deliciously masculine he really was; although still yet seemingly oblivious to this openly horny creature at his side. She stood wrongly close to him; gazing upwards and he smiled down at her, then turned away and maintained his talk. Standing next to him with both her hands in her back pockets, she tilted her head down and gently pushed her nose into the side of his arm – that arm; running it all the way up and over the contours, finishing by glaring directly into his deep set eyes…something he could not ignore.

As he was smiling down at her she wondered, ‘is now the time?’ The air was unmistakably still and as he leaned in to kiss her, she instantly immersed herself in the moment; relishing the eternity of that second before his lips met hers.

His face moved close towards her and as it did, she registered the subtle change in his expression; she observed him accepting her…fully accepting her. In what appeared to take place in slow motion, he pulled her into him – slowly, firmly, intensely and before she had a moment to recognise him, his lust-filled mouth was all over hers.

The way he kissed her is the way a man should – always kiss a woman.

He held her tight, kissing her, bracing her, running his hands around and down her back and across her shoulder blades; his warm, perfectly moist mouth discovering her for the very first time. Exploring her body, his strong hands travelled lower, moving down over her little fat bum, feeling it all through her skin-tight jeans. He pulled her up and into him, so hard that her toes would hover lightly over the ground as he fully owned her with his mouth, with his arms and his whole body.

Slowly his lips moved across hers, wetting her mouth softly with the tip of his tongue. Between her legs, she knew how wet she was. He continued squeezing her body into his, most often her feet were completely off the ground. In that moment, she thought about how he was dominating her, dominating her in the most erotically sensual way possible.

Then, somehow he swiftly lifted her into the air as though she weighed nothing at all and suddenly, her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and she was there above, staring back down at him. Immersed in his aesthetically perfect face, she leaned down to indulge on those lips just a little more.

Releasing her, she slid down his body and she realised he was – hard. As they continued to kiss, she felt him as he gently thrust into her. She wanted to touch him everywhere, to touch him there – curious to know, ‘was he proportional?’ Being only half-way discreet, she rubbed her thumb knuckle up and down his hard shaft through his denim shorts…this took her excitement to another level….

He picked her up and released her many more times; she enjoyed the feeling of their bodies held so closely together. Then, whilst he held her up in the air, he walked her back into the house, still holding her that way around his hips, before slowly releasing her onto the floor in the lounge. She glared back up at him, with that look and he knew what she was asking for. He said, ‘oh, I don’t want to do this to you tonight….it’s not fair on you…’ She asked, ‘what do you think isn’t fair about it?’ True to his character he remarked on how he wanted to ‘treat her right’. She replied with, ‘and what if I don’t want you to treat me right…?’ The look in his eye at that moment was one of sheer turmoil, struggling to suppress his Neanderthal instinct of physically violating her – immediately and at the same time wondering whether it would be better to wait, if it’s worth waiting to see if there was something ‘more’…

As they talked, he described how she made him ‘feel like a teenager’. She giggled and she said ‘you you know you’re probably right, perhaps it would ruin it if we did go there tonight…’ He replied, ‘I think it would….’ It wasn’t the answer she’d hoped to hear….

Returning to the couch, she could see the conflict in his face and decided this was her chance to sway him. Staring directly into his eyes, she asked, ‘so what do you want to do to me….? He reacted with a big ‘gulp’…as he said how he didn’t know whether to say or not. She told him how if she wasn’t interested in his answer, then she wouldn’t have asked. She knew he was still unsure, afterall he didn’t know her very well….but one thing was certain – physically, they connected. After a prolonged silence, she asked, ‘shall I say it for you?’ Which seemed to ignite the animal in him…

He began by quietly saying how the things he already wanted to do to her, were now magnified after she’d asked him that question. ‘Go on…’ she encouraged. He kissed her and stroked her body, articulating such perfectly descriptive sentences, explaining where he imagined his hands would be….all over her body, up and around her breasts. In-between his kisses, he groaned his desires…

She was changing…becoming increasingly inspired as his words painted an indulgent scene. She told him how she was becoming really hot in the pants she was wearing and how she wished she hadn’t worn them. His reaction; ‘my God, YOU in THOSE pants…’ and continued to express appreciation for her arse, her legs and her feet…

He told her even more how he’d enjoyed the evening and that it wasn’t just her looks, but it was everything…even down to ‘the way she moved’. Then, just as she thought he couldn’t top it he said ‘I love the way you talk, I love the way it sounds….but then when you listen to the words that actually come out, it’s like, wow – there’s so much fire and charm….’ A line she’d struggle to ever forget.

It would have been irresponsible to drive and so she’d told him she would need to stay (she was glad to have an excuse). She asked him, ‘Do you want to give me something to sleep in….or….not?’ After fumbling through his clothes, he decided on giving her the T-shirt she’d complimented him on the first night they’d met. As she changed into it, she purposely made sure he caught glimpses of her…

Moving towards her, he took her in his kiss once more. Falling onto the bed together, he rolled onto her slightly, his lips never leaving hers and finally…she felt the weight of him on her, something she’d been longing for all night. She was already beyond the feeling of being in that place….