Getting What You Want.

Fellow Flirts,

It’s the second last day of one of the worst years of my life, I’ve finished work and have sat down to write something I should have done a few days ago but I have been in a daze. A cock daze if you will. I still am. I am having trouble even concentrating enough to admit it.  I have never responded well to deadlines but spending more time thinking about mens genitalia in the past 24 hours than I have in a very long time is ridiculous, even for me.

There’s been a thorn in my side for a few months now. Let’s call him Tom.
Think beard, vans, guitarist, band t-shirts, asshole. Ridiculously good looking and a fantastic kisser, which I discovered a few evenings ago (belated christmas present from life I’m sure of it).

This persistent attraction coupled with my non existent sex life has resulted in a dilly of a pickle. I’m borderline infatuated with this person… and he’s never someone I could date. I can’t shake the feeling that I want to spend several continuous days in bed with him. It was unplanned, we spent the night getting cosy after hanging out at the pub with some mutual friends, I stayed over, we did things, but we didn’t engage in intercourse.  He is magnetic and makes my face buzz with happiness. My mind has been consumed by the image of him naked for at least 90% of my waking hours since. Having felt that, I have a problem which has manifested in the form of me being too scared to go all the way. I’m not sure if I could, if given the opportunity.

Recalling the events preceding my intimate encounter, I realised I pretty much exhibited every conceivable behaviour that constitutes what most people class as faux pas to deter men. It totally bagged him and this makes me so excited. He loves how I laugh with my whole body, can hang out with the boys and they’re happy to be around me, and I think that he loves it a little bit that I pretend not to be interested in him but I totally am. Who knows though, it’s all speculation at this point. I’m not going to say too much about it now seeing as though tomorrow night, new years eve, will probably determine the dynamic or possibility of us ever doing a sleepover again… oh boy do I want to do it again.

Happy EndYear,

Emily ‘aaaaaaaaand I’m already thinking of him naked in the shower again’ Vans.

NEXT UP – “Watching the borderlines…what is the point of no return between hilarity and shameful flirting” This will probably be a doozy because I have a very innapropriate sense of humour which I have little or no ability to control even when talking with potential babes.


On Being Very Well Loved – Part One Of A Series About Polyandrous Love

This is part one of a series about polyandrous love – both the love I give and the love I receive. I have no idea how many parts are going to be in this series, so let’s dive into the unknown together!


On the Thursday before Christmas, I spent the night with Interstate Boyfriend. He was visiting My City to spend Christmas with his family, who still live here. We spent the night in a boutique hotel in the heart of the city, ate amazing Italian food, and then drank the night away at a sake bar.

And we had sex. Lots of sex.

That is, of course, the original reason I started dating him; he was hot and good in bed. Me, shallow? Perish the thought!

But on that first night that he picked me up and invited me back to his (awesome, inner-city) apartment, and we discovered a shared love of all things geeky (as well as a shared love of having sex with each other), I had a feeling that I was going to enjoy his company and want to see more of him.

We spent the next six months drinking, fucking and watching sci-fi together. Once a week, I’d go to his apartment, we’d drink at a bar nearby, come back and watch an episode of True Blood or Caprica together, and then have sex. I was thoroughly enjoying his company, his bedroom skills, and making obscure geeky references with him, and I didn’t think there was anything more to my feelings than that.

Then he was offered an (incredible) job with a company at the pinnacle of his field, in an interstate city. That’s when I realised my feelings for him were more than just oxytocin-induced happy feelings.

I didn’t want to call my feelings love. Even admitting that to myself felt lie way too much commitment. I knew i liked him a lot, and I knew that I loved his company and loved the sex we had together, so I settled for telling him he’d been the highlight of my year, and that I would miss him keenly.

I would NEVER have told him not to leave, or not to take the job, but I knew that when he left, I would mourn him. And mourn him I did. I was convinced that I’d never see him again, and even though we talked regularly after he moved away, I went through all the motions of an ending relationship. I cried – a lot. I moped around the house. I drank heavily at strange times of the day and night. I ate lots of junk food and listened to Bruce Springsteen and watched Sex and The City. My poor Local Boyfriend didn’t know what to do with me. Coping While Your Girlfriend Mourns Her Other Boyfriend Leaving isn’t in the Polyandry Handbook. But he did an amazing job: comforted me when I cried, distracted me with cat videos from YouTube, took me out on little dates, and loved me fiercely the whole time.

A few months after he moved away, Interstate Boyfriend visited My City. We stayed in a very, very fancy hotel, and that’s what touched off our now long distance relationship. We go back and forth every couple of months, taking turns to visit one another.

In May this year, I was visiting him in His City. We’d been out for dinner and drinks, and in our post-orgasmic chill, I decided to tell him I loved him.
“Not in the ‘I love you and want to get married and have your babies’ way” I clarified, “but in the ‘I love you because you’re one of my dearest friends’ way.”
He nodded and smiled and told me he felt the same way, and I thought my heart was going to burst, I was so happy.

This visit, we were laying in bed, again in an oxytocin-induced semi-coma, and he was languidly stroking my (ample) belly. I’m not a skinny girl. I’m tall and I have a big round soft belly and big thighs – characteristics that many girls would try to hide or minimise, but I love my body, and I really love it when my boys touch me like that – it makes me feel like they are rejoicing in my body and enjoying it. I feel very sexy and very loved when one of my boys is running his hand across my body.

I told him this, and he leaned over to me, placed a soft little kiss on my forehead and said “You are incredibly sexy. And you are very well loved.”

Polyandry: Noun (aka An Introduction)

Polyandry: Noun.
noun /ˈpälēˌandrē/ 

  1. Polygamy in which a woman has more than one husband.
  2. A pattern of mating in which a female animal has more than one male mate.

I’ve been polyandrous for as long as I can remember. Even before I knew there was a word for it, I knew that I wanted to have more than one boyfriend. The idea of being stuck with one person, to the exclusion of all others FOREVER, kind of freaked me out, even as a kid.

I tried monogamy. It didn’t work. I was 18 and I was dating a very nice boy, but I cheated on him with someone I fancied. I didn’t feel bad about cheating on Nice Boy, so I broke up with him. What business did I have being in a monogamous relationship with someone I could cheat on so easily?

I spent years after that having casual sex. I didn’t like being in a relationship – at that point the notion of non-monogamy hadn’t occurred to me – so I chose to have lots of sex instead of having a relationship. I didn’t need any more than that. I had amazing friends, and I was able to have sex pretty much whenever I wanted, and it was fun.

Enter the man who became known as Local Boyfriend. We met in a nightclub (normal for me), had a one night stand (normal for me) and then kept seeing each other (wait…what?!). He’s the one night stand who stuck around. About three weeks in, I proposed the idea of non-monogamy. I didn’t feel ready for a relationship, but I liked him and wanted to see where it was going. In other words, I wanted to date him AND fuck other people.

I told him that he was welcome to take some time to think about it, and if he wasn’t cool with it, we could part ways. But he WAS cool with it. So, six years later, here we are.

What I didn’t expect, when I started all this, is that I’d end up in a second relationship. I really just wanted the freedom to get drunk and kiss people. But then, in early 2010 I started dating a lovely boy – who I ALSO met in a nightclub – and I’ve now been with him for almost two years. He moved interstate for a job about 6 months after we met, and for the last year and a half we’ve been commuting back and forth once every couple of months to visit each other.

Local Boyfriend is the love of my life. We have lived together for five and a half years, we have a wonderful home and two little cats and are looking forward to growing old together. He’s monogamous, I am not.

Interstate Boyfriend is great fun. Visiting him is like taking a break from my normal life – we stay in fancy hotels, we eat at posh restaurants, and we have an amazing time. There’s no pressure with him – no pressure to define what our relationship is, to put a name on it. We just have fun together, and enjoy each other’s company.

I feel very fortunate to have my two boyfriends. I am very well loved.

I’m now embarking on the beginning of a possible third concurrent relationship. It will be interesting to see how this unfolds.

Miss V Stiletto.


Where I’m at, a bit about where I’ve been and what I am hoping for…

As a 20 something single lady, partial to the cup of tea and friend of the cat, you’re probably thinking come on Emily throw another cliché into the works of someone who is destined to be forever alone. Fuck that. I can be those things and also someone worthy of having a lovely man to call my own. I’ve got a good job, I’m enrolled in a great degree and I like to get rowdy. The only thing that seems to be problem is that I am partial to only dating assholes. Is it so bad that I want to date a six foot + lumberjack looking guy who likes to read? I think I need to mix up my expectations, and put myself out there to have some of my pre conceived notions of what a relationship is to the test. I’ll say it now, I am scared.

The last time I sat down to write about my dating experiences, it was prompted by a very unfortunate evening spent with someone I had engaged with over the internet. It was basically a blind date; he turned out to be approximately a third of my height, very obviously homosexual and he had a peculiar issue with his skin (file away the idea of facial antiperspirant). Within 3 days of that experience, which prompted a swift life re evaluation, I was asked out by someone… so the writing idea got put on the shelf once again. Going on a bad date can make you jump at the next half decent proposition to come your way. Watch out for this.

Fast track a year and a half and here I am, I’ve been single for a year aside from a brief 1 and a half month stint with a pathological weed addict, and I’m ready to throw caution to the wind and get back into dating.

I’m sick of feeling like I’m bordering on becoming that discarded piece of fruit come the end of market day. Even though I have previously been discounted, nobody is keen to buy me (read as analogy of lowering one’s standards in an attempt to find a partner, see also ex boyfriend).

I guess I’m doing this to curb that feeling that I’m growing ever more cynical towards the prospect of finding someone compatible. I don’t want to be ‘crazy aunt emily’ the mid 40’s spinster who hasn’t had a boyfriend in the last decade. I want to take a practical approach to dating which enables me to be myself, wear normal clothes, not have to talk about corporate board meetings or algorithms to try and prove my intelligence. I am looking forward to working out a few different ways to let someone get to know me without knowing every detail of my life. How the hell do I do this? Right now, I don’t know.

At the moment; I hate dating, I think its nerve wracking and most of the guys I have gone on that initial date with I have found disgusting.

Here’s to hoping things might be a bit different for me in 2012! This might get interesting…

Emily Vans