You Are Epic. (a quick recap of nye)

Last night was not my most subtle display of tonsil hockey. In the middle of a packed room, watching a hardcore band. Oh dear. I asked the guy next to me for some of his beer as I was thirsty, drunk and couldn’t be bothered sifting through the masses of people to get to the bar. It probably translated to me mumbling “gimme some beer” whilst simultaneously shooting him sex eyes and motioning my glass aggressively at him. It certainly resulted in a bit of a giggle and a few kisses. I really like kissing.

Emily, what about ‘getting what you want’? Well, funnily enough, I’d been introduced to him earlier in the evening by Mr. Thorn-in-my-side. Jesus what was I thinking. I am still interested in him, but he dodged my kiss earlier in the night. Somewhere in between him and I leaving a picnic with all of our friends and going to the pub where we had tickets to see a few bands, I decided it was ok to kiss him in public. Evidently not. Fast track a few hours and I unintentionally VERY publicly (including in front of thorny) ended up making out with punky. Not just once either. Quite a few times and rather passionately. He asked for my number and told me he was going to a party for the actual count down but that he’d contact me afterwards. I didn’t wait for that, I went ahead and sent him a text saying “you are epic” within about 20 minutes of him leaving. Really? Reaaaaally? I couldn’t have thought of something more intelligible to say or even perhaps something less embarrassing? I was lucky he even sent me a post party text. Which he did, at a little past midnight, to which I replied with one word and then he drunk dialled me about 20 times up until 4am. The funny thing about having your period, it really prevents you from misbehaving.

Thorny ended up leaving the festivities not soon after my kissing display, I didn’t kiss anyone else after Punky either. The night basically turned out to be a bit of a disaster for a number of reasons, as is the nature of most hyped up celebrations I guess.

Little black book of 2012 has one number added to it. If only I could remember his name!

Thankfully thinking about naked men less than the last time I published,
Emily

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Polyandry: Noun (aka An Introduction)

Polyandry: Noun.
pol·y·an·dry
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.

Datred

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