Dear NM,
Your restraint is impressive. I've recently been able to clean up my potty language, thanks to the positive example of a special someone. Sometimes, though, you just have to drop an F bomb. Go ahead, we'll all cover our ears.
M
Dear X ~ And to any man who's been rebuffed once things have become intimate, never think that an act of respect is wasted.
I bumped into you recently after not seeing you for more than fifteen years - since I was at uni. I was nineteen years old when we all went to a student club night, everyone from my female houseshare and your neighbouring male one. They were selling snakebite and black for £1 a pint, long back before the days of jagerbombs and vodka-redbulls, snakebite (a potent mix of lager and cider) was our slow suicide of choice. Petite and unaccustomed to heavy drinking, I was rapidly outpaced by everyone else and was soon inebriated past the point of sound judgement.
You asked me to dance and when I refused you stayed with me while everyone else threw shapes and we got to talking. I have no recollection of what we chatted about but it was one of those deep, ardent conversations born of drunkenness that seems like the meaning of life at the time. By the end of the evening we were kissing and when we got back to the houseshare it didn't take much persuading for you to wind up in my room.
Sometime in the early hours of the following morning you made your move on me and we basically fell on one another in a booze fuelled frenzy. You wound up on top of me and as I got rolled over onto my back a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over me, accompanied by the realisation of what I was about to do. I had never had a one-night-stand before and knew categorically that we were never going to date. All of a sudden my arousal was doused in ice cold water and instead of firing me up, your attentions instantly repulsed me. I realised with a wave of absolute panic that I was in way over my head here.
It took you more than a moment to register my change of heart. We were both drunk, I had been more than encouraging and if things had gone further than I would have liked them to, I would have held myself more than partly responsible. Even as I asked you to stop, I felt guilty for inflicting what would no doubt be a scorching case of blue-balls on you, my horny teenaged suitor. You were already on top of me, we were already semi-clad. I could feel your weight on me and wondered what would happen when I opened my mouth.
Once you realised I was serious about backing out of the fuck however, you got up off of me and adjusted your clothing. There was no coercion, guilt tripping or cajoling. There was no anger or mockery. No ill feeling of any description. You took me at my word and did not take my sudden reluctance personally. You just went back to your own houseshare disappointed.
The next day, when I couldn't meet your gaze, you impressed me further. Instead of embellishing what happened to boost your standing with your friends, you just shrugged and said that nothing much happened in the end. We were both a bit drunk. End of discussion. There were no sly winks or lies by omission, allowing your housemates to fill in the blanks with their own lurid details. You remained friends with me and made it clear that our moment of drunken silliness was no big deal.
If you only knew what you achieved that night.
Until that night I had been drifting steadily further towards the gay end of my bi spectrum. My father was a career alcoholic who was regularly aggressive and emotionally abusive... occasionally violent. I saw hetero relationships as an ongoing battle of wills that the woman always lost. When I matured enough to be of interest to boys my own age, their hormone fuelled obsession with sex and the aggressive pushiness it caused just made me retreat further from guys entirely. Lads I had known since childhood suddenly sprouted height, hair and muscle. Their voices deepening and their appetites awakening. I found masculinity threatening, little wonder that I was drawn to girls first. It was a mantra repeated so often amongst my female friends that it had been reduced to an acronym; 'amab' or 'all men are bastards.'
For the first time in my life I couldn't say that any more. That was profound for me.
For the first time in my life, I began to look upon the prospect of hetero relations with a degree of optimism and hope.
You handed me back some of the self esteem my parents had corroded over the years. You made me realise that it was possible to reclaim even more over time, with a more positive outlook and a greater sense of self-love and acceptance.
You achieved all this totally unwittingly, in the space of five minutes, with one act of respect.
And as a consequence I will never forget you.
Thank you.
Dear Imemkay,
Honey you crack me up.
Hope you avoid the assholes and the stinkies tomorrow.
still giggling,
Minxy
