Women

Women. Over the journey of my life they have been my best friends and worst enemies. With just one simple sentence they have the ability to fill me with confidence or leave me a broken and emotional mess. ‘The only species on earth that can rip your heart out of your chest and smile at you at the same time whilst they stamp it into the ground’ a close friend of mine once said. But regardless of my apparent contempt for the lot of them, I do acknowledge that they have been the ones who have gone far out of their way to help me when I’ve been down and also have been prime examples of the beauty of humanity. They can also posses infinite kindness then ruin you in an instant with their ‘surgical cruelty’ (his words again).

It is the unexplainable power they seem to possess over even the strongest willed person that fuels my main source of contempt. I know personally with several women I have been pushed to the brink so far that I am often left wondering ‘why does this bother me so much?’ and that’s exactly it. It shouldn’t, most of the issues I have are all in the grand scheme of things very minor, yet still I’ll have episodes where I cant seem to shift a particular issues with a particular bird from my chain of thought and it’s like a form of torture.

The problem I have is when I think about it, when I recall all the people who have wronged me, really fucked me over, pretty much all of them have been women. As a result I make no apologies for my issues with women. Some people may call me a sexist or a misogynist, either way I don’t give a fuck. I know I’m not any of them things, I’m just not. I dont see women as inferior or a lower species, or incapable of doing anything a man can or any of that ignorant nonsense. I run my views on the experiences I’ve had. You the reader may have had experiences completely different to mine and will probably disagree with a lot that I have to say. That’s fair enough, all the little different experiences and opinions is what makes life so unique.

But one thing you must remember before you read this and start to recite whatever feminist lines from whatever book you shaped your views from and that is that regardless off what gender you are, what colour, what nationality or background. Whether you’re Christian, Muslim or Scientologist or any of the other elitist ethos that you may label yourself under. We are all massive dicks, fucking the world and society in our own little way, and that is one thing we can all be guaranteed we are equal in.

This blog is about my recent experiences with the opposite sex, including the last bird I fucked, the last one that fucked me over, the last one I told that I loved and also a description of my ‘type’ of bird.

I’ll start with the horrible experiences first so it gets them out the way with. Unfortunately this past year my experiences with the opposite sex haven’t been too positive if I’m honest. First off a close friend of mine took my genuine expressions of concern for her well being as mind games and put downs and accused me of a few rather nasty things that simply weren’t true. It was as offensive as it was hurtful. That and a few other incidents of dishonesty and betrayals of trust really were a massive kick in the bollocks in what was already a pretty poor start to the year.

After that my love life was taking a bit of a battering. I had a walk out on a date after a heated disagreement on films from a disinterested French bird. Although what really pissed me off more then anything was that she was really late and didn’t apologies for it.

Then there was the hippy bird who gave my personality a bit of a dressing down. One thing she also did was give me a lecture on my privileged status as a man. Which I acknowledge as a white British male I am more privileged then the next bloke in the grand scheme of things. But when I look back on it she was a well to do, lay about, trustafarian who’s old man was subbing her rent and who was also due to inherit her mothers art gallery one day. On reflection I should of really observed the irony of getting a privilege lecture from an upper middle class girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. But I hate using class as an excuse in a debate and just because I may of worked on a building sight a couple of times and my mum works as an NHS secretary and my old man has been unemployed for a few years doesn’t make me any morally purer then her… It does make me less privileged though.

These both proceeded from a brief fling with a work colleague who after a top date, a good dinner and a couple of well connected sex sessions, decided to completely ignore me, even when I approached her in person. It surely doesn’t take much to respond to a text rhetorically breaking things off? Or are my expectations of the average person’s etiquette just set a bit too high?

Now to be honest none of them encounters with random women have had that much of an effect on me at all. If anything I look back on all them and think of them as merely anecdotes, which they are because none of them are particularly horrendous by any stretch of the imagination. It’s incidents such as what happened to me recently that really have a prolonged effect.

I had this friend who will remain nameless. We knew each other from house parties and the like that I’d often frequent as a teenager, we then became fairly close friends up until she went to university at 18, our relationship from then was near enough entirely a social network based one. Although we did meet for a catch up once every so often and there was one random day where we ended up working together. In the past 2 or 3 years especially our friendship became a bit more distant until a few months ago we had several long chats on facebook. The main topic of conversation was her move to Bournemouth and troubles she was having with it, most notably the financial element. Now it must have been around pay day for me and being in a good mood I offered to front her a bit of money to help with the move. Usually I have a no lending friends substantial amount of money rule, but considering I’m sure she may have sorted me out somewhere in the past and that she was in truth an old friend convinced me to make an exception. So as time went on, conversation got sparser and the month she said it would take for her to pay me back passed, concern did start to settle in slightly. But I took into account how stressful moves can be so I thought the last thing she’d want would be me hounding her for money that I didn’t really need at that time. I gave it until I got back from Glastonbury before I really got on the case, after a couple of facebook messages and texts remain unanswered, then when calls weren’t returned panic started to set in. I sent her one last long text asking what the deal was in a very democratic, fair and friendly way. A day passed then whilst at work on the hottest day of the year, watching the Wimbledon final, I received the text ‘Move has gone well. Thanks for the money ;)’. I immediately tried to call and got cut off almost straight away, tried again and her phone was off… I had been burned.

To be honest with you I am surprised with how easy and calmly I have gotten over this incident. At first I was fucking fuming! but also pissed off and embarrassed at myself. Infact apart from a few people this is the first time I’ve properly spoken about the incident. Throughout the whole conversation we had, and as I was sending the money I had this little voice in the back of my head. A voice I have in the past just tried to disregard as amphetamine and alcohol induced psychosis, but at the time was yelling warnings, screaming at me not to do it. For about a week my thoughts of revenge escalated from a tame desire to spit in the bitches face when I next saw her, then when I’d be in bed at night stewing in my thoughts I’d have disturbing fantasy’s about tracking the slag down, showing up unannounced to her house and taking it by hair and smashing the snidey cunts face into the wall, taking great pleasure at the sound the crack her nose and the shattering of her teeth would make as they hit the hard plaster wall and the satisfaction of it’s hair ripping from its roots as I chucked the piece of shit to the ground……. But that was just hate filled fantasy. In the end I chose to take the experience as another lesson learned and wish her the very worst for the rest of her life.

In truth it took me less then a fortnight to get over it, and unlike previous fuck overs I’ve had, it’s now stopped bothering me all the time. It’s not the loss of money that grinds me, like the falling out with the close friend I had that I mentioned earlier, it was the sheer unprovoked and rather malicious response to what was a genuine act of kindness from myself that really bothered me. The fact that I was making a genuine effort to help a friend was repaid in such a way left me thinking that maybe my acts human kindness were actually Patrick Bateman style fantasies, and in truth I was really just being a total dick all the time. Surgical cruelty in full effect indeed.

Now on reading back on it I guess this year hasn’t been totally horrific, I’m sure a lot more people have experienced a lot more this passed year. Infact I know a few friends who have, but that’s none of my business to be writing about such things in the public domain. I’m already over getting burnt for 100 quid, and as for that other event. Well apologies have been made, the two of us are still good friends and I’m over that episode now. As for the dates that didn’t quite go so well. Fuck them! That’s just small fry rejection, all apart of life. Whether it be a dream job that idly rejects you without explanation or a mother who can’t accept your lifestyle, its them little rejections from women that keep me on my toes, keep reminding me that life is a continuous unfair and unexplained mess of an experience.

I could go on in more detail about the women who have wronged me. Those of you who know me will know that after a few beers it becomes my favourite subject of conversation. But you’re probably bored of the subject by now so I’ll move onto the last bird I shagged, which is of course what you really want to hear about. Usually I wouldn’t review sex with a bird so soon after shagging them, but seeing as she specifically said she wouldn’t mind reading about it this makes it ok.

A month or so ago this blog which has given me so much praise within my peers got its first bit of criticism from an anonymous feminist fanatic. I wont go into detail on what she upset about but she didn’t approve of anything I said basically, and actually got the wrong end of the stick on quite a lot of the things I write about. I refused to respond to the message as I find internet arguments to be the pettiest of their kind, especially when you have no chance of changing the person’s opinion. However the next thing I did was try and get a well humoured reaction out of next feminist I could find on a popular dating site and to my joy she took it really well, she even quoted this blog saying that she ‘showed signs of mental illness and insecurities and scored high on the nympho meter’.

Within a couple of brief messages she had my number and by the next week had arranged to meet up. Now upon going on the date there were several factors that made me slightly dubious; it had been 4 months since I’d gotten laid and the dates inbetween as mentioned before hadn’t ended well so I felt slightly lacking in both confidence and form. Also she was clearly a strongly opinionated bird, maybe this whole date was going to be a hatchet job? I also had plans to see my mate in north London to watch the Game of Thrones finale. But what was really holding me back was that I thought I was punching well above my weight with this one.

She was a well travelled, well educated, well read, well spoken (in that she could speak 5 different languages), well dressed, very beautiful young lady. With short dreadlocked hair, a stunning set of eyes green/blue eyes and a smile that rarely made an appearance but was very welcomed when it did. As the date went on I found out that not only did she possess these attributes but she was also a very interesting and complex character with a lot of opinions on a lot of subjects. Now I don’t know if you’ve noticed from the bad grammar, stupid spelling mistakes or poor structure of these blog entries, but I’m not academic in the slightest and I do confess that when talking to someone who clearly has a lot of knowledge on a lot of things, the conversation can either end up being; boring, intimidating or at best genuinely interesting, especially in a dating context. She however had a humbleness which made her clear intellect relaxing to be around and I hung on every word she said. But above all else she was just interesting to talk to, which I find something that seems to be hard to come by with the birds I usually come into contact with.

As more drinks flowed and as I showed her a few more of the pubs of Brixton her conversation topic was mainly centred around the content of this blog, she then uttered the immortal words –Do you want to finish these and come back to my place?

To put it bluntly the sex was class! A top draw session that contained a long game of sex chess, which if you don’t know consists of two people suggesting kinky acts to perform on each other until the other one gets checkmated by the others request. This mach was a stalemate! She came in at a strong 8 on the Kinky counter I give her that. Any bird who asks for anal and fisting on a first date is a winner in my book. She also scored a clear 9 on the nympho meter, making sure that during that night I must of only slept an hour, she even called in sick to work the next day so we could carry on shagging all through to the next afternoon. I actually felt quite guilty because I clearly wasn’t on top form. She however was full of compliments and was a piece of cake to make orgasm and was even a squirter to boot. I also noticed that physically she was gorgeous. A marvellous body with a gorgeous tummy, well curved arse, lovely set of tits and a moist and full flavoured pussy. She also didn’t shave anything, which I respect a lot in a bird. The amount of women who insist on shaving their pussies, legs, and armpits these days is a joke, where did the craze even come from? Where do you find the time? Plus lady hair is actually nice and soft, not like man hair that is rough and coarse.

She was so full of compliments and well performed sexual favours that I thought I’d thank her by buying her breakfast the next afternoon. Being a vegan there was only one thing on the menu she could eat, whilst I devoured an all day breakfast and a chocolate croissant. That day I went home aching, she had clawed my backs to the point I looked like I had one of the symptoms of stigmata, she’d bitten me quite hard in a few places, some of the slaps she gave me were starting to show up and some of my joints and muscles were aching from an unexpected all night work out.

Later she text me again saying she’d gladly do it again. The next time we met was more of a peculiar experience, we were both knackered from travelling and I was also in post festival comedown mode and neither of us were on the same form, we still ended up having sex though. But the details of that date are a subject for another time.

I’m not sure where it will go from here. Despite our clear difference in views it would be nice to have a friend as interesting as her. She was like a reading a challenging book that you put down with full intention to go back to one day. She was a complex, well layered and sexy character. I’d really like to see how she turns out.

So aside from the sexy, hairy, vegan feminist bird I have been up to my old tricks with a friend I made last year, Deirdre is her name. We had a pretty good spring and summer together last year and kept in fairly close contact ever since she went back home. It’s funny because even though we come from completely different backgrounds and enjoy completely different things we managed to bond mainly through boozing and became close friends. She returned to England for a couple of weeks at the start of a European holiday she was taking and spent the first week with me.

We had a lovely time together, going to galleries, visiting friends, going for lunch at a lovely Vietnammese café and just generally walking around basking in the rare heat wave we’ve had this summer. Then so that I could give her a genuine British experience on the Saturday I took her for a night at the dogs then to a good old fashioned British fetish night. Fun was had by all.

The second week she mainly spent with her fella, but I managed to catch her one last time for a few drinks, when we departed I told her I loved her and I do, for a number of reasons. First off not only physically is she very pretty, but she has the attributes that go much further then conventional beauty. She is incredibly confident in herself, no hang ups about her appearance even though she does carry the added weight. Actually she has no hang ups about anything for that matter, which is of course very attractive. On top of that she is very intelligent and driven and can express strong opinions without getting all shouty and finger pointy like a lot of people do. But above all that she has something that I’ve been searching for in a bird for a while and that is honesty and communication. We always know where we stand with each other and we are always conversing details of our sex lives and sometimes-even feelings to each other.

One of the conversations we had whilst she was over was that if she lived in London I would happily snap her up. Obviously it would be a polyamorous relationship due to her involvement with her primary partner and for my desire to shag any bird willing to have me, but that suits me down to the ground. He can be there to do all the sensitive, taking care of her shit and I can reap the benefits of her incredibly hedonistic side. When I told her this she found it hilarious. She can hold her drink, enjoys a bit of football and if you think my sexual exploits are broad, then she is the Grand Canyon and I’m the San Andreas fault. But if you want to hear about them then she can write her own damn blog.

She also makes me feel genuinely good about myself. Now I’m not particularly self conscious about my body or my personality. I mean I would like to be a bit taller, have a bit more meat on my bones, ideally have a body like Cristiano Ronaldo and be a bit better looking would be nice too. But over all I am quite happy with the body I’ve got and am in no rush to change anything. It is nice though to get compliments every now and then and she is the best at giving them. Just before we left each other for the last time she gave me a bit of advice that I’ve never heard from another bird before ‘Don’t change a single thing about yourself. You are amazing as you are’ Usually I get a load of ‘o you need to cut down on the drink…’ ‘Your problem is you’re looking for this…’ ‘You can’t say that…’ ‘You need to stop acting this way…’ etc etc. I have no intentions of changing my personality for anyone and have been looking for a long time for someone who loves me just for being myself. Dierdre does this, and for that reason I love her back… To me she is my own personal feminist icon. An embodiment of an empowered young lady in the 21st century. I really hope she moves to London soon.

When I try to think of the type of woman that will suit me best Dierdre ticks the boxes for me in a mental capacity. Looks to me are very secondary, but if I had to choose I’d say I liked the girls that look like boys, but unfortunately most of them birds usually just like the girls too. But its androgyny that I find most attractive. When I was lying in bed with Dierdr’ the other week she  asked me what my ‘type’ was and before I answered said ‘is it a small, short haired, athletic, blonde, who plays football and used to be a lesbian?’… She’s not too far wrong really. I find all them things attractive. An interest in sport would be nice, I always had the opinion that I’d like to have football as a sanctuary from my bird, but recently I’ve noticed the joys of sharing activities with girls you like. Being able to spend Saturdays running down the bookies together to put on acca’s so that we can spend the day on the sofa watching Soccer Saturday would be brilliant.

Other ideal attributes would be creativity and a spontaneous attitude. I like having someone around to join me on my random adventures and for them to be a creative soul would just be complimentary to my own perspective. But to be honest I think my expectations are pretty fair, the only things I’d need as a necessity would be a bird who can hold her drink, is honest and talk about any problems she has, laidback but with some kind of goal in life she is pushing to achieve, has an interest in film, books and music and has an adventurous approach to sex. But overall just not completely bat shit crazy… Surely that’s not asking too much is it?

My contempt for women isn’t a universal one, I don’t hate a bird souly because she has a set of tits and cunt. I treat everyone equally until I find fault with them regardless of who they are or what their views are. If you’re a decent person with half a personality its likely we are going to get on well with each other. I may slag women off because they usually are the ones who’ll moan about anything – my previous experience of living with women has proved this. Or I may take the piss because they take ages to get ready to go out but these are all silly stereotypical things that we have to live with. Despite the obvious flaws women do have the ability to make you feel brilliant. Who cant say that some of the simple pleasures in life are those from a woman? When you get a smile back when passing a pretty lady on the street? Or those wicked smiles they give when you crack a joke they find funny? Or how brilliant you feel when they just compliment you on anything about yourself? Yes they can do our heads in no end with the slightest little moan about something we may never consider being a problem. But what’s the alternative? Going gay? Now that may just be an idea….

Play me out Mozza…