Lisa’s recent comment, where she says that someone who’s able to teach you a lot sex could make up for unflattering characteristics like closed-mindedness, got me thinking.

I know what I like, sexually. As a guy, I’ve probably seen it all, especially after being unable to look away at the train wrecks on eFukt, a site with the tagline “Porn you wish you never saw”¹. If I had to make a guestimate, I’d say that my sexual deviancy is about average; I’m far from vanilla, but on the other hand, I don’t get aroused at watching Japanese women taking enemas of yellow liquid, shitting it onto heated pans, and having a group of people eat the cooked concoction².

At the same time, I’m far from having explored everything in the bedroom, mostly because I’ve never reached the right level of intimacy. It’s not that I’m embarrassed; they’re just things I want to share with someone special — the way some female pornstars share anal sex with only their boyfriends, or some women save it for marriage — and no one has been that special yet. That, and the fact my sex life has never become so boring that I felt like I needed to change things up. Besides, secrets aren’t so bad; the fun is gone when when all the secrets are out and there’s no mystery left. But even though I haven’t explored these things yet doesn’t mean I don’t know what I like, and I’m pretty sure that’s mostly been determined already.

The last sexual thing to blow my mind was when I dated Louise and she introduced me to the whole Dominant/submissive subculture, of which I had previously been completely unaware. As with a few other carnal flavours, it’s something I’d like to try with another partner in the future, but probably only on a contract basis because being a permanent dom³ is too much for me. That was back in 2004, and there hasn’t been anything quite as erotically eye-opening since. Maybe because it was something mentally sexual, not just a physical button to be pushed in a different way.

It feels like there’s little new to learn about my sexual tastes now. It makes me wonder what’s left out there for someone to teach me (I mean, aside from learning the preferences of the person you’re having sex with), or for me to discover. Then again, just last week, I read a news article on a subject of an indirectly sexual nature, and one part had me thinking, “Wow, that would be pretty hot”, when it was a very innocuous thing that I’m sure most people wouldn’t even think twice about, so who knows.

1. I’m not going to put a link from my page, you can just google it. WARNING: VERY, VERY NOT SAFE FOR WORK. And possibility, sanity [↑]
2. I didn’t have the stomach to watch the video, but John did, and he generously gave me a play-by-play of it as I pretended to be involved in his movie collection to distract myself from the grossness. I remember him saying, “Now they’re blowing on it because it’s too hot to eat” and realizing he was actually watching the video and not just making it up. [↑]
3. i.e. 100% of the time. I find I’m generally dominant 95% of the time in my relationships. [↑]

During his Emmy-award winning performance, Kill the Messenger, Chris Rock has a hilarious bit on the differences between men and women. He sums it up succinctly:

Women cannot go backwards in lifestyle. Men cannot go backwards sexually.

An example he uses for women is the first time they get into a nice, warm car after clubbing, waving bye to their friends who are waiting for the bus in the cold. After that, they can’t be with a man who doesn’t have a car, or as Rock puts it, “That’s how the fuck you roll for the rest of your life”. This extends to guys with their own places, then guys who take them on vacation.

On men, he says, “Once we get the sex we like, that’s how the fuck we roll. I like my coffee like this, I like my steak like this, and I like to fuck like this…Ladies, don’t get mad at us. Get mad at our ex-girlfriends. She’s the one that [sic] spoiled it for everybody” because if your ex-girlfriend licks your ass (again, his example), you expect your current girlfriend to do the same.

For me, the same is true for girls in general, but not just in these aspects. I can’t be with a girl who refuses to try exotic foods or refuses to give unconventional music a chance, who wouldn’t recognize the effort I put into my presents, who wouldn’t cherish the love and affection I give, who wouldn’t understand me, or wouldn’t laugh at my stupid jokes, because I’ve been with girls who are a combination of open-minded, appreciative, romantic, on the same wavelength as me, and actually find me funny (when not completely awkward).

That’s why this entire idea scares me.

I know most people get more flexible on things about their mates as they head towards (or beyond) the marrying age but I seem to be moving the opposite direction. Each girl I’ve been with has been an improvement over the last. Now the bar has been raised so damn high I don’t think I’ll ever get there again, and I’d rather be alone than compromise or settle.

My standards are getting higher, and I can’t go back.

When I was dating Louise, and we talked about our exes, she told me one of hers was going to be a diplomat, and they broke up because she knew she wasn’t meant to be a diplomat’s wife. I understood. By marrying into certain careers, you marry into those responsibilities as well, and they can be too much for some, me included.

So she was with me. I wasn’t bound for greatness like that.

Still, it made me wonder; what was I meant for? What did she see in me?

I know I wasn’t meant to changed the world.

But I still think I was meant to affect the lives of others. I was born for greatness of my own, as small as it may be.

Ever since Wordpress 2.5 added native tagging support, I’ve been going through my old entries and appropriately tagging each one. Recently, I arrived at the chunk of time where I started dating Louise.

It’s said that everyone has at least one relationship where you look back and ask yourself, “What the hell was I thinking?”. I never believed it until, four years later, I came across those old posts. The words were a stark reminder of how hard I tried to make it work, of how much I did for her, and how it was never good enough.

She would belittle my attempts to grow and improve, push me to the limits of my tolerance, and when I would speak up about how much it hurt me, she would justify it in saying that she would refuse to hide her opinions because couples should be “open”. I kept getting put down, over and over again.

Continue reading

This looks familiar.

A place I’ve been, a feeling I’ve had, a girl I fucked one night in the fall.

Back then she cried. Lying in bed next to me, she told me she was sorry. I believed her, but I didn’t trust the tears, because she knew how much it turns me on. She got what she wanted anyway, and I suppose I did too.

That was the last night I saw her.

But it isn’t candid enough. It’s too forced. Unnatural. As if she’s trying too hard again to capture what was lost, and what she could have had.

So she found another version, and used him in my place.

Bronwen started dating another guy.

It’s funny, my first reaction is to think another guy, as if we’re still dating ourselves. I suppose our relationship has never been conventional, but that’s what makes it so special. We still spend our weekends together. We still talk on the phone for hours without actually talking. We’re close enough that I’m completely comfortable around her, enough for me to let my guard to go down.

It’s made me realize how protective I still am of her, how upset I’ll be if she gets hurt. I think of all the things I could have done better, and hope this guy can treat her better than I did.

I have all these mixed feelings about it though. I’m worried that I may lose my friend, but I’m glad there’s someone to make her happy. In the end, I know I can’t be selfish. Letting go of her the first time was hard enough.

Doing it again doesn’t make it any easier.

Jeff

Where do I start? I can’t even begin to recount the last six weeks of my life, and really if I were able…Im [sic] not sure you’d want to hear it. I won’t say the “let’s be friends” email was a surprize [sic]…I suppose I just needed to hear it.

I find a letter in my mailbox, wrapped in a gold foil envelope, teal letters on a white page.

The letters are blocky, square, with no regard for case. She used to write me notes with her Es as three parallel lines, counting on the eye to draw an illusion of a vertical bar, and her Os dotted in the centre. It was one of her things, one of the details she used to be unique.

Now she’s abandoned all that.

I’m already skeptical, on my guard.

It’s hard though…I had my chance…I suppose you had yours through our relationship…you couldn’t be what I needed then and now look at you — the subject of my fantasies…watching from afar…wishing I’d have saw [sic] these things then — wondering if maybe I had looked through less skeptical eyes, I could have saw [sic] who you are today.

I’m reminded of why it ended. Of how hard I tried to make it work, of all the things she did to hurt me.

Now she points out her faults. The mistakes she made. She flatters me. She lets her guard down. I’ve never felt her so vulnerable, and this is how I know she’s changed.

You lead the structured life I always wanted, I don’t know if you have a counterpart in your life…I don’t know if you’re content now to structure your own world and not yet someone else’s…there are few things I do know about you…but what I do see…Im [sic] sorry I didn’t before.

Truth be told…Ive [sic] driven all the way to the east end on a few occasions and turned back. My intention was to fall at your feet…to kiss them as I had in the past but with a renewed respect for you and a better understanding of myself. But I was affraid [sic].

I’m reminded now of what drove me to achieve what I have now. To cast off that part of my life, to buy a house, to live on my own, to move on. I may never have had any of this if it wasn’t for her.

I’m sure you’re shaking your head now…maybe laughing…maybe not even reading this anymore. You’re done with me it seems. i’m [sic] okay with that…afterall [sic] it’s my own fault. I had that chance and I couldn’t take it.

i’ll [sic] get to the point: on the next page is a short fantasy I had pass through my mind yesterday and so I wrote it down in my journal because lately something has changed in me — I never assign a name or face or…person to my fantisies…lately you’ve been front and centre.

I’m reminded of how intensely sexual she was. The nights we stayed up, alive in flame, consumed by our concupiscence, pushing the limits of our bodies. There were times when I never felt so alive.

Before you read this next page…know that if you had wanted me at your feet—Id [sic] be there in a heartbeat—even still—what an honnor [sic] it would be to curl up at your feet while you read this—

Okay now Im [sic] stalling—because Im nervous at the thought of you opening your eyes to my want…for you.

Her words aren’t enough. Not enough to change my mind or what’s past.

Too little, too late.

I love you too much baby
For you to be with me
I love you too much baby
I gotta set you free

—Shea Seger, I Love You Too Much

You were the closest I’ve ever come to perfect in a girlfriend. In fact, you raised the bar. Now I know there are girls out there who are funny, intelligent, open-minded, caring, sane, and I’ll always be looking for the same now.

In so many ways, we worked. My love of dark chocolate and your love of milk chocolate meant that we’d never have a problem finishing off an assorted box. You’re so easy-going, while I’m so uptight. All the little things, like puzzle pieces made of clay.

Even though it’s been months since we’ve broken up, our video is still by far the most played item on my iTunes playlist. It’s such a beatiful memory, and I’ll always cherish it.

I still miss those notes you used to leave me about what you did during the day and when you’d be back. Those times we’d take the bus, and you’d rest your head on my shoulder. Those times we’d wrestle and fall asleep in a pile, right there, from exhaustion.

I miss all these things, but the fact is that it didn’t feel right, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of us to keep going. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone who will fully appreciate you and the things you do.

I know I never said it in our relationship, but I loved you.

And I still do.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

The thrill is gone
The thrill is gone away
The thrill is gone baby
The thrill is gone away
You know you done me wrong baby
And you’ll be sorry someday

—BB King, The Thrill Is Gone

Our relationship was a nightmare of ups and downs.

You had the amazing ability to make me feel good about myself, by saying the right thing with intelligence and eloquence.

Yet every time I felt like I was making progress, progress that took tremendous effort and energy, progress for you, you would put me down. Every time I took a leap of faith and put myself out there, you would hurt me. It wasn’t even a case of brutal, tactless honesty; you would insult my pride for no reason.

I think it betrayed a subconscious insecurity. Something you would do to make yourself feel better. Like your constant need to prove that you’re busy and moving on. It’s as if your life is empty, void, and you’re desperate to fill it with something.

I had to end things when you went too far.

There were no regrets, because I did my absolute best to make things work. Even though I suffered, I ignored the pain, and tried working through it. I only gave up when you proved too stubborn to change or understand.

The relationship wasn’t a total loss. It was an interesting introduction to the subculture. It was passionately sexual. It also made me more confident, although I realize now that it wasn’t because of you. You barely gave me any trust, and every step forward I made, you pulled me back two. It was me who fought through all the insecurities and rose to the occasion.

When you came back in January, without a word of apology or mention of the wrong you did, I had no interest in continuing the relationship. After that, I thought of you whenever I heard the song Buried Myself Alive by The Used.

Unfortunately, it was at an unstable time in my life, so I asked you to back off and wait. Your idea of backing off and waiting is leaving me creepy comments and dating to fill the time. I just can’t understand how you keep making these mistakes. It’s almost like you purposely sabotage yourself.

I don’t want to be involved in the drama anymore. Nothing is ever simple with you. Even though you say you’ve changed, it’s not worth the risk to me. You had your chance, and it was a damn good one.

You’ve wronged me too many times. The last time you left my house, not knowing when or if you’d come back, I felt nothing.

I knew then that the thrill was gone.

A few other things:

• On the phone, your voice could be so cute that it would make me weak and forget everything you did.
• Out of all my girlfriends, you were physically the least attractive, yet you were the most conceited about your looks.
• It was very much appreciated when you brought me flowers at work, and the times you’ve dropped off food and other goodies at my door. No one else has done this for me.
• The way you would remember events was often completely wrong. It wouldn’t be so bad if you weren’t completely convinced that your interpretation was correct. It made things rather scary, like dating a schizophrenic. You could totally fabricate how things went, the way you wanted to remember them. The root of an argument would turn into my fault, instead of yours.
• You were a knockout in bed.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

Am I not your favourite gadget, no more?
How come my little baby?
Am I not your favourite gadget, no more now?
How come not anymore?

Since you bought me, I feel lonely
Since that day things are wrong
Could you not repair me, honey
Is my warranty guaranteed gone

—Ellen ten Damme, Gadget

There was always something about you.

Your voice. Your Joisey accent. Your hair style. Your always-on choker. Your piercings (I was always a sucker for brow rings and tongue studs). Your taste in music. Your off-the-wall personality.

It was all so exciting. Something I’d never experienced before.

But you were a total drama queen too. You would get upset over the most random, innocuous things. I could never tell if you truly believed the ridiculous things you said, or whether you just said them for attention. Either way, I hated it.

You could also be as immature as a teenager. I hated how you would do things like leave in the middle of a game and storm off to the other room because you thought you would lose.

I put all my feelings aside for you. I would always let you have your way, but you’d never even consider mine, and I hated it.

Even though I knew it wouldn’t last, even though I knew you were completely wrong for me, like poison in the bloodstream, I couldn’t end it. Sometimes I still wonder if you ever think of me, or whether I was just another thing you used to occupy yourself in the summer, between boyfriends.

I’ve written more entries inspired by what happened than by anything else. I don’t want to give our relationship any significance, but the truth is that I can’t deny how important it was. What we had wouldn’t even count as a relationship, if it weren’t for how much it affected me.

My previous relationships were never satisfying. It felt like I could never fall in love or appreciate my girlfriends for who they were, and I always believed it was my fault. Then I fell in love with you, and it helped me learn that the failures of the past weren’t anyone’s fault, and simply the result of incompatibility. If it wasn’t for this realization, the suffering and the heartbreak wouldn’t have been worth it.

You were the only girl to ever break up with me. It was the shortest relationship I’ve had by far, but for some reason, it was the longest for me to get over. My heart tells me you were special, but my head tells me you weren’t special at all.

You were only the one I couldn’t have.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

I can see the pain living in your eyes
And I know how hard you try
You deserve to have much more
I can feel your heart and I sympathize
And I’ll never criticize
All you’ve ever meant to my life

I don’t want to let you down
I don’t want to lead you on
I don’t want to hold you back
From where you might belong

You would never ask me why
My heart is so disguised
I just can’t live a lie anymore
I would rather hurt myself
Than to ever make you cry
There’s nothing left to say but goodbye

—Air Supply, Goodbye

Over four years ago, I started this blog because of you. I felt like you never understood me, so I needed a place where I could express myself without any inhibitions.

I had a lot of hope in you, being drawn to your youth and innocence. A lot of hope in us. I always thought you were like clay I could mold. Someone who would eventually complete me, but you never changed or showed improvement.

It took me a long time to realize how wrong it was for me to do that. How wrong it was for me to want you to be a different person.

I hope I didn’t hurt you. I heard from your brother that you’re already on your Masters degree. I hope he’s healthy and happy. I hope your parents are doing well, that your dad is retired and they’re travelling out east like they’ve always wanted when you started university.

There are a lot of fond memories of our time together. I wonder if you believed me when I said that I wanted to marry you. It was something I honestly felt at the time, until things started falling apart, and I went through one of my phases again. It wasn’t your fault.

I had to end it before I led you on any further.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

Why should I stay and pretend?
You make me laugh again
My darling, truth is we are not even friends
Love comes and it goes
Where your heart stops no one knows
How did I wind up in this mess, here with you?

Just a moment of weakness
I should examine my head
Just a moment of weakness
I never meant a word I said

—Bif Naked, Moment Of Weakness

The first thing about you that caught my eye was your platform shoes. More specifically, the lanky way you walked in them with your plaid skirt on. You had such a funny gait that I would study when I was walking behind you in the halls. Sometimes you looked like an injured fawn, vulnerable and awkwardly running away with your long, slender legs. It was the very definition of sexuality to a depressed, hormonal teenage male.

Those shoes gave you an extra couple inches, and I resented every time you subtly knelt so you wouldn’t be taller than me in any pictures.

I only have a single good memory of our relationship. You were sitting on my lap in the jacuzzi at Cammy’s place. It was February, and there was snow all around us, but we were warm and wet. Every few minutes, we would dunk our heads under the water, then style each other’s hair, the winter air freezing it within seconds.

The more I got to know you, the more I learned that it was all a big mistake. I stuck it out because I didn’t want to break up with you in the months leading up to your exams. It was especially hard when Lisa started showing interest in me, but I couldn’t do it.

You were a sexual bore. No sound, no reaction, nothing in bed. Your friends were all snobs. Your thoughts were trite, and your interests were shallow.

You never knew it, but I had to decide between dating you and Marina. It tore me up for a week, knowing that one of you was going to be hurt. I chose you in a moment of weakness.

It was the biggest mistake of my high school career.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

The lovin is a mess, what happened to all of the feeling?
I thought it was for real; babies, rings and fools kneeling
And words of pledging trust and lifetimes stretching forever
So what went wrong? It was a lie, it crumbled apart
Ghost figures of past, present, future haunting the heart

—Belle & Sebastian, Another Sunny Day

Our relationship has always represented the innocence of my youth.

The Friday nights, playing with candle wax in the dark, learning how our bodies worked. Or the rush of worry and excitement about parents walking in the door. Olfactory sense has come to mean a great deal in my relationships. From those nights we made love with Beth’s voice coming through your tinny speakers, I get turned on when I listen to Portishead.

I kept the bottle of Gap Earth you used, something dear to me since it was discontinued. Every time I smell the nozzle, it brings me back to the time we were together.

Out of all my other girlfriends, I thought you would be the one to end up in a D/s relationship. I never realized it until my own introduction to the lifestyle, but the things you did were the most naturally submissive. The way you wanted to be tied up with our belts, the enjoyment you got from pain, your desire for me to be in control, the way you would take my hands is yours so you could kiss my knuckles. To this day, I wonder if you still like these things.

I’ve always tried to figure out why I’m never satisfied in my relationships. It’s usually not the fault of the people I date. Sometimes I blame my parents for their failed marriage, and how this has made me feel that’s it’s necessary to find the perfect person so I don’t end up like them. Sometimes I think it’s because you were the first, and you came to define what was “right” or not.

I wish I could explain. I thought things would last, because you never hurt me in any way. In fact, you did nothing wrong. Maybe we were just too young. They say you shouldn’t marry the person you can live with, you should marry the person you can’t live without.

And I knew that I could live without you.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

An ex e-mailed me out of the blue the other day. She blamed it on the fall weather, causing her to reminisce and Google my name. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in over five years.

After feeling each other out for the first part of the exchange, we caught up on each others lives. She’s been married for three years. Moved out to Kingston after living through the pollution and over-stimulation of downtown Toronto. She has a full-time job while working toward her Master of Education part-time. Her husband’s an artist at heart, she says, trying to make a living off creative writing. No kids yet, but instead, two cats, Emily Wednesday and Shadow.

Me? I moved to Ottawa for university, bought a house, recently got out of a relationship, been working as the marketing and IT manager at a dental laboratory. Oh, and I have one cat, but I’m thinking of a second.

There were some things I’d been meaning to ask her for a while. Going through a series of relationships since ours has changed my perspective, and I’ve always wondered whether she’s grown in this way as well. I put a few questions to her, but she told me, in an amiable way, that she wasn’t completely comfortable indulging my curiosities.

There are a lot of things I’d like to say to my ex-girlfriends, but the nature of a break-up can be that of rancor. Communication breaks down. People lose perspective. I’ve always had a tremendous need to express myself, perhaps to the detriment of my relationships, but digging up what’s past and buried for the sake closure seems a bit selfish. After having this ex tell me that she was uncomfortable, I realized that it may have been rather inappropriate of me.

It’s only here that I can say what I want.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

People always say that this song or that book or some movie is a story about themselves in some way. One of my friends is truly determined that his life has been prophesied in the eight and a half minute rock-opera Paradise By The Dashboard Lights. My story was told in Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, but it wasn’t anything with as much grandeur, it was simply about a girl.

Interestingly enough, it’s not the stories themselves, but the details of each story that give them such relatable conviction. In Paradise By The Dashboard Lights, Meatloaf sings about a coerced commitment leading to an eventual eternity spent with the wrong person because of a stubborn, but more importantly moral, refusal to break a promise. The prognostication of these particulars sends my friend sweating whenever he hears the song.

For me, it took the form of pangs, from the details of Clementine’s character. The fucked up girl looking for her own peace of mind, who applies her personality in a paste. A person who keeps you off balance, always guessing, and constantly frustrated. A girl who sends off sirens in your brain telling you to run as far as you can before you get burned, but you stay anyway, against all logic, resigned to the eventual fate.

And here I was, waiting to be saved, thinking she’s a concept, or she’ll complete me, or she’s going to make me feel alive. When it didn’t work out, I used to say that it was for the best, that I was in it to have no regrets, but it was really because I couldn’t leave. I was drawn magnetically, inexplicably, to the last person to deserve even the effort of all the torn up thoughts.

On the weekend, I discovered that I could finally watch Eternal Sunshine without those pangs when I had felt them for so long, even when I already knew how important it is not to forget these experiences, as Joel figures out while hiding Clementine in his subconscious. All the residual emotions have passed, and now I can talk, and laugh, and think, and share the experience like an embarrassing adolescent memory. It only took two years.

Everybody’s gotta learn sometime.