Posts tagged with "Loo"

Hugging Etiquette

She hugged me yesterday. I thought I was over her, but maybe I’m still smitten. Physical contact does funny things to the mind.

I don’t understand why girls are so into hugging. Often, I’ll go for a handshake, and as if it doesn’t take, they’ll lean in to hug afterward. A girl once asked if she could hug me after I explained to her my procedure for checking a cat before adoption. Figure that one out.

The funny thing is that most girls aren’t very good huggers. They give limp hugs — more of a pressing of the arms to the body — and it bugs the crap out of me. It’s like getting a soft handshake, also referred to as the “limp noodle“.

Bronwen’s an exception. I always give and get a bear hug from her when I see her and when she leaves. Sometimes we fight for arm positioning, because we both prefer to have the arms lower than the other. I like to have my arms around a girls’ waist, whereas she likes to have her arms surrounded, so she feels protected.

The two Louise’s are/were also good at hugging. Nice and firm, without being too clingy. Maybe it’s a Louise thing.

It just makes me wonder; if girls are so into hugging, why aren’t they better at it?

Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend: Louise

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.

Then, with all your letters and your apologies and your tears, two years later, you asked “nicer than that”.

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

Walk With Loo

Thumbnail: Statue looking up

Thumbnail: Night building

Thumbnail: War memorial

Three pictures.

There’s so much to say, but nothing comes out. I think I’m still in shock. When I think that things have passed, this happens. Complete ambivalence has turned to inconclusiveness. All I know is that I’m still a sucker for those two little words. There’s solace in the hope that other things will work out, that they wouldn’t have happened, had things not ended up like this. Now all that’s left is clutter of questions.

Karma makes me ask who I’ve wronged so greatly to deserve this. At the same time, it’s an open-ended answer that doesn’t give me what I’m looking for, or make me feel any better.

And what do I do now, when all I have left are memories that may fade like old photographs sitting in the sun?

I'm Seeing Louise Tomorrow

We haven’t spoken in months.

I still think about her, but isn’t that how it usually goes? You think about the last girlfriend until the next one comes along, ad infinitum.

Sometimes I think about the opportunities I’ve missed with her. Never having a chance to attend one of her parties, a mysterious, esoteric ritual that both frightened and excited me whenever I heard about it. Never getting to use the beautiful rope she bought before she left for the final, extended break. Never being able to leave her bound and blindfolded in her own closet, the secret little fantasy we both shared. All the things that I took my time with, thinking I’d have a chance eventually, expecting the relationship to work.

But eventually never came.

Sometimes I have to remind myself how much she hurt me. On some days it’s easier than others. How much I changed and grew and was brave for her, only to have her constantly put me down. I tried my best, did the most I could, but it was never enough. Her complete lack of faith was more than discouraging, it was insulting.

Yet she was the girlfriend I respected the most, the only one I could talk to about anything without being afraid of losing her in subject matter. The girlfriend who taught me the most, who played an integral part in giving me the sense of strength and responsibility I feel today. I’m still trying to figure out if it was all worth it, whether I’d learn these thing eventually, or whether the experience was unique. I suspect I’ll find out in time.

It’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow. The beginning of fall, carrying the transitional temperatures of summer, is always pleasantly cool. We’ll be strolling along the stores and restaurants of Elgin, and I’ll be taking my video camera in hopes of getting some footage of the sandbag angels at the Confederation Park.

It's A D/s Life: Life After Loo

I haven’t written about this subject in a while now. I needed to take a break, to distance myself in order to gain some perspective. Now that I’m here, I feel comfortable enough to talk about it again.

But before I go on, a little explanation of my potential bias is needed. I’ve always been one to believe that a single bad experience shouldn’t turn someone away from anything forever. I try to keep this belief in my head when I catch myself associating the D/s lifestyle with pain (ha! get it?) and frustration. The only hands-on experience I have being a dominant was with a person who would repeatedly hurt me and bring me down.

However, I don’t believe that this was a conscious characteristic. It was a personality that was widely hypocritical, mean, and extremely difficult to deal with, but all of this fit the “type” of submissive that she was. I saw her as a tremendous, effusive force that, when wielded correctly, could be used to great advantage. The only problem is there are only few with enough strength and patience to tame and guide such a force, although someone who could accomplish such a task would form an unbreakable bond between master and slave. I knew that I would eventually have the strength, but I certainly did not have the patience to be dealing with what constantly felt like a person working against me.

So it’s with this cautionary step that I proceed to explore the D/s branch of the BDSM umbrella. My sub was dependent on the lifestyle; she required it in her relationships, and her only means of relaxation was being a bottom at a party. I knew the risks of getting involved. One of my biggest fears was that I would grow dependent on the lifestyle as well. After all, what greater elation is there than to feel as if one owns another mind, another soul, another person.

As of yet, I don’t feel some tremendous urge to go out and find a sub to abuse. I’m not experienced enough as a dominant to do that. I know, however, that D/s is something I’d want to explore in future relationships. I consider it a basis of openness, trust, and acceptance. Exploring the lifestyle (as a female sub especially) would lay the groundwork for a lot of other things.

Many of which I have yet to discover for myself.