Saying Yes, or Something Close Enough

Olga Wolstenholme's picture

Facebook, great networking tool and also a huge pain in the ass when it comes to reconnecting with people there might very well be a reason why you don’t talk to anymore. It’s not always so bad though, the Internet has forged and in some cases re-forged some great connections over the years, for a lot of people, I’m sure.

To start off with I’m already a pretty nostalgic person when it comes to reminiscing about the past and automatically seeing updates of people in my news feed that were a part of my life over ten years ago puts certain people at the forefront of my mind, a place they wouldn’t necessarily occupy otherwise. It has clearly been a fad to reconnect with old lovers and in some cases that has opened up some old wounds.

You get to see how some people turned out, for better or worse, and if you’re anything like me, you might wonder about certain past relationships. There’s one person in particular that I have thought about recently, and it reminds me of a time in my life when I used to seek out and desire sexual activity with certain people, but when it came down to it, I wouldn’t say yes, but something close enough. Basically, it was a passive agency where I would engage in certain relationships because I wanted to, but I was also too afraid or too self-conscious to set up my own boundaries or to openly express my desires.

This state of mind led to some strange relationships. For instance the person I referred to in the above paragraph was one of my very good friends in high school. We hung out all the time, we talked on the phone, etc and I was completely in love with him, or at least that’s how I classified it back then. I told him I loved him over the phone once, and I can’t even remember what he said, but it wasn’t exactly “I love you too”. It never really led to much, except for the fact that we had sex a few times.

The weird thing about our sexual relationship is that it always took place at the very end of the night, when we were completely loaded and dead tired. The first time, we were in his cottage and it was freezing. I remember, he put a bunch of blankets over me and tucked me in real tight to warm me up, and I suppose that somewhere in that warming up process sex was initialized. Don’t ask me who made the first move, because I can’t remember. What I do remember is that I was wrapped so tightly in this cocoon of blankets that the upper part of my body was in no way connected to his. We didn’t kiss, there was no real foreplay to speak of we certainly didn’t speak to each other or acknowledged the fact that we were having sex and once it was over he fell asleep. I got out of bed, put his leather jacket on, went outside to take a piss and wipe the cum dripping down my legs. I sat awake for a while, feeling incredibly alone and trying to figure out what exactly had just happened and what it meant. I never did come up with a satisfying answer.

It was this strange form of non-sex, where we were completely removed from each other and once it was over we never spoke about it. The next morning wasn’t even awkward, because it really was as if it had never happened and it happened in that exact same way maybe four more times over the course of a year. There was only one time where it didn’t follow this pattern and we were interrupted before we could have intercourse. He was having a party at his cottage right next to his house and we ended up in his bedroom looking for CD’s or something and this time I’m pretty sure he made the first move. It was different from all the other times, because it was in the middle of the night’s events as opposed to the absolute end when we were the only two people awake. The lights were on in his bedroom and we actually looked at each other and the ensuing connection was much more sex positive than it had ever been before.

Someone walked in on us, and it kind of broke the spell, because we then resumed our previous attitude about our sexual relationship, which was to act like nothing happened. We returned to the party and that was the last time we ever engaged in any kind of sexual activity. I wish that every other sexual experience we shared had been like that night, where we were both clearly engaged in what was happening between us. I would like to ask him what he remembers about that period in our lives and how he felt about it, but I really don’t feel like that’s a “Facebook chat” appropriate conversation. It’s a context where it is much too easy to avoid the subject at hand, but I really do wonder if his experience of these events were different from mine and I would like to know what his feelings for me were at the time.

I suppose none of that really matters anymore. It was a really long time ago and God knows we’ve both changed since then. You might be tempted to say he was a bad guy or something along those lines, but he had no idea how these events affected me, because I never talked about it. I never expressed one damn thing about it all, and truly that was my problem not his.

Crossposted from Cuntlove.

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