Past second base

I have been talking to a number of my single friends here in Melbourne about the dating scene here, and I have to say it’s not inspiring.

On the available I think my vow of celibacy actually seems a sensible strategy.

My nearest and dearest, Barbie, has met a nice boy, “No S”, and has been out on a couple of dates with him. He is nice, funny, handsome, interrupting, not a Melbourne local (meaning he isn’t ridiculously parochial), has a good job, is keen on Barbie and based on the bulge in his pants, well hung. What’s not to love?

They had a great date this week, dinner, great conversation and then back to Barbie’s glamorous and fashionable penthouse where some sofa groping and tonsil hockey inside. And then after much rolling around together fully clothed, “No S” went home.

WAH?!?!

Now this is Barbie we are talking about and usually they don’t get out intact unless Barbie inadvertently over self medicated and slips into the valley of the Barbie’s. Ignoring that for a second, given all the pluses I don’t get why they didn’t proceed past second base.

Now I completely get it that sex isn’t everything, that’s not what I am saying. Its just that sex is fun and when presented with:

A/ a guy that I am into
B/ who is into me and
C/ a reasonable opportunity

I guess I would rather shag than not.

When I think about that, I can see a couple of reasons. I tend to see sex as something fun, and passion is a different opportunity for communication. Sex is not sacred; clearly since both J’Ho and Senator Goebbels Vanstone have children and if you think sex with them is sacred we clearly have differing perspectives on the divine.

I don’t think I am, or was, that slutty. Maybe I am wrong. I am pretty picky, but once I made pick is made, I am all for the follow through.

There is only one boyfriend of note that I stopped wanting to sleep with, and he turned out to be a bad person, and a bit of a dud root. We called him starfish, if you catch my drift.

Actually my desire to get to third base may be because I had a bad experience with taking it slow and I want to get the issue of sexual compatibility cleared up early.

I had b een living in Sydney for a few years, enjoying the “kindness of strangers” but I was not making any roads on the emotional front. On the evidence my prey base seems be for emotionally troubled but physically hot men, so while there were plenty of return visits there was no real romance or dating.

So I decided it was time to take a different approach. I would try and get to know someone BEFORE sleeping with him.

Controversial, huh.

One night out shortly after my new, cunning plan was laid I met a very attractive young man, Greyson, a recent arrival in Sydney from the UK. He was quite obviously taken with me, as was I with him, and we proceeded to have a fab night out. Much dancing, laughing, talking, frolicking with friends and generally tearing up Oxford St ensued. It was a night where I would completely agree with my ex James belief, now apparently abandoned, that the dancing can be the best bit.

At the end of the night I decided to leave and presented him with my phone number saying “I am going, but I have had a fantastic time with you. Here is my number; I wouldn’t be giving it to you if I didn’t want you to use it”.

Such a sad face I got. It was like he had been given a puppy and after playing with it all night it was being taken away.

While generally more articulate “bu ,bu, bu” was the best he could manage.

“Don’t worry, I really like you. Use the number and I will show you how much”. And then I left.

The next day, at a decent hour, I get a phone call from Greyson asking me to Redleaf. Not one to miss the opportunity to see cute boys I am interested in wearing speedo’s, of course I went, and lets say I was not disappointed.

Again he was a lot of fun what with the sunning and the swimming and the lunch and the gossip and the Kristin Bejorn-esq sunscreen rubbing scenes. Late in the afternoon I explained my cunning plan to Grey.

He was completely charmed by it. That I was actually interested in getting to KNOW him first was very flattering, particularly since my interest was very clear*.

So over the next week or so went on a number of very sexually charged dates, traded many an SMS/e-mail, and worked our way through first base (kissing), to second base (a bit of clothed humping)� and we were ready to, nay gagging, to take things all the way.

The dating period had done a fantastic job of allowing us to get to know each other and nothing in that process had reduced the attraction, quite the opposite. Then one Saturday night it was clear we were both really ready.

We had a great night out, we enjoyed ourselves immensely with no sense of urgency or uncertainty. We both knew where we were going and what was going to happen. It had all of the excitement of a dirty pickup and all of the comfort of a long term relationship‡.

At the end of the night, but before dawn, we headed back to my place. No nerves, just happy sexual tension. Tonight was the night.

After a relaxing cup of chamomile tea on the sofa and some sensual snogging we went up stairs to my room. But once we started to get into the main event something strange happened, once Grey got his clothes off, his sense of rhythm COMPLETELY ABANDONED HIM! Even his kissing, which had been ok previously completely went off form.

This boy fucked the way Seinfeld’s Elaine dances and kissed like the demented love child of a vacuum pump and a woodpecker, alternating trying to rip my tongue out by the root and bashing on my face. It took WEEKS for the skin on my tongue and lips to recover.

After all of that work and effort in getting to know him, Grey turned out to be the single worst root in my life.

Now I know what you will be thinking, if I wasn’t such a shallow bastard, if I had really liked him I would have persevered, but there was absolutely no way I could have sex with him again. I barely got out the first time with everything intact; I was not going to be risking it again. Actually I did go back twice more, with the same disasterous results.
The result of this experience is that I am highly skeptical of the “waiting until the time is right” approach, or keeping yourself “nice”. It’s just too Jessica Simpson for me.

Sexual compatibility is part of the mix in a relationship and it is as important to sort that bit out as the rest of it. Balance in all thing say.

As an interesting post script, I ran into Grey at Trade in London in 2001. He is still a fine looking man being the kind that as and keeps a 28″ waist and huge shoulders on a 6′ frame. To all of this he has added some very serious skanky tattoos which is hot on him particularly considering his serious corporate career. Turns out though, and I got this from his boyfriend who I know from Sydney, that he has become a voracious fisting bottom into some pretty serious pain scenes. Given his native violence in bed, this comes as no surprise.

*wearing speedos remember
� had actually both happened in the first night in the clubs, but whose counting and its my story any way
‡ interestingly, that’s pretty much how I felt about James for 6 years