I was celibate for almost 3 years. It was not exactly by choice, more by circumstance. Then dating was pure bullshit for a while. Then I met Benedict Cumonmyface and celibacy ended. Hallelujah! Right? Not exactly…
He is trying to be celibate. Meeting me with my perfect match sexual chemistry isn’t conducive. I respect his boundaries. While hoping to push them. It’s delicious torture. But man, I’d love to just fuck.
Sex is so complicated. I mean, not actual sex. The ins & outs of that are pretty self-explanatory. But all that goes along with sex… complicated. Oy.
Spending time talking, flirting, touching, kissing and not having sex was just divine. Of course I wanted to have sex. But not doing it made the time more intimate in a way. I have no idea if he’s going to come around or opt out. We all know what I’m rooting for. But I’m really grateful that even in the face of all that he’s going through he chose to open up with me. And be a bit vulnerable. And honestly, non sex with him is better than plenty of real sex with other guys I’ve been with. And real sex with him is better than better. It’s the best.
The Englishman is quite lovely. I haven’t written about him much but I will. He’s lovely. I’m really enjoying getting to know him and spending time together. And, insanely there is yet another man, second date coming up, who I’m possibly smitten with. Oy. How did this happen? I love it.
But yikes, it’s complicated. Not terribly. Yet. But I’m aware that it may turn…complicated.
And even with 2 very appealing suitors I still can’t get my Ben-a-keeping-his-dick-in-his-pants out of my mind. And I hope I can’t keep him out of my bed. Even if his pants stay on.