Dutch Cuddles

I’ve got this amazing business idea.

It will cater to guys looking to propose to their girlfriends. It’ll give them the certainty they need to propose. How? By testing their girls.

That’s not as academic as it sounds. What we do is simple: I use every trick in every unwritten book to try and steal “his” girl. If she stays with him, he’ll know she’s good to marry.

The German thinks it’s a brilliant idea. Then again, she wants to stop studying towards being a teacher and become a pornstar, so she might be a little biased toward sexier job descriptions.

I, on the other hand, am just amazed it works.

Because there is no reason in the world why any girl would want to leave her stable, steady, employed, loyal partner for me.

And yet, they do. Every girl I’ve slept with in the last 5 years was in a relationship when we started fucking. Granted, there weren’t many – a hugely enjoyable total of four – and one of those was in a healthy open relationship. But it intrigues me as to why you’d leave what apparently you’d always wanted for me.

Of course, I haven’t “won” every girl. Memories of Sunglass Girl still make me blush. Then there was the Swede…god that was embarrassing. Curiously, those were both single.

There was also the Canadian. I have never been more instantaneously attracted to someone. I have never put more effort into a short encounter. It was the first time I actively followed every pick-up-artist technique. But she was heading back to Canada. In under 12 hours. To a boy with waiting arms.

She didn’t come home with me.

Pretty much, I have no problem with destroying relationships. That whole “sorry, I have a boyfriend” doesn’t sound like an excuse to me: It’s like saying “sorry, I’m wearing socks.” I can’t even find it in me to consider it unethical or wrong. I’m told that it’s wrong, and I’ve had a friend tell me very seriously that if I ever stole a girl from him, he’d be incredibly upset at me. Which confuses the hell out of me.

I just don’t get it. It’s like women are objects, to be stuck up on a wall and admired and woe betide anyone who removes them. It’s like women aren’t allowed to choose.

So, imagine my confusion when I fall in love with Dutchy (and her small bum) and then freak out at any sign she might return the feelings because I don’t want to ruin her relationship.

Weirdest series of thoughts in my head. “Oh, she might have feelings for me. That’s hot. But then she’ll have to choose between me and Hulk. He’s boring. But he’s been so good for her. And she’s so happy with him. Why would I want to ruin it? Wait, why do I care?”

I like that, though I know I have little to offer, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’d be chosen over him. My arrogance is appalling.

Regardless, it’s the first time I know I’d back off to save another’s relationship.

Of course, there’s no need to back off: I channelled my usual honesty (with perhaps a hint of German influence) and asked if the feelings were returned.

And holy fuck does that chick have issues. I don’t know which of us was angrier with the other. But through a lengthy tirade of tears (mine), mutual misunderstanding (hers only actually, I’m amazing) and exasperation (ours), she eventually realised that I was not trying to fuck or date her and I realised that her feelings for me are not even slightly near mine for her.

Which is good. Cause now I still get Dutchy-cuddles.

Pussy 101

Don’t you just love pussy?

I do.

Especially when you storm out the house late at night in little more than underwear and sit under a tree. You slap away mosquitos and imagine a world where the worst has happened and you can just leave it all behind.

Out of nowhere sounds a meow. A small, vibrating mass of fur walks up and headbutts you with enough force to start a minor earthquake. You stroke his head and he meows and purrs and walks off, looking back at you. Because everything else is fairly fucking directionless – and those mosquitos are fucking annoying – you follow.

A racing WRX sounds in the distant, doing “the loop” – a lovely stretch of road that I’ve also driven way to fast through. He’ll reach the road at about the same instant I do if I walk down now. He’s going very quickly. I should teach him a lesson.

Which, frankly, is a stupid idea because I think he has the right idea. I’d love to be doing that right now. I’d be so pissed off if some angry idiot decided to step in front of me. Why?

The cat meows and there’s only one thing I can do: head home and claim the cat loves me more than she does because he came after me.

Because, obviously, that’s the point of all this shit.

“If you cared for me, you’d come after me like the cat did!”

Did you know that? You can only show you care if you go after someone who’s walked off. And walking off? Is that caring?

Somehow, I don’t think so.

Happy 1 year love. Yep. It’s our anniversary today. And we spent the night fighting. I even had to throw all our alcohol down the drain because I thought downing shots of Vodka would help.

It didn’t. It just made me realise that – no matter how much I drank – I’d never forget everything.

Which is a huge pity. Because I wanted to forget everything. Or, many things. I wanted complete and utter emptiness. Just take it all away. Everything, every relationship, every request, every desire, every dream, goal, wish, accomplishment. Just give me sweet nothing and a way to survive. Please.

Then there’d be no pain. There’d be no hard decisions. There’d simply be today. Every day. Nothing happens. A holiday, really.

Dating sucks.

I miss being single. I miss the selfishness. I miss the required soul-belief. I miss my decisions being mine – including their consequences. I miss the times spent doing exactly what I want. I miss the ability to honestly lie and say “I’m ok.”

I miss the simplicity of being happy single. I miss the rejection and bouncing back from my own wallowing because there’s no one else to save me. I miss the ability to say “I’m going to do this” and being the only one accountable for it.

But most of all, I miss knowing – constantly – that I’m alone.

Because a relationship pretends you’re not alone. A relationship pretends that because Someone else cares for me, She’ll come after me and make it all better.

It’s so easy right now. All I have to do is sulk. Someone joined OkCupid. She was still setting up her account when the first person messaged Her. Within the hour, She had messages flying in. Some of the people messaging Her were seriously attractive. And they want to meet up…now. Right. Now. Or else tomorrow if you’re free?

Considering I’ve spent many hours attempting to send the wittiest messages to every girl it is heartbreaking to know that She doesn’t have to try. It sends my self-confidence free-diving. In a locked Audi. Filled with cement. In the Mariana Trench.

(Some guy just sent “If you were a triangle, you’d be acute one.” Which doesn’t even make sense.  Oh, best pickup line, guaranteed to send girls squealing in terror (seriously, I tried): Lick your finger, then wipe it on their clothes. Say “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” )

Seriously, it would be so easy to sit here and sulk. Because I told her how I’m feeling. I keep opening Facebook and hoping she’ll reply and talk to me about it.

It’s truly pathetic.

Because I also told her earlier I want to do other things – I don’t want to talk on Facebook all night.

It doesn’t matter what she does: she’ll be in trouble. She can’t fix it. She can’t come after me and make everything better. There’s no possible way for her to do this.

The only person that can make things better is me.

And that is why I need to realise I’m alone. Because only when I realise I’m alone will I realise I must make the effort. Only then will the change be made.

Only when I realise that I’m alone can I begin to make our relationship work.

And if I don’t realise I’m alone? I’ll definitely end up so.

Tenaciously Open

Being Useless is both a positive thing and a negative thing.

Because, jobs are dependant upon you and Open Relationships are hard.

Relationships – in general – are hard work – if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be worth it. Open Relationships free you (read: me) from Jealousy, Betrayal and secrets. That doesn’t mean they are boundaryless. It also means they’re not  just about sex.

Boundaries still abound. Because whilst we are free, there is still a relationship.

Some open relationships have a strict no-tell policy: I don’t know what you do, you don’t know what I do – I just trust you to work at me and keep yourself safe.

Others have a strict – check-first-then-tell-all-after-and-I-better-like-them-too policy: I tell you whom to date and vice versa, and – if they’re open to it – let’s attempt a three-way-date!

We fit somewhere between the two, edging towards the latter. Recently, a paintball-selling-british-accented individual caused us to tear our boundaries into little shreds and realise we needed better ones.

It was quite hard. I’d stuck – not too happily – within our boundaries. I knew they were too restrictive, and probably should have been more forceful with them. Of course, Someone being Someone, she reached the boundaries, went “Oh, I see what he meant” and shattered them.

That hurt.

But when you believe you are absolutely useless and someone tells you “I’m so sorry, I hope you can forgive me, I love you and I miss you.”, you can’t help but know they actually mean it. It’s not like I had anything else to offer her.

And that is where it started – I reckon. When we started dating, it wasn’t easy. I was quite happy in my single life with my single problems and my single expenses and my single nights and my single joys. I can’t remember the last time I went for a random night drive for fun. Probably Last New Years.

So when I realised that I was hiding a heart-sized love behind 7 inches of lust – and discovered she’d fallen for me a while ago – the only thing to naturally do was safe-guard my achy breaky heart. And the best way to do that is to ensure that it can’t get shattered like a math-nerd shatters her degree (I’m not bitter, I promise).

To stop something shattering when it falls, you either put it on the ground or you cover it in protection. She’d cut through the protection, so I put myself on the ground and I said “I just want to make it clear that I have absolutely nothing to offer you but me.”

I think I might have gone about making that true.

And by making it true, I’ve taken my self-confidence – that casually gathered currency I worked so tirelessly toward last year – and stored it carefully below the floor.

And a low self-confidence is not helpful when you’re applying for a sales job. Especially one with a commission. Especially one that – if worked at tenaciously (I taught the sales manager – my interviewer – the word “tenacious” today. It was funny) – could lead to a salary that might be considered adequate by even my exacting standards.

And I’d get to drive everyday. Like, 500km-1000kms a week. Heaven.

Apparently, I come across as an educated and thoughtful person. The manager said his only concern was whether I had the tenacity to stick out a sales-pitch to the close. I believe I do. I think my writing has shown that – I have books for sale, I have more on the way, I wrote a novel in a month. He’ll let me know tomorrow if I’ve got the role.

My biggest concern is can I bring back the self-confidence? Can I do more than fake it? Can I really and truly love me?

I hope so. Because if I can’t, this job won’t suit me. But if I can, this job could be the best in the world.