I’ve recently started seeing someone I will call Brighton boy. We met at a festival (where else to meet a potential suitor for myself?!) and I could tell he was a lovely, little soul. Initially there was no attraction there for me (I often make the mistake of falling in love with people’s personalities and interpreting that as sexual chemistry). Then later down the line realising it’s just them I love, not their penis, and end up losing a potential friend in the process. This time around I was determined not to let this happen.
“This is purely platonic yeah?” I brashly proclaimed when we had a moment alone together. He’d just broken up with his ex-girlfriend and had come down to London to see a ‘friendly face’.
“Of course,” he said. “Look darling, you’re an attractive girl, but I’ve come to hang out with you and more than happy for it to be that way. I wasn’t thinking of it like that anyway.”
Lo and behold at 6 in the morning, after countless amounts of red wine and fancy dress later, I retreated to my bedroom where my friend Jen and I cuddled and discussed our womanly needs. That is when the idea first floated around my head. ‘Is it a bad idea?’ I thought. ‘Meh fuck it, I want to.’
I said to Jen, “As soon as he walks in to this room it’s game on and you must leave.” And that is exactly what happened.
I won’t go in to too much detail but let’s just say I was somewhat astounded by the amount of chemistry that was there. For me, that is very very rare. Teamed with the fact that he was such a lovely soul, although slightly erratic, was surprising and refreshing. We spent the whole weekend together, Friday – Monday.
The following weekend was when I was in Budapest – a story for another time. I got back from Hungary early Tuesday and was flying to America that Friday. Brighton boy and I hadn’t planned on meeting officially that week but I was hoping he would come up to see me. I received a text on Wednesday from yours truly saying he would be up that evening, could he stop by for a bit, as he has to stay at his mates to accompany him to surgery the following morning (babe). I said yes of course, would he like dinner. He accepted. I prepared a summer veg green stir fry and left him a portion on the side. He said he was running late as per, but was out the door around 8:30, with no phone, and I had sent him the closest Overground stop to my house.
By about 10:30 I still hadn’t heard from BB. I had eaten my dins, washed up the pots from the preparation, and was sat watching Food Unwrapped (the lady in it is well annoying but I find it really interesting. This particular one was about Summer weight secrets – turns out pasta is actually a slow releasing carb due to the durum wheat and the process it goes through from dough to hard pasta. If you cook it al dente is when it is slow releasing- hence why Italian’s eat so much pasta and still stay so trim- wahaaay).
By about 11:30 and continuously checking my Facebook (I’m not a pathetic weirdo, I swear), there had been no contact. I reiterated to my room and brushed my teeth. Just in the nick of time before going to bed slightly disappointed (more disappointed that I had waited up as I was sleepy by around 10:15), he had just arrived at his mates as he wouldn’t have been able to make it due to Southern rail strikes and lack of phone / time.
I didn’t respond- not out of anger and annoyance, mainly because I was tired. I was slightly annoyed but only for the selfish reason of having wanted to see him and waiting up specifically for that reason. But not annoyed in the sense I would have ever brought it up or made a deal out of it cause shit happens and I get it.
I woke up to a bombardment of frantic messages from BB, hoping I wasn’t annoyed and that he’s not one of those guys. I responded saying I know he’s not just had to go to sleep once I saw the message and not to worry but I would love to see him this evening if he was still around. I went to work (my last day of Bell Tent for the summer !!!). Went to see my mate Jamie who was moving to Sweden whilst I was going to be away Stateside, so had a friendly obligation to say go say goodbye and briefly catch up. BB and I planned to meet in Clapham once I was done packing.
I arrived at around 11 pm. I was greeted by a pre-bought drink, and his mate Liam declaring “He got changed just for you!” BB looked very embarrassed. I was quite chuffed and took the piss out of him for it. We had some drinks with his mates, and then decided to go shop for all 4 of us, to drink red wine on the hill in Clapham common. We were gone a total of about 9 minutes (quick toilet stop in the pub next door), walked back to the hill and his mate had gone with his bag. After ringing him to find out where he was he seems pissed off we’d left him there (even though he was told we were buying booze for ALL of us) and that he’d left his bag in the street somewhere. He’d pin drop us his location (ehhhm, excuse meeeee?).
I was pissed off for BB. Who ACTUALLY does something like that?? Like a spoilt 4 year old child. “My mates have buggered off, so will I, and leave his bag in the street!!!” No. No reasonable adult would ever think of doing such a thing (I later learned that Liam was probably annoyed that we left because now he had to go home with his girlfriend instead of him being able to sneak off with a tinder date. Cue gag reflex. I think cheating men are the most vile creatures to walk the earth).
On our mission to find the bag left next to a phone box a 15 minute walk away, BB discussed Bestival and seeing our mutual friend who initially introduced us. L had found out through his girlfriend E (my little love) about BB and I. BB said “He had nothing but kind words to say about ya Aves.” I asked like what he said he didn’t really know me well but I was a lot of fun to have around and a lovely girl. And that he’d said I was promiscuous. At this point I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him head on.
“What do you mean he said that?” I was stunned. To what information did L have to even make that statement but through E. But not even that, as that would have been his interpretation of the information given to him by E. I felt I automatically had to explain myself. “That’s an unfair statement.”
“Oh darling don’t be annoyed, I honestly don’t care!” BB exclaimed.
“It’s not about that.” I said. “It’s a matter of principal. I’ve only slept with 3 guys this summer, one of which is yourself. One I met at Glastonbury and who doesn’t even live in this country, whom I have been seeing him intermittedly throughout the summer. The other I went to Budapest with and we had a great time, but that thing just wasn’t there for me.” I huffed and he apologised for having mentioned it.
“No don’t worry , it’s fine. And I’m glad you’re fine about it. But that’s the worst thing, what if you hadn’t been? Some people are REALLY not cool with that kind of thing. And I’ve just told you my summer , and I’m single and am I not allowed to do those things? 3 guys in a summer is not bad, that’s actually relatively well behaved for a fully single gal. And if a guy had been seeing 3 girls in one summer, or even in a month, no one would bat an eyelid.”
This is the point I am trying to make in this aggy rant. In this day and age, where equality is becoming better for our generation, especially in the way men view women (for the most part, let’s not massively generalise), not necessarily society itself, how is it still that a girl is deemed promiscuous for having 3 steady and stable flings of the course of a summer? But if a guy had 3 one night stands in a month, it’s not a thing. I am in desperate need of some enlightenment on this topic.
We discussed this for a while. BB said that perhaps for girls sleeping with guys, penetration makes it far more invasive. Therefore, even though it’s not ‘fair’ per say, perhaps we have an idea in our minds (or even subconsciously) that that is worse than guys sticking it wherever. I could see this point, but it still didn’t make it OK. It’s our bodies, and we should be allowed to do what we want with them, as equals, and without being dubbed a slut. I think this is an outdated and ridiculous point to still be making.