The first weekend Alexander spends at mine

The rain pattered noisily on the velux windows above us this morning; above a replete pair recumbent in each others’ arms.  I marvelled at how I welcomed Alexander’s embrace and felt nothing but a deep fondness for him at that moment.  He had been attentive and enthusiastic in his efforts last night – so much so that a few slats under the bed had come apart and clattered to the floor when we were in mid-congress.  Being not in the least distracted we carried on until he eventually climaxed.  I couldn’t help thinking that it was a rather extended session and he apologised also for taking so long at it.  It was then that I asked him whether, in the past few dates that we had had, he had taken anything to enhance his sexual performance.  He said that he had but not last night.  I was gratified later that morning that sans artifice, he succeeded in clearing two more hurdles with a little rest in between, before we finally got up.

Earlier the previous afternoon we’d had a date involving a walk on Hampstead Heath, getting caught in the rain on the way back to the car via a coffee stop.  When we got back  to mine, we had some wine and began preparations for the meal Alexander had promised to cook for me, and as it turned out, for the rest of the people at home too.  Finishing a bottle of red between us, he at the stove and I as general kitchen helper, washing up and putting some music on in between chatting to him and anyone else who came into the kitchen, drawn by the lovely aroma of chorizo, chicken, paprika and mirepoix cooking, I was more than a little merry by the time we all, five of us sat down to dinner.  I liked how easily he slipped into my weekend routine on this, his first meeting with some members of my family.

Knowing how close he was to his mother – he had once said that she was now like a good mate to him with the mere two decades between them, and her retaining a fairly youthful outlook – I’d asked him if he had mentioned me to her and what she thought of his dating me.  He had previously told me that he thought we might get on as we seem to have similar ideas about relationships and independence.  I was, of course, flattered at being compared favourably to someone who was significant to him.  He hastened to add that she  respected his choices and never sought to influence them directly.  He said that she had admired the way I told him from the beginning about my non-monogamous lifestyle.  This led to a discussion of his still tentative view of it, and a confession on my part that far from being an ethical slut, he was the only man I was currently seeing since Jan is far too busy with his gf and Ewan was so far away in the Highlands.   I still retain my liberal belief that relationships should not be shackling whilst being quite content at the moment to date him exclusively.  He was uncertain whether he might feel intense jealousy at the thought of me with another man but respected my lifestyle choice.

We each confessed to the increasing warm feelings we felt for one another, whilst establishing that we were comfortable with the boundaries we set out – respecting the time apart between dates, how unnecessary to be too needful of physical contact, the necessity of maintaining our own privacy and independence and so on.

I’m determined not to repeat past mistakes – of rushing ahead or making dates into the future – and so when we said our goodbyes at 11 this morning, we only made one tentative date for the middle of next week.   He told me he had a footie event he was attending with his friend on Tuesday evening and I quite welcome the idea that I would regain more time for myself next week.  He had asked me about the big five oh, when my birthday was on and whether I’d anything arranged.  I was almost tempted to invite him to celebrate it with me but held back because it is still two months away and a lot could happen in that time.  He seemed to appreciate this without my having to articulate my feelings on it, moreover he must be quite aware by now that I pretty much do things on an adhoc basis.

unethically non-monogamous

I’m currently a non-monogamous fraud.  Apart from Ewan who lives too far away, Max and his pull/push dating modus, and Jan busy with life and his gf, I have only pretty much been seeing A quite exclusively.  The other new men have fallen off the edge and I spend the evenings eating jelly or drinking some red, and text flirting with A.  I know I have swept him off his feet.  I know he likes the fact that I am independent and shoot from the hip and the complete opposite of needy.  I know because he tells me that is what he likes about me.  I know because now I can just tell.  So I think nothing of initiating chats with him and suggesting stuff to do on our dates.  He knows that I have dated a few people concurrently in the past and I don’t let on the fact that some of these men have faded away into the background recently as I don’t want him to think that I am sort of dating him exclusively – in case it freaks him out.  I do admit that my dating plate is full and that I don’t feel the need to meet anymore new lovers.  He tells me that he too feels the same, although we both know that he has only just started this dating malarkey and I am the only one he is involved in any form of how’s your father – an interesting euphemism which we both found had its origins in Victorian times, humorously related in the urban dictionary

According to Michael Kelly, a writer and historian in New Zealand, “the origin of the expression ‘how’s your father’ can be traced back to Victorian times. In those days any man with a daughter was so protective of her virtue that he would take extraordinary measures to safeguard it. Unmarried girls would be kept within the bosom of their family as much as possible, chaperoned on excursions, and on those occasions when they were let out of bounds for social events, their fathers would often accompany them discreetly by hiding underneath their voluminous skirts ready to pounce on any man who transgressed the bounds of propriety. 

However, a father with more than one daughter couldn’t be everywhere at once. Thus, a suitor having a discreet vis-a-vis with his beloved would cautiously ascertain her father’s whereabouts by asking, ‘And how is your father?’ If her father was currently under her skirts, she would glance downwards and reply, ‘My father is very well, thank you, and as alert and vigorous as ever, and maintains his interest in rusty castrating implements.’ Her beau would then say, ‘I have always had the greatest respect for your father, and of course for you. Let us hold hands and think about the Queen for a while.’ If, on the other hand, her father was elsewhere, she would reply, ‘The mad old bastard is currently stationed between my sister Constance’s thighs. Let us go into the garden and rut like stoats.’ 

Hence, ‘How’s your father’ became a euphemism for you-know-what.”

by BethBracken October 25, 2007

It was inevitable then that any mention of gardens or stoats had us both in hysterics – our merriment might have been aided by some red wine and the newness of this relationship.  It’s too early to tell how long it will last and after the last debacle over J I am suspicious of these warm feelings – they can cool quite rapidly.  I am now also happily recording this blog without feeling the need to share it with A, and resisting the urge to invite him to be a part of my social media network.

Goran says goodbye

Having been distracted royally by crushes, I had left Goran far far behind.  When he got in touch once in a blue moon this year I was happy enough to see him.  We got on well, but his domestic and dating life were just as fraught as when I first knew him.  More recently he had been dating a buxom young thing, so young in fact that she was in the high risk category for a particular STD – chlamydia – rife amongst the under 25s apparently.  So of course he too succumbed but was sufficiently gentlemanly to alert me to his woeful state of health.  Fortunately we had been cautious in our few intimate encounters this year that my foray back to a sexual health clinic brought forth happy negative news.

We continued our occasional chats over the virtual ether, met once for dinner and then he said that the recent STD scare was enough for him to decide on giving up the polyamorous lifestyle.  I wished him and his missus bonne chance and realised that that may have been the last time I heard from him.

Sex only, please

A recap of the week – met up with Tomas – not much happened apart from some sensuous stroking of each other’s naked bodies.  Some alcohol was imbibed – he’d brought champagne, which tasted delicious drunk from various parts of the other’s body.  No one interrupted our afternoon tryst and we said goodbye at the end of it.

Someone new, just a few months older than me wrote from the dating app and he seemed interesting enough for me to suggest a first and then second meeting. He had lived in Russia a couple of times which was experience enough to modify his initial (militant!) left-wing leanings.  Anyway, we fell into bed together almost from the beginning, at the end of the first date in fact; after the hit and miss, mostly miss efforts of Julius and Tomas, I was in sore need of some real action in the bedroom department.  This new man was keen and happy enough to be thus employed and it was a welcome break not having to worry about the complication of emotional connection.  I liked how he aroused me and was gratified that he proved sufficiently virile to initiate sex and orgasm no less than four times overnight.  We made a third date next week and perhaps it will become an almost certain pattern of once or twice a week, until I tire of him, or he me …  who knows.  I hesitate to give him a name, but ever the optimist that this may last a little longer than the usual, it would be apt I think if we all knew him as Alexander.

Getting over the crush

I made the mistake of agreeing that Julius could come back to mine when I should have told him not to.  He’d bought me dinner and I’d felt under an obligation.  In future I should listen to my intuition.  It had been a stressful beginning to the week at work and it had only been Tuesday when we met in the afternoon, initially for an afternoon only date as he had told me that he was seeing one of his old girlfriends in the evening, but then suddenly he said he was free in the evening also and would buy dinner, etc..  I had hoped that it would have been relaxing re-visiting the Soane, especially since they had only opened the kitchens to the public.  But I hadn’t been able to get away straight after work, and with meetings and whatnot it was a struggle even to meet at the appointed time.  In the end I arrived before him and due to the sweltering humidity, decided to descend into the cool of the basement, having sent J a message to say I’d meet him downstairs.

After fifteen minutes I realised he hadn’t received my message and returned outside to find him practically wilting in the heat.  Eventually we both went round the house again and when it closed had an ice cream each at the cafe in the fields.  It cooled down by half six and we decided to walk up towards the Dolphin pub off Judd Street, stopping off at the Ship’s Tavern en route.  Julius had always brought his previous dates to the Dolphin and we enjoyed an authentic Thai meal cooked by a Thai chef.

He didn’t ask me if I was comfortable with him returning to my place with me when the meal ended and I was too tired and  frazzled to be able to coherently broach the subject on my own.  If he had, as he had done in the past, I might have been able to explain why I preferred to be alone.  So, he followed me home and I was cross with myself; try as I did not to appear so, I snapped at him a few times.   For example, I thought him discourteous when he tapped the end of his glasses against my knee to make a point, in disagreement.  Instead of laughing it off, I withdrew my leg.  He immediately apologised which set my teeth on edge!  I felt incredibly unreasonable at my displeasure, which made me resent him even more!

And so I am now reluctant to make another date with him.  He has written to me on various social media apps suggesting various outings, until finally on email I wrote him a considered reply explaining that I had made a few dates with other men but was not keen to see him until the appointed holiday.  I do hope that by not being together, coupled with the anticipation of a break, I might enjoy his company again.  Otherwise, horror of horrors, there’d be two more dates, all the way to November to endure!