I fell in love with a guy who took photos of graves
He was beautiful and studied graves and probably said intelligent things, which mostly never registered because when he talked I mostly was just nodding my head, wanting to have sex with him, probably not really understanding anything he said.
He would be like "blah blah blah random book blah blah blah random war blah blah blah grave." If I didn't want to have sex with him so much, I probably would have tried to follow along more. The stuff he said about books was confusing. I'm semi-illiterate due to not having an attention span that allows reading. Everytime he talked I just wanted to lick him. It made following his long diatribes about graves challenging.
One day he was traveling to a foreign land far, far away (to take pictures of graves) and I was bored and unemployed and had extra money at the time and asked if I could tag along
He said sure
When I got there, my first night, we both got drunk and he wanted to crash in my room at the hotel I had gotten
As we were getting ready to fall asleep, he asked if I wanted to snuggle
But I knew he would never love me because I'm ugly and strange so I told him no, since I didn't want to fall for him and get hurt.
If I were a little cuter and less strange, I think he might have liked me enough to stay, but I was only good enough for a one night stand or occasional pity fuck, and I knew it. He didn't really like me that much.
We knew each other for a long time before that and did have sex before that and he had been very mean to me at times, probably intentionally but perhaps not, some of the meanest stuff he claimed to not remember. He always thought I was gullible, and often pointed that out in different ways.
There's a possibility I am wrong and if we had fucked that night we would have ended up together.
I never fell out of love with him but everything in my life deteriorated, in this incredible downward spiral, and still deteriorates, and one day, I'll be in a grave and won't think about him. Perhaps he'll take a photo of it.
Perhaps he'll read this and recognize it's him one day when he's much older and I am dead. I haven't died yet, but I expect by the end of the decade I'll end up in some hotel room, doped up and on the precipice of death, whispering and cursing his name before overdosing, wishing I had never met a guy so pretty who liked graves.
I have this warped fantasy in which the war gets worse and we both flee and end up back in the same place we visited to avoid fallout. Many people die and he has fewer options. He ends up settling for me and fucking me so hard and so much that it semi-cures my ADD and I can finally follow what he's saying.
Yeah, I've made that mistake too. Thing is, if you really mean it then waiting until they say those words to you first kinda feels dishonest and manipulative. Like, if you're feeling that crazy feeling it makes you want them to know exactly how you feel and be able to give informed consent to falling in love. You want them to know how you feel because you don't want to be intense and creepy when they maybe think it's just a fling. You want you words to maybe unlock part of them that feels the same way.
A good suggestion is to not say it during or right after sex in a new relationship.
So yeah, I've fucked up too by saying 'i love you'. But I've also said it first and started a relationship that was maybe the best I've had.
I dunno, I guess I think that when you love someone honesty is the best policy. It won't always work out and when it fucks up you'll be hurting - but you'll at least know you were being open, not hiding stuff.
I hope those words have worked out better for you since!
This story is about 20 years old so the exact details are a tad fuzzy.
I was a somewhat awkward kid in high school, when i was around 14-16 i was on a family vacation and was walking through the hotel lobby to go to the beach for a night walk.
I ran into a group of like 3 or 4 girls my age or a tad older and we started talking.
After a little while of chatting it up one girl asked to see my wallet, odd request but whatever, im an awkward teenager chatting with a group of girls i thought was attractive.
As she is inspecting my wallet she asks "where do you keep your condom in your wallet?"
I proudly told her (like my parents always warned me) "you shouldn't keep a condom in your wallet b/c it can cause it to rip"
That kind of killed the conversation for them so after a few more minutes I went on down to the beach.
It didnt hit me until I was close to 30 why she was asking where i kept a condom in my wallet...
I was moving to Florida with a friend and he warned me about his friends girlfriend who would also be living with us. "She's a slut, she'll try to sleep with anyone." So one day after being there a wile I'm woken up by someone climbing on my bed and I think "goddamn it not this" and immediately jump up.
It was that guys hot sister that was into me until I bugged out there...
I don't see why that moment was unsalvagable, the whole back story not withstanding, people get startled when woken, and it's usually only momentary. Were there no words spoken or anything?
It was so long ago I don't remember exactly what I said but things just seemed awkward after that. I tried to show interest after that but it was never reciprocated lol
Man, it depends on how you think fucking up a chance is. Long story ahead, warning.
So, I was raised by hippies. My dad is/was a country as fuck hippie, but still. So I had access to the library of two laissez-faire parents. This meant I was rather precocious about some things.
Which matters a little in the story.
My mom was a stay at home mom until I was in high school. She got a pretty shitty job, but made friends.
This included a lady that was maybe two years older than me (and I was legal in our state), and gorgeous. I'm talking she could have been a pinup model. Curvy, with these soft, gentle blue eyes and non-bottle blonde hair that was like silk.
Needless to say, I was rather happy to have this lady visiting often.
It turned into her sometimes visiting when my mom wasn't home (which started happening more since there was a rift between my parents) and hanging out with me.
Now, I was not the suave and sophisticated motherfucker I am today, but I did have some game. And I was not an idiot about everything. So as the flirting escalated on both sides, we were both quite aware that it was going to end in something spectacular. I didn't know if it would be just sex, or something more intense, but we were two trains heading towards each other with no brakes.
Annnd, it didn't happen.
My mom fucking cock blocked me. No bullshit, she decided to make her friend swear to not date or have sex with me. Since this woman was a good sort, she promised and kept her word. But, since she was a good sort, she told me the truth when she called a stop to things.
Words were had with my mom lol. Which, I'm not getting into her reasoning beyond saying that it was not a reason I consider a good one even more than thirty years later after being a parent myself. That's a whole different story.
Anyway. Years pass, and there's always this fire between me and this lady. It's a small town, so we would run into each other regularly when I'd come into town to visit (I had moved to a nearby city for a while). But it never happens.
And then I moved back home. Moved into the family home in specific. Which is another long story, but not relevant here.
So, my mom was in the process of moving out at that time, and dragged that process out for two years lol. But her friend would still visit, and that fire started burning harder and higher.
There was a kiss on my birthday. I was asleep, and she came to wish me well. I had been sleeping. And I saw her angel face when I woke up, and damn. I just pulled her into me and our lips melted into each other. Other than my wife and when we finally met in person, it is the best kiss I had ever been involved in. Fucking choirs were singing hallelujah.
But she had made a promise. That my mom refused to let go of.
So, some more time passes, my mom moves out, and I'm in the process of buying the family home (another long and boring story). I get a call. It's her, calling from a bar saying she's had too much to drink and be able to drive. So I go get her.
She doesn't want to go to her home, for good reasons. So I bring her to ours. She says ahe wants to get drunk, and would I take care of her while she did. I'm Mr fucking sober buddy (for real, I'm known for it), so I agree.
There's flirting, there's some serious conversation about the situation, but there's mostly just us playing cribbage and bullshitting. Why? Because cribbage was what she wanted to play. No idea why, she couldn't give one.
She gets to the level of drunk that I would have cut her off for safety's sake. She passes out on the couch, I get her into a safe position, and set an alarm in the next room to check on her in a half hour. I figured if she was fine then, I could sleep and she'd be fine.
Well, she was fine, and I turned in. Only to be waken up as she's climbing into bed with me. She's mumbling something, and kinda pushes her bottom against me before passing back out.
Now, I can not state clearly enough how good she felt next to me. Soft, warm, and even under the bourbon, she smelled divine. Just her personal scent, no perfumes. Maybe a hint of her soap. She was in her underwear. My body reacted. It reacted strongly.
But, even though I have never been perfect, one thing I have never done is take advantage of someone like that. Never have, never will. So I put a pillow between us, cuddled up, and went to sleep.
She was gone when I woke up.
We lost contact. Or, more truthfully, she wouldn't return calls, and this was before cell phones, so there wasn't the same immediacy of knowing that someone is deciding not to answer as there is now. She could have been busy and not at home. But after a bit, I gave up and figured that something had happened where she didn't want contact, and left it at that.
Except. Small town.
We ran into each other maybe a year later. A little awkward, but I just waved and smiled, and left it at that. No pressure, that's another thing I've never liked doing.
But she calls a few days later, wants to talk.
She tells me that she's sorry. Not for ghosting me (that wasn't a common term then, I didn't even hear it for years after that), but for being so horrible that I didn't want to have sex with her that night!
She had gotten tipsy with the intention of losing enough control to not care about her promise. Once she got home with me, and I'm being Mr fucking sober buddy, she thought I was not into her, so she got more drunk to make a move herself.
And, here's the kicker. When she climbed into bed with me, she wanted me to have sex with her. That was the entire goal of the evening, and she genuinely thought it was a good idea that she get so drunk that she wouldn't feel bad for it happening. Then, when I didn't rape her in her sleep (which is what it would have been, in my mind then, and still is now), she thought I was too disgusted by her drinking to want her at all.
The lady did have some issues, obviously.
I reassured her that I had wanted her from the first time we met, and it had never changed. But I was a little upset, and asked her if she really thought I was the kind of person that would do that to someone. And she said "that's just how men are".
Which says it all, doesn't it? Kinda encapsulates the kind of life some people suffer through, to be left with that as something that they not just accept as part of an ugly world, but think it's normal and that it's okay. She really was hurt that I didn't want to have sex with her while she was unconscious.
It was a long conversation after that. But she was with someone, and as much as I cared about her, and still wanted her, I was fine with that being the end of it. I still can't wrap my head around the dissonance of her thinking I could do that. Like I said at the beginning of this, I was precocious. So I was not shy about discussion sex casually, and had talked about sexual issues with her. Drunk sex had come up in conversation. I had said I wouldn't be comfortable with it since it just felt skeevy. So it wasn't like the matter was new to the both of us.
Hell, I had even clearly stated in one conversation back when I was still in high school that my biggest turn on is being wanted. Not just in a casual sense, but being actively desired. There's a magic in it for a big, hairy dude, and I was big and hairy even then. Not many of my peers were into dating a damn sasquatch, you dig?
So, I don't know that I fucked up the chance. I kinda think she did. But I guess it counts.
Surely you could blame it on your mom. But it was not your mom, or you. It was her.
Ultimately it was her who decided to "honor" some stupid bullshit promise. She is an adult.
If the love of my life shows up, and her parents say "promise us you will never date her," and she says "but I love you!" FUCK THE PARENTS. I'm marrying that woman. She didn't say "fuck Cheradenine's mom," welp, that's on her.
Plus you did the right thing with the drunken part. I've been in your position. I don't take advantage of impaired people.
Agree. She fucked up. She made a promise she did not want to honor and didn't have to maturity to do anything other than getting so drunk she wouldn't care
You did the right thing. The only way in hell I would even consider having sex with a drunk/passed out person is if I had their full and enthusiastic consent received while stone cold sober. Intoxicated consent is not consent, and its a shame how our culture normalizes that shit or shames people into thinking that the only way they can do something with a 'good conscience'. Which is funny, considering they're intentionally putting themselves in a situation where they would then be taken advantage of instead of just talking about it like adults.
I fucked up a lot of potential relationships by being too horny, and a lot of potentially fun hookups by being too serious. But it all worked out in the end.
There are places where I have such a negative reputation (for a mixture of things that are non-issues and things out of my control) that I can mess up my chances simply by mentioning who I am. I've been told before things like "good work girl, we'd love to have you, what's your name" and I respond and they're like "WHAT?!? Oh would you look at that, my biscuits are burning!" and I never see them again.
Worse I'm afraid. If we were going by a ratio of people who don't mind me versus people who do, trading places with her would sound attractive as an idea.
Yeah. It can be seriously annoying to have people judge you for who you were once, or maybe never was even. Often other people's perceptions are not accurate descriptions of who any of us really are.
Some skinny girl climbed into my lap at a college house party. I was very fucked up. For some reason, I thought a good thing to say was, "Why not, I've fucked fatter chicks." She immediately got up and we never spoke again. No clue why I said that. I never even got her name, which is a shame, because I'd like to apologize.