That burst my bubble!

Collapsing into a sweaty, weak-kneed heap after yet more bedroom (and lounge) gymnastics with Iain I’m feeling pretty sated and content as his arm snakes around my waist and holds me tight. Earlier that evening we’d chatted a bit about my ex and the fact that he is apparently now schtupping the lady who took quite a dislike to me on the evening Iain and I first went home together. This distresses me quite a bit as she’s not a very nice person, but what can I do? This is the first of any intimacy he’s had since we split several years ago as far as I’m aware so in a way I’m glad… but he could do so much better!

Besides, I’m not such a hypocrite that I’m going to get too hung up on his forays into her knickers; let’s return to the matter in hand. Iain and I had been talking about who knew what we were up to and who we thought might suspect. I asked if he had told his most recent ex, as I know they are very close, but sadly it just didn’t work out between them. I really wish I hadn’t mentioned her. Picture the scene: we’re both naked, coated in a light sheen of coital sweat, his large frame wrapped around me in a secure and tight spoon and his lips almost touching the nape of my neck as he talks about how he definitely wouldn’t tell his ex about what we were up to, as he still hoped to get back with her once she’s sorted her head out. He’s aware and has been told by friends that her hot/cold behaviour is stringing him along, but he can’t help but be strung. He hopes deep down to one day have children with her, to build a life together, though he’s quite aware of how unlikely that is currently.

Ow. That hurt. Why does that hurt?

As I’ve said before I don’t want to build a relationship with this man, I just really enjoy the sex. Suddenly though I feel very different. I want to gather my clothes from the floor and go home then and there. But it’s 5am and that would be just a little melodramatic, especially as I’m not sure yet why I’m upset. In the morning I snuck out while he was still asleep and instead of the usual lightness I have in my step when leaving his flat, I hung my head in sadness. It all feels a bit similar to Dateboy telling me about how he thought he might love his American friend (another post-coital conversation) and Bunny saying he’s thinking of becoming a one-woman guy… I’m starting to think that there’s a difference to fucking someone who has no ties to fucking someone who’s in love with someone else. It shouldn’t make any difference but it does. In the space of 5 minutes I’d lost all of that confidence I got from Iain, the inner vixen is curled in a ball crying at yet another perceived slight. Perhaps I am postponing reality when getting intimate with these men: playing the role of a cherished woman. Once I know their heart belongs to someone else I don’t seem to be able to continue suspending disbelief.

Now I feel dirty and used, and a little sorry for Iain, who will have woken alone not knowing why, and will almost certainly be refused any further access to my goodies with no explanation. What would I tell him? That my ego’s too fragile to cope with even the tiniest of knocks?

I need to work on this, toughen up. Yet all I want to do is be someone’s precious.

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