If you’re not Welsh or even if you are, you probably don’t know that today is St Dwynwen’s Day. A quick Wikipedia search will fill you in on what the day actually means, if you’re at all interested, but ultimately it is the Welsh equivalent to Valentines Day, with not even a fraction of the latter’s commercial representation. It’s a day I’ve never really given much thought to, mainly because I’ve never been particularly patriotic; the only time I remember feeling proud to be Welsh was when my ex told me a Welsh man broke his arm in prison. St Dwynwen is the Welsh saint of lovers, although seemingly she was just as unlucky in love as she was in the name department and couldn’t marry the man she loved so went all religious instead. I’m not sure I’m quite at the stage of joining a nunnery just yet, although stranger things have happened.
What pains me the most as a Welsh person is that basically I get two Valentine’s Days and yet am still so massively unlucky in love that my own mother laughed out loud when I asked her if she thinks I’ll ever end up getting married. Attracting a man for sex is no hardship for most women and if sex was fruit, I could get my recommended five daily portions and then some before I’d even made it to the fridge, but sex is sex. use to fuck all the time, sometimes for fun, sometimes for a lift home, sometimes because I was bored but as I’m getting older I’m realising that what I thought Andre 3000 said about sex always being better when there’s feelings involved is true (I’ve just googled the lyrics and what he actually said was “separate’s always better when there’s feelings involved”, which is the exact opposite to what I’ve always thought). I’ve had so much sex and yet could count on one hand how many men I feel I’ve actually “clicked” with sexually, that I’ve thought about after they’ve gone and whose memories of which I have stored up in my “spank bank” for future reference.
I get a fair few messages on social media from men asking “how are you still single?” and the truth is, I don’t bloody know. I think I’m a catch, I’m sorry but its true. I scrub up alright, I’m bright, I’m witty and people always, always like me. I don’t even mean sexually; I pride myself on my ability to get on with EVERYONE and love a good chat yet relationships just never seem to be on the cards for me. Recently I’ve had two encounters with men I saw/see potential with and now, who knows?
The first guy I met two years ago on a night out. We slept together that same night because fuck it (literally) but apart from some excellent sex, we actually really got on. We stayed in touch, Whatsapping constantly, but despite assuring me he really liked me, he could just never seem to get it together to put some time aside to see me. I’m many things but a fool I am not (anymore) and so I cut off our communication numerous times yet somewhere along the line would always get back in touch with him because ultimately we DID get on and I did like him. Plus, I always like a bit of phonesex with someone I’ve already had sex with. Much more realistic.
Before Christmas I cut him off for good, deleted his number and pretty much forgot all about him. Then out of the blue he rung me a few weeks ago and we were on the phone for two hours – which is the longest I’ve ever spoken to a man without trying to make him cum – while he explained how he felt about me. He said knew he’d messed up and was just really open and communicative about why he’d held back and how there were a lot of things we needed to talk about face to face. I felt like we’d really potentially moved forward so a few days later I messaged him and asked if we should meet up and talk face to face.
“Dunno, could do”.
As it turns out, 2019 is the Chinese year of the pig, so I’ve now blocked that ignorant pork brain, for good. No more time shall I waste on utter time wasters this year.
Another much more recent encounter was with another guy that I genuinely like. We had a weekend away together, which was a lot of fun, and now my brain is all in a pickle because I like him but I don’t know if he likes me the same and yadda yadda yadda. We had a good time together and the sex is good and I mean “absolutely A+, 5 star, leave an excellent review on TripAdvisor” kinda good. I think because I do have the start of some potential feelings for him, the intimacy during the sex is what really gets me off. I mean don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all mouth kisses and emotion – I got all dressed up in my fishnet dress and begged him to get a little rough with me, too – but I feel like the missionary position gets a bad rep and it’s actually one of my favourites. I don’t know if this is because most men always want to take me from behind – they blame it on my arse but I know that that position feels good on any woman – but having a man on top of me, feeling his weight and having that intimacy of so much skin on skin, that feeling of being so close to them and still not being able to get enough, of being able to kiss the person and having them suck on my neck does a hell of a lot more not for me than relentless doggy style. Missionary doesn’t have to be “boring” either; you can have the woman wrap her legs around you, or open them wide and push her hips up to meet you to ensure a deeper thrust or even put legs straight up in the air. Men seem to like that position too.
At one point during our time together, we got onto the subject of relationships and the like. I was a bit tipsy and can’t fully recall the whole conversation but it was, in part, about my job and how the men I meet must process it and have to deal with it. At one point he said “why would a man want to deal with the stress of his friends and family knowing about what you do, when there’s so many other women out there who he wouldn’t have to worry about?”. Written down there’s no way to make it sound like it wasn’t said maliciously and the way I’ve phrased it probably doesn’t help but he was speaking hypothetically – at least, I hope he was – but it still put a downer on things for me. Doesn’t he know I ask myself the same question all the time? Clearly he hasn’t read my blog, which might be for the best, but yeah, I ask myself that a lot too. I know men don’t take me seriously, to the point where I almost don’t expect them to anymore. I’m also kind of gutted that I never locked in a male friend to agree to absolutely marry me if we hit 30 and are both still single. I’m 29 this year so perhaps there’s still time for that? We’ll see who’s laughing then, MUM.