Friday, November 28, 2008


Anyway to steer away from my previous topic for just a little while (don't worry that story is nowhere near done)...I think cohabitation of human beings is unnatural unless in familial or romantic relationships. Forcing two people of different backgrounds together is tricky business. My housemate in Sydney was a young gay guy, my age. It could've worked out fine, I'd known him most of my life. But sadly, it mostly definitely went downhill fast. Tempers and wills clashed. The psycho sleeping on our couch for three months didn't help. But thats a story for another time [Psycho was straight, housemate was in love with him. It was some kind of fucked up soap opera].

Anyway my point is, I'm looking for a housemate in the city, I'm very VERY cautious after my last experience. I have two possibilities right now.
One is very relaxed to the point I just want to wheedle out answers as to whether this is a serious viable option. He's an old school friend who's just moved in with his girlfriend. I can't say I know either of them well but our interests are similar and we're all pretty easy going. This friend is... somewhat of a modified hipster indy emo guy. I'm not sure about living with a couple, and Indy Emo insists we all get to know each other a little bit first. It's all very "lets see what happens".
The 2nd possibility I found out about through my sister in law's sister. Now (concentrate here, folks) my sister in law's sister's friend, lets call her Satin, is looking for a new lease and is desperate for a housemate. Problem? Well, she lives more than an hour out of the city. But its a sure thing. Also she emailed me today asking for all my detail so she could apply for the lease of properties! Full on stuff!

I talked to Indy Emo about it all and he made me laugh when he noticed the two different ways I could go here.
"On one hand, I'm very 'let's just all hang out and get a feel for the vibes and group dynamic, and see how we all feel, whether we're all relaxxxxeeddd once things mellow'. And on the other hand you have someone who needs a housemate, 'FILL OUT LEASE APPLICATION KTHXBYE' ".

Haha, long story short, I'm wondering whether its best to live WITH someone, or just merely in the same house. At least in this situation. Any advise?

Thursday, November 27, 2008


September 28, 2007. [Part 1]

I dress nervously. My strapless dress is too short, it rides up too easily. My bra straps are showing. I feel twitchy, I'm shy and uncomfortable. I slide on some black tights underneath the pleated skirt of the dress, and a shear blouse over the top. I think about putting my glasses on. I decide against it. My dress sense is somewhat quirky and I'm not sure what he'll think. He is....intensely sexual. The short skirt will impress, the tights will not. I wonder why I care.

After a few months of speaking on the phone, exchanging photos, he is driving to me. It's not a short drive, at nearly 5 hours. We've never met in person, but we've talked on the phone nearly daily. We only ever discuss sex, the parameters are clear here. We started keeping in touch after randomly coming into contact over the phone. I was hanging out a friends house, she had asked me to talk to her current love interest while she checked dinner. No, its not what you think, he asked me to speak to HIS friend while he went to the bathroom.

And that's how I met M, who's name was currently lighting up on my buzzing mobile.

"Are you here?" I don't even bother saying hello, we've been talking pretty much consistently for the last 2 days since he got back from interstate, except for when there was no phone signal on his trip. He had sent more photos that day, to reassure me that he was not, as he sometimes joked, actually 50-odd years old. His photography skills were poor, even for cellphone cameras, but there was no mistaking his strong features, messy, short sandy blonde hair and broad shoulders. I had told him without hesitation, "Start Driving". I don't know what I'm planning, how far I will go. M tells me he doesn't care what happens he just wants to meet me. I later realised he thought I was a sure thing. He may have thought correctly.

He asks whether he should pick me up, I decline, unwilling to give him my address (and yet somehow perfectly comfortable with meeting up with him alone?). We agree to meet at a bar. I suggest one that I think will make him feel more comfortable, a sports type bar that usually has plenty of live bands. He calls me minutes later, the pub is closed. It's a Sunday night before a public holiday, I had expected it to be open. I tell him I just pulled into the car park of another bar, its close by.

I recognize M's car, it's new. He told me about it yesterday. I walk around to the passenger seat. I notice he's wearing a t-shirt and cargo pants. Cool but casual, you could say. The look suits him, it looks comfortable but it compliments his lean, muscular footballer's body. We don't make it inside the bar. He takes a quick drive, we make idle chit chat. I act comfortable, talk confidently. I tell him he is infinitely more attractive than his photos. I call him hot. I am suprized at myself, the ease at which I interact to him. M is easily the best looking man that had ever been interested in me. The drive is short and the entire time my body is angled toward him, my eyes taking in every feature as his focus on the road. His arms are big, the tone evident as he grips the steering wheel. He has a workman's tan. It's all I can do to continue conversation when my eyes drift down his body. I find myself hoping that he is already getting hard. I want to turn him on. I am overly aware that it is completely superficial conversation. It's clear to me what this is. I want it anyway. He tells me he needs to check into his hotel room before it gets too late. I nod, telling him I'll come with him.

He collects his key, we make the short walk to the room. Once inside I take a seat opposite the bed. We chat a bit more, he comments that he likes what I'm wearing. I tell him about my style sense, how I used to be 'goth'. M laughs, joking that he didn't realize what he was getting into. His laugh is mischievous and sexy, I've heard that tone before. I'm suddenly aware that it's just me and M, alone, after all our late night and early morning talks. He has heard what my voice sounds like when I talk about the things I liked in bed with my ex. He knows the sounds I make when I orgasm. And he is here, complimenting my dress. I knew the length of it would be pleasing. Unconsciously I stand up, I think it's because I feel uncomfortable. Now that I've stood I have to do something, so I walk toward the bed where he is sitting, leaning on the headboard.

I lay down next to him.

M looks down toward me. "Hello".

I smile shyly and try to be nonchalant. "Do you know how much trouble I had deciding what colour underwear to put on tonight?"

His expression shifts, almost darkens. I think M realises where my mind has been all night. I love the look on his face. It's a little shocked, a little turned on but mostly, it's predatorial to the point of being menacing. But like everything else about him, its also intensely sexual.

"Fuck it!" he growls into my ear. It's said with a sense of abandonment, giving into me, realizing that I want him. He moves quickly, lowering his body onto mine, our lips crashing together. The first time M kisses me, I can feel him, hard, pressed against my thigh.

------------more to come------------------

A big part of this drifting thing has been casual sex. It doesn't really help you get anywhere, but it serves its purpose. It's taught me, kept me occupied, and helped me make little connections. I've even made good friend or two out of it. These kind of shenanigans will probably make a regular appearance here, it's something thats come up more than a few times in the last year the last year or so. It's influenced how I see myself and, in a way, changed what I want out of life and relationships.

To be honest I'm still not sure where I stand on the whole thing. I am not ashamed nor proud. I regret some things but for the most part, I've had fun. I've never known anyone to wish they'd experienced less.

Things I have been, in chronological order.

A child.
A loner.

A first love.
A runaway.
A first heartbreak.

An art student.
A cafe girl.
A housemate.
A pharmacy assistant.

Taken advantage of.
Over extended.
Home sick.
A quitter.

Back home.
A fling.
A waitress.
A bargirl.
A misanthropist.

A one night stand.
A lapsed enrollment.


I was gonna try do that in 10 words or less! It was hard. I wonder if anyone else can do better?

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Unless you're under your own steam, you're just debris - stuff floating.

There's always a point where things change. There's a shift and you're heading in a different direction. But sometimes you end up not going anywhere at all. It's a dislocation and a deviation from the road you were on.

I grow up, get older, find a broader view, but I don't necessarily get anywhere.

Nearly 3 years ago, my childhood home burnt down. It was the year I finished school.That was my dislocation, my point where things changed. Everyone has one. Hopefully you find yourself on a new track pretty quickly, otherwise you just end up drifting. That year, I moved out of home [here I refer to the concept, not the physicality]. I moved across the country for university and for a man I'd known a week.

It was pure reaction to dislocation
. For a while the force and shock of bouncing off the brick wall that had sprung up in front of me, propelled me in the opposite direction. There was momentum, and excitement - although it faded fast. Being disconnected means there's nowhere to land.When there's nowhere to move on from, you can't go anywhere.
Once the momentum faded I turned, found something i recognised, a flow I had been in before and let it take me back to somewhere I had a base [People who grew up in stagnant country towns will understand the spirit crushing feeling of 'going home']. That path deviated from everything I had planned, but it was the only footing I had, the only place I could touch the bottom.
I was going backwards.
I stalled and stood still.
Disconnected, unmotivated its easy to get off track. Unless you're under your own steam, you're just debris*. And I drifted, still barely connected to anything.

The thing about drifting, you don't go far but you will eventually run aground, you reconnect with something solid and it's never a gentle landing. Conveniently, you're usually 398443 miles away, in the wrong direction, in the middle of nowhere. But it's another footing, somewhere stronger to take off from. And at that point you look around, you stand up and see where you are, and where you can go.

I'm moving away again. I'm starting uni again. I stalled, became debris. I guess drifting has served it's purpose, making small connections and finding my base here. I'll always come back. But right now I have that momentum,and it needs to take me elsewhere first. Big fish in little ponds don't really go anywhere. Things are bleak when you're drifting but they're ugly if you're standing still.

Not all posts will be a serious load of self indulgent over thinking like this. Nor will they contain so much metaphorical frivolity. This is just my footing, so I know where I'm coming from and what I'm getting to.

*I stole that line from Tim Winton's Cloudstreet.