Sexual Secrets

16 01 2009

The last few months my blog has lapsed, not simply because I did not have time, or I did not want to write, but more so because I did not want to share what I was doing.

I make a lot of mistakes, I have always been honest about the legendry fuck ups I make in my life. More so, I put myself out here for all to judge me and wear the clueless to real life award I gave myself on my sleeve like a protection from having to be sensible.

We all know how I felt when I could not find work, being in a strange country alone is hard enough without being in one where you can’t make your rent payments and because of your lack of money the social life that you have created falls by the wayside, so the loneliness that you can feel anyway from being far away from all that is familiar becomes tenfold when the make-shift family (your friends) are out of the loop of your life.

I have mentioned before on here that I had started doing phone sex as a way to make money. Its not something I ever thought about doing but the more I tried to find work and the more I found nothing the more I began to feel that I was going to have to return to the UK with my tail between my legs so I resisted. I spent days/weeks on the internet trying to find jobs or other ways to make money when I came across a site that told me about being a Phone Sex Operator, it seemed that it was money for nothing and through the site I managed to build some fantastic friendships with the women who were doing the same job.

Despite peoples stereotypes these women are not sexual deviants sitting at the end of a line playing with themselves, more often than not they are family based women who are trying to earn some extra money while their children are in bed. Nor are they finding the work a turn on, its more like lets turn Eastenders down in the background or surf youtube while we listen to say the right things at the same time, granted an imagination helps a lot, so does knowledge of fetishes (I know so much more than I ever thought I would and trust me, not even half of them are something I personally would find a sexual turn on.

But and here goes my shameful secret, through doing this I found out that I could earn more money by going one step further, and always the girl to take the next step without thinking I went ahead and did it. In the space of three weeks I had moved on from just ‘supplying’ phone sex to taking my clothes off on webcam.

And this is when it gets grainy, at first I didn’t feel anything, I was like a robot going through the motions, I could smile and pretend I was enjoying it while my mind was completely elsewhere, my only fear was that someone I knew might see me – that to me was the ultimate in humiliation – but as the months passed something changed, I knew I could not do it long term, simply because I did not have the personality for it. I have never hid the problems I face with promiscuously, how I switch from sleeping around to being an ice queen, how I battle with faithfulness, how I fail a lot when it comes to being intimate, for someone who is desperately crying out for someone to not only want to be intimate with me but respect me also and care about my mind I don’t put myself in enough situations to receive anything but casual sex.

Webcam for me is the same, at the beginning – I will not lie here – as much as I did not find it a turn on, listening to people tell me how amazing I looked, how sexy my body is, how pretty my face, how desirable the way I moved or my accent was, was enough to make me feel ten feet tall. I am not really an in-love with myself girl, I have a fake confidence sure but inside I am a quivering wreck. So many compliments made me feel special. How naïve can I be.

The thing is now, now I hate it, now I think of these men, think of myself and feel nothing but disgust. I have been away for three weeks, I went back to the UK, I felt happy and it was nice to have some familiarity and feel so much warmth after the bleakness of the last few months but now I am back home in Spain and with no hope of finding a job here yet (probably not until the tourist season starts in March) I am left with continuing to do this until then.

Unless, unless I make another decision.

A friend of mine is in Canada and she is urging me to go home to the UK apply for my year Visa (you have to be in the UK to do this) and go out there for a year. I would need to be in the UK while my application is going through and also because I would need to temp or get a short term job for a few months to get enough money together to cover my expenses.

I have a lot to think about, and I guess as the weeks pass you will go through my decision process with me, but I just wanted to catch you up with what is going on. And hope that you will not judge me.



14 01 2009

I am a rainbow.

Ever disappearing, every colourful, ever elusive. I have no beginning for you to find or an end where you can find that much-wanted pot of gold. Instead I glow only when the weather changes and for a moment I am bright then I fade until its time again for me to show the vibrancy of my colours.

We are all rainbows, our beginnings do not need to be found as we have no beginnings, while the start was a time it matters not when our present is where we are and our ends cannot be found as they are not yet there, we have no end, our end is simply not yet decided.

I am not completely forgotten, sometimes those I care about deeply forget me, lose me as they walk the twists and turns of the maze that represents their own lives but in which I am not walking with them. Sometimes I make myself become forgotten as I take turns in my own maze that they do not understand and cannot accept. Sometimes I forget myself when the world seems to be in nothing except darkness and my eyes are not yet trained to look through the pitch black of the night.

There are times when I forget through my own laziness or being too busy with other things to clean my windows and mirrors and then I wonder why my view or my reflection of myself becomes murky and unclear. When the view is not pristine I become too involved in my own doubt to step back and realise that all I need to do is simply take a cloth and clean what I have forgotten to so then my view is clear again.

I am not an ogre that lives under the bridge waiting to pounce on small children or hurt others intentionally, nor am I am Angel flying above with only the need to protect others with no need to look at my own self and see if she needs protecting. My world is not black and white, it has many shades of red and grey and pink and purple, shades that may not be shared in other peoples worlds but are a part of me.

I am not fixed, not cured, nor maybe do I need to be fixed or cured, maybe my own growth is simply slower or faster or in different directions to others.

My choices are both right and wrong. My mistakes are not always mistakes. My lessons are not always learned.

I am a rainbow.

This Seasons Man?

13 10 2008

You know every couple of months (Ok I am lying make that weeks … days even) I change what kind of man I want, city-boy, rich- boy, gypsy-boy, earthy-boy, work-with-his-hands boy, I dribbled over the idea of a hippy-boy until I met current squeeze.

Now being jobless and really needing either work or free money my imagination is soaring to bar-owning boy or to the other extreme gangster-boy (actually they could be one and the same here in Spain). So what is a girl to do?

Should I be sowing my oats and going through every kind of man I can imagine (no comments from those who think I already have ok?) until I find the one that clicks, should I stop dreaming or maybe I should stop at a red-light for a minute, take a long hard look at the cars passing by and put an end to this promiscuous phase of mine (9 years can still be classed a phase, right?!)

But do you think it’s really possibly to just be able to settle for one person? I mean we change our clothes often – we have too – our idea of what looks good varies from one week to the next. Just three weeks ago I was loafing around in silver flip-flops with the cutest little stones imbedded in them but when I looked at them sitting in my wardrobe this morning I thought of them as looking kind of ugly and a little worn.

Can’t the same be said for men? After the novelty of the new wears off, surely we can treat them like last seasons Chloe handbag and upgrade to the new. Or should I really be looking to invest in the male version of the LBD. One of those classics that we take out and rematch or reaccessorise and keep on wearing. Divinely cut and suitable for all occasions?

I guess my problem is, I never did find a LBD that withstood the time of fashion.

Just Another Lost Soul

12 10 2008

I was sitting on the sofa in my apartment, legs crossed, glass of Cava in my hand, his sitting on my rug back leaning against the sofa.

We’re talking the idle crap that seems to come so easily, he is telling about a problem with a guy he works with … I’m listening and commenting but when it comes to me sharing my ill-fated Malaga adventure I breeze over the facts and tell him just a simple outline. He is looking at me, I can sense the confusion and I have learnt very quickly that he always asks when he wants to know something.

He is telling me that I confuse him, he can’t work out if I want to be with him or not, his telling me sometimes he thinks I do and then he thinks I don’t. I try to tell him in my haphazard way that this is just how I am. I want to tell him not to expect too much from me but I don’t. He continues thinking outloud:

‘how do I get to know someone who is cold?’

I don’t have an answer. He will never know me. I turn it into a joke and tell him the last place on earth he wants to be is in my head. I don’t want to be there all the time he states but just to know something every now and then would be good.

I carry on drinking, the bubbles have gone to my head and I am feeling light – we joke and laugh and talk about random situations in life. His telling me that he does not ever want to have children and I find myself feeling for the children he will never have, he has such a gentleness, it seems to my untrained eye that he would make a wonderful parent.

The more he talks to me, the more I am thinking that in my confusion right now about my life I have missed something about him. Being me, I go to the my room and pull out the black bag that holds my tarot cards – just for fun I tell him, are you going to share what they say he wants to know. No, no its just for me, I want to know.

He’s stuck.

It’s so simple why did I not see it without the cards. He has spent time just being, being this easy going calm man, loving and giving to all around him, befriending the earth and the people but really he is lost. His cards hold so much hope but all of them reversed – so much to give, so much good to be had, but his stuck. Unsure about what to be or where to go. We’re stuck in this moment together and for some reason that makes me want to reach out to him more. This is not forever, this is our moment to join and be.

After that we get back to being lighter, I feel safer in the knowledge that for all his confidence he is just another lost person.

We’re pulling at clothes on my sofa, the cheap champagne helping us along, his rougher this time but even the pain comes with a form of gentleness. It’s the morning, he is leaving to go to work I get up to see him out and then start my own day, trekking around looking for work. Nothing. Nada. Every road seems to take me to a dead end.

In the afternoon he is calling me ‘I just need to come to your house for a moment’ I open the door and he kisses me, he spent no more than three minutes here and it was just to kiss me.

If I was another girl I would be left with warm feelings. If he was another man who I knew would play the game I would be left with warm feelings. As it is, I was left feeling nothing but guilt.

I managed to avoid seeing him last night and then again tonight. Instead I have sat in my apartment and wiled the hours away on the net, I have no motivation, no money and as the depression sets in I withdraw from the world.

Moments that Make Memories

12 09 2008

Just as so many people look for security, for safety, for something that endures, I find that I, end up falling slap bang in the middle of a high. I ride roller coasters so I can feel the highs and when the lows come I cocoon myself from the way I feel.

My life is lived by moments, people share my moments, I share theirs. Sometimes like the last three days I get to share a moment in time with someone who blows me away and just as quickly as he blew my mind away, he blew right back out of my life and back to someone else, someone from the past. Someone I knew about, knew was in the background, and instead of steering away like most people would I shared both my body and my support in his quest for understanding.

You see because I have no past, a present in the here and now and a future so unclear I find that I can support people, I find that even when inside I am wanting someone or something so badly that my insides are burning I can still take a step back and say to myself you know this isn’t forever, so if they need some support in their search for their forever give it to them. Sure I don’t always go about it in the best way – my way is haphazard, overbearing, constantly filled with meaningless chatter. But I do do it, I am there on the sidelines, giving advice, listening, understanding, not judging – telling them that they need to go to where they feel they should be to see if it works out.

Months later I hear from the grapevine, shared friends, a hasty text from them telling me that it worked out. Sometimes I don’t hear from them at all, sometimes they don’t even acknowledge me in the street, but I know that one I knew them, knew the person they was in that moment.

I may live on the sidelines of life, but every now and then I get to play on the field and when I do the expected occurs, I dance, I live, I laugh, I breathe but then soon its time for me to go home, to tend my wounded heart and my tired mind.

Me and Martin just lived in the same moment. This morning it ended. I hope he finds what he is looking for.

Men, Moments and Moodiness

1 09 2008

Tonight at work was ok, surprisingly since I was so let down about being stood up last night, I think my work friend tried to make an excuse, he asked me why I didn’t ring him – to which I had to remind him that my mobile has been sent away for repair so the phone I am using now doesn’t have any numbers stored.

He went on to tell me that the young one wasn’t happy about me going out with them anyway. The reason? Well, because the young ones ex-girlfriend was going to be there (ex…I am starting to think not!) and he was scared that I would talk to her and end up telling her about the night we spent together.

What utter crap. I let our mutual friend know in no uncertain terms that I have no desire whatsoever to tell anyone anything. The young one is most certainly suffering from an over inflated ego. We had one-night; I have no inclination to start any kind of relationship with him.

I guess my paranoia wasn’t so unfounded after all – which is unusual.

In other men related news, someone came into work tonight to pick up a take away meal and we had what can only be described as a moment. He smiled, I smiled, he smiled again, I smiled again and so the smiling saga continued. But stupidly neither of us spoke.

When he left another co-worker (lets call him Ricardo) was like ‘what the hell? Why didn’t you speak to him? You were both checking each other out?’ so I guess my moment was noticed by random onlookers also. Though I quickly denied it and said I was just being friendly.

Lets hope he pops back in – I mean if he saw someone, like what you saw and knew where they worked you would go back, no?

It was also Ricardo’s last night working with us tonight, kind of the end of an era as the year I have been there he has been there also. He is going on to better things (not hard seeing as we are waiters and waitresses) and I wish him the best, but I am also very scared as he was the one person there on my side (most of the time). His last words to me were ‘try not to fight with anyone’ ooopps. I guess he has me in nutshell there.

If only I could be a nice calm person.

Standing Down By Being Stood Up

31 08 2008

There are quite a few things you have to be conscious off when you get the desire to start cleaning your apartment at four o’clock in the morning, mainly the neighbours, though why I am giving them a second thought I know not. Seeing as these are the same neighbours who I labelled ‘coffin builders’ because for months on end I was woken at all sort of odd hours with them banging, or using electrical noisy machinery outside my bedroom window. And trust me, when you work long and late hours sleep becomes almost holy and anyone who dares wake you from it is immediately cast as demonic.

But anyway, that’s what just happened to me, I was sitting there all dressed up and nowhere to go (literally) after I had been let down by my work friend. The same friend who introduced me to the young one.

He asked me to go out with them all tonight, and at first I didn’t think I really wanted to but he seemed keen and in the end I thought why not, August has been a long month for us that work in tourist towns and celebrating the end of it seemed quite an exciting prospect. See I leave work, go home and change, and sit and wait for him to call … and wait … and wait. Finally at four (I did tell you we work odd hours, we finished at two!) I gave up.

To say I felt a little put out would be an understatement, you see when something like this happens, I don’t think how other people think – I don’t put a logical explanation like maybe he fell asleep, or they didn’t go out, or something else. No, my first thoughts are ‘what did I do? Why don’t they want me out with them? Is the young one trying to avoid me? Did they ask me out of pity? For a laugh?’

Then instead of getting an explanation tomorrow and going with it, I will just think its an excuse. I can’t help it. Paranoia is something I have had in heaps ever since I can remember, it’s the bane of my life and something I get accused of having often, which in turn makes me paranoid about having such obvious paranoia.

So I’m sitting here, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. When all of a sudden I start to get hypercritical about the state of my apartment, about the dishes on the side, the floors that really need sweeping and cleaning and I want to fix it, but being aware of making noise and pissing people off, I just (quietly) put the dishes away, bring in some washing to fold and start planning a major de-junking of my living space.

Its while planning that, that it hit me what my intentions were – you see when I moved out here (one year and three months ago) I came with a suitcase and holdall, I had sold everything that I had acquired over the years in the UK ready for my new start – so here I am living here for over a year and I have acquired junk again, I could not fit what I have now in that same suitcase and holdall and I think that’s what scares me.

Realising the fact that if it all went wrong tomorrow I could not pack up and leave just as easily as I arrived worries me, in knowing that this is worrying me I am seeing that I want to run again. When I was younger I ran away to my mind, to the secular living of non-reality, as a teenager I hid myself away at home for almost a year, as a young adult I escaped through drugs and drinks, sexual relationship to sexual relationship, moving from job to job, friends to friends, now I literally flee for real. Gone are the days when just moving on in my mind or local surroundings are enough, now I need to change towns, cities, countries.