How one sexual encounter changed my outlook

Okay yeah I need to work on my titles and if anyone has any suggestions I am all ears.
This was not my first sexual anything with anyone. I had been in relationships before and had sex plenty of times before but this one time really changed my outlook on how I perceived sex and how I looked at others having sex. I’m not a judgy person, I try to not be, I keep an open mind and hear all sides of the story. This is one occasion when no one bothered to hear mine.
Let me paint a picture of a younger, probably slightly skinnier and terrible hair cut version of my more mature self now. I was newly 18, graduated high school the year prior and like today I still had no idea where my life was going. In jumps *Mathew, I had known him on and off since I was 15 and he was only a few years older than me. Mathew looked like a fucking psycho but he really was a teddy bear.
Long black hair, weird facial hair, odd accent, tall, not so charming, not very fit, kinda funny and just fucking weird. There were a lot of ways to describe Mathew, he wore long black leather pants, trench coats and weird eye contacts to the pub. He wasn’t your average Australian in a small town. I thought we had a connection, looking back now it really was what every guy was to me back then, nothing. I don’t mean that in a horrible way, Mathew was my friend, we shared so much of one another but I wasn’t attracted to him and I didn’t think of him as more than a friend.
Of course, me having no real interaction with boys just took my interest in him being a friend as more. Anyway, besides that Mathew and I had sex. I remember it being a real build up over the course of a few months. From drinking, to cuddling and hanging out more. I was newly 18 and ready to be with someone more mature and different. I was looking for some kinky and/or rough sex.
Do you know what I got?
I got a grown man running out of the bedroom at 2am and me following 5 minutes later to see him in another room, in the dark, trying to get himself hard.
I was pretty fucked up.
It was my fault though. I went into the situation like I did with all the boys before me. Putting in little to no effort and hoping they’d cum quick so I could roll over and sleep, preferably spooning. I got from Mathew, touching and feeling and it felt nice and great but I didn’t want to kiss him. I didn’t want to touch him or be touched by him. I was so court up in just having sex with whomever that I never thought about wanting that person.
Mathew was a good guy, a really good champ. I think he knew that I wasn’t interested, maybe he thought he could change my mind or get my horny enough. I don’t even know, we’ve only mentioned it to each other a handful of times, usually with a laugh.
Mathew was a good guy until he wasn’t.
We all know guys change who they are around their mates. I always thought Mathew was different. I was very wrong. Less than a month after our last attempted fuck I was left crying in a bathtub.
Okay lets quickly flash forward, there wasn’t any backlash between Mathew and I after that night. We still talked and our friendship seemed to have gotten better. He started hanging out with other friends of mine and all seemed to be put behind us.
We were at a friend’s 18th, I wasn’t a huge fan of telling my two best friends about my sex life, mostly in fear of the bullying I received. This time was no different and it took me a couple of weeks after Mathew and I were together for me to tell them. They knew and it had become a funny joke between us all.
I can remember drinking a lot so I was pretty wasted early in the night and after 2 naps I was good to go. I was in the bathroom, chillin out being my drunken self and probably staggering around the bathroom. I heard my two best friends outside and I heard Mathew. Greetings were made and as I was ready to go out to them when I heard a conversation that sobered me up quick.
One of them asked about Mathew and I hooking up. Mathew’s answer was that we did not have sex and I was lying. Instead of my two best friends jumping in on my defence I got to stand there and listen to them talk about how they knew I was lying about having sex with Mathew because I had also lied about previous sex partners and I was a liar and I was shitty and blah blah blah.
Honestly though I was pretty mortal and I don’t remember much of what was said. But my feelings were very hurt! Not only did I feel ugly and rejected from Mathew but my two best friends believed him straightaway.
I stayed in the bathtub for 30 minutes before I had to leave because some underaged chick sculled my vodka and was dying. I left that bathroom with my head held higher and now a little annoyed that some stupid twelvie drank my alcohol!
I avoided my friends for a while, dancing and having a good time with others at the party. I remember a while later both coming up to me on the dance floor. I was quickly told by one of them that she asked Mathew what happened about us and he said I had lied, I am so proud of my damn response, I looked her square in the eyes and said if you want to believe him then fine. I ended up partying and having a good time ignoring all the stupid pain and rejection from him and my friends.
Months later Mathew ended up admitting the truth to her and I got no real apology from either of them. Bitches..
The point is after all this rambling. I stopped sleeping with guys I didn’t like. I mean sure I had a few relapses with some cute boys but I tried to stay clear from it. Sex means more to me now than just getting attention. And friendship means sticking up for others and believing your friends. Fuck Kayla though and fuck Mathew circa 2014/15.
I also think sex is sex and imma have it with whomever but now I think about whether I like the person or I’m attracted to them first.
Friends come and go but sex memories will always give you a good laugh.
I will never forget seeing a grown man hunched over in the dark trying to get hard.

Lonely and fat

Let me paint a picturing for you.

Fake blonde hair that doesn’t belong on such tan complexion, short and clipped and making the face appear so much rounder. Oh but was that face round to begin with! Freckles marred the skin unsure whether they wanted to fade or stand out. Bushy eyebrows really showcase dark and menacing eyes that look like two small dark wholes on a white canvas, sunken in and disfigured. Black tights with several holes and a giant white men’s t-shirt to hide the rolls when I sit down with no bra on underneath because I’m home and I like to live on the wild side.

Is this the real me? I know it is how I see myself but does everyone see this when they look at me. Am I exaggerating my flaws in the hopes that the small beautiful details of myself go unnoticed.

Is all I am to society just a fat girl?

…is that all I am to myself?

Season One: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I love Buffy, it’s an honest fact and I’m assuming those of you who are reading this are pretty interested in her as well. It’s not just Sarah Michelle Gellar’s portrayal of Buffy that we all know and love, it’s the other characters that grow on us and the experiences and situations they go through. Buffy isn’t just some old fashioned cult classic 90’s TV show, it paved the way for my own generations future kick-ass feminist movies, TV shows, books and real life people.

Watching season 1 was not a choice I took light-heartedly. I knew that my memories and opinions of the show could change with the difference of my now adult self watching compared  to my 5 or 6 year old self watching. I remember it being about monsters,  one extremely hot vampire  and a really strong and beautiful blonde chick. My younger mind couldn’t comprehend the adult subjects but now that I am old it actually reaches out to me in a completely different way.

Let’s be honest here, season one is very campy but it makes fun of its self in a way that movies and TV shows still can’t do well today. In the first episode you see two young 20 somethings (they look 20 but they could be portraying teenagers I can never tell.) The boy is clearly the bad boy type by breaking into his old school and trying to impress this girl with his tough exterior. Now lets insert beautiful blonde girl (Who is not Buffy) in a school girl uniform. If you already knew the premise of the show you could tell either two things were about to happen in this scene. This bad boy type was either going to be a vampire thus killing this young innocent girl or some vampire was going to sneak out and kill them both.

Do you know what ends up happening? This so called innocent girl ends up turning full vamp and sucking the blood right out of this poor guys body. She was the bad guy all along and straight away you’re drawn in. She is clearly evil and you’re left confused as to who you’re meant to trust, It’s not just the biker bad guy type to fear now its the innocent little girl in a school girls uniform.

A perfect parody of the constant blonde damsels in distress’s and the guys always being bad to the bone of our time. It plays with your fears and changes your expectation of what you’re expecting the show to be. Which is great!

It’s a horror genre in its basic form with an added twist of defying the usual stereotypes and tropes of horrors that came before it. It’s a typical horror cult classic of its time with a feminist twist that leaves you sitting in anticipation.

ramblings of someone who can’t write

The most beautiful thing humans can do is story tell. A not exact quote from some very non-obscure actor on a crappy English talk show. I don’t think it was meant to stick with me in the way it did but it has been all I’ve thought about of late.

I know I am not a very good writer, in fact I inspire to be the laziest writer I can be. Story telling has always come naturally to me but putting those words to paper has to be one of the most difficult things I’ve done. I think about my words more, trying to choose the right ones and constantly picking the wrong ones.

Let’s not even get me started on the title. As I’m sure you can see above, I’m not the most creative person. I’m not good at clickbait, I feel like it’s lying or deceiving but picking a title that’s truthful and jumps off the page takes me about 20 minutes. 20 minutes so far and I’ve not come up with anything better than “ramblings of someone who can’t write.”

So tar dare!! Enjoy your day. Enjoy the reading. Enjoy some food.

(I promise I will come up with a better sign off, I swear.)