Sunday, 1 May 2011

Dis-may

It's my first First of May without TD. I don't know why this particularly occurred to be, but I sent her a BBM this morning wishing her a happy day. Probably a spectacularly dumb move. However, one truth remains evident to me, one that makes me particularly sad: despite our mutual love of Jonathan Coulton's song, and the Oxford maxim which conveys the same message, we never had sex outside. Sure, we came close to it in St James' Park, but we never actually performed the act outside. I've still never had sex outside, and it doesn't look like that's going to happen any time soon, either.

One of the things that makes me upset about my relationship with TD is that, sexually, I don't think I did anything particularly 'exclusive' with her. Romantically I'm pretty sure I did - dude, romance is my thing - but in a sexual context, I can't think of anything particularly special. The sex was fantastic - certainly the best of my life, no doubts there. But when I think about it - and, although it galls me to say this, in comparison to what she did with other people - I can't see any particular reason to place any special value on sex with me.

I know she didn't lose her virginity to me. That's something that I'm not particularly bothered about. But... sex in a graveyard? She's done it. Sex on holiday?
She's done it. Sex in a bookshop? She's done it. Sex with a member of the same sex? She's done it. Giving a blowjob on a coach? She's done it. Any of this with me? No, none of it. And, to be honest, even if we had done any of these things... it wouldn't be her first time. It would have been mine, sure, but not hers.

And yeah, sex doesn't always need to be unusual or interesting to be exciting. Sex with TD always was exciting. But I still feel a little inadequate when I consider this. Not one of these things listed above I can really count as a naughty sexy thing that was exclusive to "us". And compared to her, I felt inexperienced. And boring.

I know, it sounds like I'm complaining a bit. I'm not. Or at least, I don't mean to. But it's difficult to forget her cheerfully saying to a group of her friends, "hey, I've had sex in that graveyard," followed shortly by, "...oh, and then I had sex with a French girl." Hello? Boyfriend standing right next to you and you're talking about your sexual past? Have you any idea, dear reader, how jealous I was at that point?

At one point, I asked TD to marry me. I may not have mentioned this before. (She said yes, initially, but that's not the point.) Why did I ask her? Well, I wanted to marry her, of course. But something I said to her, before asking, was that I wanted to go further with her. I wanted to have something special with her, something unique and interesting and exciting. I didn't mention sex - it didn't need to be sexual. Our engagement would be that one special thing that I could share with her (along with the rest of our lives, natch), and while it wouldn't be indulging in flagrante delicto on a building site or wherever, it would be our special thing.

Evidently that didn't last either. In fact, it went terribly, and I'm still convinced that was a precipitating factor to her ending our relationship a couple of months later.

I still feel sexually inadequate with her. I always will. I wasn't the one who took her into that bookshop. Hell, I wasn't even the first one to have sex with her in Woodstock. Probably even in the same hotel.

Why does it hurt? It hurts. It hurts so much. So so much.

No comments: