Wednesday, 11 March 2015

Mania

The Manic Street Preachers put on a big concert when I was about 16. Much as I appreciate the music of the Manics - one of the odd glut of bands I like which nobody else seems to - I didn't go to the gig, possibly for the simple reason that I couldn't afford to go (but also perhaps because my parents wouldn't let me go to a gig on my own). In any case, a few people went along, and they turned up at school the following week in a set of identical, thick, grey hoodies bearing the Manic Street Preachers logo and tour dates on the back.

One of my friends (yes, she was a friend, I've had friends before) has the (dubious) honour of being the first girl I every had sexual fantasies about. I don't even recall when these started; I must have been relatively young and it may have even been something to do with being seated next to her in French. Throughout the successive years, I had very conflicted feelings, among those I had for other girls throughout the period: I liked her as a friend, for sure. I didn't fancy her, not really. But I did want to have sex with her. That was very clear.

I went through six years of frustration and repetition getting crushes that were romantic in nature on a number of different girls while still having a vague sexual desire for my friend, and since I didn't masturbate, it wasn't as if I could channel the feelings into anything more than a faint, uneasy buzz from my head to my crotch and the occasional sexual fantasy late at night. There was a very vivid one around year 9 or so when I'd imagine having sex with her standing up in the middle of the science lab in which my form was based. She hadn't removed her glasses in this one.

Anyway, I liked her in the Manics hoodie.

I've no idea why (other than the fact that I like the Manics). It was big and bulky and kind of hid her body shape - although the was tall, taller than me, and broad-shouldered, so there was no escaping that - but it suited her. And I knew what she looked like underneath - I could see, in my mind's eye, her generous boobs, her well-shaped thighs and her defined bum, and in a large grey hoodie she was even more appealing, like a present to be unwrapped. I hated myself for coming close to objectifying her in my occasional moments of wonder, which is why I was so confused when she started wearing more revealing bodices and posting pictures of those sort of things on her own blog, lace and all.

Because I didn't find those pictures sexy at all.

Proving to myself once more that what you don't know is far more enticing than what you do.

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