It is a truth universally acknowledged that as soon as you start bonking a new woman you’ll develop some form of mild alcoholism. I’ve been dating Blue Eyes for about a month now and after every night together I stagger into work with a blistering hangover and a weeping, battered fanny wondering if this relationship might actually kill me.
I fantasise about some kind of bajingo retreat where old, knackered fannies can do yoga, have mini fanny facials and attend fanny self-help classes.
“Love your fanny” the trainer will croon. “Your fanny is a temple.”
I didn’t really understand what chemistry was until I met Blue Eyes. Despite having been on dates with several attractive women, something about her completely disarms me in a way that is wonderful and alien and a bit scary all at the same time. It’s not just the way she looks – although every now and then I’ll catch the tail-end of a woman (or man’s) admiring gaze – but her smile; her giggle; the way she sings as she potters round her flat; the way her quiet kisses deepen and bloom in my mouth.
I think about her constantly. I’ll be sat in meetings or reading a report and suddenly there she is: snuggling into the dip of my back or drizzling kisses down my neck. Looking through a spreadsheet she’ll pop out from under my desk, grin and pull me under. It’s a miracle our economy functions at all when at any one time at least 10% of the population are having so much sex they need to have a quiet sit down and a cry at regular intervals throughout the day.
In a weird way, it also almost makes those hellish pre-coming out years worthwhile because the denial adds an extra little layer of sweetness. In amongst all the lust and laughter there’s relief and joy and amazement. I’m kissing a woman – a woman!! A woman is letting me kiss her!
“The sex is AWESOME” I confide to a married friend. “I’ve never had so many orgasms.”
“Ah, orgasms” she sighs wistfully. “I remember those. You know it won’t always be like this right? One day you’ll be married and sex will just be another chore to tick off the list. My husband and I are in a constant tug of war – sometimes he wins and we have sex, sometimes I win and we just cuddle.”
“Thanks sweetheart, that’s very reassuring.”
Maybe it won’t always feel like this; but just because the holiday can’t last forever doesn’t mean you don’t lollop around snorting margaritas in a kaftan and sandwiching an entire brie between crackers for breakfast.
Later that night I’m in bed with Blue Eyes.
“Shit, I left the fairly lights on. Do you think that’s the girliest thing anyone’s ever said?”
She giggles, I melt.
Maybe just one more margarita before bed