#dickjourney

[thedickjourney-blog]

Sasha

This is fucking long.

A close friend once gave me invaluable advice that I now live by: A crush is just lack of information. Read that again.

I must have accidentally swiped right on Sasha on Bumble. Initially, I didn't find him attractive based on his profile, which gave off a "closeted dork" vibe or someone who might have been into theater in high school.

When using dating apps, my ritual involves taking an edible or joint before swiping and going to sleep. As I was browsing through my matches, I noticed that Sasha and I both loved Taylor Swift and early 2000s punk rock, so I sent him a message about it (a bit lame, I know). Surprisingly, we started chatting. At some point, he asked something personal, and I responded with a long and strange message. But soon after sending it, he stopped replying, and in my stoned state, I became paranoid, thinking it was an eternity. I unmatched him, out of pure paranoia, I can't really justify or defend my actions.

Despite unmatching and not having any other contact, Sasha had sent me a Spotify playlist, which I listened to. It may sound cheesy, but it felt like I was getting to know this stranger intimately through the music. I regretted my hasty judgment or maybe it was just weed paranoia—I don't know. I searched for him on Instagram using his Spotify username and found him. Since he was still a stranger from Bumble, I thought there wasn't much to lose, so I sent him a DM, getting my crazy tendencies out in the open right from the start.

The DM worked! I mentioned that finding him might seem crazy, but I loved the playlist. We chatted about music and other topics. Honestly, at first, I was more into the idea of making a new friend than anything romantic.

A few days later, he messaged me spontaneously around 9 pm for a drink, and despite being in sweatpants and a hoodie, I said yes and met him. To keep the effort minimal, I chose a place close to my house, and we met just 20 minutes after his text. I didn't care much about my appearance because I didn't think much of him. But when I saw him waiting at the bar, that changed. I was flustered—he looked a million times better than his photos. He had a glowing, pale skin with light freckles under his eyes and on his cheeks, long hair, a cute mustache, and deep blue eyes. Fucking beautiful deep blue eyes. He had a soft and feminine appeal that was incredibly sexy.

We talked for hours until the bar closed, then went to another bar and continued chatting. This moment felt timeless, and I didn't want it to end. The curiosity he elicited in me, felt better than sex.

We went back to my place to take my dog for a walk, my messy apartment, didn't seem to bother him. We left my place and got beers and went up the hill of Montmartre, where we sat in front of the Sacre Couer. We drank, and sang along to Taylor Swift. Amidst the beautiful view and music, we kissed—a naive and romantic moment. We even joined a group of strangers for a while, and it felt perfect.

I think that what is absolutely awful about dating with apps and just the way things kinda roll in society nowadays, it’s that its so shitty all the time, that when it’s decent… it is amazing? After the stupid date, we chatted a few days and I obviously idealised this man so much.

These feminine “open minded” , “deconstructed” men are the most dangerous type of fuckboy. I was thinking about him and just felt this intense curiosity to get to know him more. It wasn’t about starting anything or even thinking of relationship or any future, it was just this amazing thing of hoping for more moments like that date. Officially, I was crushing hard on Sasha. 

The second time I saw Sasha, was when he invited me to watch a movie at this place. 

I told my best friend how I was super looking forward to it, but was hesitant that he would flake. He had stopped texting me one or two days prior and I was super overthinking it. She advised me that if by 5PM there was no message, I should just let it go. At 4 fifty something he wrote me. I went home, shaved my whole body and washed my hair and all that shit girls do when you want to look perfect and smell perfect dressed and undressed. The fucker arrived at his flat the same time as me, dripping in sweat from a run. 

(Let it be a commentary and observation in the inequity of heterosexual dating, like nothing worst than really trying to look good and get ready with time, and the guy is there with his outfit from work and sweaty balls. Gross.)

He took a shower while I helped prepare some of the food and we moved things to his living room where we were supposed to to watch the movie. 

Accompanied by good wine and our favorite music, we didn’t watch a movie. We talked again for hours and hours,about anything and everything. 

I can’t quite remember how or when, but at some point we were making out on his sofa. I was very much craving him and wanting him. In the most ridiculous way, it was the guy I had a crush on and finally I thought we’d physically connect. In between kisses we undressed, he even brought poppers and it was sexy and fun and dorky. I was enjoying myself and him and suddenly he couldn’t keep his erection. Which is a normal thing and happens and rarely it’s a girl’s fault but an issue of the guy. But the perks of having a crush and my weird ass personality, was that I completely took it personally. I reacted the worst possible way: I stopped and got dressed and make my way out of his place. He accompanied me and I don’t even remember what he said, but in a split second I realized how badly I was behaving. I apologized and stayed. 

It is important to add context to the fact, that I am a slut with weird dynamics. I can have sex with you, but sleeping together is somehow more vulnerable and intimate for me. I never ever let men stay and I never stay to sleep with someone. 

And I stayed and I slept in his bed, in his T-shirt while we put on Shrek 2. It was the first time I slept outside my bed with someone since I got divorced; he probably didn’t know, but to me it was a big deal. 

I left early in the morning, we didn’t have sex. I was feeling so weird about everything, because I was confused if he liked me or not and worst, I felt so weird with the possibility that I was feeling things. 

So I dealt with it in the worst/best way I know: I made plans with another guy hours after getting home. Let’s call him “Pierre”. We had been talking and all on hinge, he is the typical hot guy (Blond, tall , blue eyes and a fucking insane beautiful muscular body like impeccable body). I invited him for coffee, which is what we met for. And after the 30 mins coffee, this hot beautiful man was pounding me like a beast in my bed. I have a theory that God whenever he sends dumb people to earth, he makes them hot and well endowed. Pierre is one of God’s favorites. We just smoked weed and fucked all day, this man sparked nothing in me other than keeping awake the hungry sex demon I have inside of me. This was my way to not think about feelings and enjoy myself, and in the end Pierre continues to be a very convenient bootycall until today. 

Despite being super aware of having a crush on Sasha, I kept on living my life and seeing other people. Since the date at his place, things kind of fizzled out.

About a week after, I was at a jazz club on an a date with another guy and Sasha texted me. I was already kind of wanting to go home, so I told him I was on my way home. He said he was in my neighborhood and wanted to see me. Like the idiot I am, I rushed into a taxi and organized my house a bit and just waited for him. Only for him to last minute flake and with the worst excuse. 

At this point I realized how this was getting shitty and hurting me. I texted him finally, a long ass message that started off as “No one is busier than someone who’s not interested in you”. And the answer sucked, it was one of those “my mental health is shitty so I’ve been shitty to you so let’s stop”. It sucked. 

What sucked even more, was the way my head spiraled and felt completely delusional. Because all my experience of him felt real, reciprocal, natural. How could it be that it was one sided this whole time ? Was I too weird ? Too intense ?

Weeks passed and I shifted my focus on myself and work and healthy habits and all that “healing process bullshit”. Until I realized how much this had affected me that I was taking my paid time with my therapist to talk about it. I was hung up on the fact that I slept over and was so vulnerable and at ease with someone that gave no shit about me. This was always about me, not him.

I reached out to him, a picture with the quote “Just paid my therapist to talk about you, isn’t that romantic ?”. 

Which he responded, and resulted in scheduling a day to see each other. Which there was sexting in between, and lots of hope from my end.

I knew to not overthink or put too much effort because I had no idea what really to expect and I didn’t want to feel dumber than I already did. 

He arrived to my place, completely flushed and everything seemed to be a hassle. He talked about how he had a bad day and all and I was like “we could’ve rescheduled” , and he said “No I wanted to be here”…

We sat on my sofa, Avril Lavigne playing in the background and we started to talk. I really wanted to discuss everything and the way I felt and how things sucked for me and blah blah blah. But instead, Sasha did a monologue. Not any monologue, a ridiculous monologue. This 30 year old man sat on my sofa to complain about the pettiest and smallest inconveniences in his life. It was such a fucking turn off, it was a man-child, a boy complaining about things that he had no will to change or work on. In addition, it was followed by a second monologue about being in love with another girl….To make it better, the timing, very much aligned with when we met and the fizzing out… 

At that very draining moment of realizing how much I was wasting my time listening to him, I had an epiphany. It was as if all the therapy and growth had come full circle in my head and this was the moment to put it in practice. Younger me would’ve sat through it all like an idiot, and try to make him feel better. Younger me would’ve been so sad about the other girl, and probably still insist on a toxic dynamic so that he could “choose me”. Younger me would’ve ignored the giant red flag of the fact that this man just enjoyed my attention and my eagerness to comfort him. It was never about a connection with me or truly understanding or liking me, I was just warm and convenient and very dumb.

It was ridiculous and inappropriate for him to talk about being in love with the other girl, I mean, what was the point ? He was in my home, and trying to kiss me in between the conversations and vomiting this pathetic shit. For what? To make me feel insecure ? To avoid directly rejecting me ? 

Everything came together, his beautiful angelic face started to repulse me. The cool deconstructed guy was just another entitled white boy. Indeed, the way I perceived him at first, it was all in my head. At this stage in my life I was “healed” enough to understand the patterns and reject them. I confidently sent him home, and erased him from all social media and contact. Irrationally I know myself well enough that this was a weak point for me, maybe the first time since my divorce that I opened my heart a bit to the possibility of feelings; the best way to protect myself was to completely cut him off. 

Despite this experience ending this way, It was such a milestone for me and the dick journey. We grow up idealizing romance and romantic love, but to me it’s crazy, that in the end we are just animals roaming the earth and self love seems to be the type of love we struggle with the most. 

This crush was just really a huge lack of information, and the way I felt was a reflection of my needs being met at a bare minimum after so much time of being completely neglected. It wasn’t special or magical, it was just the minimum, but the season I was in , it magnified everything. 

This isn’t a story of “I deserve better” because honestly, I am very shitty sometimes and I think I karma comes for me. But it is about understanding how the way we might see someone, isn’t about the person, but a mirror to how we truly see ourselves. That last moment I was with him, I was not in the same place I was when I met him. The newer version me isn’t at all into adult-babies or emotionally crippled men… 

A crush is just lack of information. 

[thedickjourney-blog]

I AM BACK SLUTS

Hey Sluts,

It’s been awhile… In fact, it’s been almost 5 years since I lastly wrote about any adventure in this dick journey! 

First, I must contextualise the long pause.  This is a new beginning and  a very exciting continuation to this journey.

I started writing about sex and my experiences as a way to grow and explore my sexuality and find my own path and answers; all within the context of being a woman in her 20’s, navigating sex/pleasure/relationships, this journey has been about thriving in the chaotic mess inside the head of a sentimental horny girl.

I grew up in a very conservative country, a conservative Christian family and my education about sex was almost non-existent. In a binary hereto-normative context, being born with a pussy, sex tends to be summarised in your femininity being something about flowers, innocence and shame… There’s very little about pleasure, preference, self-love or even safety… 

Thus, the  very beginning of this dick journey was like a bachelor degree and It has now moved onto a “Masters degree” (this is for you mom, I’m doing a masters after all). 

The long paused is explained on the fact that I had fallen in love, and thought I was at the end of my dick journey. At 21 I said “I do” and married a handsome Parisian man. It was a beautiful love story, an unforgettable period of my life that I will eternally cherish. 

We amicably parted ways and now life is very, very different. 

It is complicated to disconnect, to know someone so deeply and to be known so deeply and vulnerably and to become strangers once again. 

This next chapter I share with you, is of a new era of my life, learning to live outside the context of love, whilst deeply longing for it. Here we go, to heightened standards, to more maturity, to more connection, to more curiosity and to lots and lots more sex :)

I’ll be posting as my journey goes, and I welcome you once again into my very messy and chaotic dick journey. 

XX