Sex-o-tude

I received a rather weird e-mail from someone who’d once lived in Auckland; went something along the lines of how ironic it is that I am in the situation I happen to be in at the moment. Which is to say, sharing a single bed in a tiny room in a flat with two huge Russians, one of which owns a fake leg and can’t piss properly standing up; which however isn’t a problem since he doesn’t piss standing up in the first place anyway.

The G-Spot finally got down to purchasing a heater, so I can now walk about in a comfortably unclothed state, which would in turn encourage the process of garnering sexual attention, which is always a good thing. But only of course, if you want it in the first place.

But back to that rather queer email. The irony of my situation, as said in the letter, was that I had initially embarked upon becoming an SPG because the expats you get to date in Singapore are all generally rich and live in luxurious conditions along River Valley road.

Let me say this, I don’t care where the person lives, whether it’s going to be a penthouse on the Sail, a basic flat in NZ or the block of apartments facing mine (although I can assure myself that I have no desire whatsoever to shit where I eat). I date people (and sleep with whoever I want to) because they are worth my time.

I love the G-Spot, he’s fantastic. He’s sweet and considerate, creative, are really considers my creative input into things. Although I don’t bother to give much because the film isn’t my production, and creative people are like that. They like things to be mostly theirs. I hope the film works out well. There’s not been much for me to see in NZ actually, I was here 2 years back for a good long time, and from what I remembered, there wasn’t much for me to do them either. I think the charm of the place mostly rests in being able to relax, get some crisp, cold, fresh air, watch a couple of art-house movies in kitschy art-house cinemas, walk around the area and get out of the cold occasionally into cute cafes. These are normally staffed with really friendly people you can talk to and take photographs behind the counter with, They’ll even teach you how to use their coffee machines if you ask nicely.

He’s been taking me around to visit some of his friends, and they are all such chilled out people you won’t believe it. I don’t feel like a third party that’s never been into their homes before when G just… invites us over. People in Singapore are hospitable, but even with your own relatives (mine, which I visit only on Chinese New Year) they always seem to go overboard with things, and offer to help you out at every corner, and maybe it’s because they’re bloody hospitable, but it could also just be because we’re a lot more suspicious of people we don’t know well. Even if they come on good standing with someone we trust entirely.

We were cuddled up in bed together last night talking; it’s just so lovely to be pulled into someone that you really, really like (who smells and feels so good too!). I was all warm and fuzzy, and he kept on kissing me periodically throughout several hours and saying how glad he was that I was here.

‘You know, I don’t think I could stand it if it were anyone else.’ I told him.

‘Stand what?’ He asked.

‘Oh you know. Living in this tiny room, not having a heater and sharing a single bed, and having you work on the production most of the time, but with you, I think it’s really great.

I turned around and faced him, and he kissed me again and again. There was a pause, and I was suddenly aware of me breathing in his breath, and I realized something. That I really didn’t have problems breathing in someone else’s breath. Which for me really is a rarity. It’s not that the other people I’ve slept with had particularly undesirable dental hygiene, or that his mostly reminded me of Calvin Klein’s Obsession. I just… loved it.

You know, we all appreciate people for showing us different things, for making us feel different emotions and making us aware of bit and pieces of us we weren’t aware of or perhaps have forgotten in the drive for ever newer, more observably impact-full experiences; like promises of fame or money, or whatever. But the best things could just be the simplest kinda things.

And the G-Spot makes me feel comfortable. I feel that way because he appreciates me, and likes me for the person I am, and I don’t have to trick myself into trying to make myself love him more then I already do anyway, because what I feel is enough as it is to make the relationship really worthwhile.

I just feel happy, and relaxed, and like I want to shag him all the time, which is great. If there is one thing about this trip that would have made it completely worthwhile (short of the film going to Sundance *shrugs* -hey, you gotta shoot for the stars-) I think it will have to be how I had 12 days of lots of normal people sex.

For the last 6 months, if I was not feeling like sex was being demanded from me (Ethan, Chris…) then I felt like it was being withheld from me (and I was nothing short of a depraved, emotionally confused nymphomaniac that had no self- respect… Martine). Or that I simply had no control and was so powerfully physically attracted to the other person I just couldn’t fucking help it. And while I never felt guilty about the latter it never seemed like it was worth anything.

Strangely enough, when G wants to make love to me (or fuck me, or whatever, same difference) I feel as if he was doing me the favour of wanting to do so. And I (think) he feels the same way too. And that’s when the relationship makes sense, and I’m not stressed out, and more importantly, I’m not detached. I’m not observing the sex we have from a logical point of view, and I’m not trying to rationalize or theorize it, or to convince myself that it’s really good and cool and experimental. Because I do that sometimes, when I try to reconcile the fact that the sex I have is really quite pointless, but there are other reasons as to why I do it. And I won’t say it’s wrong to say, have a threesome for the experience, I just don’t think there’s a point in doing it all the damn time, that’s all. And I won’t say sugar-daddying is wrong, it’s just that it will be pointless if it goes on too long, and if you sacrifice your emotional comfort for it.

Sex was never painful or traumatizing for me. But sometimes, I have just felt like it was a god-damn waste of time. And while I don’t take it seriously, I now believe that treating it too casually isn’t going to do you any good either. It’s just like food. You simply have to know what’s good for you, and strike that balance.

Sex with several people in varied forms will not make the act any less valuable or less meaningful to the individual when the right people come along. But in the meantime, if you kind-a don’t have that balance, it’s not going to be very good for your sanity either. And a wrong mentality towards sex can rub off in a relationship that might actually mean something, and then if you don’t figure it out soon enough, you could be pretty darned sorry when it’s too late.

xoxox