Archives for the month of: May, 2013

There’s something I do when I message someone. Its kind of irrational, and has no real purpose, but I do it anyhow.

After writing my message, I press send, and then close the webpage immediately. For some reason I can’t stand being on the website, be it OKC or POF or whatever, once the message is sent. It’s worse if I know the other person is online as well ( I’m looking at you ¬†OKcupid, lets make the awkwardness even more awkward, you dick ūüė¶ ¬†). I image their message box lighting up, and then I imagine them reading the message, and it’s all just too uncomfortable and weird.

In my little head it’s the equivalent of being caught sending messages to people in school and then being made to read them out in front of the class. I know it’s irrational, but if I’m not on the site when they read what I’ve sent it all just seems less well, awkward.

Thing is, in real life I’m way, way less awkward, ( well, mostly, I have my moments, but that’s something for another time maybe ), so I don’t know why the internets makes me feel this way. Maybe it’s just the way it is, maybe online dating, by it’s very nature, is just awkward, maybe my messaging thing is normal, yeah?

*awkward silence*


So, 2013 seems to be about pushing boundaries, and trying out new stuff I honestly had no idea I could do. Case in point would be this week, where I spoke to a room full of people about Gender,Identity and the Internet.

If my¬†comfort¬†zone was a 5 mile radius around me, then this was ex-planet Pluto, in terms of shit I don’t¬†normally¬†do. I’m not a natural speaker I don’t think, I mean I have stuff to say, and given half an inch I’m completely up for grabbing that extra mile as well, but generally, i’m a¬†contradictory kind of¬†quiet.

Standing up in front of people ( and by people, I mean people that know a lot of stuff about what I’m going to be talking about ), is quite a big deal for me. I’m not hugely academic, and I don’t have a strong knowledge of Gender Theory. I’m not up on the latest movements, papers, and terminology either, but I do know what I see, and I know what I feel, and so that’s what I tried to put¬†across¬†instead.

I think i was a little ‘grass roots’, in that I stood up there with a bundle of notes i’d written a couple of days ago, and kind of just spoke. I think I was possibly a little ramble-y, and potentially prone to losing my threads, but I’d like to think I spoke with passion. My Dad’s advice was ¬†‘show them you care‘, so I tried to go with that.

I think it went okay, there were lots of questions afterwards, which I hope means people were interested, rather than just not understanding, and on a purely narcissistic basis, there is something about having a room of people listening to what you say that does good things to your confidence.

Would I do it again? Without a doubt. ¬†Yep, without a doubt….


So yeah, continuing on from the last post, things got good, but, as you can¬†probably¬†guess, the day after I got a ‘can we just be friends’ text.

I’ve not had one of those before, and I’ll be honest, it took me a while to work out how I felt about it. On the one hand, I felt we’d connected, and that there was potential there for something more, but on the other hand, it was a pretty great night, and boosted my self confidence no end.

It’s tricky.

I think one of the problems I have/had ( not sure if it’s past tense quite yet or not ) is that at the time, I was clearly attractive enough to want to sleep with, despite my extra complications, but after the time, I wasn’t attractive enough to be with, because of my complications. It’s a contradiction, of sorts, right down to the fact that it’s also not a contradiction as well. My lovelife has gone all quantum physics on me.

I guess we also have to take into account¬†alcohol, nighttime, ambiance and horniness ( Ugh, I hate that word¬†so much ). It’s a perfect storm, where as¬†soberness, daytime, hangovers and the satisfaction of getting laid after a dry spell are kind of like the perfect calm.

Overall I’m looking at it as a very positive experience, I wanted to have some intimacy ( which was pointed out by one of my friends, apparently I’d said this only a week ago, although maybe a little more crudely ), and I got it. It feels good to know that someone wanted to sleep with me, and wanted to do it enough that they actually well, did.

I think that things are looking up, and that i’m discovering how to have a sex life again. I think that means i’m not as fucked up as I thought I was, I think that means I could just be on to something good.

So, I went on another date. This time it was with a woman, and I did find her attractive, Rule #1 win!

It sort of went really well, and also really not so well, which I know seems like a¬†contradiction, but well, you’ll see.

We meet, as usual, in a local pub, and we got chatting, we got drinking, and there seemed to be a thing going on. We had the eye contact, there was flirting, although I was also at this point quite drunk so how good the flirting was is another matter entirely. I’m going with top notch, mainly because we kissed, and then she asked if I’d like to go back to her place.

And this is where it gets complicated.

But how, I hear you cry, its going good! What can possibly make this seemingly perfect situation get complex?  Well dear reader, I make it complicated.

I’m not conventionally gendered, in that I am a woman, but I also have some male bits knocking about as well. There are a wealth of terms for how I am, but basically, it gets complicated if things ever progress beyond just kissing.

So we talk about this, and what it means in regards to getting it on, cause we’re adults,¬†admittedly¬†very drunk adults, but adults none the less. It’s a surreal thing to talk about, but also it’s good to talk about as well, for obvious reasons. Anyhow, there’s talking, and we work out how things might go, and we go back and we get it on. We get it on, and it is good.¬†Admittedly¬†for me it’s been a while, but even so , it was good. I’ll leave it to your imagination. I’m sure you’ll do it justice, you filthy beasts you. (I’d insert a smiley here if this was a text, just so you know i’m just joking when I call you filthy beasts, but it’s a blog, and we don’t do¬†that¬†sort of thing.)

So, I know what you’re thinking, this all sounds good, whats the problem kid? Well, the problem, it seems, is the cold light of day. I’ll explain all in the next post…….( see what I did there? It’s like an ad break! I’m a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar! )

Freiya Benson

Writer & Photographer.

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