20nothing.com

I know how to get a guy into bed. It isn’t hard (metaphorically. If it isn’t hard physically, Go Home). But I have no idea how to get myself into a relationship.

“Is that why sex stores sell hand cuffs?” I asked my mature relationship-locked friend. “So they physically can’t leave? Is that how relationships start?”

“Do you also think a stork brings babies?”

Well…I have had a lot of sex and no babies, so logic suggests…

 

I don’t think I am alone in this struggle. My friend, JP, recently started his very first relationthingy. Which makes him about three seconds behind me in the Maturity Marathon.

“I have no idea what I am doing,” he panicked. “Help me.”

Storks must have started dropping babies down chimneys the moment I started giving relationthingy advice while sober at a bar.

“Don’t listen to me, [JP],” I begged after blabbing for twenty minutes about communication, great sex and Chocolate. “You will be a dead man. I have no idea what I am talking about.”

 

He managed to get someone to even have the “Relationthingy Conversation”. I can’t even look someone in the eye and say that I am falling for Him. I have no idea how to even get to that point. Apparently, clothes can be stripped quicker than ones own ego.

 

Since The Crush became someone I have completely fallen for, I have over analysed every single movement, exchange and innuendo. Not because I am obsessed (yet) but because I am trying to learn by doing a crash course on relationthingys so that The Crush does not literally become The Crash.

I asked my favorite man-whore friend how I should tell a boy that I really like him.

“Jump him.”

“But I really like him.”

“Stop jumping other people.”

“Wow. I hadn’t even thought of that. Interesting.”

“And then jump him.”

 

Twenty-six days ago, I was curious as to whether I could get laid while sober. I knew that I would be able to actually do the Act sober, but getting to that stage worried me. Because I have always subscribed to social lubricant being the best kind of lubricant. How does one randomly hook up with someone when there is no alcohol involved?

 

(Aside: Weed.)

 

I asked my favorite alcofriend how I should tell a boy that I really like him.

“Get drunk. And then jump him.”

“But I don’t want to just have sex with him. I actually really like him.”

“Get drunk. And then jump him. And then ask him what his favorite colour is.”

“Why?”

“To get to know him. Apparently that is how relationships start.”

 

After spending time with people who obviously have less of an idea than I do, it suddenly dawned on me that getting laid, having fun and meeting people is remarkably easy while sober. But I apparently need alcohol to start something much more real.

“I need to start drinking again so that I can have a relationship,” I mopped.

“Well, you could just be confident and tell him and be honest,” my favorite man-whore advised. “Just say, ‘[The Crush], I like you and want to do naughty things to you. Every day.’”

“Wow. I hadn’t even thought of that. Interesting.”

“And then jump him.”

 

We rarely use logic when dealing with relationthingys. We use emotion. This emotion leads to a protection of ego. Emotionally, I have no idea if The Crush is even interested in me. Observation compels logic suggests that he is. But then emotion trumps everything and makes me irrational. And scared.  

“But he is hooking up with other people,” I emotionally told my favorite man-whore friend.

“You are sleeping with someone else.” True.

“But he hasn’t said that he is interested.”

“Neither have you.”

“But…But…But…”

“Man, that last one really screwed you up, didn’t it?”

 

The Crush stayed at my house after yet another night of hanging out as friends. I made up his sleeping area on the couch, said Good Night and crawled into my own traffic-stop of a bed. The logical side of my brain was proud of the self-restraint I apparently have when I really like someone. But the emotional side called me a Fucking Chicken repeatedly for not ceasing an opportunity while I fell asleep alone.

 

For five days I have stalked friends with every single movement, exchange and innuendo I have had with The Crush.

“I want to gag you!” my favorite man-whore yelled. “Just do something about it!”

I debated whether I could destroy all I have learnt while being sober by waiting until I can drink to actually make something happen in that dormant relationthingy side of my life. Or if I should just be brave and take control of something that I want.

“You have three days,” he said. “You need to have done something by the time you have your first scotch.”

I agreed.
“And then jump him.”

 

I sat next to The Crush all day, in our usual location, but in a totally new place mentally. The logical side of my brain said to just Go With It and See What Happens. But the emotional side questioned every single movement, exchange and innuendo while calling me a Fucking Chicken for not ceasing an opportunity to be honest about my feelings.

I wondered how I was going to muster up the courage.

 

(Aside: Weed.)  

 

Post By Salium.