Part the Last

So I watched that Mel Gibson film 'What Women Want' last night – and, like most films, it was pretty cheesy and silly, but there was this one bit that stood out to me, where he's in bed with Marisa Tomei (who I think is gorgeous!) and gives her this "life-altering sex" because he's able to know what she's thinking and wants, and does everything totally right. I was thinking what a marvellous super-power that would be to have! I'd love to be able have sex with a woman in that way. And, hey – maybe I do! :-)
    It's another good reason to spend some time watching a woman masturbate, or play with her sex toys, etcetera – to get to see what she likes, how she likes to be touched. Of course, it's a massive turn on – but also a great way to pick up tips. The thing is, what works with one doesn't necessarily work with another – I'd say that's true; seems to be something I've found out – so, although it's never a case of going back to square one (it seems to me that, in my sex-life, it's always been advancing and evolving, on the whole, as I've loosened up, learned new things, progressed) – there's always a need to learn a particular person's likes and dislikes. (Maybe with men it's a little different – oh, we're such simple creatures to please! just give us a woman who loves what we do for her and who loves us in return!) That's where talking helps as well.
    I could never do the talking thing until I went to North America – I related very much to the main character in Nick Hornby's 'High Fidelity' when he goes with his first American woman – but I found the women there so straight-to-the-point, and vocal, and unembarrassed – unlike your stereotypical Englishman (which I was). Then again, since coming back from there, and since being with English women again, I can't see I've noticed any real difference; they've seemed just as vocal and forthright as Americans/Canadians. Maybe it's the change in me – you know, I learned that, and you attract what you, etcetera – or maybe the generations have changed somewhat, I don't know. Actually, I'd tend to go with the first; I think I've changed, and so, naturally, the people I attract change too. I'm probably still a little bit reticent and cautious in certain situations – but all it'll take is for a woman to mouth the word "cock" – which still kinda shocks me somewhere inside (like, maybe 0.1%) – or say, "fuck me hard" and then the floodgates'll open. I'd say I'm not exactly backwards in coming forwards – but I'd like to think I stop short of going into yucky grossness like the sleazy American guys you get on internet porn videos. I mean, at the end of the day it's about communication and fun, and doing what's mutually beneficial; I'm not averse to calling someone a "dirty bitch" or "slut" in the middle of passions – things I'd never think or say otherwise – but only if it's a turn on for the person I'm with (which it has been), and only if I know they'll understand where I'm coming from with that (which they have done). I'm amazed at how powerful the effects of saying things like these have been; there wouldn't be any point saying it otherwise. It's all fun and games. And, to be honest, I don't really understand how it could be anything but; I guess I just don't understand sex that isn't mutually beneficial because, for me, the ultimate biggest turning on is getting the other person off. But I think I've said that already somewhere during "sex week" – so I guess I'll move on.
    You know the worst thing a girl ever did to me? Well, apart from the one that slept with the Frenchman that I ended up headbutting and which tore me apart but wound up being for my benefit in the long run? (And this is a good one, this.) I once had this girlfriend who came back from a night out and, over the course of the next few days I decided was acting a bit funny and had to find out what was going on. So we got into this conversation, and I probed, and, lo and behold, it turns out she'd slept with some guy and, well, I was fuming, and really, really upset, and chucked her then and there – except, the next day, word gets to me through a friend that, you know, she hadn't actually slept with him, it'd been forced upon her, if you get my drift, so what's a guy to do? Naturally, I take her back, we do all the crying and talking it over, and discuss going to the police, and in my room I spend hours and days and weeks plotting revenge and finding out where the guy lives and picturing myself knocking on the door and sticking a screwdriver in his head and it sort of eats me up, and makes me kind of hate men, and we move on. I think about it every now and then, even after we part, and I later see how it has affected me in some way, in the way I look at the world and men. Only later on – years later – I find out the whole thing was a tissue of lies and I'm the dufus who was taken in by it. Oh well.
    Those are the only two times, as far as I know, that I've been cheated on – save for a very drunken relationship that wasn't exactly exclusive, in which both parties were pretty free and easy with their lovin', sometimes even in each other's company – while, for my part, I'd say I'd been pretty good. I kissed a girl once while I was seeing someone else – right at the tail-end of an eighteen month relationship which had long since shrivelled and died – and then there was the thing with Y, where we were kind of seeing each other, and were supposed to be exclusive, but when it looked like I was gonna be getting back with X, and X came up for a visit, I told her all that and said something might happen. I guess that was me being honest and trying to do the right thing – but everyone I've told that to – all women, including my mum – seem to think I did something wrong – and even though I didn't see it at the time – I mean, I really was just trying to do what seemed like the right thing – I'd say I agreed with them. Although what the alternative is, I know not. The worst thing I ever did in that regard, though, was getting with my best friend's girlfriend on the night they split up, which devastated him, and drove a wedge not only between the two of us, and the two of them, but between several dozen other people too (it was kind of an incestuous little town and we were young and carried away). I never really understood the impact of that until my French episode/debacle, and even though it was years later, those 'love triangle' times came flooding back to me and made me see how wrong I'd been. It was another reason why the French thing needed to happen, and why it was a blessing: it was just my karma coming back to me, a lesson I needed to learn. I never truly understood the importance of the purity of love until then. I wept for my past indiscretions and knew that I had to be true. If you love someone, I believe, you'll do what you can to avoid causing them hurt – even if it means sacrificing your own immediate and – let's face it, if it's sex we're talking about - unnecessary wants. So even if I've been with someone new – someone wherein it wasn't even stated that this was an exclusive thing or not (and maybe wasn't on their part) – and maybe an ex has come to visit, and it would be very easy for something to happen – and justifiable in so many ways – I've always avoided that, because I've felt that it would be unfair to the other, and hurtful, and because I wouldn't like it if it was the other way around; you know, "do unto others" and all that…
    Mostly, though, I guess I've had a pretty happy time, in sex and in love, and known some fantastic, amazing women. I loves 'em, I really do – and I've been very blessed and lucky with the ones that have chosen to spend some time with me – especially since I don't really go out on the hunt, or go looking for them. I've had periods of celibacy – a couple of fifteen months here and there, mostly in my sadhu days – and periods where I was able to share in intimate relationships – share beds, even – in a purely platonic way, which was always great, and I can't say I've ever wanted for anything. It seems to me sometimes like there were two Rorys, and two stages in all of this, hinging around the time when I got myself sorted out, spiritually and emotionally, and quit drinking, and stopped being an arse; my relationships before then were characterised by a messiness, an uncertainty, and a whole host of inhibitions and neuroses and insecurities; after that, it's been pretty plain sailing, a series of interactions characterised by love, and openness, and honesty, and fun (save the French debacle – a result of my getting carried away in spiritual delusions and ignorances – but a great learning experience, none the less). I once shared a bed with a beautiful naked girl cuddled up together – I was naked too, and she was beautiful – and the thought of sex couldn't have been further from my mind; I find something amazing in that. This was back in '99, after things had changed for me – and that kind of thing was happening quite often. I guess girls feel somehow safe with me; I couldn't think of a greater compliment. Wonderful as it is to have fantastic, mind-blowing sex – how much more wonderful it is to find love, and closeness, which is perhaps what we're looking for in that anyway (oh, okay, and the nerve-shredding ecstasies and highs, but you know what I mean). I'm thinking now of the time I was with this girl, making beautiful love, and she got this sex injury and started bleeding everywhere – so we had to stop, and she was understandably freaked out, but – the way we handled it, with calmness and humour, and cuddles, and tenderness – the whole thing brought us closer together, perhaps, than sex ever could have, and was probably a more memorable experience because of it; at least, the thought of that closeness fills me right now with a glorious happiness and love.