Wanna Pash?

This blog of mine is awfully schizophrenic. I can never tell if its a travel guide, a gay sex journal, or some fucked up vaudeville intermediate. For my last 4 days in Australia, I'm back to Brisbane, which means no thrilling activities, fascinating creatures, or stunning vistas. But it does mean sex.

Pashing is another word for making out here in Australia. And boys, I'm sorry, but "Wanna Pash?" is not a good pickup line. And yet, it worked. Maybe I'm just easy.

By chance, I stopped into Carden one last time to eat luch before I left Oz for good. Being in the midst of summer break, I expected it to be empty. Instead, one boy laid on the floor, listening to his music. It was the same boy who strung me along earlier, the same boy who made out with me, but told me he didnt want to have sex with me by showing me his cellphone screen in a crowded nightclub. The same schizo, who couldnt decide if he was with us or a loner, who vanished before the year ended. So why is he just lazing around the room by himself in summer?

We sit and chat, but quickly run out of anything to say. So we lay back in our seats, looking at each other in silence for like 10 minutes. Then, "Hey, wanna pash?" I was stunned, taken aback, and insulted. Then I crossed the room and stuck my tongue down his throat. Who am I to argue?

Now, you dont need gritty details, but I'll tell you this: I know I was drunk when I was with him last, but I dont remember him being so... gummy. And jaw-eating. An odd technique if I ever saw one. But this went on for like an hour, despite some guy I've never seen before coming into the room and milling about in the middle. Mind over matter. But eventually, all good things must end, yes?

"So, wanna come over tonight?"
Damn, this boy is ridiculous!

Yet, come over I did. A quiet train ride together, a cup of tea, a little chit-chat, and all that awkwardness that comes before appointment sex. Then stripping, more gumming, and the typical warm-ups. Again, no detail necessary. Sorry Mac.

This was the part where I realized something was desperately wrong. He was just... cuddling. Grabbing my arm or leg and holding it hostage. Laying his head on my chest, and dragging my body to do the same. WTF?

Finally, the condoms came out, and off we went... and went... and went. No, this isnt me being a sex god. This is me being totally unable to get off, laying on my back bored and slowly going soft. Over 40 minutes of continuous sex, plus head, plus 10 minutes of jacking, and I finally got it. In the meanwhile, he got off 3 times.

But finally, off I got, and considering it was almost 3am, I was ready for sleep. But no! The fucker wants to cuddle! Let me tell you something about me: I'm not intimate. I dont enjoy cuddling. I'm also a light sleeper, and I cant rest with a heavy head on my chest and an arm wrenched behind my back. The puppeteer continued to position my limbs like a mannequin, and we went through the entire Cuddle Kama-Sutra. This is not sexy.

We tried again later, but I simply couldnt get off twice. Finally, he rolled over and went to sleep, and I was free... for 3 hours. Until he woke us up at 7am so he could go Christmas shopping. But not before another failed attempt (for me, anyway).

Lets face it, I'm not into cuddles. I'd rather play a little tonsil hockey, then jab it in doggystyle. Sorry for the graphics. But maybe there's something to be learned here. I questioned before if I was losing my attraction to women. But maybe the other side of the coin is that I have trouble getting off with men. More attracted to men, but prefer sex with women? Stop being so fucking complicated, me!