I was on a podcast, guys! Most definitely NSFW. Also I say “um” and “like” more than I thought. Disappointing.
You too will be profoundly disappointed to discover that the link doesn’t send you to the first episode of the Air Bud PawedCast (which also will likely not be safe for work somehow if I’m involved). That puppy’s still in the works. The above link will magically transport you to my friends’ Sophie and Samantha’s Tell Me Something Good podcast. Longtime readers (do I have any of those?) may remember TMSG not as a podcast, but as a live sex storytelling event. I’ve often promoted it, being one of my favourite events in the city. Seasoned storytellers or first timers come up and regale a bar full of people with carnal victories, foibles or lessons learned. In attending the one year anniversary show last night I think we all learned that open candles and polyester anything don’t mix favourably.
Casting my net back to this time last year, it turns out I did write about the experience, albeit in a much more coy manner than I would these days. Things (being me) have certainly changed. I’m far more open and comfortable with myself than I had been. This doesn’t mean I’m a dick swinging egomaniac, but I’m a little bit better at recognising that I’ve got something to offer the world.
Sometimes. Occasionally. Well I have my moments anyway. Last night after chatting to a cute girl at the bar for a few minutes, she gave me her card, grabbed her beer and walked off. A culinary nutritionist. At first thought I couldn’t tell if she was telling me she wanted to talk more or that I needed to eat less. I thought that a girl that cute would be quickly put off by the fact that I’m an unrepentant dork, so why even try? Then I realised that my girlfriend does somehow and she’s easily one of the most stunning women I’ve ever met. I’m not pandering here, it’s just a fact. Also if someone’s open enough to come to an honest, raunchy public sex storytelling event then that probably speaks to her character. Alright then, text sent.
Last night’s theme was love, something I’ve had a few run ins with. In honour of being the first ever guest at their first ever event, they gave me the opening slot (stick that in your innuendo and stroke it). I proceeded with a story of how I universally fail at searching for love, I have to wait for it to find me. It’s true though, between my inability to flirt with girls before we’ve had sex (I don’t know how I make it to bed with them in the first place. After we’ve had sex a switch in my head flicks on telling me “wait, you just had consensual sex. Maybe they’re actually interested in you.”) and predilection for sending dumb messages (they read like this project does), if I’m doing the searching it doesn’t quite seem to work. My flirting strategy is to basically wait around like a child lost in a department store, oblivious to signals. Someone eventually mistakes my general friendly manner for flirtation and brings me home to bed. This is almost exactly what happened with my current girlfriend, asking permission every step of the way. So I told that story.
The condensed version is that we met at an event and found that our lips had a taste for each other’s. And that’s it? Not quite, that’d be a boring story. I effectively got head hunted through online dating by my clone with a vagina. We had a whirlwind romance that left me wrecked in its wake. Too much too soon. All of 10 days later I went out to another event, deflated and broken from the emotional hole in my chest and quickly ran into that lovely lipped lady from earlier. She basically grabbed me by the hand, asked to kiss me and things accelerated from there. It was a winding road getting here, but after spending 7 months with a clever, caring, affectionate woman I’ve come to realise those familiar pangs of love. In this, unlike so many areas of my life, I have no doubts.