Light a candle, hit play on Barry White and let's do this.
What counts as romantic? Are you SURE you want to make love to someone? Who should go upstairs first? The answer to these questions and more in this week's episode!
Stories of queer life and even queer-er sex.
Always interesting, definitely amusing, Probably True - the repeatedly-award-winning, slightly filthy storytelling project tackling LGBTQ issues in a fun and engaging way.
Much like its creator, it is a smutty-but-charming collection of personal misadventures working to make the world a better place, one silly, sexy story at a time.
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I like to think I’m a romantic. And not in that “Sometimes I let a random Grindr shag stay over” kind of a way. Because 1) that’s usually because I think I’ll be horny again in the morning and can’t be bothered to go through the whole Grindr faff trying to find a new one; and b) Letting a random stay over is a great way to learn to hate someone you’ve just met. Because I don’t know if everyone but me twitches or squirms or snores or grinds their teeth, but I rarely get a good night’s sleep when I’m next to another person. Which is a great way to get some angry morning sex, I guess. I remember one guy saying “Oh, that was so hot! I loved it when you got really rough!” and I said “Yeah, I thought you might like that…” when what I MEANT was “At that point I was just trying to hurt you. Please leave.”
What was I talking about? Oh! Yeah. Romance. So yeah, I like to think I’m a bit romantic. Which, I admit, after that last little story probably doesn’t seem very likely, but I’m more of a nonconformist romantic. I’m not really the flowers and expensive gifts type. That always seems a bit like you’re trying to buy someone’s affections, and I’m not really down with that.
Once I went on a first date - only date - with a guy and he turned up with a gift for me. It was a green teabag sellotaped to a bar of chocolate. I saw you liked green tea and chocolate, so I thought this would be appropriate...Which was sweet, I guess… Although it seemed a little bit stalkerish to bring someone you’ve never met things that you already know they like because you’ve been through their Twitter. Still, at least it wasn’t a condom and some antibiotics… I should tweet more about large bags of money, I guess.
But what really annoyed me was that he’d sellotaped them together, which just ruined the teabag. I mean, really. What was the point? I’m all about function when it comes to presents. Don’t give useless presents. I know you needed a new engine part for your car, so I got you some fluffy dice
If you’re going to buy someone a present, it should be something that they can enjoy, and get use out of. Because otherwise all you’re saying is “I am giving you a present. Look how giving I am!” Giving someone something because it pleases you is only half the deal. It’s like sex. When I give someone something, either a present, or my penis, I like them to enjoy receiving it as much as I enjoy giving it. In fact, I enjoy giving it a lot more if I know they’re enjoying getting it.
I got distracted again.
So, yeah. It’s not just buying presents. That’s Hollywood. All those roses and chocolates and stuff. That’s not romance, that’s just commercialism and doing stuff because it’s expected. No-one has ever bought me flowers, but I’m ok with that. I don’t know how I’d react. I mean, why is giving someone flowers considered a good thing? Hello, I find you attractive, so I killed a plant. Let’s put it in some water and watch it slowly die. At least bring me a living plant. That way, once we’ve worked out that we are in no way compatible, at least I’ll have a living plant, rather than some wilted, brown metaphor for our entire relationship...
Even stuff like, lighting a candle and putting Barry While on Spotify while you bang… Is that romantic, or just really cheesey? Besides which, it’s not a good idea to have poppers near a flame. Trust me on that one. It’s awkward enough having lubey handprints up the wall when you’re trying to get your deposit back, without having to explain what happened to the bedroom curtains, too.
I’d rather someone be unexpectedly romantic…
Like, sending me a stupid message that says “I hope your day is as nice as your ass” or “Don’t get hit by a car or anything stupid like that today, because I like your face just as it is.” Or even “Ooooh, that guy is hot. If you two fucked, I would totally want to watch.” To me, that’s romantic.
One date I went on, we were going to a bar that was upstairs and the guy turned to me and said “Do you want me to go first so you can check out my ass?” and I damn near fell in love with him right then. If only he’d had money. Anyway.
For me, romance isn’t big gestures that everyone else can see, like sending flowers to someone at work, it’s more thoughtful things, between the two of you. Something that says “I am thinking of you. And I like that. Please continue to be awesome, so I have more things to think about.”
Maybe it’s because I work with words a lot, but there’s something about phrasing things in the right way. For example, “Sometimes, late into a lonely night, I find warmth and joy in thoughts of you” is a much nicer way to say “While I was in the toilets at work the other day, I knocked out a quick one while looking at that dick pic you sent me.” Both mean the same thing, but one is much more romantic…
That said, I cringe whenever I hear the phrase “making love”. No-one “makes love”. You have sex, or you shag, or you fuck, but don’t make love. It just sounds like you’re doing it really slowly, and maintaining a creepy amount of eye contact. Nah. Get all intimate, and sweet and romantic and all of that fun stuff in the lead up, but when you get to it, the actual physical act should be raw, and energetic and a little bit animal…
For me, I’m much more likely to be thinking “Gosh, I am very much into this person. I can see myself falling for them, maybe even holding their hand in public. And because of that, I wanna get nasty. I’m gonna make him moan. Make his eyes roll back in his head and really annoy his housemates. Because that’s how much I fancy him.” That’s not making love. Oh, I could make love to you all night! Well, yeah, probably, because it would be doing nothing for me. Instead give me half an hour to ruin your bedsheets and scare the neighbours, and I’ll still be crushing on you just as much, with the added bonus that neither of us would be able to walk straight in the morning.
Or even just waking up in the morning to find that he’s made you a coffee, or some toast. That’s pretty romantic, in my book. Anything other than “Oh. Are you still here? I thought you would have left by now” (a guy actually said that to me, after cuddling me all night so I couldn’t have left, even if I wanted to…) Even “Hey… Wake up, sleepyhead. You Uber is here. Get the fuck out” is pretty sweet in my book. I mean, he’s paid for my ride home, which is more than I’d ever do. I’d just point them vaguely toward the bus stop and tell them to check Google Maps if they get lost.
And if he woke me up with a bacon sandwich, I’d suck his dick so hard he’d choke on his own eyeballs.