After last week’s entry on ‘how to get, and keep, a geeky guy‘, an important question popped up in a comment: Why would I want a geek?!

Now, being a thoroughbred geek myself, I figured it was in my own best interest to tell you why you should get yourself a brand new and shiny geek boyfriend. Of course, I can’t marry more than one girl at a time (unless I move to Utah and become a Mormon), so what I’m really doing here is bigging up ALL of my geeky brethren and sistren (which is phrase used almost exclusively by feminist writers, incidentally — and now me).

This post, unlike the previous one, is about geeks of ALL varieties — boys and girls, computery or otherwise. If you’re not sure what a geek is (or a dork, or — ew — a nerd), I define them in another post. In essence though, a geek is someone that is more interested in the world than themselves.

With that out of the way, this is why geeks make the best boyfriends, girlfriends and — believe it or not — lovers too. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. It goes against everything that your ‘cool’ friends and the media has told you, but it’s true. Read on, and I’ll prove it.

Why geeks make great partners

I will start with the one trait above all others that makes geeks great partners: they are more interested in you than themself. Geeks are inherently less interested in their own wellbeing (normally so much so that they forget to eat, or shower), and far more interested in other things — like pleasing you, or making a realistic lightsaber. While a macho man, or a socialite woman might be more interested in how you affect their appearance, a geek is just happy to have a partner. They don’t care how you look, or even how you look together — they are happy just being together.

A hugely beneficial side-effect of course is that they are also unlikely to ‘go out on the pull’. In fact, they don’t even like leaving their house (or wherever they hang out when they are ‘geeking’). Geeks don’t tend to like large, noisy, social gatheringss… except for conventions of course! Talking of conventions, you’re happy to twist your hair into two Danish pastries and doll yourself up to look like Princess Leia, right? Rachel did it for Ross (who is every geek’s hero…) In general though, a geek is happy with what they’ve got — and they’ve got you.

We’re creative, and funny too!

Being interested in how things work, and less interested in people, puts geeks in a unique position. Geeks are often not entirely clued up on what’s socially acceptable, by virtue of not being very ‘out there’, and as a result our humour can be… a little off-beat. Sarcastic sometimes, and scathing, or even a little racist — but funny! It’s not unusual for a geek to listen to Billy Connolly, Bill Hicks or other angry comedians while they work; comedy that nodoubt rubs off on them. It’s this ‘outside the box’ mentality that makes us creative too! It’s not unheard of for a geek to spend days and days to get something just so — and that something might be a romantic surprise for you; or it could be a pulley system that feeds the cat from his computer chair. Geeks are most likely to create a special, romantic photo screensaver for you, or track down a stuffed toy from your favourite cartoon as a child. Geeks rarely take the easy way out if there’s an interesting solution to the task.

Geeks are romantic

Romance is all about being creative and creating a lovely relationship. The moment that you stop creating that relationship, it tumbles away — and a geek knows that all too well! A geek is probably quite aware that you’re not with them for their good looks, or their firm body. As a result, they tend to be very romantic, and very, very sappy. Now, our idea of romance might be different from yours, but that’s not a bad thing! A geek might make you a pretty, pink website declaring to the world their undying love for you; is that really worse than a bunch of flowers that’ll die in a few days? You can always expect weird and wacky tokens of affection from a geek lover.

We might still buy you chocolates however; but that’s OK, you don’t mind sharing, right?

Geeks are intelligent!

If you’re one of the few people that find intelligence unattractive, what’re you doing reading this blog? Shoo! Most people admire, and find security in intelligence. As I just mentioned, keeping things fresh is vital for a relationship, and intelligence can help a lot with that! An intelligent partner can broaden your horizons; a geek can introduce you to ideas, TV shows or places that you’ve never seen or heard of.

Geeks are also great at helping you sort out problems, either mental or physical. Being not wholly ‘of this world’, geeks can often apply quite objective logic to a problem that you might be struggling to analyse rationally. Geeks are also good at sorting out your technical problems! In fact, fixing a girl’s computer is by far the most common (and best!)  ‘intro’ that a geek guy has to meeting a possible girlfriend. The number of computers I fixed at university…

Don’t forget,  geeks are the reason cures for diseases have been found, and the reason you have a television to watch; and video games to play! Slowly but surely, geeks are inventing a world that enables everyone to have more fun, or to live a better standard of living! Eventually, the world will be at a stage where we can emerge from the safety of our bedroom cocoons, spread our wings and become fluttering, social butterflies. The kings of a world we’ve crafted.

But until then… let me tell you more good things about geeks!

We’re loyal and low-maintenance

As I touched on in the previous article, geeks are shockingly easy to get along with. We don’t require hand-holding, nor acts of affection to bolster our egos. We will always take your love at face value! To be honest, we are too busy trying to hack some kind of program together, and finish our costume for the Super Hero Convention to worry about if you really love us or not. It’s that same kind of plain, easy-going self-assurance that makes us incredibly loyal. We know we’re onto a good thing, so why ruin it? It’s not like we go out a lot anyway, so we’re unlikely to bump into possible competition… so don’t worry! Focus on making your relationship fun and love-filled — don’t spend time worrying about our fidelity or love for you!

Now what you’ve all been waiting for — why geeks make the best lovers

Except for possibly Casanova, you probably won’t find a better lover than a geek. We’re affectionate, responsive and creative. Remember what I said earlier? Geeks are intelligent and inquisitive; we like poking around until we work out what makes something tick. Then, we like to fiddle around and work out how we can make it tick louder and faster. Later, after the prodding, we sit and cogitate; we analyse. How can we make things even better? How can we keep it ticking healthily for years to come? Maybe if I do it like this? Or perhaps change the angle a bit?

You probably guessed that I was giving you a euphemistic description of a geek in the sack. In fact, I just gave you a breakdown of what goes through my mind when I’m having sex. Sex is, in fact, just like taking a computer apart, wondering what each part does, and then putting it back together again in the hope that it still works — or even works a bit better!

I’m just kidding. Sex is nothing like taking a computer apart. Watching porn is a little closer, but…

Anyway, breaking down my euphemism, you get these two glorious facts about geeks, when they get it on:

• Geeks try hard. Geeks know that they are probably not some kind of Adonis/Venus in the body department. They therefore know that they have to make the most of what they’ve got; think of the stories you’ve heard about fat girls being great in bed — it’s the same thing with geeks. Unfortunately, that’s not where the similarities end — our fitness level is also not that great… but that’ll improve with more sex!
• We’re caring. We come last. Your pleasure is more important than ours. Due to our often marginal amounts of self-esteem we’re almost entirely focused on making sure you have a good time. That creative mind also gets a good work-out when we’re not having sex; we’re trying to think of new and exciting things to try in the bedroom (or elsewhere) later on! Sex with a geek is rarely boring.

Finally, if you’re happy with your geek, remember: there are lots more available!

And you can give them to your friends! Geeks are still, sadly, a relatively un-tapped resource. I expect that to change rather rapidly when awareness grows of just how awesome geeks are. But until then, if you’re happy with your geek, why not set one of your friends up with another geek? Geeks don’t go out a lot; think about it! Invite a friend around to watch a film and get your geek to do the same! Not only will your friend be happy, but the new, loved-up geek will be appreciative. You’ve just scored yourself a second geek to help you if something needs fixing!

Thinking about it, someone needs to run a geek/non-geek match-up service…

All that remains to be said is how to find a geek. I’m working on that one, but it turns out it’s quite hard to nail down the best place to find geeks… So hard in fact that all I have so far is ‘their bedroom’. I also want to do a piece on ‘how to get that geeky girl’; a relatively new and wondrful breed of girl, and swelling in numbers quickly! I need a little more experience in that department myself though, so I need to talk to some geeky girls first!

I want to tell you a story. It’s not a particularly exciting story, but it perhaps goes some way to explaining why I didn’t kiss a girl until I was 18, and until very recently didn’t know which hole was the ‘right’ one.

You see, I was never given ‘the talk’. I can only assume this was because my parents noticed just how little testosterone I had. A soggy noodle probably had more testosterone than teenage Sebastian. My skin was clear, with spots only developing under my long, froppy fringe (bangs). When my voice finally decided to break, it took about 5 years; my balls just didn’t know when to stop their voice-deepening descent!

See! I look like a damn girl! I even have a beauty spot, like that damn super model Cindy Crawford! And I TOLD you that bowl-cut would continue to haunt me for years to come!

Looking back, I probably should’ve asked my mother for hormone injections or something; I have her to thank for my limp-wristed effeminacy that ensured my complete lack of  action at school — zero, zilch. Even if our school had a bike shed, I would’ve had no one to use it with (I made up for that when I got to college, though — I had sex behind a bike shed! Hah!) On Valentine’s Day I would always be the one sending flowers and getting nothing in return; only ’secret’ love notes from my lovely mother. I blame my young, undefined, pretty face! Moving along now… (I told you I would post a picture from my teenage years!)

I was quite afraid of girls throughout my formative years; a fear that today shows itself as an awful lack of confidence when it comes to the actual ‘pulling’ of a girl. While all of my friends were playing spin the bottle and playing that ‘5 minutes in the cupboard’ game (where you were meant to come out with switched clothes! Were we the only kids that played that game?), I was sitting at he edge of the circle, or in the corner, praying the bottle didn’t land on me. As it turns out (and I wish someone had told me sooner, as I might’ve tried to change!) girls really dig a confident guy. Above all else maybe, girls nearly always want a guy that knows what he’s doing; and that certainly wasn’t me.

So, my teenage years, with a complete lack of sex or even sexuality were dull. That isn’t to say I didn’t do anything interesting, just nothing teenagery and interesting. I won competitions, and both my education and vocabulary were both growing at an alarming rate but… but there was no damn sex! Occasionally a girl would look at me with her big eyes and look downwards, blushing… but at the time, I had no idea that she liked me. No one told me what girls do when they like you! As I’ve said before, it was only after I left school that my sister told me about all these girls that had crushes on me…

But, you know what? I don’t blame my complete lack of sexuality entirely on my apparent lack of testosterone, or my ineptitude at talking to women. Sure, it would’ve been nice to receive ‘the talk’ from my parents, or at school, but I don’t blame that either.

I blame a certain teacher. A teacher that treated sex like a sin that would send you directly to Hell, without even the briefest glimpse of Purgatory. The kind of teacher that took a black marker to our textbooks and removed everything that could in some way be related to sex — even the novels we had to read for English! I remember picking up Pride and Prejudice and finding chapter upon chapter with blacked-out blocks of text.

It’s unsurprising then, as a teenager, I might’ve thought sex was a bit like the MI5 or the secret police: you know it’s going on, somewhere, somehow, but you don’t talk about it, and you certainly don’t act upon any urges you might be experiencing.

Now, the great thing about most schools is that even if you get a bad teacher, you know that next year you’ll have a new one! You know that no matter how bad it was, and how awfully you might’ve behaved, next year things will be better — you’ll have a new teacher, and a clean slate.  It was the same logic which drove me, on the last day of the school year, to spread glue on this teacher’s chair and laugh in her face when she tried to get up to write on the blackboard.

Imagine my horror when, after a gloriously long summer break, we swung the classroom door open to find the same teacher grinning at us from behind her big, mahogany desk. Our mouths hung open in what she can only have assumed was awe, but was in fact 10 kids displaying their combined rictus of mortal terror. ‘Welcome back, little children of God, to my shrine of celibacy and all things pure’ she said. Well, she didn’t really, but that was the thought racing through all of our minds. Would we really be having another boring year of sexless education?

Sadly, we would — another year passed; another year without even a lingering hug from a girl, or a nervous grope from my shaking hands. I was now 14, and whether I liked it or not, my voice was starting to break. I was starting to find hair in new and exciting locations. I was having to stay seated behind my desk while the class emptied with increasing, and alarming (but not unpleasant) regularity.

And then, the impossible, through some wicked twist of fate became… possible. The infinitely improbable somehow occurred. Someone, up there — the God of Schadenfreude, if she exists — was obviously having a rather hearty laugh at our expense.

We had the same teacher for the third year running.

By this stage, most of the girls were already wearing burqas and avoiding unnecessary contact/communication with the boys on pain of death by stoning. The boys had pretty much forgotten what a crafty, under-the-desk erection felt like. I was fully expecting to be handed a chastity belt as I walked into her classroom for the third year running; a chastity belt that had no key and was sealed with an unbreakable resin glue.

Some way through the third year, it was someone’s birthday, and it was normal for us to have a little birthday party on Friday afternoon to celebrate — you know, some music and decorations, some cake and ice cream. Normally someone would bring in the latest-and-greatest pop album and we’d dance and laugh for hours. This time though, someone had a great idea, a great idea that would resonate through the ages: let’s make a mix tape… a mix tape with naughty songs on it. Songs like… Let’s talk about sex, by Salt-n-Pepa.

God, looking back, we were so excited about the prospect of one-upping our draconian, prude, preacher freak of a teacher. We talked about it for days in hushed whispers during class. The giggle fits which inevitably followed only resulted in the removal of yet more privileges, which eventually led us to behave. We were mortified that she might actually cancel the party and ruin our glorious, immature plans!

The day of the party finally arrived. The girls had dressed prettily. The sporadic and not wholly unwelcome erections were back. Spontaneous, girly giggles could be heard regularly; lingering touches could be felt during and after hugs. After the party, with hot, red blood coursing through our systems and with pheromones thick in the air, surely this was it. Surely this was going to be my first kiss. At worst it would be my first tentative grope. I was ready; this was it. Bring it on!

4pm came and class finished. I got the tape player out with a bounce in my step and a grin on my little (effeminate!) face. I pushed the symbol of our freedom into the machine, pressed play.

She’d got to the tape.

Somehow that witch of a woman had got to our mix tape. There was a rather severe lack of Salt-n-Pepa; instead, the soft, sultry tones of Cliff Richard wafted into the air. The soft, completely devoid-of-sexuality notes of Summer Holiday hit our ears like a sonic boom; the silence that followed was deafening. The sexual tension that had positively thrummed throughout the day dissipated in an instant. Today wasn’t going to be the day of my first kiss; it wasn’t even going to be the day of my first sweaty-palmed grope. It was to be yet another disappointing day in the life of teenage Sebastian.

Fortunately, just a few months after that party, and after three long, boring years, the winds of luck finally changed: we got a new teacher!

For years afterward though, the playing of Let’s talk about sex as loud and as often possible was the signature prank of my class — preferably from outside her window.

Girls are from Venus. Boys are from Mars. While that phrase was coined to illustrate just how large the chasm is between men and women — how differently we approach life, and the problems we might encounter — the number of similarities we share are still too numerous to count.

I’m going to try and focus purely on the differences between boys and girls, men and women. This won’t be an article on how humans all endeavour to survive, but it might help you survive a little better by getting more out of friendships and relationships — especially if you interact a lot with the opposite sex! This guide could alternatively be called ‘how to get on better with girls’ or even ‘Seb tells you far too many trade secrets.’

To the girls: don’t take it too personally. This is going to feel like, at worst, that you’ve been sliced and prepared into a series of cutaway diagrams. At best, it’s going to feel like you’ve been stripped bare.

To the boys: remember, every girl is different. This is a guide, not a checklist!

Now, please forgive me for starting with the least romantic part of boy/girl relationships, but it sets the groundwork so nicely. It explains away a lot of the difficulties you might have, as a guy, with understanding a girl: it’s all in their head, man! You can skip the first section if you think it’s just plain unromantic.

The Psychology

Genetically, we’re almost identical, with just 78 genes separating boys from girls. I’m not a doctor, so I’m not going to suggest anything preposterous, but it would seem that those 78 genes would become, in later life, the differences in our physiology, our brain chemistry and ultimately the huge differences we notice between the actions and thought processes of men and women.

Tests would seem to suggest that almost all differences between male and female sensitivity and recall is based on our relative levels of testosterone, estrogen and progesterone. Women, for example, tend to have more vivid memory recall during their period. Women also have a much easier time recalling memories with emotional components (which might go some way to explaining why women, at least from a male perspective, seem to dig up very odd, ‘unimportant’ stuff during their period). It’s also female hormones that make women more sensitive, at least towards dangerous situations or a perceived threat. Couple this with the fact that the heightened testosterone levels in men can cause emotional insensitivity or a complete lack of empathy, and you can begin to see why men and women might fail to get along — especially during that time of the month.

The solution here, gentlemen, is to be gentle. A girl only feels bonded in a relationship by a feeling of closeness inspired by shared feelings and emotions — intimacy, in other words. Believe it or not, watching a sporting event with a girl doesn’t actually cement your relationship very much. In fact, the only real shared ground between men and women is sex. Men love it: it’s active, it’s sporting (’Maybe I can go for another hour this week!’, ‘Let’s go for 6 orgasms…’) Women love it — at least, most do — because of the bonding, physically and mentally, and it is inherently very intimate.

Orgasms. Girls love orgasms. Oh, and sex too, but really… orgasms.

With the psycho-babble out of the way I can now move into much safer (if not easier!) waters. The wild, wet seas of the Big O.

Orgasm in the morning; orgasm in the evening. Orgasm at work, in the supplies cupboard. Wherever and whenever — a girl wants to orgasm. I’m not going to turn this into a guide on sex (maybe next week: ‘The master geek at work in the bedroom’), so just go and look up some guides on the internet. I think the most vital thing to remember is that very few girls reach orgasm from the ol’ fashioned ‘just stick it in’ technique — men should really know this by now, but in case you didn’t: you have to get messy! And I don’t mean poo play.

As I mentioned before, girls really need intimacy. Unless you make a habit of watching sad movies and sharing your thoughts (some guys with low levels of testosterone are quite happy to do this — like me), sex is probably the only time you will be truly intimate with a girl. So you might as well make the sex good, and do it often!

Girls want to be loved

I’ve learnt that, despite their apparent faults, misgivings or erratic, emotional outbursts, a girl wants to be loved. This desire to be loved is so strong that a girl will often slight her own ethics or personal integrity to get a guy to love her.

It’s important, for the success and longevity of a relationship, that you don’t let a girl sacrifice herself to please you. Women are constantly in search of intimacy (and the love that follows) and will do almost anything to get it from you. Most men are unaware of just how many hoops they (inadvertently!) force their girlfriends to jump through, to earn their intimacy and love. It’s unfair and it destroys the very essence of what makes a person a person: self worth. Sure, you might end up satisfied in the short term, but you’ll be left with a bereft, empty, soulless shell of a girl; a shell with only a few shattered fragments of the girl you first met and hit it off with.

If you’re not ready to love (I’m guessing this is a genetic thing again, stopping guys from saying those 3 fateful words; those 7 immensely heavy letters), you must at least be ready to be intimate. A girl probably doesn’t want to actually hear you say ‘I love you’, she’s more than likely just looking for you to share your feelings and emotions… so try to do that! Watch The Notebook and cry with her. Trust me.

Girls solve problems differently

This is the difference that really counts. Life is, as you know, just a constant stream of making decisions and solving problems. Both men and women are equally good at working out problems — and thus, surviving! — they just take very different paths to the solution. Us men like to take control of the situation and get it solved as quickly and effectively as possible. Women, on the other hand, are more interested in the how and why of the problem — analysing how that thorn came to be there, and how to remove it,  is far more interesting than ACTUALLY removing it.

In a relationship, this means the girl will assess other possible solutions before deciding on the ‘right’ one. For girls, sharing and solving problems together (either with friends, or with their beloved) is of great value — almost more so than the actual doing! This is often a problem for guys, because they seek the self-assurance derived from solving problems on their own! While a guy will often adopt the ’spray and pray’ approach of problem solving (keep trying until something sticks), girls are far more likely to pool ideas with other people, and learn from other people’s past mistakes. It’s amazing how rational women can be without testosterone clouding their judgement…

In reality, a mix of these two approaches is ideal. Sometimes there just isn’t time for the bureaucracy of female problem-solving — but sometimes there is, and as a guy you should try your best to sit down and discuss problems, and the possible solutions, with the girl. I’m not even talking big, pivotal relationship-shattering problems; it could be something as simple as whose house to stay at on a given day, or which TV show you watch, and which one you record. Discuss it!

Girls want to be wined and dined, and looked after!

I’m probably on dangerous ground here, especially with the ‘looked after’ caveat. Perhaps I should rephrase it as ‘girls like a guy that knows what he’s doing’, which is a very broad phrase, but accurate. A girl doesn’t like a guy that’s uncertain of his role in life — a guy that can’t make good choices and survives poorly is unlikely to be the target of a girl’s affections. In the same vein, girls like guys that know what they’re on about –  ‘confidence’ in other words! A girl likes a guy that knows a nice place to take them out for dinner; she doesn’t like a guy that drives around, uncertain of what to do, or where to go. Girls don’t like guys that mope around in the house, not sure of what to do with their life, or where to go on a date (both of these points is where most geeks fail, incidentally, including myself!)

Perhaps this is more a hint for getting a girl, rather than keeping one, though I would’ve thought that gifts of flowers, jewellery and other tokens of affection are the in-relationship equivalent of ‘wining and dining’.

She really does look fat in that dress…

Yet again, the classic, brute-force problem-solving ability of men (the same ability that first brought meat to the cave!) comes back to bite us on the ass. ‘I think I’m coming down with the flu’ your girlfriend says. ‘Don’t worry honey, I’ll call the doctor.’ Wrong. ‘Perhaps I would look better with larger breasts’ she trickily states. ‘How much does it cost?’ Wrong… so, so wrong. When a woman poses such questions she  is nearly always looking for understanding and emotional support. The problem? Men are far more interested in their ability to solve problems, and quickly. The woman is posing a challenge; the man wants to solve it, further cementing his position of supremacy!

You will only be able to catch these ‘curve ball’ statements after months or years of experience, so you should probably start watching for them as soon as possible… When she says ‘You’re so rash and uncaring!’ that’s normally a sign that you’ve said the wrong thing (even though you thought you were being very caring…)

Tips, tricks and further reading

I’ve given you enough information to make even the most stalwart, embittered ice-queens fall for you (I speak from experience: The American), but I thought I could share a few ‘tips and tricks’ that I’ve picked up in the few years that I’ve been, um, ‘active’, though I’m not going to share my real trade secrets. That’d be like shooting myself in the foot.

• The compliment game – Try being complimentary. Really damn complimentary and affectionate.  Not so complimentary as to be facetious of course, but if you think a girl (or your girl) looks nice in something, say so! If you notice she’s wearing a new shade of lipstick, and it looks pretty, say so! If she smells nice, whisper it into her ear as you hug tightly. I want to believe that I developed this game with my cousin, but I’m sure someone thought of before me. It’s amazing how far sincere affection goes — and how far it will get you.
• Be a good lover, really — Again, I’m not going to turn this into a guide on how to have sex, but sex is so important early on in a relationship. While sex is often sublimated towards more creative outlets later on, it’s really the only intimacy that both you and your girlfriend can share in. Later in the relationship, you’ll find a lot of other ways to be intimate… like a good foot massage!
• Further reading — There are lots of resources on the net on this topic — though, often from very specialised points of view. There’s an excellent condensed version of ‘You Just Don’t Understand’ by Deborah Tannen which looks, very deeply, at the fundemental differences between girls and boys (which, sadly, is of more interest to girls!) If you like the psychology thing, there’s lots of stuff by clinical psychologists offering their opinions on the web, just search around. There’s also data on the statistical differences between men and women — and finally, of course, the obligatory funny (and insightful…) picture.

In the past couple of years, it has seemed that everything is about babies. Who is having babies, when they’re having babies, what they’re going to call their babies — and on, and on, and on. Some of the women around here have even been having ’synchronised babies’, so that they can share in the joys, woes and experiences of being a glowing mother-to-be. And of course, once they give birth, the two (possibly unfortunate?) children have the pleasure of being inexorably linked for the first few years of their life.

Let me tell you, those few formative years are important! People (often of the doctor variety) say that we don’t recall much from the first 3 years of our life, and that might be true, certainly. But it’s not all about memories and recall, it’s about something far more basic — and primal; it’s about nurture! It’s in our fledgling years that we begin to learn the difference between right and wrong; what’s safe, and what isn’t. It’s in those early years that we have have experiences that later change our entire outlook on life. Those fleeting months — those months that will go by ever so quickly — will see us discover our dreams, and harbour our first fears and anxieties.

I will write more about childhood in the future, as it’s an important topic for me, but just think about this one: we’re born without fear, and without prejudices. As children, the world is a shiny, untainted place. If only we were born with bigger legs and stronger hearts we’d be off exploring the universe without a second thought.

As you can tell, I think an awful lot rests on the early years of a child. It’s no surprise that I’m anxious about having children: I want to make sure I get it absolutely right! If I can’t get it right, I’d rather not do it at all. I can deal with self-inflicted damage, but damaging a little, baby person? I don’t think I could knowingly do that to a child.

So, because of the local baby boom, this has all been running around in my head. Then today, a family friend left her two babies with us; with my mother and sister. The girl, who is about a year old, was looked after by my sister the whole day. Truth be told, I think she enjoyed it a bit too much, and I think she’ll be wanting one of her own very soon. My mother, despite my aforementioned misgivings, insisted I spend some time with the baby boy.

‘No, no… don’t… I’ll drop him.’

‘Don’t be silly, Seb, he’s tiny, you’ll be fine!’

And so there I was, sitting at this very computer, when my mother unceremoniously plopped the child onto my knee. He grinned at me. I grinned back. A little knee bounce and another big, cheeky grin. I turned him to face my computer screen, and he grinned again, broader this time: this guy and I obviously had some common ground! We poked around my computer for a bit, showing him my blog (and the pretty photos of course), and then we played a game of ‘find his favourite kind of music’, where he proved that yet again has very good taste. Out of a line-up of Glen Campbell, Green Day and Elvis Costello, he chose Withita Lineman — what a baby!

And then, out of no frickin’ no where, just like that, my anxieties were gone. I’m not saying I clung onto the baby for the rest of the day — far from it, I was still petrified of dropping him, or teaching him some awful habit that he’d show his mother later on, like farting or picking his nose — but I did decide, there and then, that I’d probably make a great father. Maybe… just maybe I’d be good enough to nurture a child just right.

It was then, of course, that my mind turned to possible baby names. I already have a girl’s name chosen (if a possible wife happens to be reading this — sorry, you’re too late, and you get no say), but I’m still fairly open on the subject of the ideal name for my first son, and heir to my throne.

If you’ve read my ‘about‘ page, you’ve probably worked out that I aspire to rule the world. I’m well aware that conquering and ruling the world is probably not something I can do in one life time — I could certainly begin the process, but it would have to be a mantle of ownership passed down to my son: the one true heir and emperor; the heir that, unlike the meek, will actually inherit the world.

Now, an emperor of the world needs a good name. He needs a strong name. A name that instills both loyalty and admiration. A name so epic and awe-inspiring that legends and myths will manifest from the path he walks, the deeds he performs and the words he utters.

A name like Romulus, Zeus or Caesar.

Once I have a name, all I need is a wife that will bear the child. A child that will be born with legs strong enough to cross the Earth in just a few strides.

Ever since I started writing here on this blog, I’ve been trying to work out the best way to tell you.

I alluded to it with numerous posts about musical theatre, and incredibly insightful articles on the inner workings of girls; something that a straight guy could never do, at least not with such alarming accuracy.

I even tried to tell you through my constant use, and love, of pink. My pink t-shirts, my pink scarves, my pink fluffy love-cuffs — I tried it all! Somehow… somehow you kept holding on, praying that it was all a ruse, a lie. He must be straight, surely…

I even thought it might’ve been the beard, so I shaved that off too.

I’ve told you tales of me waxing off my leg hair, and you’ve seen the photo of me with the handlebar moustache and hot-pink shoulder-padded jacket — that’s what I wear most weekends!

And then, of course, there were all those stories — the one about me turning a girl gay, or the next girl running off to become a priest. You didn’t actually think they were real? They were mere fabrications; figments of an imaginary world that I have lived in for the last decade. A world that I conjured into existence in an attempt to convince my family, my friends and myself that I’m straight.

Well, I’m not straight.

I’m gay.

Gay, like Boy George rolling up at Mardi Gras in a baby-pink Mini. Gay.

Time and time again I have sat down to dinner with my mother and father, unable to look them in the eye. ‘Got a girlfriend yet, Seb?’ followed by the words I’ve had to repeat each and every time, year after year: ‘No, not yet, Dad…’

Being a wimp — though, finally coming out must surely be the first step to getting some balls? — I thought I would post this entry, instead of telling my parents in person. They both read this blog.

So that’s that, then.

We have a family dinner tonight. I just know my father won’t be able to keep a straight face when dessert is served and I ask him to pass me the hot fudge sauce.

Now that I’ve stepped out of the closet, I’ve finally had a chance to look back INTO it. In doing so, I’ve had a shocking realisation: I have nothing to wear! All I have is that same outfit that I’ve worn on the rare occasion that I’ve been home alone, or to one of those  ‘Not-Straight’ nights at university.

So with the weather was nice, I thought it would be a good idea if I had a quick look around the shops for some clothing that states, in no uncertain terms, that I’m gay.

So far all I’ve found is this hot baby-blue jacket. Good idea? Bad idea? I think it accentuates my eyes, and my cheeky personality, but I need advice if I’m to succeed with this rather late-life change of plans

I’ll keep looking for more, but truth be told, I don’t really know what to buy. Does anyone have some shop names (or links?) that specialise in gay clothing? Or do I just buy all of the bright shades, some suspenders, and gel my hair into a wild shape?

Is this the stage where I have to decide if I’ll be a bear — one of those bearded, butch types — or a queen? Is there something inbetween? I really should have done some more research before I came out.

There I was, looking up the beautiful, soft curves of the female form. She had mounted me in the standard bronco position. She whimpered, I groaned; she gyrated and thrusted, I groaned some more.

It was then, shaking my head to gain a moment of clarity, I realised that sex could become boring. Sure, given a particular moment in time, sex would always be enjoyable, but it would fast become boring unless I kept it interesting.

Though I have only been sexually active for about 6 years, it occurred to me fairly early on that sex, like relationships, has to be constantly created — recreated, even, from encounter to encounter, from lingering glance to lingering, love-sick glance.

They say — wise, old people — that sex stops being exciting and interesting as a relationship goes on. It sublimates to other activities, or the act of just being together, in rocking chairs on the veranda. The reason for this is twofold:

1. Sex is a waste of time — Okay, a really, fun, intimate waste of time, but still, compared to other things you could be doing, it’s a waste of time!
2. Sex stops being exciting – This is probably the main reason people stop having sex (and also why quite-weak relationships might falter and stumble, if sex is the main thing keeping them together). Eventually, you run out of inspiration, and without inspiration you find yourself running out of positions to try out, and eventually… sex becomes a waste of time!

(You don’t have to agree with me by the way, I am just laying the ground for the rest of my argument.)

You need to keep creating fun, exciting, exhilarating sex, or you’ll soon find yourself in front of the TV with your partner watching EastEnders, or American Idol. Your relationship, intellect and health would quickly waste away into nothingness. Worst of all, you’d start enjoying reality TV. Wouldn’t that be a fate worse than death?

‘Yes it would!’

This isn’t going to be a list of possible positions — that would be too graphic, and there are already thousands of sites (and positions!) out there on the Internet for you to browse, if you need some help in that department (even I learnt a few new ones as I was writing this!)

This first list (and there will be others) is a few of the places I’ve had sex, in an attempt to keep my relationships alive and kicking. Well, alive and penetrating. The next list will be a theoretical list of places that would be good to have sex in — i.e. places I want to try out, hopefully before I’m too old and inflexible to make the most of them.

Sex in a field

One of the first adventurous places I had sex was a field atop a hill. It was quite a cold day, but fortunately sex has a tendency to heat you up rather quickly. We’d started off in winter clothes, but after a few minutes of rolling around and fumbling and kissing the clothes were ripped off.

Sex in a field is a great way to end (or punctuate) a romantic stroll in the countryside. It’s quite an intense experience (and memory), so every time you go walking again, your mind will always wander back to that fateful time you rolled around in the hay…!

• Unique Selling Point — The normally-dull missionary position becomes a whole lot more exciting when a gusty, cool breeze blows up your ass. There is also a wide variety of fields that you can have sex in! It is also different each season: summer might mean skirts and no underwear, and laying on the crunchy leaves of autumn (fall) can be a lot of fun.
• Exhibitionist Rating – 3 out of 10 (low chance of being seen), though it obviously depends on where you go, and the time of year. We accidentally chose a spot where people often walked their dogs, boosting the ER up to 8 out of 10. Darn.

Sex on a train

An oldie but goodie, sex on a train is still one of my favourites. I’ve actually had sex, or almost had sex quite a few times on trains, nearly always on the way back from London. In the dark, almost-empty train carriages, you can get away with an awful lot, and make a lot of noise! Place yourself in the middle of a carriage, and you can see or hear people coming from some distance away. If they’re lucky, they’ll hear you coming, too!

Even if you don’t have sex on a train, there’s a lot you can do, just sitting side by side, hands in each other’s laps or with the girl leaning over…

• Unique Selling Point – The chairs! Perfect for the girl to straddle the guy, or if you’re in a little ‘booth’ with opposing chairs, the girl could lean forward, and… well, I’m not going to illustrate it with pictures; you get the idea. If you still don’t get the idea, contact me and I’ll see what I can do.
• Exhibitionist Rating – 4 out of 10. If you do this late at night (which, really, you should — you don’t want young kids to see you!) the chance of being spotted is quite low. Obviously, if it’s a noisy train, and you can’t hear people opening doors, you might get caught out — but perhaps you want to be caught out?! Obviously, if you decide to do this during rush hour (which I have sadly never done), the rating goes up a little… to 10 out of 10 (unless the girl has a short skirt on and is very quiet — but then you’re not doing it right!)

Sex in a dressing room

This one’s a fun one. Every guy hates shopping; he might say that he likes it, but trust me, he doesn’t. The only way I’ve found to make shopping not quite so dismal is to have sex in a dressing room. It’s up to you which shop you choose, but generally posh department stores have nice, large dressing rooms. If it has a chair, that’s obviously a bonus for geeky men with less upper-body strength…

A word of warning: don’t do it in one of your favourite shops, unless there are others in the chain nearby — I can no longer shop at three shops in my local city, but that’s OK because they only sell clothes for girls!

• Unique Selling Point – The woman gets what she really wants (both an orgasm, and clothes!) Plus, there aren’t many places you can have sex when you’re out and about — up against the wall in a dark alley isn’t quite the same (but can still hit the spot!)
• Exhibitionist Rating – 7 out of 10 (10 out of 10 on a busy day). Depending on the time you go (weekdays are safer), you might not get seen at all. The danger comes from being just an inch of wood away from other people trying on clothes, and you can guarantee they’re going to hear your whimpering and panting — and growling, in my case.When I did it, we were obviously too noisy because two girls, at the same time, popped their heads over the top and looked down at me and my girlfriend going at it, up against the wall.At least they didn’t scream or alert the staff. To be honest, I have no idea how long they were watching before we noticed. Hot!

Sex in a theatre, while watching a show

This one’s going to earn me some disapproving looks I am sure, but it’s true: I’ve had sex in a theatre. A big theatre. But don’t worry, we weren’t at the front of the auditorium, and the thousand people behind us didn’t have to watch as she scooted over onto my lap. We were at the back of the theatre.

It became (hah) quite an art, timing the quick thrusts with the passionate full-orchestra ensemble, and then slowing down to gentle, loving strokes during the dialogue and quiet songs.

• Unique Selling Point – How often do you get to mix culture and sex? Not often, I assure you. Again, like a train, you have an abundance of chairs which you can use for either straddling, or a variety of bent-over positions.  You could also just drop down between the chairs, but no one would see you there, and what’s the fun in that? For bonus points, try to time your climax for the er, climax of ‘One Day More‘ — it’ll be a moment you both cherish for years to come. Hah.
• Exhibitionist Rating – 7 out of 10. When we did this one, some damn kid turned around and spotted us, pointed us out to his parents, who in-turn pointed us out to their neighbours. Eventually, a sizable portion of the audience turned to watch us. They all turned back to the stage for the big number though, so we can’t have been that good. Rating is increased to 10 out of 10 if you can’t control yourself during the quiet bits — and you’ll probably get thrown out too, which is a waste of the exorbitant ticket price!It does mean that I have a 30 minute blank spot in my knowledge of Les Miserables though…

Sex in the back of a race-tuned Dodge Viper

I should begin by saying this was in a moving Dodge Viper, and penetration was only temporary because, well… her dad was driving the car. I won’t go into too many details on this one, but I will tell you it’s the same Dodge Viper that I reference in this story about The American.

• Unique Selling Points — Acceleration. Torque. Thrust. G-force. The Dodge Viper accelerates from 0 to 100 mph (160 kph) in about 9 seconds (just about long enough for me to finish); a quarter mile in 12 seconds. It is stupendously fast. The girl — and the penis — will discover places that are impossible to reach under normal-gravity conditions. Not to mention, the affect of quick acceleration/torque on your inner ear is almost orgasmic in its own right!
• Exhibitionist Rating – 10 out of 10. You have a 10-20 second window between protective father’s glances into the rear-view mirror for the girl to hop on and hop off. Of course, you can repeat this as many times as you like, but the chances of you getting caught are quite high. If you’re caught, you’ll probably crash and die, so this is for risk-takers only!

Notes & Further Info

First, you have to remember that in almost all cases and most cultures, having sex in public is generally frowned upon. Best-case scenario, you might get thrown out of the theatre — worst-case, you might have to pay a fine or suffer through community service for indecent exposure.

Secondly, you don’t have to become an exhibitionist to squeeze a little more juice out of your relationship — but a moment of shared excitement and passion does go a long way to briging two people closer together! This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t just invest in a sex swing, or use the dining room table — but I am assuming that you’ve exhausted most normal positions/situations, or perhaps you are just easily-bored like me! You could stick to the ‘in a field’ thing, if you want to play it safe… but where’s the fun in that?

Lastly, remember, if your entire relationship consists of just having sex, it’s probably not much of a relationship — in the long run no amount high-torque Dodge Viper sex is going to fix that.

Following on from part 1, this is a theoretical list of places I would like to have sex. I will use my masterful and infallible analytical skills to deduce which place is, in fact, the best place to have sex (though, I think the back of a Dodge Viper, with a cheerleader, is probably unsurpassable).

If anyone reading this wants to try one or more of these, please contact me. Girls and boys. It will be blogged about though…

Sex, up against the front plate-glass window of a shop

I have this mental image of a TV crew filming a segment on local businesses. Behind the reporter, there’s a shop. In that shop, there’s me, and a girl, going at it, with her face pushed up against the glass in a comical fashion. Doesn’t necessarily have to be naked — just the facial expressions, and the sliding up and down against the glass…

• Unique Selling Point – If you had someone (a friend?) take photos, you’d probably get some great keepsakes. Probably not the kind of photos you could keep in picture frames around the house, though. There’s a slim chance that the shop you’re shagging in will appreciate the extra publicity and give you vouchers too! More likely, you’ll just get banned from ever shopping there again.
• Exhibitionist Rating (ER) – 7 out of 10 on a slow day (some people simply won’t work out that a girl’s face squished up against a window means ‘we’re having sex’). For the full 10 out of 10, make sure the news crew that catch you are broadcasting live. Instant, global (well, maybe, if you do it right) recognition. There’s your 5 minutes (hopefully) of fame, men.

Sex in a Space Shuttle and/or Viper from Battlestar Galactica

I simply couldn’t choose what would be better: the thrust (and I think a Space Shuttle taking off is the only thing with more thrust than a Dodge Viper), or the awesomeness of doing it in the cockpit of a Viper. Now, with space tourism becoming viable, sex in a Shuttle is actually a possibility. I don’t know if you want to unbuckle your seatbelt and clamber onto the guy’s lap during the take-off sequence though. Mind you, if you waited until you were in space, zero-g sex might be quite cool?

But then… the Viper. The sexiest damn space ship ever — sexier even than the Millennium Falcon and Han Solo combined. You could even throw in Chewie to make it a pretty damn hot, hairy threesome, and the Viper would still be sexier. It’d be a squeeze no doubt, but for a geek, it might never get better than this. Don’t forget, now that the series has ended, all of the props are being auctioned off, including the Viper models. I am so tempted…

• Unique Selling Point – For the Shuttle, it’s obviously the thrust. And, walking to the window and looking down at Earth has to be the best post-coital thing ever, even if you can’t light a cigarette up. If you had sex in a Viper, you’d be revered by every other geek until the day you die. You’d be elevated to demigod status in an instant. Queues at comic conventions would part for you, like the seas parted for Moses.
• Exhibitionist Rating – ? out of 10. If you’re having sex while the communication channel is open to mission control, and the whole world can hear you panting and wheezing, then obviously the ER goes up a lot — in fact, Houston, there might just be a problem.

  The Viper could probably be placed in your bedroom — though, out on the front lawn would be pretty wild. Geeky kids would gather to point and stare… at the Viper.

Sex on a desert island

I know. How dull. But hear me out! Imagine an island, with just two people on it — you, and your partner. Perhaps there’s a small tribe of natives on the other side of the island that maintain things and bring you freshly-cracked coconuts. But imagine… a deserted beach, facing westward, perhaps in the Indian ocean. A deep, fluffy towel is laid down beneath you. The sun is setting and the world is drenched in beautiful shades and hues of orange and purple and red. And only then, as the sun slowly slips out of sight, you gently slip it in…

• Unique Selling Point – Ultimately, this is a variation of ’sex in a field’. A beautiful, warm variation of sex in a field without the cold gust of air surprising your nether regions. You can also be as loud as you like; only the birds and fishes will hear you. Plus… well, come on, who hasn’t dreamed of one day being on a deserted desert island?
• Exhibitionist Rating – 0 out of 10. The only way you could ever class this as exhibitionism is if a local tribesman just happened to be up a coconut tree nearby. It would be hard to be heard over the roar of the ocean and the chattering of the birds, though. Imagine the give-away sound of a coconut falling to the ground while you’re having sex — wouldn’t that just be awesome? Stereotypical, but awesome.

Sex in Saint Peter’s Basilica in The Vatican City

It’s OK, stop praying for my soul. Please. I’m already going to hell for some of the other things I’ve done to my girlfriends. I finally visited St Peter’s Basilica in October 2008 and 6 months later words still fail me when I try to describe the sheer scale of the thing. I’ve seen a lot of churches (including the mosques in Istanbul) and I thought I would grow immune to the Keanu Reeves-esque ‘Woah’ that normally afflicts people when they cross the holy threshold. I pushed back the vast vault-like doors of St Peter’s, cautiously stepped inside, walked a few paces forward with my head down and then looked around. It dwarfs EVERYTHING else. It makes the rest of the world feel small. AND they still hold mass there! I can see why belief might come quite easily to Romans when you are floored by such majestic, immense awe.

• Unique Selling Point – Although probably not unique, you would be one of the only people to ever have had sex in St Peter’s Basilica. I can’t imagine a lot of people have tried it. Alternatively, you could do it in the Sistine Chapel under the beautiful paintings of Michelangelo, though there seemed to be a large number of armed guards when I went. If you’re a militant agnostic, or perhaps your parents tried to ram faith down your throat, St Peter’s Basilica might appeal to you — what better way to sock it to God than shaggin’ wildly right under his nose? Bonus points — go straight to hell, do not pass Purgatory — if you manage a little buggery.It’s worth noting that the chances of  ‘divine inspiration’ or being touched by the ‘hand of God’ are vastly increased if you have sex in St Peter’s Basilica. ‘How did you find God, daddy?’ might be an interesting question to answer around the dinner table in a few years.
• Exhibitionist Rating — 3 out of 10. If you prescribe to the ‘God is Omnipresent’ thing, it’s obviously a big, fat 10 out of 10. St Peter’s Basilica is so large that you could undoubtedly find a dark, quiet corner to do the dirty. I would argue though that going to Rome and doing it anywhere other than the main altar, right at the focus of the Roman Catholic God would be a bit of a waste. Thinking about it, the acoustics might carry and reverberate the noises of your frantic antics over quite a distance.

Sex in a lion/large cat enclosure

You could extend this one to ‘on the sub-Saharan savannah’. Ever since I read about those ‘romantic tree houses’ (basically, canvas tents that have been secured to trees) that you can find in the African plains, I’ve thought about doing some serious sexing with lions prowling around. Imagine looking up from your hiding spot, amongst the long, slender grass and spotting a lion proudly perched atop a grassy knoll, or lounging in an ancient, gnarled tree. Imagine the earth shaking — not from your violent, vigorous sex, but from a herd of elephants marching past you. Being a realist, though, I am far more likely to sneak into a zoo with a girlfriend and get mauled by a tiger. A man can dream, though!

• Unique Selling Point – If watching a male lion viciously and unceremoniously mount a female doesn’t get your juices going, there’s always the elephants (a really scary sight, if you’ve never seen it — that poor girl is carrying 6 tonnes of male elephant). If that doesn’t get you going, well, I don’t know what will.
• Exhibitionist Rating – 0 out of 10. This one’s purely for you two; just enjoy the moment! For bonus points though, to boost the ER, get caught on camera by a photographer, or a TV crew. ‘Here, in the dusty, yellowed sub-Saharan plains of Africa we can see two fine examples of Homo Sapiens going about their usual mating ritual with relish and surprising vigor…’ Double points if David Attenborough does the narration when it finally makes it onto BBC1.

That’s all. For now…

Recently, my geekiness was called into question: ‘You’re not very geeky, Sebastian. All you talk about is sex. Sex, sex, sex. That’s hardly wholesome geeky talk. How about some Star Wars talk, or a list of all the comics you own?’

Let me tell you something, Little Miss I’m-a-bigger-geek-than-you : I AM A HUGE GEEK, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

The thing is, like my sexuality, I am so confident in my geekiness that I don’t feel the need to constantly reassure myself, and you lot, that I’m a geek. So, please excuse me if I don’t always talk about a fantastic new range of marbled dice or if the digital Yoda was better than the original wobbly-eared bogey-coloured rubber model.

However…

This weekend I will be attending a LAN party.

A LAN party, for those of you that don’t know — for those of you not geeky enough – is a ‘gaming festival’. It can be small — just 5 or 10 people — or it can be huge. By huge, I mean thousands of people.

Click it for a larger version. Really, click it. It even amazes me.

DreamHack, the largest LAN party in the world, has over 11,000 (eleven thousand) paying attendees. That’s 11,000  people transporting their computers from all over Sweden and Europe. The one I attend, the i-series, ‘only’ has around 2000 attendees — but really, it’s not like you walk around and shake hands with everyone there. The point is: when you stand up — you know, to check if your legs still work — all you can see is computer screens. And towers of consumed energy drink cans. And pizza boxes.

If you were to take a walk around a LAN to check out what the latest ‘case mod‘ fashions are, or what the other gaming areas are like, the first thing you’d notice is just how well everyone gets along. There’s a constant roar of chatter, and regular outbursts of shouting and roaring when a team wins a tournament match. The overall feeling is very much one of friendship and camaraderie. Geeks, ultimately, are still social outcasts. LAN parties are the only place where geeks can be themselves. The ‘cool’ facade drops. Let it all hang out — literally, in some cases.

We geeks are beginning to emerge, but it’s happening slowly. The massive success of video games in the last few years has certainly helped — it is becoming more and more common to hear discussion of video games (like WoW, or COD4) out in the ‘real world’. It’s still mainly in the 19-35 male segment, but girls are catching up!

Until LAN parties become the social norm — and we still have a few years left, trust me — the antithesis, the polar opposite, of LAN partying is clubbing.

I’ve clubbed. At university I clubbed and pubbed. I did the social thing, often 6 nights a week for 3 years. I get it and I understand why people enjoy it; why people enjoy drinking, and dancing, and losing their mind. What I don’t get is why people would club when given an alternative, like a LAN party, or simply going around to a friend’s house.

I’m going to list the pros and cons of each, so I can prove why LAN parties are so much cooler than the alternative:

Clubbing Pros:

• If you’re ugly, you can probably get laid, with enough alcohol (in you, and the unfortunate recipient)
• You can forget about all your troubles and woes — like Cheers, only with worse music — if you drink enough
• The endorphins (the euphoria) from dancing are actually quite good for you!
• A silent disco has a lot going for it but they’re not very popular… yet!

Clubbing Cons:

• If you’re female, you’ll probably get hit on by ugly guys that think they can get into your pants if they ply you with enough cheap alcohol (and date rape is no laughing matter!)
• You’ll get tinnitus, like me, which is permanent. Enjoy the ringing in your ears as you try to sleep. I hope you didn’t like listening to the quiet bits in songs.  Can you tell that I’m bitter?
• I hear the liver transplant waiting list is quite long
• You can’t hear ANYTHING in a damn club. Communication, other than the ‘point at the body part you want licked’ variety (which can be quite fun), is rendered completely impossible
• Often, you have to listen to really shit music (though it does vary)

LAN Party Pros

• You can hear yourself think — perhaps some clubbers don’t like having to hear their own thoughts? Or they don’t have thoughts… Empty, hollow shells…
• Interactive fun! Video games are healthy for the brain.
• Communicative (not, like, diseases) and team-building! Most of the games played at LAN parties are multiplayer games involving a lot of teamwork (read: shouting)
• You can make money doing it! Pro gamers can take home thousands of pounds/dollars. Eventually they’ll take home the girl too! When there is a girl to take…
• Headphones are required! You can even listen to your own music while you game! And then you can take them off to talk to people! How damn futuristic is that?

LAN Party Cons

• Your gear can get stolen (though it’s rare, and security is generally quite good at larger LANs)
• Sleep deprivation is rife (not quite as bad as liver failure though, is it?)

Wow, that’s a very short list of cons, isn’t it? That’s because LAN Parties are awesome. Clubbing only really has one thing going for it (the euphoria), something you could easily get elsewhere — on a roller coaster, or something!

From Thursday through Monday I’ll be at a LAN party. Admittedly, that’s less of a weekend and more of a ‘half week’, but a weekend sounds a little less geeky. Four of us will be going, and we’ll be sleeping in a 3-man tent. One or two of them actually read my blog, and I’m told they are slightly alarmed by my coming out. Wusses.

Ideally, we’d take some girls with us, but guess what — and this will come as a shock — LAN parties are about 95% male. It was about 99% a few years ago, with that 1% being ‘possibly female’ (it’s amazing how hard it is to differentiate between male and female geeks after a few weeks of growth and stagnation — even facial hair isn’t as much of a clue as it should be). Nowadays there are a few girls dotted around — proper ones, without beards — though they tend to be the token girlfriends of geek boys. There is the occasional bona fide geek girl, but they are rare. And coveted. I hope to get myself one, one day.

Geek girls, go to a LAN party! Don’t be afraid! Geek boys don’t bite — they just kinda… grab… when you least expect it. But don’t let that deter you! Even if you’re an anime girl (that’s only one step away from being a furry), you’d fit in at a LAN. LAN parties are like a modern-day Bohemian dream where everyone, no matter how weird and different from the societal norms can hang out and have fun!

I have a dream. One day soon the phrase ‘Hey, wanna go out clubbing?’ will become outmoded, replaced by ‘Hey, come over my place! We’ll crack open a few beers and play some Grand Theft Auto or World of Warcraft‘. It will be a better world; a world with less alcoholism and debauchery. Imagine, if everyone knew what it felt like to play on a Nintendo and grin like a kid, giddy with the magic of it all — wouldn’t that be a much more fun world to live in?

Sell your dancing shoes. Buy a console (and read my beginner’s guide to gaming!)

This week, on my epic travel through time — or, as the case may be, LiveJournal — I’ve tried to piece together a few fragments of my first relationship.

I was young (well, eighteen is youngish, right?) OK, fine, not young… but sexually immature and unawakened!

As with most girls that later became my girlfriend, she hit on me. As I’ve alluded to in the past, I’m not all that confident when it comes to actually making a girl mine. I’m good with the banter, the outrageous flirtation and the extended, torturous eye-contact. And then… I clam up; sweaty, shaky, nervous.

We’re walking out of the pub, or club, or cinema, or friend’s house. We’re outside: if she turns one way, she’s coming back to my place; if she goes the other… I go home alone, again. She stops and looks up at me. I stop and look down at her.

‘So…’ There’s a certain amount of nervous shuffling. She looks into my eyes, and then down at the ground. Shuffle, shuffle.

‘See you around?’ I stupidly walk away, alone.

That same scene has been repeated throughout school, college and even university. To this day, every girl I’ve dated has ‘made the first move’. I just don’t have the balls. Anyway… (contemplative pause)

I’m feeling all squishy and exposed. I better get on with the actual purpose of this post: my first girlfriend.

The following is an entry from her journal.

Sunday, Sunday… — August 11th, 2003

Was far too sleepy to write last night! Had a busy day *grins*

I was supposed to go to a garden party, but it finished earlier than expected so I didn’t go in the end. But, instead, I went round a “friend’s” *glances at Seb*!

Watched some of the earliest series of Malcolm in the Middle and then I managed to drag him into the pool at about 9.30, it was freezing but soooo worth it, it was very…. exhilarating!

I had a really goooood night, was lots of fun!

Anyway… back to today… Monday!

And now, the entry I made on the same day, about an hour later:

*rubs eyes* — August 11th, 2003

So very, very tired.

But what a night.

TV-watching, canoodling, late-night swimming pool romps, a bit more canoodling.

I must say, I’m quite enjoying this.

I don’t think I’d be able to wake up at 7:30am, not after tonight…

Time for some music, chatter and maybe a TV episode or two…

That was a fantastic night.

A little analysis/back story: Malcolm in the Middle! I obviously noticed very early on that comedy was the best way to a woman’s heart. I am also eternally grateful that I have a heated swimming pool — without it, I might never have ‘got the girl’. If I hadn’t got the girl… well, I think my life at university would’ve been very different indeed. It was this first little success that fuelled my future relationships. In fact, it was buoyed up from the confidence of this relationship that, when the next girl invited me back to her place, I accepted. That was the girl that turned out to be a lesbian.

The first girl dumped me for a guy with a car and who shared her love of anime (which is, incidentally, why I hate anime — now you know!)

Next week, on Time-Travel Thursday… before the first girlfriend — my first, adult crush.