I’m going to tell you a little story about a cheerleader, as a build-up to a ‘my first kiss’ entry, which I have to post before the end of January, for my lovely fellow bloggers over at 20sb.

I’m actually stalling for time, because I actually need to contact the girl that I first kissed, but she’s not responding to my telephone calls. Maybe the kiss was that bad…

Anyway, the cheerleader (who incidentally looked a bit like Hayden Panettiere). I’m going to step on some toes here, so I won’t be using real names, and I’m going to be fairly obscure with dates, just so I’m fairly safe from some people reaching false conclusions. I am not a manwhore, despite what you might have been told, and I don’t like kissing and telling the story… but I think this one is fairly safe.

It was some time in early Summer, and I was still at university. I’d been dumped by my first girlfriend a few months earlier, and had my second girlfriend (well, the second girl that I’d been intimate with) had just dumped me — for another girl. So it’s safe to say I was fairly sore at the time, considering I’d managed to make it to 18 years of age without a girlfriend, and then chewed up and spat out by two girls in close succession.

My self-asteem has never been the greatest. Being confident about my abilities is only a recent thing, and I’m still pretty nervous around girls that I fancy (‘like‘ for you Americans). There’s something about being bullied that just destroys all of your own self-worth, you know?

It was a bit of a cruel joke, then, to be dumped by my first girlfriend for a guy twice her age. And then an out-of-nowhere dumpage from my second girlfriend, because she decided she liked girls more than boys.

Being a resillient personality, I didn’t take it too personally. Girls still seemed to be taking an interest in me. I still had the gift of the gab; I could still make girls break down into tears of laughter. The problem was, and still is, that I can’t tell if a girl likes me. You know, in that way. I can’t make myself believe that she’s interested in me more than friendship, or she just likes a good laugh. The whole concept that a girl wants to… er… bond with me is just foreign to me. Damn that bruised self-asteem. Damn those bullies.

If only more girls would be like the cheerleader, from the Deep South. After a long internet courtship (I knew I’d be visiting that part of America in a few months), we finally met up in a large house, somewhere near the Appalachians. There were other people present, so for a while we just had to make do with drawn-out glances at each other. A slight licking of the lips. Dilating pupils. It was painfully obvious that the moment we were left alone our carnal desires were going to explode.

Later that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, she snuck into my room and… well, it was wild. Really, really wild. To this day, I put it down to the fact that she was a cheerleader. She had muscles I hadn’t heard of,  in places I’d never seen, let alone felt. I guess it’s expecting too much for every girl I meet, that likes me, to be like that. It’d be nice, though.

For a few days this continued, and I saw and experienced the heart of the Deep South. Trailer parks, hillbillies, and more churches than I thought possible. Some of those towns have 10 churches! For a population of just a few thousand! I had inane conversations with people — people that didn’t care what I said, just as long as I continued to talk. Conversations that made you wonder if lobotomies were performed at birth, instead of circumcision.

All the while, I had this cute, blonde cheerleader by my side. She was intelligent too — this was obviously recompense for the bad times I’d had before. Blissful recompense.

On my last day there, waking up, and stepping out onto the porch that surrounded most of the house, there was a beautiful cobalt-blue lake below me. The sun was just starting to rise over the mountains, and a jet-skiier was speeding across the clear, crystalline water.

A few moments later I felt a gentle tugging back towards the bedroom; I looked down and saw her arms around my waist.

That was one of my most spectacular and memorable holiday romances.

For a long time I’ve wanted to go to the sub-Saharan savannas. I want to watch springbok leap gracefully through the tall, dry grass. I want to pat a hippopotamus on the head and call him a ‘good boy’. I want to do many things, and I admit you can’t do much in Africa except for look at things (unless you want to go and hunt animals, but that’s not really my thing), but the allure of going as far ‘into the wild’ as you possibly can does have a certain appeal. A limited appeal, I must admit — I’m usually OK for the first 48 hours, and then I’m really craving the internet, and my email. And Facebook.

Although given a camera, and the African savannas… I could probably get by without technology for a little longer. Imagine, I could be taking photos like this:

I was reading through a magazine, a year or two ago, which highlighted the 10 most romantic hotels in the world — places you go to on your honeymoon, or at least experience with another person. It was a sappy time for me, as I was totally smitten with my girlfriend at the time, so I put myself in each of the hotels, and imagined what it would be like for me, for her, for us. ANYWAY… one of them was a ‘tree tent’ somewhere in Kenya. You hung, in a tree, far enough off the ground that you were safe. Part of the attraction was that you could hear elephants eating in the night, and other animals crawling around the tree. The level of mod-cons available was pretty low — I think there was a portable toilet — but you don’t go to a place like that for the whole romantic-weekend-in-a-king-sized-bed-with-room-service thing.

I looked around on the internet, for the tree tents and this is pretty close. Some of the other hotels were just as astounding, like the one in Borneo (or another Pacific island), where the hotel was built over/around some kind of small lagoon and collection of small islands. Each hotel room had its own little island, connected via some wooden walkways. Maybe one day there’ll be another suitable girl to take to such places!

Tomorrow I’m going to try and take some more photos, and perhaps record another little audio entry. You should go and vote on chapter 1 too. Listen, and vote! It’s no good if the votes are split. Oh, and a friend and I are working on a web comic, which won’t be related to this site in any way, but if you are into gaming web comics (and by God there are thousands of them on the Internet), and you like zombies, and brains, maybe you’ll enjoy ours!

You’ve probably figured by now that I’m a bit of a storyteller. For me, the recollection of events and glorious little moments in the past, is more pleasant than the actual experiencing. Why? Because you get to share the moment with other people! You know what they say: sharing a moment with someone is… magical! Be it just a brief lock of the eyes, a moment of sympathy, or just something that makes you both laugh — it’s these events we remember and retell the most.

Let’s go back 7 years.

After she left England for the second time, with no sign of returning, I had to admit to myself that this was going to be a long courtship. But the slowness of the dragged out foreplay was teasing, not infuriating. This was an epic kiss,  6 years in the making, stemming back to when I was just 16. I had to wait. I had to be patient. I had to wait through 2 false starts, a marriage to another man, and a 3 year communication blackout.

It’s odd, thinking about it now, but I always knew she was going to come back. I didn’t know when, how, or why, but I hardly batted an eyelid when she sent me an email. A brief, cursory email.

“I’m coming back to England. Want to meet up?”

‘Sure,’ I said, the email gratefully removing any proof of my shaking fingers.

I’ve been hot-air ballooning over lands that can only be described as moonscapes, watching the sun rise over the horizon. I’ve stood with my back to a mighty arch of the Colosseum as the sun set. I’ve sat atop the highest building in Belgrade and gazed out across the city, a full, blue moon glinting off the Sveti Sava.

I’ve seen and done a  lot of things, and I’m only young — God knows I’m going to do a hell of a lot more before I die — but it all pales in comparison to when I first kissed The American. It’s humbling, recalling the moment when our lips first touched. It was more emotionally intense than when I first stood at the top of the Grand Canyon and looked down. We’re talking about a chasm so large that you could fit a small country — like Ireland — in it. It was dwarfed by that kiss.

Looking back, the only moment that more readily brings tears to my eyes is when I drove a race-tuned Dodge Viper GTS around a serpentine, mountainous road in the Appalachians. They were both the source of the same kind of heady, euphoric feeling: that fantastic feeling that courses through your body when you’re doing something truly awesome. The Viper had me reeling from its acceleration; the girl had just to touch her lips against mine for the same effect.

I remember every single kiss. I can recall each and every one of them in an instant; I just shut my eyes, and she’s there. Those lips are there. The memories will never diminish.

* * *

Funny, this entry began as something completely different, and I wasn’t actually intending to write about it. I got to the end of the first paragraph, and the rest just flowed, almost automatically. The original subject was meant to be ‘A Goose Egg’. Why? I’ll tell you in my next entry.

You might’ve gathered from my last few entries that love and lust have been just a tad on my mind recently.

Why? Well, it’s been 14 months now since I last had a girlfriend. That’s 14 full moons, 400 showers and 5 seasons. Very close to five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes (I’m a dork, sue me). I’m not one to linger on such thoughts, not for longer than a few minutes anyway, but my thoughts do tend to wander back to my ex-girlfriends when I’m in bed. You know, analysing the usual ‘What if?’ scenarios (not only girls do that!)

I was thinking, amongst other things, if I still had a girlfriend now, would I struggle with the current economic climate on Valentine’s Day? Should I let my diminishing income effect how I show my love for someone? Of course not! You can’t scrimp and save when it comes to love and… um… lust.

Now, I’m not saying that the amount you spend is directly proportional to your love for that special someone — God no. I’m sure your little flufflepie doesn’t want you to go broke at their expense. But, really, when it gets right down to it, money is only really effective at one thing: improving the life condition of other people. Buying yourself a new iPod is nice, but buying a new iPod for someone that’s never had on before — that’s a whole lot better.

I’m one of those people that refuse to buy shitty gifts. If I have to choose between buying someone a crappy chocolate selection, or not giving them anything at all… I’d rather just give them nothing at all. I’ll smile and shrug apologetically; ‘Sorry, I could find nothing that I thought you would like’ I’ll say. Why buy a collection of soaps that they’ll never use?

Gifts, and giving are all about showing you care. It’s about showing that you were thinking of someone in particular. Caring is about knowing someone’s needs and wants, and trying best to accomodate, or cater for those specific requirements.

Luckily, most people rank ‘passionate love/lust-fueled sex’ fairly high on their list, so being a loving, caring partner on Valentine’s Day is pretty easy. Luckily, girls like pretty flowers. I imagine women have a harder time finding things for their boyfriends, but I’m sure if you’ve really run out of ideas, setting some kind of romantic trap for when he comes home is more than enough. If you’re spread eagled and resplendent in sexy lingerie, poised sexily on the dining room table, or the 4-poster bed, that’s probably enough to please us men. We’re incredibly simple creatures at times; it’s a blessing and a curse, right, women?

What if you want to do something a little bit more… romantic? Flowers are nice, but a bit repetitive. Surely some couples see Valentine’s Day as ‘yet another night of trying to spruce up our sex life’. What options are then available to you? How about tickets to see a show on Broadway or the West End, and then quickly nipping back to one of these fine pay-by-the-hour hotels, while you both still have some hot passion coursing through you?

That’s right, our lovely daily newspaper The Guardian has collected quite a number of… lusty… hotels for those of you that want to mix it up a little — but on a budget. Why pay for an entire night at a hotel, when you can only really go at it for a few hours, before things start to chafe? Or perhaps you’re only good for just an hour or less…? (You have my condolences, if this is the case). Anyway, this list contains hotels all over the world (the Guardian are thoughtful like that — you never know when you might be stuck in Japan with an erection that needs immediate attention, after all), but my favourite has to be ‘La França’ in Spain (why is it called La França…? Anyone speak Spanish?) which although it doesn’t have an hourly rate, it’s incredibly cheap and… it has curtained parking bays! Yes, that’s right, you can draw a curtain around your car, so no one can see that you’re parked there. How’s that for discretion?

So now that I have a foolproof plan for Valentine’s Day that promises to be lovely, romantic and passionate… I just need a girl to spend it with. Hmm.

The first hint you had was that I was watching TV shows and reviewing them, instead of going out to wine and dine some beautiful lady. The second is that I’m actually writing this, instead of in bed, trying to execute a sexual position that requires far more upper-body strength than I possess.

Now, I’m not some kind of militaristic single; I’d love to be celebrating today with a girlfriend, I just don’t have one.

My sister’s with her boyfriend (thankfully they won’t be keeping me up tonight — ugh), and my parents are out having a lovely day together. That leaves me here at home, all alone. But it’s OK! I’ve found 5 things that I can do, while home alone, sighing wistfully for a cute woman to come and whisk me off my feet:

(This might read as ‘5 ways to pamper yourself’ as written by a girl… but men like comfy pleasures too!)

1. Cook yourself something nice. Spend time preparing the food. Prepare it just how you like it. You don’t have to cater to someone else’s tastes, so you can really spoil your taste buds. It’s also rather relaxing to take your time cooking, I find! (If you don’t know what to cook, find a nice recipe online… and give it a go!)
2. Wear something comfortable. Yeah… I’m straight, really! But again, when you’re alone, there’s no need to dress up; so dress down! Put on those comfy jeans that you hope your girlfriend/boyfriend never see you in. The ones that make you look like a heffer. Put on that big wooly jumper that you can cuddle into, the one that makes you look like you have something to hide.
3. Put on some feel-good music. I know this sounds awfully girly, but there’s no reason for girls to be the only ones that enjoy sappy, feel-good music. Right now I’m listening to The Bacharach & David Songbook, 22 of their greatest hits sung by Dionne Warwick (just look at the number of hit singles this guy has written!)
4. Read a book, or watch a magical film. Books and films both have one thing in common — they take you to different places. It’s quite easy for a good book or film to transport you to another world, perhaps a more pleasant place to be until Valentine’s Day is over. I’m not saying it has to be something entirely sappy and romantic — that might be entirely the wrong thing! How about Big Fish, or Amelie? (OK, that’s a bit sappy, but it’s so magical!)
5. Run a hot bath. Okay, I know I’m definitely treading on girl territory here. But why can’t men also enjoy a hot, steamy bath? With bubbles? There’s a huge disparity in this world… why do men hardly pamper themselves? I quite enjoy it when I set little candles around my bath, turn the light out and slip slowly into a hot bubble bath. I’m trying to think of what is customarily the ‘male’ alternative to this is — ‘drink some beers with the lads’ doesn’t seem to quite fit the bill.

That’s probably enough for you to get started with this evening (if you’re in the USA). If you’re in the UK, or out to the East, I guess you’ll just have to try it next year… or the next time you’re home alone!

While we’re on the topic of Valentine’s Day (and this will be the last Valentine’s Day-inspired post, I promise you), I was thinking about ex-girlfriends, as one does, and I remembered a photo I had taken and dedicated to a girlfriend. I haven’t actually done it again since, but I think if I were to get another girlfriend, I would dedicate a lot more photos to her. It’s a starburst lily, if anyone’s wondering!

For those of you that don’t watch enough Simpsons (and you’d be forgiven for stopping around Season 10!), or simply want the source of one my favourite phrases, take a look at this:

Right, with the derivation out of the way (I love etymology), I can now continue: my sex drive has re-emerged. Banished to a dark pit of deprived despair a couple of years ago he has finally reared his angry, chauvinistic head; and he’s eager to catch up on everything he’s missed — he wants to find out what’s been hap’nin in the world of coitus in specific, and penetration in general.

I think my re-kindled interest in sex has a lot to do with my current infatuation with 60s and 70s Motown and Disco music. It’s so sappy in places; love, sex, devotion, spiritual empathy: it’s all there in droves. I have no idea if they were really happy, but they sure paint a picture of an eternal, lush, golden summer. Listen to some Isley Brothers, or Diana Ross & The Supremes, and you’ll quickly know what I mean.

I guess the infinite energy pumped out from their their music, plus the affections (and the rather explicit situations my vivid imagination has recently put me in) of a certain cute girl were enough to stoke the proverbial fire of passion and lust.

I’m literally bubbling over with affection now. If you allow me a moment of crudeness, I simply can’t wait to stick it in something.

Perhaps more interesting than the return of my sex drive is the question that most red-blooded males are no doubt asking right around now: Where did your sex drive go?!

It’s a good question, one I think I can answer. Having once been the ‘5 times a day’ guy at university (my poor girlfriend — the morning-after walk into university was always funny), and recently ‘once every 6 months if I’m lucky’ I’ve seen both sides of the spectrum: Raging, unabated erections versus long, cold winters of discontent with nary a bulge to be seen.

Where did it all go wrong? Well, after my relationship at university I certainly needed a break. I like the company of others, but I certainly prefer spending time alone. I do tend to grow bored of all but the most interesting people (that’s a topic for another day), so it was nice to finally get away from university and spend some ‘quality time’ with myself. Obviously though, sitting on my own in my room or outside on the grass reading a book isn’t really conducive to meeting a girl and having wild, passionate sex.

Then there was the gaming. The long, never ending hours of gaming. From sunrise to sunset, gaming. I’m not sure if there’s a medical answer to this one, but I certainly felt less alive. For the longest time it was all about my ‘gaming essentials’ — my eyes, my hands, and my quick thinking — I’d all but forgotten about my meaty lovestick. And so it continued, for 18 months, until The American came back into my life.

I don’t want to re-hash the story too much (I kind of need to wait for my memoirs before I ‘dish the dirty’ on this one), but let’s just say that my senses were fully revitalised when she waltzed back onto the scene, into my arms, and then into my bed. During this time, I managed to play video games and maintain an erection — surely I’d just hit the motherlode?!

It wasn’t to be, though. As quickly as she had reappeared, she disappeared again. As did my throbbing purple-headed Indian. Poof. Like Leviathan sinking back into the deep, dark expanse of my sexless soul.

It was such a system shock, losing the girl that I’d chased for so long. That was about 18 months ago though and today I am happy to say it seems I’ve finally found the ability to create, flesh out and indulge in lustful thoughts again. Watch out, ladies!

Goodbye celibacy; hello sexual intimacy, how I missed thee.

Recently, my ego suffered a bit of a hit; I was dumped. My self-esteem, which has never been the greatest due to some bullying at school, was taken down yet another notch. It’s not something I should blog about though (those who follow my Twitterings will have some idea of what I’m talking about though!); I have never one to kiss and tell. Perhaps in a few years, when my feelings have been tempered a little and my nerve endings aren’t quite so raw.

I think the worst thing about being dumped is that it instantly brings back into focus all of the previous times you’ve been unceremoniously ‘let go’; no golden hand-shake, no pension — and most importantly, certainly no more sex.

I don’t know if it’s a ‘girl thing’, but when you’re dumped, why can’t the dumper tell you why you’ve been dumped? Why is there such a restriction of knowledge? It’s the unknowingness that is the most troublesome. When there are unknown factors, the human mind starts thinking; it starts formulating wild, implausible solutions to an unknown problem. Completely irrational scenarios are computed and rolled around in your head, each and every facet being analysed and fretted over — and then re-analysed and fretted over again!

I should probably be grateful that I’ve only been dumped and left in the dark twice. My first ever girlfriend (at the ripe old age of 18 — I was such a late bloomer) dumped me without even so much as a whisper of the reason. ‘It’s not you, Seb, it’s me.’  It was only a few weeks later that I found out she’d dumped me for a guy 7 years her senior; one that could drive, and shared her love of anime (I’d sell my soul to keep a girl I love… but anime? I have limits). At least I got a shag out of her before she dumped me, though… I guess I was too good to dump without one last orgasm. Used, and abused… my poor soul.

I want to tell you this story because on the flip-side, there’s also being dumped with too much information.

My next girlfriend was a great believer in full disclosure and as a result our relationship was passionate, if short-lived; like a firework! We’d not been dating for long, but I already knew every inch of her body; and she’d discovered bits of me that I didn’t even know existed. I was so blinded by the passion — the sex! My God, the sex! — that the lesbianism really was a curve-ball.

I knew she had a little bit of a history; those performing artist types always seem to have a history. Some were beaten and some were impoverished, and nearly all have experimented a little — or a lot — with the same sex. I guess it’s all about being dramatic and pushing the boundaries a little; exploring and poking at what really makes you you.

Looking back, I probably should’ve noticed, from the complete lack of boyfriends in her photo albums, that I was her first boyfriend. I was so blinkered and hormonal that when I added 1 and 1 together I somehow came up with 69. The fact that she was a Bible-toting and scripture-quoting strictly-religious girl also obscured her true sexuality from me. Christians are meant to be straight, right? That’s what the Bible clearly says! Looking back, we shouldn’t have been having sex before marriage either, hm…

But anyway, as I was soon to find out, full disclosure and a hedonistic lifestyle were going to quickly catch up with my poor arithmetic skills.

I was on my way over to her place for dinner. I had a lovely bunch of flowers and some bars of chocolate with me, for afterward (stealing a cube of chocolate from between a girlfriend’s lips is still one of my favourite ways to pass the time). I knocked on the door but strangely there was no response. I let myself in with my key (she liked it when I surprised her in the morning, before she was awake) and made my way to her bedroom.

It was then that I heard the whimpering. Quiet, measured panting, and whimpering.

I stood there for a while, transfixed. I put my ear against the door to make sure the noises were in fact coming from her room.

They were, and the panting was getting slightly erratic, and louder.

Uncertain of what to do in such a situation — this was only my second girlfriend, don’t forget, and certainly my first ‘no holds barred’ sexual relationship — I opted for the safe option. Going back to the kitchen, I called out her name.

‘Seb? Come in, we’re in my bedroom.’

I slowly pushed open the door. The image I was greeted with is still seared into my mind today. Two beautiful girls entwined in some kind of sexual embrace. The other girl was not quite as pretty as my girlfriend, of course, but she was still very easy on the eye. I couldn’t differentiate who owned each limb. My eyes danced, alight with delight, but not quite sure which body parts I should be staring at.

‘I thought it would be easier if I showed you like this, Seb’

Showed me what? That you’re still into girls? That you were never into boys? But you let me do things that no one should be allowed to do! WHY IS THERE A GIRL IN YOUR BED INSTEAD OF ME?

I had only recently watched The Exorcist, and watching this ungodly — but highly erotic — sex-act unfold infront of my very eyes, I was very, very tempted to bellow something sanctimonious at the top of my lungs. ‘By the power of Christ I compel thee to remove your tongue from that orifice!’

Being a red-blooded male, however, and not one to bite the hand that feeds, I decided to simply shut up and stare at their yummy, interlocked bodies some more. I’m told that I stood there for quite some time, licking my lips.  Sadly though, for them,  I actually turned and left them to it. I left her the flowers, but took the chocolate with — I was going to need some comfort food after that little event in my life.

To this day I still find myself wondering what my life would’ve been like if I had dived into that bed and been smothered with smooth, soft, lesbian kisses. You know that scene in American Pie where Jim is standing outside his bedroom, knowing full-well that Nadia’s inside, looking for action? That’s exactly how I felt, standing in the doorway, looking down at that landscape of lesbian limbs. Do I, or don’t I…

I believe I was her one and only boyfriend. She sampled the male race, and it was offensive to her tastes. Do you have any idea what that did, and still does, for my ego? I turned a girl gay. I think the only possible cure for that is to turn a girl straight, which I haven’t succeeded in doing yet — though that’s not for lack of trying.

Which reminds me, any gay girls out there up for a pleasant challenge?

But this story just goes to show that there’s a mid-ground between being told nothing, and being shown everything, OK girls? It also leads neatly into a rant on the hypocrisy and outmoded design of monotheistic religion…

(For the sake of privacy, and because I believe in our rights as humans to do whatever we damn well like, some details and the time line have been modified a little. It is still, in essence, true, despite how weird it might sound. To all you Christians, Muslims and other monotheistic worshipers. or members of any kind of church — keep on believin’! It is your right to do so!)

So as I covered yesterday: I turned a girl gay.

Hindsight shows that I actually turned her straight first and then gay again, but my ragingly hormonal and underdeveloped teenage mind at the time could hardly make sense of that. It was an experience, that’s all I can say really. Be willing to experience everything, Sebastian I tell myself. At least once, anyway; it’ll be something to tell the grandchildren if nothing else.

Having your loved one suddenly find God almost pushed me over the edge though.

‘Seb… I’ve found God again; I’m leaving for the seminary on Monday’

We had both just collapsed back onto my water bed — my king-sized water bed — with grunts of exhaustion and satisfaction. I thought we’d cuddle a little, perhaps play a bit of big-spoon-little-spoon… but no, it wasn’t to be. She turned her head to me, a glimmer of religious fervor sparkling in her eyes and spoke unto me those fateful, prophetic words.

You thought you’d had the classic ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line? Well, try ‘It’s not you, it’s God.’ She didn’t actually say that, but she might as well have. The not-quite-wood I’d been secretly harbouring quickly dissipated into the dark folds of the bed linen, never to be seen again.

That must be the worst thing a girl has said to me after sex, just ahead of ‘Is that it?’

I know sex between two people deeply in love can raise you to other planes of existence and all that, but really… born again? Was that teary, wide-eyed rapturous look during sex actually her glimpsing God; rediscovering Him?

Was it something I did, or said? Did she suddenly have the overwhelming urge to find God when I grabbed the lube to prepare for a quick dash up the downwards escalator?

(That’s outlawed in the Bible, right?)

And so she left, to the seminary, her love redirected forevermore to the only other monumental force in her life and universe: God. She’s still there, the preacher-woman of some fortunate community. She has a lot of love to give, so I suppose it’s not surprising that she felt the need to find role in life where she could give as much as possible.

You are perhaps beginning to understand why I am slightly bitter towards organised religion, and belief in a single omnipresent and omnipotent figure.

I’m taking a quick break from my tirade against religion to talk about a topic quite close to my heart, and probably quite interesting to girls too:

How do you get, and keep, a geeky guy?

Now, if you’ve read my previous articles on dorkiness, geekiness and nerdiness, the main thing that seperates us from ‘normal men’ is that we have a very strong interest in one or more subjects. Geeks are passionate, dorks are very passionate, and nerds are so passionate that nothing else matters.

This will focus on getting, dating and securing geeks and dorks; nerds are outside the scope of this article (and often the scope of real life…)

So, you want to land yourself a geek? Isn’t that easy? They’re all sex-mad, unloved dweebs…

The common misconception is that geeky guys are easy; they don’t have high expectations, so you can treat them badly, or generally mistreat them — they’ll still hang around like a bruised, loyal puppy.

This is false!

The first thing to keep in mind is that geeks are intelligent. Perhaps their intelligence is applied in a strange way (they might know the entire cast, including extras, of a given episode of Star Trek), but they are generally quite smart. In all likelihood, if you mistreat a geek, he will simply lose interest in you and go back to perfecting his skills in World of Warcraft. You need to be smart, and treat a geek with respect! A geek won’t be interested in a girl that just wants him for his penis…! Remember that geeky guys aren’t laden down with the masculine insecurities like other men. We love the idea of a strong, successful woman. A wilting wallflower of a girl with nary an opinion of anything is not much of a turn-on — quite the opposite, as we tend to have very strong opinions ourselves!

Which leads me onto the next point:

You need to be a good listener

Geeks, in general, don’t get out a lot. When asked who they consider their friends to be it’s not unlikely that the list will include an ‘AcidBurn’ or ‘AssassinDude’. There’s a reason that many geeks step-over into the nerdishness — there’s no one to hold their hand; no one to hold them back and say ‘No, stay with us in the realm of the living.’ What a geek most wants is someone to talk to, someone to vent their (sometimes very esoteric) peevishness at. Geeks might find very quaint things irritating or distracting — it’s your job to listen, and nod, and smile as a geek regales you of his daily woes.

When you rouse a geek from his prone position behind his keyboard, try to listen to his trials and tribulations for 10 minutes or so. He doesn’t expect you to offer any solutions; just listen. It’s nice to have someone that wants to listen… (I need to get a girlfriend!)

If you have the balls, and the intellect to interject– and perhaps even offer a a good counter-view — we’ll probably just fall in love with you on the spot.

Be direct, and assertive

This is probably the most important tip for getting a geeky boyfriend.

The problem with being a geek (or dork, or nerd) is that our ability to read your body language or flirtacious signals is bad. Being stuck in our bedrooms, or basements, or comic book shops, we don’t eperience a lot of human interaction. It’s not that we’re ignoring your advances — we don’t know you’re advancing! Geeks are not good at ambiguity — you need to be direct, certain or even… dominant. Winking and gently flirting is very unlikely to score you a geek; just grab him and make out, it’s easier. It’ll also awaken that long-lost demon within, that rampant beast that might’ve lain dormant for many years… of course I am talking about:

The sex drive

It is your job, as the woman, to remind the geek that sex is available. In fact, it’s your job to remind him of things like: showering, eating and getting out of the house occasionally. Don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around us, from behind, and urge us to leave the computer for a bit of fornication. It might appear that we’re not interested in sex, but the fact is we’re just concentrating on other things… like Battlestar Galactica. Once lured away from our computers we will quickly rediscover our libido,  and it’s said that geeks make the best lovers too, so please… remind us to have sex at least occasionally. Thanks!

But don’t stifle our geekiness!

While being dragged away from our Dungeons & Dragons books makes for a nice, occasional respite, don’t go over the top! Don’t spend your days reminding us that you want more attention, or that we should get away from our computers more. You have to remember that while a geek might love you, he probably loves his hobbies just as much — and his hobbies have the advantage that they are often inanimate objects that don’t whine a lot…

Basically, geeks are incredibly low maintenance. Obviously, if you need something in particular from a geek, don’t hesitate to ask. If you haven’t had sex in a week, tell him! If you need a shoulder to cry on, let him know.

Just please, for the love of God, don’t try the ‘it’s time to choose: me, or your computer’ line. Believe me, you’re not going to win that one.

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!