Fab Swingin’? Falling for the Fuck Buddy
He was supposed to be a one-night stand. The whole plan was just to have some fun and that was it. I obviously found him to be very attractive but I have just learned to keep certain guys in ‘the fun box’ and others in ‘the boyfriend box’. He behaved differently from other people I’d met before. The first thing that he wanted to do was chat on the phone to me which I liked as I’m quite personable and this eases tension. We had a little chat and I really liked his voice, I liked his vibe. He was charming and his voice was really distinctive. We arranged to meet after meeting on a famous hookup platform (not the one you’re thinking of) and when we first met in person, the first thing that struck me about him was how much more handsome he was than his photos. He was very tall and broad-shouldered, he had wide, high cheekbones, bright white teeth, and as he walked towards me, he bowed his head down but raised his eyes up, so he was looking at me almost devilishly. I always remember things like that. He had his tongue in the corner of his mouth between his teeth. I could instantly tell that this was his go-to move and well… it worked for me. I was putty in his hands. Usually, that stuff doesn’t fly with me, but with him it did. I liked him instantly. I melted. One of the most charming things about my first impression of ‘Jay’ (as I knew him then), was the way he reacted to me. His face lit up, he seemed surprised by my face, and looked at me twice, complimenting my looks and my smile. I think he said I looked like a girl, but I can’t quite remember as the adrenaline had got to me.
For a little back story and perspective, this guy presented as, and personally identified as ‘straight’. I’m not one to inform someone of their sexuality or what their preferences mean to them. I guessed that this was an exercise in experimentation on his part. I’m used to that, so it was all OK with me. It didn’t take long for me to clock that my attraction to ‘Jay’ wasn’t simply sexual. He is one of the only people in my life to give me butterflies as he interacted with me, and the ‘fun’ (god – I hate people using that word for sex) was incredible and the eye contact made me feel exposed. It was different with him. At one stage I was halfway down his chest when he grabbed my face to tell me how cute he thought I was. ‘You don’t need to flatter me’ I thought as we are already in bed but it was endearing. I felt him slip out of his masculine bravado and into being affectionate which almost made the situation feel romantic. He corrected himself a few times as he went to be affectionate, then he would fall back into doing it again. I was playing Garage Classics and at one stage he stood up started dancing at one, bopping around and I couldn’t really take my eyes off of him. He had charmed me massively. He had arrived with a small bottle of white rum and ginger beer, which he finished over the evening. The evening lasted longer than I had expected… and then it was over. As he was leaving he again complimented my looks saying how cute I am. And then he left. Life went on and I hadn’t heard from ‘Jay’ for a couple of weeks. I just naturally assumed that he’d got it out of his system and moved on. C’est la vie! It didn’t make me feel great but I also wasn’t going to hurl myself off a bridge over it.
Then one day out-of-the-blue just before Valentine’s Day, I got a phone call from him and his voice made me light up – just like before. He wanted to meet me again but I actually wasn’t able to. This was a few days before going to Mexico on holiday for 2 weeks. I was surprised by how elated I was to talk to this person that I’d met just once, and told him that I wouldn’t be able to meet him before I left the UK. I arrived in Mexico the day after Valentine’s Day and that’s when the calls started. I spoke to him pretty much every day that I was away, with the first phone call happening as I’d literally opened my suitcase in my room. He took me by surprise but I absolutely loved the fact that he’d called me. They began with us just being sexual but by the end of my holiday, he was asking about my day and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. The sexual stuff was very much still there, but I was being asked questions about my day and he’d be quoting things back I’d said prior and forgotten about. I loved seeing my phone light up with his number calling me – it gave me a rush of excitement as I was sunbathing. I knew I liked him as I couldn’t remember what he looked like, which is something that happens to me when I fancy people – their faces become a blur. I was staying with someone who also noticed how the calls would change my mood. I’m in trouble here and I knew it. But I’m not scared of a little bit of trouble.
” I loved hearing little mundane facts about his day, like someone stealing boots from his locker, where he ate for lunch, or his colleague grassing him up for smelling like weed. I felt protective.”
I arrived back in London on a fucking miserable Sunday afternoon. As soon as I took my mobile off of ‘Airplane Mode’ a few texts from ‘Jay’ popped up. One message asked me how I was doing, with another one following a bit later chasing to find out if I had landed safely as I hadn’t replied – it had been sent a while before the message previous to that which I hadn’t read yet as I was getting myself off the plane. He cared and had come back online to check? That was a nice feeling. I called him as I waited for my Uber and we actually arranged for him to come over that evening. I got home and instead of decompressing from 18 hours of air travel, I ran around making my tired body look as fresh as it possibly could. I really wanted to look great for him. I was tanned-but-tired. He turned up on time, looking as gorgeous as ever, in fact, he was even better than I could remember. Within minutes we were having sex, cuddling, and talking. One of the things I like about this guy was the way he spoke to me and remembered the things that I said. He seemed to look beyond my butt cheeks (Don’t get me wrong, they got attention – but he seemed to like me too). Much later that evening he went home. We began to text, he’d notice when I would change my photo on WhatsApp, and I’d get daily phone calls from him – where I’d suddenly pick up my phone and run outside of the Clonezone offices to listen to him talk about his day and how he’s feeling. I’d try and act cool but each time my phone rang, I’d bolt outside, even if I was mid-sentence with my colleagues. I loved hearing little mundane facts about his day, like someone stealing boots from his locker, where he ate for lunch, or his colleague grassing him up for smelling like weed. I felt protective. He had a really distinctive croaky voice and it made melt every single time, as he’d open each phone call with “Hello, Hello, Hello…”. I loved it.
We arranged to meet again, a few times, which was so much fun, but we ended up discussing the situation at hand. We acknowledged that we had started to feel like we wanted to see each other – but we understood what each other meant. It was not just ‘sex’ anymore, for me anyway, and it was freaking us both out. He said he had hurt people in the past and I said he could easily find someone like me again, and he said actually he knew that he couldn’t. One evening, I bought him a takeaway and felt a weird sense of satisfaction out of just chilling next to this guy and playing on my phone as he ate and watched a movie on Netflix as I got some writing done. I fell asleep as one stage and woke up to him gently kissing my neck. The night was wonderful and it turned into seeing each other a couple of times a week – with phone calls scattered between the meetings. One evening, we had an intense talk in my bedroom where he revealed he has a young daughter with a lady that isn’t quite ready to let him go yet, which turned into me crying at the end of my bed. Now, for anyone that doesn’t know me, I am not a ‘cry’ person and I certainly am not someone who’d inject them self into the life of a young family. He assured me that it was very much over and I guess it made sense as he would be staying over without his phone going mad and seemed to live very independently. He had told me that his real name wasn’t Jay, it was… let’s call him Whopper… his life had been chaotic and he had spent a harsh amount of time prison on charges of very bad behaviour when he was in a gang as a young man. He’d been out of prison for around 5-years-now and was sorting his life out. I respected that, but it was evident that his lifestyle would never allow him to be out-of-the-closet but he said I made him feel conflicted. He had converted to Islam and spoke about how his faith meant something to him and he wanted to follow it, which I found unusual as he had been drinking rum, was a known weed smoker and was in bed with a man – but I’m not going to contest someone’s belief system. I actually really liked the fact that he had faith. I know that religion gives many people a sense of calm, and I appreciated his life had been chaos. On paper, he’s not a ‘good person’ but I had respect for him and I genuinely liked him as a man – he was experienced, wise and in some way, I sought his approval. Anyway being landed with the news of his young family, combined with post-Holiday blues, I got very emotional and I just cried. He climbed up the bed and bear-hugged me. I ended the evening saying that we couldn’t see each other anymore as I could tell this was going to end badly for me, I had to protect myself. He reassured me that it wouldn’t and he wanted to make a gesture to prove himself to me. Prove what? I thought, as it’s doomed anyway but I thought I’d give it a go anyway. I was already invested so I may as well ride it out.
” I have never really existed in a normal way, even when I have tried, so it almost made sense that I’d meet this type of person in an unconventional way, too. That’s what my brain told itself. “
I have never really existed in a normal way, even when I have tried, so it almost made sense that I’d meet this type of person in an unconventional way, too. That’s what my brain told itself. He told me that he was going to meet me one evening from work but wouldn’t tell me which day so I would be surprised. He said the daily calls would stop and that’s what would come next. Then one day he did call me and said he’d be coming the following night to get me – so much for a surprise but I didn’t care as hearing his voice calmed me. He’d googled the company office and would swoop by to get me. There was something quite exciting and romantic about this so I welcomed it. I wanted my colleagues to see me with him as I guess I was proud to be seen with him? I know that’s corny but that’s the truth. The day came and I had purposely dressed up for work and made myself as pretty as I could do – without being over-the-top. It got closer-and-closer to 6 pm (when I finish) and no sign of him. I daren’t call as I didn’t want to bother him and sound insecure as he was making a gesture for me. 6 pm hit and no sign of ‘Whopper’. Fuck. I was mortified and my colleague knew it. I walked to London Bridge station with him and just said “I don’t even think I can talk about it” as I was so embarrassed and walked to my train feeling a bit like a zombie and extremely embarrassed. The lump in my throat was so big that I thought I was going to choke if I took a deeper breath or walked any faster than my lazy speed. I got on my train and 2-minutes before my train was due to depart, I text him “You didn’t come?” and then suddenly I get a phone call from him. I cancelled the first call and then a second… I picked up. He’s in London Bridge station with 1% battery, the area is huge so I asked him where. Tooley Street. OK. I ran off my train as the doors closed and made my way down to where he said, and he is nowhere to be seen. I walked around every single exit and entrance at London Bridge and thought to myself “FUCK! He’s thought of the best way out of this. Say you’ve come, your battery died, couldn’t find each other, so went home”. I had that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach and just walked back into the station to find my next train… and then I looked up and there he was. Right in front of me. I don’t think either of us could hide our reactions, one through excitement but also the awkwardness of us being together in public. I just remember him saying “This feels bait!” and giggling nervously. My facial reaction must have been so obvious but I was genuinely elated to see him. I said we can go home if you want but he wanted to but we decided to go to Soho.
“At one stage a tall blonde guy came up to us and said what a beautiful couple we make and he’s really jealous, his female friend chimed in saying the same, and I was buzzing that he had heard this. See! We aren’t Circus freaks, we’re just a normal couple in a bar. In fact, we’re a ‘beautiful’ couple in a bar.”
The evening was fun and surprisingly intimate. He got touchy-feely with me after a couple of drinks in Friendly Society and then I took him to Admiral Duncan, as I wanted him to experience ‘gay Soho’. I spent most of the evening with my fists rested into his pecs, leaning my body at a diagonal angle. At one stage a tall blonde guy came up to us and said what a beautiful couple we make and he’s really jealous, his female friend chimed in saying the same, and I was buzzing that ‘Whopper’ had heard this. See! We aren’t Circus freaks, we’re just a normal couple in a bar. In fact, we’re a ‘beautiful’ couple in a bar. I took him into Clonezone Soho and he bumped into a few of my colleagues. The one part of the evening that I do clearly remember is that he was staring at me at one stage whilst we were sat having a drink and said: “I swear, in another life”. I knew exactly what he meant. He was telling me this couldn’t happen properly but we were both still walking the plank. What the fuck am I doing? I kept saying to myself over-and-over. I knew this wasn’t going anywhere yet but I just wanted to test the waters. Later that night, we came back to my house quite drunk, and he bumped into my best mate and housemate, Bonita, who he hung out with for a bit. She knows me inside-out and liked him – and liked me with him. So he met three people from my day-to-day life in one evening, which I was secretly buzzing about. I felt proud to be seen with him so it gave me a rush and watching him communicate with people in my life was bizarre but gratifying. Over the next few weeks, I saw and heard from him often and he met people in my life on another occasion as he randomly came to my home when a colleague was sleeping on my sofa – but it was clear it was fizzling out or something was changing. Either he was now getting bored of me, or the reality of the situation not working for him and his lifestyle was becoming apparent. We had a conversation where he admitted his sexuality wasn’t straight due to his level of interest in me, he had said that thinking about his self-discovery sexuality wise had effected his appetite and even jokingly spoke about how our wedding would be with page boys. I was endlessly distracted by it, with his voice in my mind often. I kept flashing back in my head to when he told me that he had hurt people in the past… I guess I was just becoming another one on his list.
” Either he was now getting bored of me, or the reality of the situation not working for him and his lifestyle was becoming apparent. ”
It all came-to-a-head when I did a photoshoot with Matt Spike, who’d wanted to shoot me dressed up in my Torture Garden-style attire (basically me with my batty hanging out as usual). I was incredibly anxious about the shoot, as I’ve never been comfortable modelling. I’d seen ‘Whopper’ the night before and as I arrived at work in the morning, he called me just to see how I was which I loved. We spoke that day and in the early evening, he texts me just as I was sat in hair and makeup making my anxiety lift completely. He said I was going to kill it and be ‘spectacular’ and I can’t explain why, but I gave his words so much weight that all my nervousness completely dissipated. The fact he’d spent time with me and people I know the evening before, called me without a reason in the morning and made sure I was OK for my shoot really felt good. I felt secured by him, and by this stage, I had completely taken myself off the market. I wasn’t really interested in being touched by anyone else, let alone have sex. Not because I was obsessive but because he made me comfortable and that was sexier than a ‘one-night-stand’ to me. Plus our sexual chemistry was amazing. The shoot ended that evening and I think he’d said he’d call me later that night. I didn’t hear from him… for two weeks. I snapped, texted eventually and we agreed to meet. He came over and we discussed things – though this time he was much more interested in just having sex. It wasn’t the same as before and I could tell that something had shifted. I guess the bravado had slipped, or he’d simply found something (or someone) else to focus on. The situation with ‘Whopper’ had kind of gone from this cute little whirlwind at the tail-end of my Mexican adventure, and become a chore. I hated the idea of making someone feel obligated to speak with me. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t have a big ego… but I think I’m above begging someone for basic contact or simple respect. To quote Samantha Jones “I am not the kind of woman who sits at home all day waiting for a man”.
As he left my house that evening, he bumped into Bonita again, said his hellos in his own little way (he spudded her) and by the front door, he gestured for me to give him a kiss on the cheek – which I did. I knew at that moment that this would be the last time I’d see him. I know that sounds corny but something in my gut just felt so disappointed in him that evening, and most of the excitement had gone. After that, we didn’t speak for a week, and this time I really felt it as I was down and was distracted at work. That Sunday, I’d gone to my parent’s house in South-East London when my phone lit up and it was him calling me as I was approaching their house. For 40-minutes I was on the phone to him, pacing up-and-down with my Mum watching me from the kitchen window, and we just talked about how horribly wrong it had all gone. I told him repeatedly that I couldn’t do it anymore as I didn’t want to feel sad anymore, I didn’t feel like I deserved it. He agreed, contested, agreed, contested, and we kind of had a polite conversation with a bit of resistance from him, but not like before. He said to give him a few months to short shit out but I reminded him of ‘then what?’. He’s still going to come out and see me openly? We both knew that wasn’t the case. He kept repeating that it was his plan to see me for the year, and I never really understood what he meant by that. Why a year? The spark had kind of gone and it was over. The phone call ended politely with him saying he’d call me back the next day. That was the last time I ever spoke to him. That afternoon, I told my Mum the whole story and she was not impressed, to say the least.
It’s been a few months now and I haven’t heard from ‘Whopper’. My life has been absolutely manically exciting and so much has happened to me, that I don’t really know if I am the same person anymore. This piece was actually mostly written when we were still in contact, and he knew I was writing it. With the launch of the website, I thought it might be nice to write something personal to me. It’s not all about the rawness of sex, sometimes a little bit of emotion can remind you how human you are – even though sometimes it feels so far removed from your day-to-day life. Looking back at the situation now, months later (we last spoke a couple of weeks before Ramadan)… am I mad? am I upset? Not really. I am grateful but of course, a little disappointed. This man reminded me that I can feel those feelings I thought I wouldn’t. He woke up fractions of those emotions you hear about in song lyrics and see in movies, which was both a fun and nauseating experience. Was I being played? Probably. Would I do it again? Probably, because it was fun. I think that I would have chosen an evening with him, sat on my bed, eating take away and talking shit, over front row Madonna tickets and that’s the truth. Plus, sometimes typing this shit out is incredibly cathartic.
It’s nice to know that I can feel that way again.