Ode to a former lover

The first time I saw you, you were walking down the street. You were beautiful, the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I knew that you were mine, even though you were holding hands with another girl.

The second time I saw you, you were sitting in the sun. The girl was at your side. I could tell from the way she laughed at your jokes that she loved you. I sat opposite you with my back turned to stop myself from staring.
Your girlfriend thought she knew me. She walked over.
“Aren’t you…?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
She dragged you over to introduce you, not knowing what she’d done.
Your girlfriend liked me. She offered her friendship unselfconsciously and I accepted it with mixed feelings. It was impossible not to admire her; it was impossible not to want you.
I kept my feelings secret as our friendship was cemented. I saw you hand in hand at parties, in the pub, walking around the city. I flirted with other men and tried to forget about you. I entertained you both with stories from the sexual battlefield while you laughed, happy to have found each other.
I wanted a new apartment. You suggested I move in with your girlfriend. She needed another person to help out with the rent.
She made a cake to celebrate the day I dragged the last of my possessions into the spare bedroom. “It so much nicer to share with friends than strangers,” she said.
On a summer’s day I came home to find your girlfriend crying in the kitchen.
“It’s over,” she told me while I made her a cup of tea. “It wasn’t working.”
The next time I saw you, you were indulging in the distractions of booze and casual sex. There was one girl and the next and then another.
“I forgot how much fun it is being single,” you laughed and offered me a drink.
One night a few months later we spent the evening chatting in a dark corner at the back of a nightclub. You leaned over and touched my face. I turned to you. My desire was stronger and more insistent than my guilt. I was no longer able to resist you.
I came home the next day to face your ex-girlfriend, my friend.
“I knew you wanted him,” she told me. “What took you so long?”
We had sex everywhere. The city was our playground – rooftops, deserted parking lots, cinemas. The whole world held erotic possibilities when I was with you. We spent hours in my room by candlelight, the bedclothes and cushions a messy tangle on the floor, our limbs slick with sweat but still we had not yet had our fill of each other.
I could not stop touching you. You could not stop touching me. We were an embarrassment to our friends.
Your made me stand naked in front of the mirror.
“I want you to see what I see,” you told me as you ran your hands down the swell of my breasts, across the curve of my belly, stopping to kiss the scar on my thigh.
“Pale and skinny,” I said.
You shook your head. “Perfect.”
For a year we were happy. Then you started to worry about the future.
You asked me marry you; I said no.
You wanted to go to the Congo.
“I could save tens of thousands of lives a year just by giving TB shots,” you told me. I admired you for your selflessness, but I didn’t want to live in a war zone.
We fought. Then fought some more.
You no longer trusted me. You were jealous of my friends, suspicious of my movements.
Our passion became strained, your anger spilling over into the bed. All our indulgent games became memories. You woke me up one morning, as hungry and desperate for me as you had been in the past. You came, rolled over and went back to sleep, leaving me feeling used, angry and unsatisfied.
I left you on a Friday night after yet another argument.
“Don’t do this,” you asked, your face set in anger, but I’d spent too long crying.
You followed me in your car; you parked outside my house unexpected and uninvited to see if I had replaced you; you called at all hours; harassed my friends; you screamed at me in the street and cried outside my window.
“Leave me alone,” I begged you. For revenge you slept with my friend. And for revenge I slept with yours.
A year later you came to see me to apologise.
You took me to your apartment, the one you shared with your new girlfriend. There were pictures on the wall detailing the history of your new relationship.
As we talked we stared at one another. Our former passion hung in the air, like a ghost, like the scent of your girlfriend’s perfume – unseen yet undeniable. Perhaps you reached across the couch and touched me; perhaps I touched you, I don’t remember. But I remember your desire and I remember your guilt.
Afterwards you drove me home.
You were angry with me.
“What the fuck do you want?” you asked me.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Do you think I’m going to break up with her because of one stupid mistake?”
“No. But I didn’t ask you to,” I replied staring out the window so you wouldn’t see that my eyes were wet with tears.
“I know,” you answered staring straight ahead.
I sometimes think of you, but not very often.
I think of all the things I’ve done, the men I’ve cared for, the laughter, the sex and the passions I’ve had in the years between then and now, and I know I made the right choice. Except sometimes I remember the last time I saw you, and I wonder.
You were walking down the street. You were still beautiful. You stopped and spoke, I invited you home.
We sat in my lounge, talking about the old days.
Later that evening among the rush and crush of bodies in the pub, you put your arms around me and kissed my cheek. I turned and kissed you on the lips.
We could not be friends. We had too much history.
It was a kiss good-bye.
You tasted the same. You tasted like sex.

SEX TIP: Manly Pursuits
In the last issue we had a look at how the ladies can make solo sex a bit more exciting. This week it’s the men’s turn. Here are some ideas:
Tune into your body
Nix the porn every now and again and pay attention to your body. Notice changes in your breathing, which muscles tense and which relax and how you feel just before and just after orgasm. All of this is useful information that teaches you about your sexual responses.
Switch hands or change position
If you always use the same hand and the same strokes try switching for a bit; or if you normally masturbate in one position, try something new. It may take a little time to find the right rhythm but it should feel different, and different is good.
Move those hips
Try simulating the thrusting you do during sex. Instead of using your hands to move up and down the shaft, let your hips do the work.
Different strokes
An intense up and down stroke is the standard way guys achieve a self-induced orgasm, but it’s ain’t the only way to go about it – try rolling your penis in between your hands while moving them up and down your shaft or use long twisting strokes. Try different pressures and speeds as well.
Play ball
Use your forefinger and thumb to make a circle at the top of your balls and gently tug as you masturbate. This can prevent you from ejaculating to extend sexual feelings in your body.
Don’t neglect the rest of your genitals
Try massaging the perineum – the area between the balls and the anus. This results in external prostate stimulation. You could also try using a finger to explore the anus.
Use a lube
A good lube makes everything nice and slippy. An oil-based lube is fine for masturbation, but you need a water-based one for sex with a condom.
Toys
Consider using a vibe, dildo, butt plug, cock ring or cock sleeve. As women have discovered, a good sex toy can add great intensity and pleasure to masturbation.