How I came to start 2013 by giving Alex a blowjob in a cupboard (Part 1)

A few weeks ago, I mentioned meeting up with an ex for dinner, and in my last post, I said I had to call the police, on the first day of my holiday. These two things are connected. I started out writing a post about it, but it was so long, I’ve broken it down into 3 parts.

The ex is a guy I’ve previously written about. I called him Alex James, because he looks exactly like Alex James from Blur, (or at least, 90s Alex James).

I had a poster of Alex James on my bedroom wall, when I was about 12, so I was delighted to meet his double, at a party.

Alex James 90s

I first met Alex at a New Years’ Eve party, in 2012. I was with my friend Faith, and her husband. It was her husband’s friends’ party.

When we walked into the room, I saw Alex, and thought He is the most handsome man at this party. I also thought I bet he’s arrogant and knows he’s the most handsome man at this party.

A bit later on, after I’d had a few drinks and chatted to various people, I found myself standing in a room, on my own, not sure who to talk to.

Then, I noticed Alex, standing nearby, not sure who to talk to. He was standing near the stack of coats, and fiddling with a scarf, which happened to be mine.

“That’s my scarf! Which colour do you like best in the scarf?” I asked him.

We started talking about colours.

A bit later, it was midnight, and everyone went outside to see some fireworks.

I had just posted, “Alright 2012, you can fuck off now”, on Facebook, as it had been one of the worst years of my life.

I saw Alex standing on his own, in the garden.

“Shall we have a New Year’s kiss?” I said, and kissed him on the lips, before scuttling off.

Much later on, we ended up in someone’s bedroom, lying on the bed kissing. Unfortunately, the owner of the bedroom soon came in, and wasn’t happy.

“Sorry, we’re really sorry…” we both kept repeating, as we were ushered out of the room.

We stood around, awkwardly, in the hallway, for a minute, until one of Alex’s friends came and said, “you could always go into this cupboard, if you wanted to carry on?”

So we did.

Which is how I came to start 2013 by giving Alex a blowjob in a cupboard, crouched down between a Henry Hoover and a mop and bucket.

Somewhere along the lines, Alex had told me that he

a) had mental health problems and
b) was a virgin.

He lived on the Isle of Wight, and I lived in the London.

We dated, for about 6 months. Every other weekend, either he would come to London, or I would go to the Isle of Wight, and we’d spend the whole weekend naked, in bed together, watching back to back episodes of things – True Blood, Dexter, Party Down (massively underrated).

I was specific about the fact it wasn’t a relationship, and we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. It was within the first year after my ex-boyfriend died, and I felt too guilty about getting into another relationship. I checked how he felt about our non-relationship status, and he genuinely didn’t seem to care.

We got on well, and both supported each other. He had severe depression and was on a lot of medication. He also told me he had been diagnosed with Aspergers, but he didn’t believe he had it. At first, I said, “well, you know yourself better than anyone else does!”

But, as I got to know him better, I thought Oh yeah, he probably does have it. 

I think this was how he managed to be the most handsome man at every party, but still a virgin, at 26.

He seemed to have slight difficulties with some social interactions, which fit with Aspergers. He could be very blunt, and didn’t seem to pick up on social, subtle things.

We argued quite a lot – sometimes because of the bluntness, and sometimes because he could come across a bit patronising or know-all-ish.

I remember being late for my own birthday drinks because I said something in passing about inflation, while we were eating dinner, and he said I was wrong, in a really patronising way.

I ended up pinning him to the bed, when I should’ve been getting ready, saying, “you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met!” while we both laughed.

However, despite this, I really liked hanging out with him, and I really liked having sex with him. I grew to love him. He was very supportive to me when I got an upsetting letter from the coroner, about the inquest into my ex-boyfriend’s death.

Sometimes I cried when we watched things on TV together, like a film in which someone set fire to themselves, or when someone was planning their wife’s funeral. He was very kind and comforting.

Things ended between us, after 6 months.

It had been bothering me that he never gave me any compliments. He told me I was beautiful, the night we met, but I think that was the only time he ever said anything nice about my appearance. I can’t remember him saying anything nice about my personality, either.

I thought maybe it was an Aspergers thing. I thought I just needed to explain to him what I wanted, compliment-wise, rather than assuming he should know.

Other times, this approach had gone well.

On Valentine’s Day, I had said to him, “OK. What’s going to happen is, I’m going to say I don’t want you to give me anything, or acknowledge Valentine’s Day, because it’s just commercial crap.

“But actually, I do want you to give me something. What I really want, although I’ll say I don’t want anything, is for you to give me something that is both really thoughtful, but also kind of takes the piss out of Valentine’s Day. OK?”

He seemed utterly perplexed, and asked for an example.

“Like a really thoughtful, heartfelt drawing on a Post-it note, that relates back to an in-joke we have.”

Later that day, he texted me asking for my email address.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve done your drawing,” he said.

He emailed me this, which is a drawing of me, and relates back to in-jokes about bream, pipes and Bic 4-colour pens.

Alex Valentine

So, I wasn’t too worried, when I raised the Compliment Issue with him. It was important to me, because I tend to dispense compliments quite freely. Also, I thought if he gave me some more compliments, it would counter-balance the brutal things he sometimes said to me.

For example, once, I said to him, “you know when it’s your birthday? Is there anything sexy you’d like me to dress up, like for sex?” He was quite into World of Warcraft, so I said “is there like a sexy creature from World of Warcraft you’d like me to dress up as?”

He said no, there wasn’t a sexy creature from World of Warcraft, or anything else, that he’d like me to dress up as, and he seemed stressed out and exasperated by this line of questioning. He said something like, “Can we leave it? Don’t make me say it!”

“Say what?”

“I don’t really like the way you dress! I didn’t want to say it!”

I felt utterly perplexed by this.

So, I went to see him, and when we were having a nice moment in bed together, I brought up the compliments thing.

I said, “When I look at you, and I think something nice, like ‘you look handsome’, I often say it out loud. It might not be obvious, but I’d really appreciate it if you gave me more compliments. So, like, if you look at me and think something nice, maybe you could say it out loud?”

He said, “But I never look at you and think anything nice.”

“Sorry?”

He told me that he never looks at me and thinks anything nice about my appearance, because he doesn’t fancy me.

“But you have sex with me! All the time!” I said. “Why do you have sex with me if you don’t fancy me!”

He said, “because no one else wants to have sex with me.”

I must admit, this took the wind out of my sails a bit.

“How can you not fancy me!” I said. What I meant, was, “the amount of times we’ve sex, and how far you travel to have sex with me, really doesn’t match what you’ve just said.” But he interpreted the question as “please list the things you find unattractive about me.”

He said, “well, I prefer brunettes, I don’t like the way you dress and I think your hair is unruly and doesn’t suit you.”

We agreed not to have sex again. We both cried, and spent the rest of the weekend together, and watched a film about Frieda Kahlo, and then went our separate ways. I spent quite a lot of the weekend huffily strutting around in my underwear, trying to make him realise he did fancy me, to no avail.

After that, we stayed friends, but didn’t see each other again. We texted each other every few months. He always remembers my birthday.

A couple of years ago, his mental health got a lot worse and he spent some time as an inpatient, in hospital. He texted me for advice about treatment. He had been offered Electro-convulsive Therapy, and wasn’t sure whether to have it. I told him what I knew off the top of my head, and then I read the NICE Guidelines and texted him the main points.

Other times, we just texted each other what we’d been doing. I text him when I re-watched anything he initially introduced me to.

Then, a few weeks ago, he texted me saying he was going to be in London, and asked whether I wanted to meet up, and I said yes.

A few weeks ago, I posted about this. I told Andrew I was planning to meet an ex for dinner, and I had hoped that I could smoothly bring up the ‘define the relationship’ chat with Andrew, off the back of it.

Like, “Obviously I’ll tell Alex I have a… actually, what shall I say? Boyfriend?”

But Andrew got distracted by talking about the Isle of Wight before I got the chance.

So, a couple of Fridays ago, I met Alex for dinner.

At this stage, I had gone back to work, after a week off with laryngitis, but on the day I met Alex, I felt more ill than ever.

The night before, I had met my friend, Leah, for dinner. I had coughed all through dinner, and then had a massive coughing fit in the car, on the way home, and then coughed so much I vomited when I came in my front door. It was the kind of hacking cough that makes your eyes stream and makes you feel like you’re ripping your lungs and throat up, but you can’t stop it.

I would have called in sick, the next day, but I’d already had so much time off. At work, I kept having to leave my sessions with patients, to get water.

I was curious what would happen, that night, when I saw Alex. He is probably the most handsome man I’ve ever slept with.

Would I still fancy him?

Some of my friends, including someone else with Aspergers, said that maybe Alex did fancy me all along, but his Aspergers, plus being a virgin for 26 years, messed up his expectations of having a sexual relationship, so he had been expecting something unrealistic.

What if his sudden keenness to meet up was because he’d realised he fancied me after all?

Andrew and I hadn’t ruled out seeing other people yet. I didn’t think it was a good idea to have a one-off reunion gig with Alex, but what if wine and hormones got the better of me?

4 thoughts on “How I came to start 2013 by giving Alex a blowjob in a cupboard (Part 1)

  1. He definitely sounds Aspie to me! I would guess that has a large effect on the way he perceives attraction plus his general ‘blurt stuff out’ behaviour and lack of social or relationship finesse probably mean that it would be hard going for someone like you who has high expectations of emotional intelligence and communication. That pic of Alex from Blur is mouthwateringly gorgeous!!

    Like

  2. Pingback: A Disappointing Valentines Day | Dater Analysis

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