It has to be said that some of the best partiers I know are Aussies. Some of the most attractive men I’ve known (and shagged) have been Aussies as well. In fact there was one I was shagging consistently for a few months.
He had gone to my uni but graduated prior to me arriving, but came back to visit friends now and again, which is how we met. We were in a pub with mutual friends and he came over and began speaking to me. I had been warned by numerous people about this boy, mainly that he was a bit of a Womanizer (and yes that song should be in your head as the soundtrack to this post). Now, I heeded their advice at first. Sort of. We did end up snogging in the middle of a party (which was captured on camera … hot picture) but that was the extent of our first meeting.
Now, when someone warns a girl about somebody else it usually goes like this: ‘Whatever you do, do not hook up with this person. They are scum.’
And I hear: ‘Blah blah blah … hook up with this person. They are blah blah blah.’ You can see the wheels in my head turning at this point, imagining the possibilities.
After our kissing-fest, Aussie Boy began texting me and calling me quite frequently. He was working in London at the time and wasn’t too far from where I was via train. I even emailed him the picture of us taken mid-kiss.
My phone rang a couple minutes after sending the email, ‘I’m going to make that my Christmas card and send it to my mum.’ Something about an Australian accent really turns me on.
‘I’m not sure that would be the best first impression …’ I said, smiling.
‘So, beautiful, when do I see you again?’
‘I don’t know. When are you coming to visit?’
‘I was thinking you could come visit me this time, I’ll take you out to dinna.’
‘Hmm, tempting …’
‘Ohh, c’mon. It’ll be graaate.’
Who could resist an offer like that? So the next Friday I hopped on a train to London, where he was waiting to pick me up at the station.
‘There she is,’ he said as he leaned against his car.
‘Driving in London? A bit impractical don’t you think?’
‘Nah, hop in!’ he said, but kissed me before opening the door. One of the reasons I agreed to the date was because of my kissing-ability to shagging-ability correlation theory. He was very good at kissing, so I was curious to see how it transpired in the bedroom.
We went back to his to park the impractical vehicle then walked to a nearby restaurant. It was over the subsequent few hours that I realised that Aussie Boy was quite the boring conversationalist. Mind-numbingly so. I had failed to notice this before because of alcohol and kissing. We hadn’t chatted much during our first meeting. So I drank as he rambled on and then suggested we go back to his instead of going to another bar.
When we got back to his flat he opened two beers and handed me one. ‘Want to watch a film?’
‘We could … what do you have?’ He then opened a drawer of DVDs and listed them off as my eyes scanned the room, completely ignoring what he was saying. Once I noticed he had stopped talking I looked back to him. He was looking up at me with his beautiful blue eyes that matched the colour of the coasts of Sydney and I smiled at him. I remembered at that point why I never noticed what he was saying before, I was too busy just staring in his eyes. Earlier I had been too busy staring at anything but him, but he was actually quite nice to look at. I immediately started to wonder what he would look like without clothes on. ‘I don’t mind, whatever you would like to do.’
He stood up. ‘Well,’ he said walking towards me, ‘what I would really like to do is this,’ he said kissing me. A bit cheesey, but at least his mouth was too busy to talk now. This eventually led to us on the floor of his living room, our clothes quickly assembling in piles around us. When he pulled my jeans off he started laughing.
‘What are those?’ he said, indicating towards my pants.
‘What do you mean? Have you never seen a pair before?’
‘They look like something a child would wear.’
‘I don’t think children wear thongs actually.’
‘Yeah, but they’re all bright and polka dotted.’
‘So what? I can’t believe you’re making fun of my pants. That’s it, you’ll never see my pants ever again.’
‘Good, you probably look better without them. In fact, no more pants, eva.’ he said, pulling mine off as we laughed in between kissing.
Soon after, we were both on his floor, naked. There was the lapse where he had to get up and go get a condom, which is always an interesting time for a girl because you kind of just sit there, waiting as they find one and then a bit more waiting as they try to put it on (usually the wrong way around on the first go). He saved himself the embarrassment of having the condom-struggle in front of me and put it on in the other room. He came back in and joined me on the floor and started kissing me again.
‘I bet you’re going to say something like “Oh, I don’t usually do things like this on a first date, I’m really not that kind of girl.”‘
‘Well clearly I am that kind of girl since I’m here doing “things like this” … something wrong with that?’
‘Not at all,’ he said smiling.
The sex was like his kissing – great. Which is probably why I continued to sleep with him for a couple months. Nothing too frequent or regular, but at least once or twice a month I would go to London or he would come see me.
I wouldn’t say that what we had could really be defined as a ‘relationship.’ Mainly because relationships involve talking to someone. I avoided this at all costs, because while he was good in bed, he was a complete bore when it came to other aspects of our social lives. Distance helped with this, as we would have enough to talk about and catch up on for a couple hours (well, minutes realistically) before going to bed.
He was the perfect shag buddy to be fair. Our last date was on New Years Eve of that year. I had been out with friends in London but everywhere was packed and it was a bit of a miserable night to be honest. I had agreed to meet up with Aussie Boy at his and made it there before midnight. We stood up on his roof with a glass of champagne to ring in the new year, which was lovely. We went back downstairs to his flat when a girl who lived in the flat next door rang the doorbell and demanded he come over for a New Years shot of whatever it was. ‘I’ll be right back, alright babe?’
‘Yeah alright,’ I said. I hate being called ‘babe.’ I turned the telly on to watch other places around the world ring in the new year. Mine could have been worse I suppose, I thought to myself. About ten minutes later Aussie Boy still hadn’t returned and as I was slightly drunk and it was almost two in the morning, I fell asleep on the couch.
The next morning I woke up with a blanket over me and Aussie Boy sleeping next to the couch on the floor. I left the couch to join him on the floor. He woke up and looked far more hungover than he should have been considering the level of drunk he was when he left me to go downstairs.
‘What are you doing on the floor?’ I asked.
‘Didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘I wouldn’t have minded. Am I disturbing you?’
‘You’re always disturbing me,’ he said, and pulled me in for a kiss. He smelled hungover as well.
I pulled away, ‘What time did you get back last night?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What were you doing next door?’
‘Just had a couple drinks with the guys next door.’
‘I see.’ I ignored the fact that he had left with a girl to go ‘drinking with the guys’ and we fell back asleep.
A couple hours later he drove me home instead of making me get a train in my new years eve outfit.
‘So, make any new years resolutions?’ I teased.
‘Yes, I have five.’ I had been joking, as resolutions seem a bit unrealistic, but nevertheless he then proceeded to list off his dull and predictable resolutions such as ‘quit smoking’ and ‘workout more.’ I think I fell asleep with my eyes open as he droned on. ‘Did you make any?’
‘Just to make this year better than last.’
‘Ah, nice one.’
And I did, beginning with choice of men to sleep with as that was the last time I saw Aussie Boy for awhile.
Quite some time later I was at a party and Mutt (loud ginger friend from ‘Dane the Great’ post) came up to me. ‘You know, someone was here earlier asking about you.’
‘I have no idea who in this world would be here asking about me.’
‘He was talking about how you’re “the one that got away.”‘
‘Oh Jesus. Who?’
‘The Aus-tralllll-ian. I can’t believe you went out with that guy, he’s such a tool.’
‘We just slept together a couple times.’
‘Really? Because the way he talks about you you’d have thought that you left him at the altar or something.’
‘He’s probably just bored with whatever girl he’s with now and is thus romanticizing the idea of me.’
‘Nah, you’re a heartbreaker.’
‘What?’ Mutt always had the ability to incorporate psychoanalysis of my personality traits into our conversations.
‘Yeah, you never let anyone get too close. You always dump guys before it gets too serious.’
‘We weren’t even dating!’
‘Maybe he thought you were.’
‘Maybe you should shut up.’
‘Yeah, good one. I’m just saying …’
‘Well, what do you know? You have about three girlfriends at a time, at all times! Of course I don’t want a boyfriend, look at what you guys are like!’
‘You don’t want a boyfriend because you’re just like us.’
‘Oh yeah, good point.’
We sat there in silence for a moment, then Mutt said, ‘Shots?’
‘Yeah go on then.’
I ran into Aussie Boy later that night and he gave me a big kiss on the cheek. ‘Wow, you look fantastic.’
‘Thanks, you look good too. What’s new?’
‘Not much. Anything new with you? Got a boyfriend?’
‘Nope. Nothing new. No boyfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?’
‘Yeah I’ve been seeing this girl for quite a bit now, it’s pretty serious.’ So serious that he tried to sleep with me about fifteen minutes later. To stay consistent with his romanticized ‘One That Got Away’ image of me, I got away from that situation as quickly as possible. And have stayed away since.