Sex At Oxbridge

Remember how I said that in the most childish tit-for-tat retaliation with Grey I went and snogged some random in a club? Not such a random as it turns out. What was suppose to be a one-off lip lock has turned into a nightmare. This boy is so obnoxious that I had to Google ‘most annoying dog breeds’ when thinking of a name. Yorkshire Terrier will do, or Yorkie. 
 
So Yorkie and I have a few mutual friends it seems. After our kiss and run he proceeded to ask each and every mutual friend for my phone number, recounting the tale of the night to all of them as well. I generally avoid calls from numbers I don’t know (and yet always answer calls from ‘Unknown’ just because it would drive me crazy not knowing who it was), but I didn’t have to answer Yorkie’s calls to figure out who it was after three voicemails and about seven text messages in the span of one day. 
 
I finally replied with, ‘It was great to meet you, but I have a boyfriend so please stop texting and calling. Thanks x’ … I think my error was with the ‘x’ sign-off, as he took that as encouragement or a sign that we would someday kiss again. Wrong. 
 
He eventually got bored of my silent treatment, but I still get the occasional judgmental glance from some of our mutual friends. They find him equally annoying and thus I think they are judging me more on my choice of cheatee rather than the fact that I cheated in the first place. I use the word ‘cheat’ slightly more liberally than most, as really – it was only kissing. Though kissing can be like a gateway drug in cheating. I mean, look at what happened with Dill. 
 
Enough of Mr. Brightside. Why is it that those we deem insignificant are the ones that latch on the hardest? I’ve done it myself. There have been times when I have wanted to make more out of a random hookup than I should have, but with complete disregard to all red lights, I pursued these boys until I was drunk, on the phone, and demanding they give me a reason why. Learned to cut those habits out very quickly. No one likes a crier. Also, I picked up that book He’s Just Not That Into You … much better and less forgiving than the movie. Then, about a month later I realised that who cares what they’re into, most of the guys I had dated and slept with I actually wasn’t that into. I think I was more into the idea of them. 
 
I’ll give you a quick rundown of what’s wrong with the guys I have dated/slept with: 
 
-Rugby Blue: Indecisive, small penis, not that great in bed. 
-Rowing Blue: Decent in bed, total slag. So far beyond boyfriend material that his picture could summarise the antithesis of a boyfriend. 
-Ost Bub: Perfect, excepet for location. 
-Italian Stallion: Really messy kisser. Bleh. 
-Dane: In hindsight, I think he may be gay. No joke. We probably did not work out because I am not a man. This has happened to me more times than I would like to admit. The hottest and best dressed/best smelling are always gay. Shame. 
-Berg: His penis is too big. 
-Aussie Boy: Misogynist. 
-The Ex: Great in bed, horrible in relationships. 
-Dill: Has a girlfriend. 
 
And that’s why I’m just not into them. Though the book did give me some perspective, it also gave me a more blasé type of attitude towards the whole dating thing. Then there’s Grey, who I’m still into. So for now I will continue to retrospectively tell some stories. 
 
Next time: Mutt …. he’s from ‘Dane the Great’ and other stories. And soon to be his own story. It’s time that guy got the spotlight. 
 
Hope everyone is surviving their pre-term antics … luckily I’ve got some more free time before lectures begin thus I will be attempting to blog a bit more. 
 
Oh, and if you happen to be a Tab, check out The Cambridge Student. They were the first publication to write a story about me, thus launching me into the greater media – big time, like the Evening Standard and the Metro. Ha, I jest. Anyhow, in return I have agreed to write a column for their weekly student newspaper. 
 
That’s all for now.