Cassie.

Or

What the fuck is going on there?

Hmmm. Where to begin?
This is a difficult post for a number of reasons. Firstly, because I’m not overly sure where I’m at emotionally in the relationship, nor am I sure of what I want from it on the whole. I just know that there’s something a bit odd going on but it’s not something I’m keen to change.

Let’s start at the beginning.
Cassie and I started going out in January, three years ago. She asked me to be her Prom date, a few days later we were going out. It was very sweet and romantic. She was (and still is) the best looking girl I’ve ever met. Gorgeous. Stunning. Real life, down-to-earth, girl-next-door beautiful. We were going out for quite a long time and things were progressing quite slowly. We had mutual friends who were in couples who were starting to take things to a more physical level of the relationship and I wanted that for Cassie and I. Not because I was desperate to start having sex (not that I was entirely against the idea), but because I wanted us to progress at the same rate as everyone else. I can now see that that’s a pretty immature thought, that all relationships progress at the same time and way, but fuck it, I was young and immature. So shoot me?
But the thing was, I wasn’t entirely wrong. I mean, the rest of our relationship was fine and lovely and going great. We were spending plenty of time together, going out on dates occasionally, we were always talking and laughing and having fun. We’d said ‘I love you’ to each other after I think around 6 months, or so. It was great. But there was a something missing. Something that just wasn’t present at all. For some reason, in my head I’d made a little image of it like a bar graph, or more precisely, the attributes and points one gets in an Role Playing Game. Our time spent together was like ‘Strength’ on medium to high, our compatibility was like ‘Magic’ on medium but our physicality was on zero. Just completely flat. Now, don’t get me wrong, I tried to fix it. I spoke to her friends about it, they didn’t understand what the problem was and just told me to wait and be patient. So I did, I was very patient. I tried speaking to her about it, but it wasn’t working. She’d shut down all communications and become a recluse. It was pretty difficult for me to be honest. I’d get a plan together, try and implement it that afternoon when I saw her after school and then, when it didn’t work, I’d get angry and even more aggravated. Not outwardly, not to her, not to anyone really, just inside. I’d walk out of her door and have a million annoyed and pissed off thoughts floating about. And it would wallow. For hours, days. Then I’d get the pangs of guilt coming through, stabbing at my self-esteem and logical mind. I’d feel like I was just another ‘bloke’ who was trying to focus on sex, just another ‘bloke’ who wasn’t taking control of himself and putting himself first, just another ‘bloke’ who was selfish and misogynistic and uncaring. I’d hate myself for a few days, quietly self-flagellating whilst trying to carry on as normal. I had, on many aspects, a really great relationship with a very desirable young lady. Why try and throw that away?

There was the beginnings of change near the end though. A little more kissing. A little more petting.
A little more communication of what we wanted, and the very basics of sex. I managed to get her off through her clothes once. I gave her oral once. I was so happy that day. It was my first real sexual experience with a girl. I’d done alright too.

But, that old pattern went around and around, repeating itself once a month or so until I just couldn’t take it anymore. A final time I went digging, deeper than I had before, trying to elicit some response from Cassie, some sort of human contact. I felt like I was being held at an arm’s length for the entire time we were together and it finally grated on me too hard. That night she said to me that she “couldn’t be bothered any more” with the relationship. Few things that people have ever said to me have ever hurt me more. I was destroyed. I felt like I was the only one putting any effort into us and had been for months. Like I was forcing it so hard that my active attempts were the only thing to keep us together.
But, that’s how it ended. I got dumped, and I got dumped hard. I was a shell of myself for quite a long time. I was at a loss with what I was supposed to do any more. I spent my afternoons and evenings at hers after school most days a week, she met me on my lunch break at work, she was my every waking thought and desire. Gone.

And so I got past it. It took a while, months, decades as it felt to me, but I picked myself up, I started going out with my close friends more and I just pulled myself together. I was angry though. So very angry with her that it was about 5 months before I even said a full sentence to her again. I know why that was, it was my pride. My ego was crushed, single-handedly and (in my mind at least) without thought. The details are a little hazy of what happened in that gap, but I just did my best to start to construct my life back around me. I’d spent over a year with a very beautiful girl, but now it back to the lonesome existence that I’d looked down and sneered upon when I was in a relationship.

One of my first missions, partly to spite Cassie, partly to prove to myself that it wasn’t my fault and partly just because I wanted it done was to lose my virginity. I was 17, not disastrous looking and had an amount of charm and charisma. I was sure it could be done. So I went about it as swiftly as possible. I started going to a live music club on the Seafront and found a girl who had a bit of a reputation for not being the most difficult girl to get into bed. Now, I’ve never been the kind of guy to go for looks (or reputation) alone, I genuinely need some form of connection between us for there to be any relationship. I started talking to the girl and she was a good laugh. Funny, different, knew what she wanted and had an air of sex appeal to her. I realised quite quickly that I wasn’t going to fall in love with the girl, but it wasn’t some quick leg over.
To cut quite a long and not overly interesting story short, we had sex a few times, I lost my virginity, it wasn’t particularly good and we split up. I still knew Cassie, but we didn’t really talk unless social etiquette forced us to. But very, very slowly, that did start to change. I began talking to her a little more. I mean, we’d be going out for around 15 months, it’s not like we weren’t friends or something.
To be honest, the more I rationalised it, the more I realised we were basically really good friends who occasionally kissed by the end of our relationship. So we chatted a little more. She started to see someone else when she was on a choir trip to Australia. I don’t think she was particularly attracted to him or wanted him, but she wanted a boyfriend. I heard of word of this, around the time I started seeing my young lady friend. I didn’t have any problems with that to be honest. I’d stopped caring about her in that light. I’m not a jealous guy (I used to be, but that’s another story), and she was her own person. The reason I bring him up though, is because I think he was a turning point for Cassie. That was where she realised what she was missing out on with me. I loved her, I wanted her more than anything or anyone and I was willing to go to great lengths for her pleasure and happiness.

So over time and speaking to each other for quite a long time and a great deal happening to the both of us which changed our lives in very different ways, we started to talk about ‘us’ again. But in a different way. Cassie was going through some very difficult and tragic family issues and I think she was looking for some escapism. I had turned myself into a hermit, only concentrating on study and needed some release. We started to talk to each other about sex, what was and what wasn’t and what each of us wanted. At this point, I was the only one of the two of us who had had sex. Cassie was scared of it. Frightened of the pain, frightened of what might happen. I think she realised that she wanted to lose her virginity in a situation she crafted. A safe, controlled environment where she was comfortable. Despite being hurt so badly by this girl, I hadn’t stopped loving her. I don’t think anyone does when you break with someone you love. The opposite of love is not hate, but neutrality. The sheer fact that you hate the other person shows that you still care. It took me a long time to try and figure that out. But I still wanted the best for her, even though I’d wasted my virginity. I’ve written an erotic story on how I wanted mine to be. On my perfect evening. That’s what that story is, what it always has been. It’s me and her. Her and me. Together, as we should have been in the first place. My first time was not as bad as it could have been, relatively, but in my eyes it was awful. It was wasted, thrown childishly away out of spite. The anger of the desecration of my budding sexuality was overshadowed by my love for this girl and the fact that I didn’t want the same fate for her.

So we decided between us, over a long time and a lot of discussion of what we did want, what we didn’t want and why, to try and be ‘fuck buddies’. Or Friends with Benefits. Or sexual intercourse pals. Or whatever other name you want to give it. A rose is but a rose by any other name. So we tried it. And it worked. My, did it work. I was finally able to show the girl I loved how I felt on a real, skin-to-skin, emotional and physical level. Tangible. Electric. Sensual. Real. Sex is a drug. The best drug. The worst drug. It infects everyone, once you have it, you can’t leave it easily. The high is incredible, the lows are soul-destroying. Your life will never be the same again. You get the thoughts and desires in your mind; you want it. You get the passing tang from the wisp of a memory; you need it. You get teased and tormented by everyday life and you can no longer function without it.
So my relationship with Cassie gave me the freedom I needed to get on with my school and work life. I wasn’t having that craving for flesh that everyone feels once in a while, I could exist in my self-induced Jonah-like state and still survive without going mad. And I loved it. Not only was a I finally able to hold my head above the parapet of scholastic tribulations, but I was getting some very good sex out if it too. I mean, there were certain drawbacks which I might come to at some other point, but I was doing a good job and enjoying it. A lot.

Which takes us to the present day. We took a year out. For a few reasons, firstly because Cassie’s family issues were coming to end in the worst way possible, secondly because my focus on my school work took over and nothing else mattered thirdly because other things got in the way. She was starting to view herself as a sexual entity, we’d turned 18 so she was going to clubs and bars and meeting men, I left for university and the year just kind of forgot about us. From the 30th December 2008 to the 30th December 2009, we didn’t have sex. But in an odd ritualistic pseudo-ceremony, we broke the year long fast of each others’ bodies and did it again. And it was glorious. She’d learnt, I’d learnt and it was generally a wonderful time. I’m sure you don’t need the sticky details and whatnot.

And recently, my birthday came up and it happened to be the same time as Cassie’s half term break (We’re the same age, but she’s re-doing a year of 6th Form). It was decided that she’d come up for a few days, we’d have some fun, I’d show her a good time in Liverpool as friends and we’d have some great sex. So we did. The weekend was great and it’s been declared that everyone involved had many, many funs. Valentine’s day was a little odd though. I think we treated it as if we were a couple. Watched a movie, I made dinner/lunch, we went to a romantic Open Mic night where I played some romantic songs and it was generally lovely. Which kind of started off my thinking that this post needed to be written. Where do Cassie and I stand?

Well, we’re not going out. We’ve both changed a great deal since when we split up, we’ve matured and become new, exciting people. But I really don’t want to go back to that as I just know that despite it’s been such a long time since I was in a relationship (see my previous blog posts), there’s a reason for that. It brings out a lot of bad qualities in me and stops me from having that freedom that I’ve enjoyed.
But we’re more than friends. A great deal more than friends. There’s sexual charge, romantic electricity, mutual understanding and every-day contact. We’re more than friends with benefits, I’d say. She’s one of my best friends, she knows me better than pretty much any one else (except family) and I like that. I don’t know what we are. But I like it. We’re not mutually exclusive, we don’t have the pressure of being the only people in the others life and we can just pick it up and put it down when it pleases the both of us. We can go for months at a time without seeing each other and then be right back to where we were. It’s a very singular relationship and I don’t know if many other people could make it work or cope with it, but I think we do.