"Ummm"

While being dumped and then subsequently having to have a second breakup sucks, it in no way changed the fact that I love having sex. However, it also doesn’t mean that I’m going to throw myself into anyone’s arms.

I’m very good at taking my emotions and burying them deep inside until I feel the need to type them out and share them on the internet. So while I may tell the world that I occasionally lose it, to my peers I am seemingly normal and sociable at all times. I often find solace in my college bar, though its most redeeming qualities are also its largest faults – the drinks are cheap and you generally know 90% of the people there. You can get drunk quickly, but you can’t get away with anything without everyone knowing. Luckily the levels of drunkness are often consistent throughout the room, so if you’re belligerent and making a fool out of yourself you can guarantee people will be talking about who snogged up against the pigeonholes the next day, not your rendition of Rihanna’s most recent hit.

Sometimes I’m the Rihanna wannabe and sometimes I’m the snogger. Okay, often I’m the one who pulls, but I’m usually more discreet about it. Few people in college know a fraction of what I get up to. I use to try very hard to avoid college-cest, but sometimes it’s just what’s most convenient. Makes things a bit awkward when you’re sat between two people you’ve slept with however. They’re none the wiser, but I know and that’s all that matters.

It was at the last party in college where Paddi asked me out that I got up to my usual antics. I had been drinking and dancing with the Tube Stops, had spoken to Rugby/Rebound Guy a bit, but was generally just having a good time. RG had to leave to go elsewhere, but I wasn’t too bothered as things with him and I were cooling down. He’s extremely sweet, quite attractive and fun to be around, but I don’t think either of us are looking for a relationship.

I had just made Foster buy me a drink when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and it was a guy I had met in college a couple weeks earlier and seen around a bit. He’s from the Netherlands and has an extremely thick accent. Every other phrase is interrupted with a long “Umm,” or “Uhhh.” It was rather endearing actually.

To be fair, Netherlands Boy, or Foxhound as I’ve named him (Fox for short because he’s quite fit), had been very persistent throughout the term. I had met him early this year and he had followed me around a bit, much to the amusement to Russ and Cam.

“Your boyfriend is staring at you again,” Russ would tease.

“Huh?” I would ask, turning around to see Fox staring at me. Not in a stalker kind of way, but more in a puppy dog kind of way. It was cute.

I don’t know what it was about that evening that turned Fox from cute to, well, Fox, but I suddenly found myself quite attracted to him. I spent most of the night with the Tube Stops, and Russ even kissed me once, but the entire time Fox was at the back of my mind.

I laughed off Russ’ kiss and pushed him away, letting him roam off with whomever it was he found to take home that night. Fox had made his way back to my side and was attempting small talk once again.

“Would you like to come to my house for some tea?”

I smiled, laughing slightly, “Sure.”

We made our way to his house, talking through broken English along the way. Once we made it to his place I collapsed on the couch. He turned on the kettle. “Umm, what kind of tea would you like?”

I laughed a bit, “What?”

“Uhhh, would you like some tea?”

“Really?”

“Umm. Yes.”

“Oh, well, uhh, no I’m okay,” I said, in a bit of disbelief that he had actually invited me for tea literally and not figuratively.

“Oh. Umm, would you like something else?”

“I would,” I said, smiling.

Finally getting the hint, he smiled and came to sit with me. “Have you had a good night?” He asked.

“It’s getting better,” I said, and while it was the possibly the cheesiest thing I had ever said, he was none the wiser, and leaned in to kiss me.

Our kiss accelerated quickly to making out in his bed and soon after that we were naked and down to business. He was quite good actually and we ended up having sex three times between that moment and the time I left the next morning.

I was trying to dress quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling my dress over my head, when I felt his hand on the small of my back. “Where are you going?” he asked, innocently.

“Home.” I whispered.

“Why?” He whispered back.

I smiled, “Because I have work to do.”

“Ah, I see.” He said, sitting up to kiss me.

I kissed him back, then pulled away. “I have to go.”

“Well,” he said in his thick accent, sitting up to meet me face to face, “Merry Christmas.” He kissed me. “Happy New Year.” He kissed me again. “Be safe.” He kissed me one last time.

I laughed. “What?” He asked.

“You’re acting as if we’ll never see each other again.”

He looked confused. “No. I will see you when I get back from Christmas, yes?”

“Yeah, you will,” I said, still laughing.

“Then what is problem?”

“Nothing,” I said, unable to stifle the laughing.

He kissed me again. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. “See you next year.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any tea?”

I laughed one last time.