Sex and Your Career – where’s the line?

I know I told you all about the last time I had sex during work hours – that was great. But this is more the figurative sense; when is it ok for your sex life to cross over into your work realm. Or is it ever?

 

I got a LinkedIn ‘connection’ request from an old beau this week. We ceased contact over 2 years ago. And it ended civilly but not well. There has been absolutely no contact since, which to be honest I was a bit surprised about. I had held some notions that he would see the error of his ways and duly get in touch to express his contrition. Alas and thankfully, he did not. More on that anon.

 

So Monday morning I see a message from yet another name I don’t know ..but hold up, I do. I vaguely recognise the person’s name then who the company is! I know them too. It takes a good two minutes before I figure out it’s him (his pic is not that flattering or fair to how he actually looks)

But I have no idea what’s going on. Why would he contact me like this? What did he hope to achieve? And then I got annoyed because this really isn’t appropriate. There are only 3 reasons I can think of, why he would try to contact me on a career social media platform:

He was drunk & for some reason updating his profile

He has deleted my number but is super desperate to find me

He is genuinely trying to connect with me (because of who I work for) & thinks this is ok

 

1.                  He was drunk & for some reason updating his profile

I’m not sure about you guys but hitting up LinkedIn when I’ve had a few is not top of my things to do when I’m drunk and bored. Texting exes, check. Trolling Twitter, convincing my mates to give me a boob pic for Twitter, saying wildly inappropriate things on Twitter; check, check and extra check. But somehow, even for him, I doubt this was the case. I think this is low on the possibilities.

0.5 out of 10

 

2.                  He has deleted my number but is super desperate to find me

Again I think we might have to also add the caveat of ‘With or without alcohol’ to this. Cos either are plausible. OK, so I’m not that easy to find. Or real me isn’t. I’m not on social media and because I’m not an old person you can’t look me up in the phone book. So, if by some weird turn of fate he was trying to get back in touch…. This might be the only way?

But honestly, would anyone do that? I really doubt it. 2 out of 10

BUT would a drunk person do that… much more likely.

4 out of 10

 

3.                  He is genuinely trying to connect with me because of who I work for

This was the last thing that I considered, and only because someone on Twitter suggested it. I spend so much time feeling like a dope that I never consider myself a networking possibility for someone else.

Maybe he genuinely thought it would be a way to get an introduction to my company? Not in the area I work in, but given our respective positions, I would certainly know who he should talk to. Was he looking for those names? Did he think I would give him some introductions?

Oh God. The audacity.

I still can’t believe that someone would have the neck to contact an ex-lover looking for a favour in a business sense. Maybe a beau that they still looked on favourably, or one that it ended well with ….?

Would you do it?

I wouldn’t but I fear the plausibility here is nearing 5.5 out of 10

 

 

Where are the juicy details

I feel I should give you a brief run-down of our short lived dalliance and why I am so utterly opposed to helping this guy out. There are two sides to every story but who gives a shit you’re well aware that this is my side.

Our time together ended one Saturday morning after breakfast when he said ‘This isn’t a relationship Abbi, that’s not what this is. I’m not looking for a relationship. I have to focus on my career right now’. (I did not make that up)

For some additional background; we’d been seeing each other for a bit. Proper dates, dinner, theatre, drinks, brunch. I’d met some of his friends, he’d met some of mine. On the morning of the above statements he had brought me to a 5km race I had agreed to do with work, waited for me and brought me home again. And in case you need me to spell that out – I was happy to run the risk of him possibly meeting my colleagues and or boss. Happy because I thought we were seeing each other.

I’m not sure where I got this crazy notion that we were seeing each other. Yup, I fabricated it. In my crazy lady mind.

 

Add to that the fact that we had not had sex. So I’m not sure what he thought it was but it certainly wasn’t fuck buddies cos I think you have to fuck for that to be the case. (open to correction on this?)

 

To row back a bit

There was of course a reason why we hadn’t. We had, I thought, agreed that we were exclusive and as he wasn’t proving great with condoms and I was on the pill, we agreed to both get tested. I was tested he had to wait for an appointment and then wait again for the results. In the interim we’d been having a great time. And I thought we had loads in common; dark sense of humour, low tolerance for eejits, hatred of weddings, similar familial background. On paper it was perfect.

 

To say I was upset when he told me it wasn’t a relationship would be disingenuous because I really wasn’t. I was furious. Furious that he thought I would hold him back in his career, furious that he thought I wanted more than what we already did. Furious that I had waited WEEKS for his cock and was now not getting it.

But mostly furious that he didn’t think I was worth going out with. HOW FUCKING DARE HE! If he wasn’t sure about my worth then I was certainly assured of his and it was getting precisely zero more of my time.

 

 

And now?

I don’t think anyone would claim that there was any cordiality owed to him. While I’m well past what happened, I would be disinclined to acquiesce to assisting him.

It’s so funny how I was so initially convinced that he would get in touch, that he would realise how fucking awesome I was ….. but he didn’t. He spend so much time telling me how much he hated being single that I was sure he would miss  me and get back in touch. But weeks passed and I got over it and deleted his number.

 

 

But the truth is, much like his statement that fateful morning, I don’t understand and have no idea why he would try to connect with me now. But I do feel it’s wholly inappropriate. I don’t and never did know him in a professional capacity and I don’t think it’s right that anyone should cross that line and expect a warm reception. Work and private life are delicate eco systems that shouldn’t be infected with casual acquaintances. It’s almost impossible for me to imagine infringing on anyone’s career like this. By either contacting them on their work email, or showing up on work premises or calling them on a work number. Not unless you are a serious partner – let’s say of over 2years – then I don’t think there’s any justification for it.

 

To be fair, he didn’t actually ring me at my desk so this is the lightest of infringements I suppose but still. It’s unprecedented.

And if it had ended better I might be more inclinded to see this in a fabourable light. But I didn’t and I don’t.

 

So, what will I do?

Oh I’m a dickhead who likes drama for her own amusement – I’m going to accept and see if he has anything to say. Either way it should be amusing.

But I think the sad reality is he’s probably one of those people who just likes collecting connections and there will be no more intrigue to it than that. I’ll accept and there will be no more communiation.

Last Night A Dicking Saved My Life

Sex stops me from wanting to end it all

I don’t say that flippantly, it keeps me alive. And on one occasion it saved my life.

This is very hard for most people to understand. I know this and expect this. Less easy to understand is how I explain this to people in my life who don’t yet grasp it. People who know my duels with mental health. People who know that when all hope is fading then my interest will always be piqued by the salacious.

It’s a physical release that immediately relieves tension, no one needs me to spell out how that can be beneficial. But it is more than that for me, it sends badly needed endorphins or serotonin to my very damaged brain, that quells the erupting despair and salves an ache that is ever present in my mind. Two admittedly very useful things that I’m sure are not my experience alone. But there is also one more thing it does which I’m less sure people will connect with. When I have sex, I don’t hate myself. I get a break from my eternal monologue which tells me I’m useless at everything.

Which one is me?

Whether it’s respite from my real self or whether it’s where I get to be the real me, I’m not sure. But I like the version of me that exists when I have sex. When I’m having sex I don’t worry about anything else, I don’t feel fear or failure or dejection – I feel peace.

I feel accomplished and skilful and comfortable that I know what I am doing. And so much of my time is taken up with feeling the opposite of those things. Most of my colleagues would be surprised to hear how riddled with doubt I am given my frequency for walking round like I own the fucking place.

The lies I tell

But the biggest and most common lies I tell are ‘I know what I’m doing’ and ‘I’m ok’. It’s rare that either of these is true. And that can get to you. Thinking and feeling you’re useless and pretending you’re ok, a person only has so much in reserve to fight that. My stocks are frequently low. And the only thing that is guaranteed to alleviate that is a good seeing to.

It wipes my slate clean, gives me the tiny respite from being the terrible me. And that good version of me, the me that I like, well getting to be her helps me to survive. Or even want to survive.

 

People joke that I’m so lascivious and are always waiting for a brazen quip from me. But more than once it’s been asked if I thought I had a sex addiction’* or what is my “obsessive” interest in sex, why am I always dating, is it really good for me.

Almost all valid questions when put in context of when I’ve been hurt or disappointed. It’s not hard for me to understand where these questions come from. I put myself out there and get knocked down accordingly; you could say I bring it on myself. But when compared to the alternative? I’m not sure they would continue to ask why I seek this out, why it’s important to me.

Sometimes it’s the only thing.

 

 

*Sigh, in case you’re also wondering, I’m not a sex addict, I won’t just sleep with anyone, anywhere at any cost. I just really like a good ride.

Please don’t advise me on how to manage my mental health, how I do is not open for discussion, just please accept that I do manage it and it does involve professionals.

Get Fucked

I’m outside your house

Well come in then!

 

He closes the door behind him as I walk away and up the stairs. Telling his I’m soaked and I need to change, he follows me up.

I have my pants off by the time he stands behind me and grabs my hips.

What are you doing here? I say not out of irritation but inquiry. I genuinely don’t know why he’s here. He’s now kissing my neck as I try to take my top off.

I’m here cos I thought you needed a friendly face.

 

Ughhhhh – I think to myself, not what I wanted to hear. But he hasn’t stopped touching me so I move his hands down between my legs as I try to pull off my bra.

He takes his hand away from where I’ve placed it almost instantaneously and my mood fleetingly sinks even further; convinced that he’s not here to fuck me. But he moves his hand up to my mouth so I can wet his fingers before he slips them inside my underwear. My lips part easily for him.

 

Instinctively I push my arse back against him, trying to find a hardening cock. I’m not quite convinced that this isn’t a brutal tease; that he will leave at any second.

Do you have time? I ask with loaded expectation. My need is greater than even I knew.

Of course I do! He says this as if it was understood from the moment he arrived. But how could it have been? It wasn’t arranged, he doesn’t live this side of the city and he had already told me he had plans tonight.

It was not understood until right now.

 

I turn to face him, sheer relief coursing through me as I drop to my knees and get his cock out. It springs towards my mouth and he makes that glorious noise as I slide it past my lips. This is for my pleasure as much as his. I am so greedy to be filled with it everywhere, I’m probably doing a rubbish but enthusiastic job. I am so ravenous. I suck it eagerly then force as much of it as I can back my throat. I know he loves this.

Loves the feel of it as much as how it looks. How my eyes water and I gag and choke. How I cough up his dick when I can no longer breathe, spit dangling from my lips to the tip of the head.

 

I go back to sucking him more gently but he’s had a taste of what he likes now and wants more. He places his hands either side of my face and slowly starts to fuck my mouth. Any control I had is taken from me. I relish the delicacy with which he holds my face in place with the roughness of how he fucks it. He pushes me right up to the edge of where I can breathe – then holds me for another beat before letting me go. I spit out his saliva, dripping cock and gasp for air.

He calls me a good girl and leans down to kiss me.

 

I’m in no mood to be messed with this evening and in no mood to take my time. I barely register his kiss and uncharacteristically order him on to the bed and I climb on top of him. I rub his still slick cock up against my wet cunt. I am oozing need.

 

It’s not wet enough for me so I push the head of his cock into my lips. It’s still not wet enough so I just slide right down until it’s all in and grind down on him. Trying to get the greedy orgasm I need so badly.

 

Even with his thumb working my clit I can’t get there. This isn’t hard or direct or brutal enough for me tonight. I need to be hurt with it.

He pulls me off him and I think he’s going to flip me over, but he climbs between my legs pushes me flat onto my back. And his tongue starts to work my swollen clit.

 

It’s all gone too far for any teasing or slow movements and he duly eats with precision – ignoring my bucking and not even holding me in place. I am rabid with need, unable to keep my hips on the bed – forcing them up to meet his mouth. I can’t even articulate that I want his fingers but he eventually adds them, sliding two into me with ease now.

 

As soon as I have them they are no longer enough. I just want more, I want to be filled and stretched. I am writhing and bucking and all I can breathe out is ‘Harder. More’

 

I cannot contain myself or articulate just how much I need to come. He pushes his fingers harder into me and I lift my hips and press myself on to his tongue as much as I can. And I feel it coming, a giant climax erupts and I come hard on his mouth and fingers.

 

Before I have gathered myself he thankfully grabs my legs and holds them up as he forces his solid cock into my still pulsating cunt.

 

Another wave of release hits as he starts to pound me. He forces my legs back harder, pinning them back by my head. I can’t move, I can only take it, take whatever he fucks into me.

 

His orgasm builds and he announces that he’s going to come. Just before he does he pulls out and shoots jets of it all over my tits and belly. Giving me the last glimpse of him with his cock in his hand

and we both collapse. Sated.

 

I feel so much better. So infinitely better than I had done 30 minutes before.

I don’t need a friendly face, I need a furious fuck.

Why Don’t I Give Blow Jobs?

I love a cock in my mouth so why don’t I give blow jobs?

Good question, but a trick one – I do give blow jobs but this only depends on how you look at it. Or so it seems.

I read an article this week on The Dublin Inquirer page, where it was suggested that it’s only a blow job if the guy finishes. (hang on to your raised eyebrows for a sec) Or rather someone was lamenting that their partner had claimed this. This was breaking news for me. It had never crossed my mind that someone might have been considering me stingy with the blow jobs because they weren’t regularly getting to finish in my mouth? Regardless of how many times I was happy to have it in there.

Had I Been Looking at This all Wrong?

While I was somewhat surprised that someone would take this stance it did seem a little ungrateful to me. But was there any merit in it? Would I think the same with regards to getting eaten? There are few things I love more than having a cock in my mouth, it’s the first thing I want to do. And if you have any skill with dominance if you’re able to deny me this for even a few seconds it will heighten my pleasure. So needless to say it is something that is incorporated into sex, pretty much every single time I have it. I would consider blow jobs to be central to having sex and to my enjoyment of that sex. But what of my partner? Is he seeing my eagerness to get his dick in my mouth as me giving him loads of blow jobs? Or is he just thinking that I’m not giving him many?

 

How Often Does It Finish in My Mouth?

So I started looking back at when I might have been giving ‘just a blow job’ – and how many times was it that, and only that. It was hard to tell for two reasons.  1. Blow jobs often lead to sex (shocking). And 2. If I suck him until he comes, that can sometimes be the end of the action for a while (just as shocking).

And pausing the action (until he recovers) might not be what either of us wants. So unless I am very determined to make my partner lie back and enjoy it, or he has specifically asked for a blow job – giving head until completion can sometimes get lost in all the other great things that we can be doing. And one of them can be that we’re just eager to give as much pleasure as we receive.

 

 

So what are we saying here?

Giving head can be very one sided, it’s why some people don’t like it. But if you do, then it can be something so gloriously indulgent, just to lie back and receive. But still, I think we can agree that one person is getting the majority of the pleasure. As much as I get turned on when I give head, it’s also a tease. It gets me worked up and sometimes I am so aroused by the result I am disappointed that I can’t be fucked right then. (that is a very tiny detail) So I’m aroused but I haven’t gotten off.  But in contrast, as soon as a guy makes me come with his mouth, he can fuck me straight away. Which is usually what happens.

Now, how would I feel if a guy was going down on me all the time (as I do with guys) but it was so infrequently leading to orgasm? Would I feel like I was getting head? Satisfactorily?

 

Without a Climax Would I Feel Like I Wasn’t Getting Any?

I had a good think about this and the answer is no. Mostly when I’m having sex I’d finish him with my mouth if he wanted to. But it’s a choice and if he chooses to move to sex, when staying with the blow job is an option I’ve offered, then that’s what happens. I mean of course sometimes it’s not an option I will want sex and will say so. The point is, that it’s up to a person to ask for what they want. To let their partner know what they like and when. You can’t claim you never get something if you don’t ask for it. Or more specifically in this case, you can’t say you don’t ever get it when in fact you do!

If someone was going down on me every time we had sex, then there’s no legitimacy to the claim that I wasn’t getting head. If it never manifested itself in the culmination of an orgasm? While disappointing it would then be up to me to ask for that. It’s up to me to say, please make me come, please don’t stop. But ultimately the onus is on me to communicate that. And really, as long as he’s getting me off one way or the other, I mostly don’t really care how I finish.

So to anyone at all, who wants to claim that it only counts if you finish? I refute that as a totally ridiculous stance and in conclusion I give LOADS of head. And I can now cross that off my list of things to retrospectively worry about this week.

 

Abbi x