He was 19. I was 34.
It was another drunken wild night in Thailand, and I got it in my recently divorced head that the only way to prove, “I still had it,” was to get him into bed. Well, I definitely still had it – as all of the hostel could attest to the next morning.
Apparently our 2 a.m. tryst in the common area of the hostel hadn’t been as private as we thought. I never thought I would be the hottest sex gossip, but then my post-divorce life was definitely anything but expected.
Yes, I cried and wept. But what really made me heal was sex. A lot of sex. And I loved it.
At 33-years -old, I had already been married for just over nine years. Sex with my husband was good, not amazing, but I had nothing to compare it to since I entered the marriage as a virgin. I was content. But five years into our marriage, he began to make better love to the liquor bottle than to me. I blamed myself for four more years, but I finally realised that I would always come second to alcohol. I did something I had always considered unthinkable. I asked for a divorce.
Newly single, I knew I would be lonely. But I couldn’t begin to comprehend the depth of loneliness I would feel, or how it would translate into a sexual craving that I didn’t seem able to fully control. Perhaps I was rebounding. Or perhaps I was just fully living my life for the first time. I wasn’t ready to process the reason for it.
All I knew was that I needed to get away, and Southeast Asia seemed the perfect place to spend seven months escaping divorce reality in the arms of as many men as possible. Travel provided an international buffet of men and I was heaping up my plate and going back for seconds.
My first guy was an Irish lad on the sultry beaches of Thailand, who lured me in with the incredibly heady promise of, “I bet you’ve never been properly f*cked.” He was right on that account, but his incredibly small penis and 30-second performance failed to back up that claim.
And then there was that lanky, long-haired Australian guy that shared my bunk space on a train to Mumbai. I still get hot and bothered just thinking about him. I quickly set my sights on seduction, suggesting we share a room, “to save money.” He definitely knew his way around down under.
After him, I gave myself a Belgian for my birthday. Let me just tell you, it was a verrry impressive present, and he worked long and hard on the delivery.
And then there was…
Oh wait, I really shouldn’t divulge EVERY male conquest, as that would make for a very long blog.
“My sexual freedom gave me sensual pleasure, but it also gave me courage.”