Like, can I just make a standard NSFW disclaimer? Project Connor has morphed into Project Connor XXX now. Maybe I should give an SFW warning on the non-sexy-time posts. Anyway, this one isn’t awfully NSFW. If you survived the last blogpost, this one should be fine.

After my awful, awful man-who-wanted-to-be-squashed, I knew the next man had to be better. And he was.

One night, during an interval at the theatre, I was having had a good day, and feeling totally head-over-heels in love with London again. I opened Growlr to see who was online. I got chatting to a few men, and started arranging to meet one of them. He didn’t say much, but he politely asked me what show I was seeing and whether I was enjoying it. Sometimes, while all the other men are asking you for photos of your bottomhole, a man asking you about your life is just lovely. We didn’t have a long conversation or anything, but we established that he was from Sweden and would be up for “kissing and naked cuddling and nothing too kinky” the first time. Phew. That was exactly what I needed.

On Sunday afternoon, we were due to have our naked cuddle. I sent him my address and changed my bedclothes. It is wonderful to have a man over from time to time, as it forces you to wash the sheets.

He arrived. He was a rarity. Someone who was better-looking in real life than in his photo. I gave him a glass of water and asked him his name. (It is at moments like these, when we’ve already agreed to get naked together and he’s in my house and I find myself not sure of what his name is, that I really realise that my life is different from that of the straights.)

We kissed on the couch and I took him to my bedroom. He was of East Asian heritage and Oh My God, the break from the monotony of sweaty, hairy, white lads was a delight. It was really lovely. Initially, while he needed to get off, it was a bit more than cuddling. In fact, I nearly dislocated my jaw because hashtag-not-all-Asians.

But after he was done, I was determined. I told him he was going to lie under the duvet and we were going to cuddle for a while before he left. And he obeyed. My needs are few.

I love a cuddle. I love body contact. The rest is fun, but the cuddle is the pinnacle. The safety, the anchor, the comfort. I was cuddle-deprived for far too long in my life. More of this in a minute.

Did I like my Asian Swede? Sure. He had lovely skin. He was attentive and kind. He stayed for the cuddle without objecting.

But we have no future. In the ninety minutes we spent together, he said almost nothing. All I remember him saying is “Yes”, “No”, “OK”, “I’m close”, “Do you want it?” and “I can’t wear contact lenses. They just fall out of my eyes.”

I need a man who says more than that. So the hunt goes on.

But I’m in the game. For so long, I wasn’t. I’m turning 37 next week. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. For the first time in my 36 years, I could actually spend Valentine’s with someone. I won’t, because I don’t want to. But I could. I really could. It’s really unbelievable how much my life has changed and is changing.

I’m a simple creature and small things make a difference. And sometimes it boils down to the fact that the security I get from the availability of man-cuddles makes me feel safer and makes me feel braver. ❤

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