I don't do one night stands, and I don't sleep with people in relationships.

I don't do one night stands, and I don't sleep with people in relationships.

That's the narrative I've been holding myself too for the last year, and when I decide something about myself, I am undeterred...usually.

One year ago I had a panda party to celebrate an entire year of celibacy.

And over the last few weeks I began to wonder whether I would be hosting another one. 

The last time I got laid was in January. 

What happened the past 10 months you may be wondering? 

Well other than a multitude of lockdowns, I have been continuing to learn all about me through celibacy.

My Janurary root was...well it wasn't very pleasing, so I decided I wouldn't have sex unless it could lead me to a relationship.

Then a few weeks ago I started to dream of sex, and I knew that it was on it's way to me. 

What I didn't know, was from where this prophetic fuck would arrive.

I should have known…

The St Kilda drum circle. 

What a vibe. 

Since, I don't know how long, an eclectic collection of happy humans have gathered every Thursday night on the St Kilda foreshore, yielding drums of all sizes, picnics, cakes, joints, poi, dragon staffs, gasoline and all kinds of renegade joy. 

Yes, this is the same place where three people asked me for my number just weeks ago. 

My Radiant Rising crew and I decided we would meet on the foreshore for a boogie.

After a quick picnic dinner, my shoes were off and I was dancing among the steadily increasing group of drum hungry dancers. 

When I moved into the ecstatic state of the dancers a beautiful thing happened to me, everyone I witnessed became so transparently beautiful, or transparently disconnected. It's like I could easily feel the essence of a person's soul.

I was jiving with my gals, alone and amongst the drummers, and from every vantage point everyone was glorious. 

But my eye landed squarely on one glorious face above all the others. 

He wore a white hoodie, loose black cargo pants, his long dark hair was in a man bun, his thick brown eyebrows drew you into the large brown lashes which gated his deep blue eyes. 

His face was sculpted in such an elegant way that my gaping gaze darted from his eyes, to his perfect nose with it's fashy nose ring, to his big, juicy lips.

He was gorgeous. 

As I danced my dance, I felt my face warm everytime I caught his eye. 

He got himself a drum and moved closer to my vicinity, so I just had to let him know...

You are absolutely gorgeous. 

 

And so are you, nice nose ring. Replied a delicious accent, whose origin I instantly knew.

So you're brazilian?

How did you know? He replied with surprise and an impressive eyebrow raise.

I know things… I replied coyly. 

Yes, I am a big outrageous flirt, and I love it. 

But I didn't need to do much more than that initial flirt, returning to my dancing and my Radiant Rising Queens. It seemed I had given him a taste of Chloe, and he wanted more.

Relinquishing his drum he soon found me on the dancefloor, but he didn't find me the way I'm used to Australian men approaching me...

He came from behind.

Now if you're not familiar with my blog I recommend reading The Challenges of African Dancing.

Past Chloe would have found a hot man...well any man...dancing behind me  in a crowd of people too embarrassing. 

Back then I couldn't receive the attention. Couldn't express my eros under the spotlight. 

But that was a different Chloe.

I felt that gorgeous South American man come up behind me and I leaned back.

It felt so good to have a man's hand on my waist, to feel his height towering above me, to hear him speak some devilish words into my ears....

The way you dance is so sexy, I'd like you to dance on me all night.

I broke away from him and returned to my friends for some much needed air, and it was like returning to a group of hens. Clucking and fussing and celebrating what they had just witnessed. 

I loved it. 

It wasn't long till my luscious Brazilian found me, and in his seeking me out I couldn't help but notice the anxious look on his friend's face.

I decided to break the ice and say hello to said friend, when he quickly informed me:

He has a girlfriend. 

Woah. Fuckin' damn it to heck. Why why whyyyyy?

In the work I do I have pledged and allegiance to women. Or female bodied beings.

I serve them, I help to heal them, guide them, reconnect them and above all honour them.

Being intimate with another woman's partner has always felt in complete opposition to my values. 

So when the Brazilian moved towards me again, I confronted him with my new knowledge. 

You have a girlfriend?

He acknowledged it's truth. Told me that it was his last night in the country before returning to Brazil. That she had already left for Europe, they didn't know when they would see one another and that things between them were in a gray zone. 

I backed off.

Now there were two red flags - he had a girlfriend, and he was only available for a one night stand - which Chloe doesn't do anymore.

I returned to the radiant women, feeling that I had made my decision and yet not feeling any sense of joy within that decision. 

One friend spoke up. 

Chloe, you don't know this woman, you don't know their relationship, you don't know their agreements, you only know how you feel. And choose to act or not act with that feeling.

I looked up and caught those beautiful blue eyes gazing towards me. I got up and marched over to him, decided.

I want to kiss you, if you want that. 

He said nothing, he wrapped his arm behind my waist and pulled me in tight, his hungry lips parting mine and sliding his thick tongue into my mouth.

At this point some of you may have begun to judge me. You may be triggered because you've been cheated on before. And I want to say that I honour that, and I honour you.

But as I kissed that man I knew I had made the right decision. I would never betray a woman I knew, never betray a woman by pursuing ongoing secret intimacies whilst they were in partnership. 

And that's just it. I realised all my definitives about who I believed I am - what I believed I would and wouldn't do were all stories, narratives, fictitious agreements upon which you cannot rely because life is constantly changing, and so are we.

So when that Brazilian man picked me up and shoved my small body against a wall, his hands wandering all over my inner thighs but never touching my pussy, when his lips sucked the purity from within me - I succumbed. 

I took him home.

And when he caressed my legs in the car I had no regrets.

And when he lay me down on my bed and consumed my mouth I had no regrets.

And when he asked to take off my panties and gazed into my eyes while he ate me, I had no regrets.

And when I sucked his cock while he moaned how hot I am, I had no regrets.

And when he picked me up and fucked me over my desk, I had no regrets.

And when we stood in front of my full length luxurious mirror devouring each other's pleasure, I had no regrets.

We fucked. We slept. We fucked again. He never stopped kissing me. Never stopped caressing me. Never stopped telling me how gorgeous I am all the way until his departure. 

And as his beautiful face, his beautiful body walked down my driveway, never to be seen again, bound for Brazil, a country of 212 million people with no contact details left…

I had no regrets.

And I still don't.

As well as getting back into the world of sex, I was reminded not to be so certain of who I am.

Sometimes I don't do one night stands.

Sometimes I do.

Most of the time I don't sleep with people in relationships.
Sometimes I do.

I am Chloe, ever evolving, ever changing.