There are some things I write about almost as soon as they happen.
There are other things I keep tucked away, even from the people who read
everything I put out there. This is one of those things.
For National First Love Day, I thought it was finally time to talk
openly about something I have been deliberately keeping rather quiet for quite
a long time. Because, as it turns out, the woman I have repeatedly referred to
as my "gay crush" isn't actually my gay
crush at all.
She's my girlfriend. And she has been since May last year.
I've been deliberately vague about that because, although Emmy was in a marriage when we got together. A very open marriage in which she assured me her wife had other lovers, but a marriage all the same. I was always conscious of not wanting to ruffle feathers or
jeopardise something important that existed long before I cam on the scene. I cared about her too much to risk
causing problems in her life simply because I wanted to shout from the
rooftops about how I felt.
But that also meant that, every time I wrote about my "gay crush", I was being
somewhat dishonest.
I've always tried to be as open and truthful with the people who read my blog
as I possibly can. So keeping this part of my life hidden has made me feel
uncomfortable for quite some time. I had what I thought were good reasons for
doing it, but that doesn't change the fact that I wasn't being completely
honest.
It was even harder keep it from dear friends like Jess. I mean, I'm sure she figured it out but it still made me feel shitty to not be as honest as I could be. A small taint to something that brought me so much joy and happiness.
So, to Jess and everyone else who who is a friend or has followed my ramblings over the years, I'm sorry I couldn't be more honest. And I
think it's finally time to tell the whole story...
Before Emmy
It's important to establish at the outset of this tale that, prior to Emmy, I had always identified as
straight for my entire life.
I did experiment with women on a couple of occasions more than a decade ago, but it never really felt
right to me. I didn't feel particularly comfortable with it and, after a
while, I simply stopped pursuing that side of things. As far as I was
concerned, that was that.
Women could be beautiful. I could appreciate them aesthetically. I could even
occasionally find myself attracted to one. But actually being with a
woman? That didn't feel like me.
Then there was Ember. Or Emmy to those close to her.
We actually met not took long after that period, although we barely knew each other.
We were both involved with the Angels of Desire rock club, where I was vice
president, and there had been various dramas surrounding the club that left me
convinced Emmy didn't particularly like me.
Whenever she occasionally said hello, I tended to respond by being distant and
stand-offish. In hindsight, I was probably being an idiot. But at the time I
was convinced she thought I was a twat, so I kept my distance. It took years
before that changed.
The accidental icebreaker
In April 2022, I was putting together a feature for National Lingerie Day and
found myself one woman short. Jess came to the rescue and brought Emmy along.
I'll admit, I was nervous.
I wasn't sure how things were going to go. Here was this woman I had spent
years believing didn't particularly like me, suddenly joining us for a
feature, and, to make things even worse, it then got off to a slightly rocky
start.
Jess and I were teasing each other about our accents, because apparently
Scouse (from Liverpool) and Brummie (grom Birmingham) accents are incapable of existing in the same room without
somebody taking the piss. At some point Emmy made a disparaging comment about
Brummies. It took Jess and me a moment to realise that Emmy wasn't actually
insulting me. She was insulting herself.
And somehow that was the icebreaker I needed. Something clicked. Suddenly she felt like a kindred spirit due to our shared hometown.
From there, we started talking more. Then we started hanging out occasionally.
And before long, Emmy became a much bigger part of my life. She would flirt
with me because, well, Emmy is very much a lesbian (well bi- really cos she
loves taking a big cock up the arse) and she made no secrets of being very
attracted to me.
And I would tease her relentlessly about it. I was straight. I was
unreachable. There was absolutely no chance she was getting me.
Except, of course, that increasingly became a joke that was as much about me
as it was about her.
Becoming close
Our friendship grew. And grew. And grew. Eventually she became one of my
dearest friends.
That closeness accelerated when she started opening her Bunnies &
Bulls-themed Snowbunny Beach resort most days. We ended up spending an
enormous amount of time together. And Emmy increasingly wanted my attention.
She showed me more affection. She sought me out. She made me feel wanted. And
that meant more to me than she probably realised.
At the time, I was lonely and struggling through one of my periods of
depression. I wasn't in a particularly good place emotionally, and then here
was this woman who seemed to genuinely care about me. She saw me, warts and
all. She made me feel loved.
And somewhere along the way, something changed. The emotional connection I had
developed with her began turning into physical attraction. That was new
territory for me.
I've always been someone for whom emotional connection is a huge part of
sexual attraction. The most beautiful person in the world could walk into a
room and it wouldn't necessarily do anything for me. I need to
feel something for someone. And for the first time in a very long
time, I did.
Emmy's kindness and affection were getting through all of my defences. She
made me feel safe. That became incredibly important.
Even while she was flirting with me, she respected the boundaries she knew I
had. She teased me back and sometimes skirted the edges of what she knew I was
comfortable with, but she never crossed those lines.
I could trust her. And that trust changed everything.
When the joke stopped being a joke
For a long time, I continued teasing Emmy about her crush on me. Except
eventually I realised I was also teasing myself. Because I wanted her.
Desperately.
There was a strange battle going on inside my head. I'd spent years thinking
of myself as straight. I'd even had previous experiences with women and
concluded that it wasn't for me. So what the hell was happening now?
Could I really go from being, as one would-be lesbian lover once memorably
described me, "straight as an arrow", to actually allowing myself to be with
another woman?
Apparently I could. Eventually, I stopped fighting it. We hooked up. And it
was incredible.
By that point I was completely invested in her. I wanted to spend all of my
time with her, whether we were talking complete and utter random shit, being
intimate, laughing at something stupid or simply sitting together doing
nothing.
And strangely enough, it was the latter that meant the most. The cuddling. The
snuggling. Just having her there. Feeling her beside me.
That sense of safety I had discovered with her became something I craved. She
wasn't simply someone I was attracted to. She had become my person.
Of course, getting a little handsy was always pleasurable as well. Groping her sexy bum. Fondling those amazing tits. Tickling her tummy. Nibbling on that sensitive spot on her neck that I know will make her putty in my hands. Always staying respectful though. Knowing each other's limits and what was and wasn't acceptable.
The night everything changed
For perhaps a year, we remained incredibly close and had occasional hook-ups,
most (maybe all...) of which I naturally documented for my loyal readers
without giving away the full story behind them.
Then came one particular night. My birthday.
I had invited Emmy over to help me produce some content for the Masturbation
Month challenges I do every May. Obviously, because it was my birthday, this
came with the entirely reasonable expectation that she had to treat me well.
And she did. Very well. And I her as well. Indeed, it was the first time I ever tasted between her legs. Until then, I had restrained myself to finger her. But on that night, I gave in to my desires. I licked and sucked and slurped on her sweet, sweet cunt for the first time. There was no going back after that.
We stayed up into the early hours, getting hot and sweaty. As we fucked each other's brains out, we matched
each other orgasm for orgasm until we had no energy left to fuck any more with
the scores tied at 4 orgasms a piece.
Afterwards, as we lay together in that quiet, comfortable space that had become so familiar to us, something finally came out of my mouth. I told her that she was more than just a friend with benefits and she asked me if I meant that I wanted to be her girlfriend. That wasn't quite what I had been trying to say. I had never even considered that was a possibility give us married status, even if it was an open marriage.
But the moment she put the possibility on the table, I realised that it was exactly what I wanted. More than anything.
So we agreed not to overthink it. We'd take things as they came and see where it led us. And somehow, that little conversation changed everything.
The happiest year
The year that followed was probably the happiest I can remember. Every moment
with Emmy seemed to bring me joy. I felt loved in a way I hadn't experienced
before, and there was something fundamentally different about intimacy with
her now.
It wasn't just about physical attraction. For the first time, I felt like when
we were intimate, I was actually making love to someone. Not simply sharing a
physical experience. Not chasing a few moments of pleasure. Making love. (which is why you will have to forgive me for not posting about those intimate moments)
That distinction means an enormous amount to me. Because Emmy wasn't simply my
first woman.
She was my first love. My first gay love. And I fell so fucking hard
for her.
As cliched as it sounds, I finally felt complete when I finally had her and there is an empty void when we are apart. The classic yin and yang that perfectly compliment and complete each other. She is the extrovert and I am the introvert. She is the exhibitionist and I am the voyeur. She likes to go commando and I like to slip on some sexy undies to make me feel confident. You get the picture.
And the things I will do to make her happy...
Because when she is happy, I am happy. I've basically given up the idea of keeping my clothes on when around her, even when out in public. That totally goes against my every instinct of being more reserved and conservative about such things. Although, it is only in private with her that I truly bare myself. She is the one person in the world for whom my trademark collar will come off. Only she gets to place kisses on that most sacred area of my skin.
Then there is the sex to think about. There are no words for the things she makes want to do to and with her. Being able to pour both my love and lust into it at the same time elevates it to levels I have never experienced before. I would do almost anything for her. Emmy is best fucking sex I've ever had and its not even close. No-one else has ever made me cum like she can.
It's intoxicating but still not even the best part. The part that I savour most is the post-orgasm snuggles. Our naked and sweaty bodies inter-twinned as we come down for the massive high of cumming over and over. The safety I feel in her arms when in that vulnerable state. There is no where else I'd rather be.
There's that word again...safe.
Then life got complicated
Of course, relationships don't exist in a vacuum. Especially not ours.
Emmy has always been comfortable with having multiple lovers. I've tried my
best to support that because I know it is an important part of who she is.
I've encouraged her to spend time with people I know are genuinely important
to her. I want her to be happy, even if sometimes that comes at my own
expense.
But knowing intellectually that she needs multiple relationships doesn't make
the insecure part of my brain disappear. Coming up to 6 months ago, both of
our lives went through some pretty enormous upheavals.
I went through one of the most severe periods of depression I've experienced
in a long time when my career suddenly looked under threat. It looked like I
might completely lose my livelihood. As I've done before, I withdrew into
myself. That withdrawal wasn't because I stopped loving Emmy. Quite the
opposite.
Sometimes when I'm struggling that badly, I retreat because I'm terrified that
my own problems are going to hurt the people I care about. I've tried many
times to explain this to Emmy but I'm not sure she has ever really gotten it
though.
Around the same time, Emmy got divorced and introduced several new serious lovers into
her life.
It looked like those relationships filled spaces in her life that I'd vacated
by withdrawing and I'm absolutely sure that I've never really managed to
reclaim them. That has been difficult.
There are times when it feels like I'm standing outside her love, looking in
through the window while other people are enjoying something that once made me
the happiest I've ever been.
I know that's not necessarily fair. I know love doesn't work like that. But
insecurity, especially when fuelled by depression, isn't particularly
interested in fairness.
The insecurity of not knowing
Like I said, I've always tried to support Emmy's need for multiple lovers and
respect the time that she needs to spend with them. What I struggle with is
wondering whether those people would offer me the same generosity. Whereas I
would try to give her space when she was with others, when the roles were
reversed it felt like I would often see them hovering, waiting for a moment to
snatch her away from me
There is a part of me that is terrified they'll eventually permanently whisk
her away and leave me with whatever scraps of her time remain. Those fears are
made harder by the fact that Emmy has a tendency to spread herself incredibly
thin across all the people who want her attention. And, problematically for
me, I have rarely known where I truly stand with her now.
There was a time when she showered me with affection, compliments and
attention. These days, getting some of that affection can sometimes feel like
trying to catch smoke. Conversations are often short and get cut off mind flow, or never mange to progress past occasional one word answer. The unprompted "I love you"s are scarce.
I try to convince myself that it is not a reflection of
me falling out of favour and is simply because there is so much demand on her
time. But there is always that voice in the back of my head trying to convince me that she resents me for trying to take her attention from people she would rather spend her time with. People that she more openly talks about her love for. People who make her light up with excitement when they enter the room, the way she once did for me.
It hurts. Especially when I remember last summer, our rings and how magical it all felt.
We exchanged matching rings, worn on our right index fingers, as a symbol of our shared love after Emmy
confessed that, in her own mind, she considered us married. There aren't
really words for what that meant to me. I was fucking ecstatic. I had to play
it down a little at the time, partly out of respect for her actual wife, but
inside I was doing cartwheels.
For someone who had spent so long insisting that she was merely my "gay
crush", suddenly having the woman I loved tell me she thought of us as married
was enormous. Some friends and acquaintances had already joking described us as being wives due to how inseparable we could be at times; always to be found in one another's arms. But this hit differently. This was a declaration of love fro mthe one person that it really matter coming from. My beloved Emmy.
So where does that leave us?
That's the complicated bit. I love her with all of my heart. I don't know
whether I mean as much to Emmy now as I once did though. That's a fear I
carry with me 24/7.
Sometimes I wonder whether I'm still as important to her as she is to me.
Sometimes I wonder whether I've slipped further down the list of people
competing for her time and affection. And sometimes I simply miss the Emmy who
used to make me feel like I was the most important person in the existence.
But there is another thought that gives me some comfort.
I've watched people come into Emmy's life and burn incredibly brightly. Some
of those relationships have been intense. Some have been passionate. Some have
seemed, for a while, as though they might become permanent fixtures to push me in to redundancy. And then,
eventually, they've disappeared.
I'm still here.
Whatever else has changed, I'm still here. Maybe that's what I have to hold
onto. Not the idea that I have some guaranteed place in her life. Not the
assumption that things will always be exactly as they were. Just the fact
that, through all the changes, through the highs and the lows, through my own
periods of withdrawing and her own constantly expanding constellation of Emsexual lovers, we're still here.
Still together. Still finding our way through it, even if we occasionally stumble.
And when we do get those fleeting moments together, all those things I love about Emmy come rushing back into my life for that time that we get to become one again. Her kindness. Her affection. Her sass. The way she makes me feel like I'm the centre of the universe. The way she can dissolve all of my fears and worries away for at least a little while. The way she allows me to conjure confidence from within myself that I never knew I had. All of these gifts that I cherish deeply.
My first love
So, on National First Love Day, I wanted to finally stop hiding behind
the phrase "gay crush". Because it doesn't really tell the truth. Emmy isn't
my gay crush. She is my girlfriend. My first girlfriend.
She is the woman who made me question everything I thought I knew about my own
sexuality.
She's the woman who showed me that attraction can grow from emotional
connection, trust and feeling genuinely safe with another person.
She's the woman who was there when I was lonely and struggling.
She's the woman who made me feel seen.
She's the woman who taught me that I could fall in love with another woman.
She's the woman who gave me the opportunity to share all the love that I've been clinging on to, too scared to give to anyone for fear of being hurt.
And she's the first woman I've ever been in love with.
There are still things I don't know.
I don't know exactly what the future holds for us.
I don't know whether I'll ever stop feeling insecure about my place in her
life, especially when she deflects my soft prods to get some sort of
reassurance.
I don't know whether I'll ever be completely comfortable sharing the person I
love with other people who perhaps have no interest in also sharing her, or how I'll deal with the jealousy that may come with that.
But I do know this.
I love her.
I love her SO FUCKING MUCH!
She isn't just my first gay love.
She's the one that I have entrusted with my heart.
She's my entire world.
Emmy Fatale, I love you ❤
