Boredom with Rhys Nicholson
I’m super boring. Why yes, that is a terrible way to start this, thank you, but it’s true. It’s something I’ve come to terms with over the past few years. We all wish we were go getters and interesting people but if we’re honest at least 90% of us are not unlike a 12 year old clarinet player busking at a craft market: we’re doing our best, but no one would notice if we weren’t there.
I don’t like putting myself out there and doing things anymore. Sometimes I think I’m not really saying yes to life so much as saying no to death. I don’t listen to loud music, go on roller coasters or eat left over take away after 2 days. The last time I genuinely felt in danger was when the midday TV slot of Murder She Wrote was moved to 3pm (on a side note, I have absolutely no doubt that Jessica Fletcher did all the murders in that show. I have solid proof but the police won’t reply to my emails).
My intimate life is no different. When it comes to sexy sex time things I devote most of the act to just being quietly pleased to be there. I’m not into any kind of kinky funny business. That’s all for the birds (the perverted birds, like ibis’ or pelicans.) With my boyfriend and I it’s just straight up, plain ol’ butt stuff, yes-sir… no-frills-anal all the way. I don’t care what you crazy hetero people do with your choice of orifice in the privacy of your own bedroom, but it’s none of my business and I don’t care to hear about it. Quite often I will be asked by dip-shits if I’m the boy or the girl in my gay relationship. Well, we’re both men. That’s kind of the point, we’ve been together for six years and that blows straight people minds.
"I don’t care what you crazy hetero people do with your choice of orifice in the privacy of your own bedroom, but it’s none of my business and I don’t care to hear about it."
Gay couples seem so exotic to straight people. They can’t imagine what we get up to behind closed doors (spoiler alert: it’s mostly eating.) We are not exotic, we’re boring… listen, I’m in a long term monogamous relationship so I’ll be banging missionary (yes that's possible for two dudes) with my pajama bottoms still on one of my feet. Why? So they can be easy to put back on and so I can get back to my iPad crossword as soon as possible.It’s called being an adult you guys. Recently I called my boyfriend my partner at a dinner party. Is there not a more disgustingly boring, white middle class word than “partner”? I have no idea when I started saying that but saying it makes me feel like I’ve had to come out to my parents, again, but this time as a mature age lesbian. The price of all these new comfortable shoes and hardware supplies has been an absolute nightmare.
I am my boyfriend’s first boyfriend; sometimes I think I was a bet. I have no idea what he’s getting out of me, this rich tapestry of shit, this coat of many failures. I should say at this point I am quite bad at sex (I’M A KEEPER RIGHT.) Well I’m not monstrously bad, I can get the job done. But I’m bad enough that I use phrases like “get the job done”. The problem is I’m not smooth, never have been, I have sex like I’m trying to earn points in Tekken. I pick a move that works and I stick to my guns till it’s over.
"Quite often I will be asked by dip-shits if I’m the boy or the girl in my gay relationship. Well, we’re both men. That’s kind of the point."
I was just never built for the dating scene. I’m built for sitting, eating and telling someone why they’re wrong, I met my one before tinder. We met the old school way: I dug a hole and put some leaves over it and just waited. We actually met at a party, in person. I knew what his voice sounded like before I saw his junk, so romantic, Casa Blanca eat your heart out. I have to admit I use Tinder but in my real life. Tinder in real life is where you slap someone over the face left or right depending on their looks, it can hurt some feelings but I highly recommend.
I mean look, all this is not to say I haven’t put myself out there and gotten some proper carnal work done. Once I’d turned 17, I spent the better part of five years wandering the earth like some sort of adult Sailor Moon villain on pingers who grew stronger and stronger from giving wristies to strangers. On two separate occasions I blew dudes on public tennis courts. I would use sentences like “Enough of this kissing bullshit, lets move on to something real”. I was like the kid on your street with a Nintendo - everyone’s friend. Then at some point something snapped, I just got bored of being a human coitus game. I didn’t have the capacity to date like that, I wanted to learn someone’s name.
I’ll never understand polyamory, It’s like that old joke: “How do you know if someones in an open relationship. Don’t worry, they’ll tell you”. We get it guys; you’re cooler than us penguin people with our nest and our loose relationship bodies. Now please stop telling me about the time you had sex for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’m eating.
"Once I’d turned 17, I spent the better part of five years wandering the earth like some sort of adult Sailor Moon villain on pingers who grew stronger and stronger from giving wristies to strangers."
To be clear I don’t mean that in a judgey-mcjudge-judge-face kind of way. I genuinely respect it as a way of running things, but what I do not understand is where you find the time and strength to have more than one person on the go. And what about all the up keep? I haven’t been sexually presentable for over three years yet we have sex most days because we have male sex drives, we’ve both let ourselves go and we’re on the same lease. I can’t imagine maintaining a datable condition.
I guess what I’m trying to get at is if you’ve related to anything in this article, you’re probably boring. And you’ve gotten to the end of this article, so you’re most likely very boring. But like, that’s fine, whatever, who gives a f*ck? I’ve taken up shoplifting because no one notices, give it a try.
Seriously though if you have any connections to someone I can talk to about the Jessica Fletcher murders, gimme a buzz.
Rhys Nicholson is a comedian, follow his good times here.
Illustrations by Cyrus Bezyan.
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