Summer Eights

Today was Summer Eights up at Oxford, and I'd long told the Young Dutchman that I would be coming up to watch.  I was skipping a few other parties to do so, but after he'd called me nearly every day that week to talk, and had obviously been suffering under the strain of bumps, I really just wanted to go see him.  Plus, I hadn't seen him in a while.  I think we were missing each other.

I didn't get as early a start as I would have hoped, and was further crushed when right as I arrived at the bus stop, there was a bus pulling away up to Oxford.  I had to wait 20 minutes for the next one, which was rather frustrating!

The Young Dutchman greeted me outside of Christ Church with a bouquet of flowers, which were incredibly pretty, but not for me.  After the disaster of the previous day's racing (they'd bumped but sunk a boat), their cox had been charged with dangerous coxing and the bump was disallowed, which had the cox very upset, so the Young Dutchman had asked me if it would be a good idea to get her flowers.  I said yes, of course, and so he'd gotten her flowers but wanted me to hold onto them until the crew was ready to hand them over.  So I took the flowers, walked along the towpath, and off he went on his bike.

At the boathouse, I was shortly joined by Kellogg Boy and his girlfriend, who I was happy to see, as well as the Canadian Balliol Guy I'd met last fall at the Wolfson Ball.  I'd actually found myself chatting online with the Canadian Balliol Guy this past week, and he remarked on how it felt like he'd already seen me once this week.  Nice to see him too...

The Wolfson Boathouse

We walked up to the bend in the river to get a good view of bumps, and I had fun playing with the Young Dutchman's fancy camera which he'd given to me.  They bumped (as expected), and we returned to the boathouse to greet the victorious crew.  Spent some time there, and then we went over to the other side of the river to see the crowds at Balliol and the Christ Church boathouse.  I found myself hanging out a lot with the Canadian Balliol Guy, who I worried saw me as a tagalong baby duck, but always seemed to be looking out for me to make sure I was with him, so I really appreciated that.

Finally though Canadian Balliol Guy, Kellogg Boy and Kellogg Boy's girlfriend headed off to something else.  So I spent some time on the roof deck of the Christ Church boathouse with the Young Dutchman and Ollie, one of the boys in the Young Dutchman's crew, before heading back over to the Balliol boathouse to get some Pimms.

The Balliol Boys

I was showing the Young Dutchman photos of all of my friends hanging on the walls of the Balliol boathouse, when standing on the balcony, I looked down and saw all of them!  So I ran down to say hello, giving big hugs to Zhan, Andy, and some other old friends from my Balliol days.  Caught up with one couple who had gotten engaged, which was thrilling news.

The Young Duchman decided to head back over across the river to the Wolfson boathouse, but I wanted to stay at Balliol a bit and hang out with people.  Had a good time chatting with folks, although once the last race had been run and Oriel was head of the river, things emptied out rather quickly.  Glancing across the river, I could see that the Young Dutchman was still there and didn't seem to be moving quickly (he didn't have his phone, so we couldn't call each other), so I walked over and met him on the other side.

The Wolfson Crew

Once there, it turned out he was getting frustrated, trying to get the Wolfson crew to all decide where to go to dinner together.  In the end, he failed as his attempt to herd cats, so I went with him and Ollie (the chap we'd been hanging out with earlier in the day) over to a Chinese restaurant near the business school.  We spent the entire walk talking about sleeping with girls, and I had to admit the whole thing made me both puzzled and a bit self-conscious.  Should I take it as a mark of my performance if a guy doesn't sleep with me on a repeating basis?  Or on the other hand, if a guy doesn't sleep with me, that he actually likes me and sees relationship potential with me?  It was definitely a head-trip talking to two guys who were obviously the biggest man-whores on the planet, but didn't see themselves as the callous lovers who discarded girls left and right.

And maybe that's the biggest insight of all:  The guys who love you and leave you never see themselves that way, they actually see themselves as really nice guys.  And it's a bit frustrating, because having been the girl who suffered a bit in the past at the hands of boys like these, I want them to be a bit kinder with the emotions of the naive girls who don't know any better.  Yet, in the same vein, I realise that it's really up to the girls to protect themselves from guys like these.  At the end of the day, they never take advantage of anyone or promise girls things they won't deliver, but its the girls who wilfully ignore the signs that are staring them right in the face.  I was one of those girls myself, and I think I deserve a certain amount of blame for burying my head in the sand when what was going on was brutally apparent.

Lifting the coxswain at Balliol

When we were at the restaurant, the Young Dutchman kept pulling me into deep and close conversations, to the point that I think Ollie, the other guy, had to remind him that conversations needed to include all three of us.  So I think he was glad when slightly after we arrived, two other guys from the crew joined us, and at least gave him someone else to talk to!

When the guys arrived, I could tell that there was a moment of confusion, to see the Young Dutchman there with a girl, and they seemed unsure of how to act around me at first, having expected a guy's dinner.  As I quickly jumped in with the teasing the Young Dutchman about his dating life and just offering a girl's perspective on sleeping with guys, they seemed to readily pick up on the fact that I was not a girl to be nervous around, nor a romantic prospect of the Young Dutchman's.  After that, they took to me readily, but I couldn't help but think of what Scottish Guy had said on Thursday:  "You're really one of the lads.  And I mean that in a positive way.  But it does affect how men perceive you."

The conversation was fascinating, as the Young Dutchman (and the other boys) explained the fascination of sleeping with new girls, the idea of making an instantaneous connection with someone in an evening.  But also confusingly saying, "Yet if I think there's real potential with a girl, I probably won't sleep with her."

And I couldn't help but notice that something else Scottish Guy had said appeared to be true:  "Men say they like smart women, but they're still a bit intimidated by them.  You look at all the characteristics men are looking for in a woman, and intelligence doesn't really factor in."  Sadly, I had to say this seemed to be true as the boys talked.

It's strange, as the Young Dutchman so frequently was leaning in and whispering in my ear as he vented some of his frustrations about Oxford, so intense in his conversation with me, that the boys often had to remind him to join the rest of the conversation.  Later on in the evening, we were out in a nightclub and the music was so loud and the place so crowded, that he was absolutely pressed up against me, as my back was against a post, and we stood cheek-to-cheek, talking directly in each other's ears.  Anybody looking at us would probably have thought we were in a couple's embrace, and I have to admit I haven't been so close to some of the people I've slept with.

And yet.  I don't think I'm closer to anybody I know, there's nobody else who I just want to be near quite as much, whose presence I desire in quite the same way.  Yet, as we were out on the river, with all of those shirtless boys everywhere, I realise the fundamental thing is that we quite simply are not each other's type.  Looking at some boys with their shirts off, even if they were slightly tubby, they had those big strong arms, the massive presence, the little bit of chest hair that made you just want to snuggle into them.  Their bodies made me go weak in the knees.

And the Young Dutchman is objectively an attractive guy.  If I had to sleep with him to save the human race or something, it wouldn't be a trial.  But when we touch each other or lean on each other or just go for that physical closeness that we both are just drawn to each other for, there's no frission of chemistry or excitement.  It's just very comforting and reassuring, like your mother or father's hug. 

I have to admit that even I am a bit puzzled by it, as how can I be so close to someone, and always want to be in physical contact with them, but have no sexual desire for them?

Oh well, I suppose I should be glad at least that we don't seem to burn with unrequited lust for each other.  My life would be very frustrating if that were the case.  I'm just lucky to have somebody who I'm very close to, and who is equally close to me in return.  It's nice when it's just so simple and easy like that...

So after dinner, the boys all went their separate ways, and the Young Dutchman biked back up to Wolfson while I followed on a bit later by bus, and met him at his room.  It was a nice little place, although so obviously a student dorm room, complete with the single bed.  We hung out there for a bit, before deciding to skip the bop going on at college and go a nightclub called "Camera", which was apparently the place to go, although hadn't existed when I'd been at Oxford.

I teased the Young Dutchman about not giving me enough warning about where we were going, as I was forced to attend in shorts and trainers, while all the other girls there were in tiny little skirts and super high heels.  Would have been fun to go out to a nightclub in real nightclub gear if I'd been prepared, but another time, perhaps.

We waited online for ages to get in, chatting to some Dutch girl he'd gone to secondary school with the whole time.  Then in the club, he had to borrow cash off of me, as they were only taking cash that night.  £12 cover, and then £5 a drink, it was nuts.  This is why I don't like nightclubs, people!

We made a few rounds of the place, and I mostly just took it easy, as I didn't want people crashing into my knee.  He noted how most people seemed bored, and wondered why they were there.  I realised that at one point in my life, this is exactly the sort of situation that would have made me uncomfortable, and doing what many people do, drinking until they relaxed.  Now?  I just didn't care.  So I let him do his thing, I just danced and chilled out, and frequently he came back to me as always I was the only girl he really wanted to talk to.  Occasionally he'd get hung up with a girl here or there, explaining to me that he thought they all wanted to sleep with him and he wasn't sure if he wanted to go there.  I just shrugged, and he brought me more drinks and returned to snuggle in with me up against the column in the middle of the club.

Finally, I told him I needed to love him and leave him, and go catch my 1:30 AM bus, or I would be stuck in Oxford for another hour.  He kissed me and told me to call him once I was on the bus, and returned into the swirling mass of people that was the party.

I went out to catch the bus on Queen's Lane, and as I approached the stop, I recognised from the back the dear friend of Oxford Boy who I know from the running club.  What a surprise to see him there!  So I made some comment about you can never know what sort of dodgy characters will be out on the street at this hour, and upon recognising me, the guy wrapped me up into a huge hug, stood back, and then hugged me again.  He was obviously quite tipsy and surprised, and it was really funny.

So Oxford Boy's Friend and I got on the bus together and chatted the whole way home (yes, we were those annoying people on the bus who didn't let anybody else get any sleep), which made for a very entertaining and amusing journey.  What a random fun bit of luck on the streets of Oxford at 1:30 AM!