November 17, 2003

The Story of Y

People have been asking about Mr. Y. The Mystery Man from my past, the one who took my heart and never gave it back, and the best sex of my young life. The second of the great loves of my life, and one of the things that made me who I am today.

I have loved two men in my life, both of them to levels of absurd incomprehension, degrees of fragrant liquid emotion. The first one was a gentle and kind man named Kim. Some of you who have been here a while have read about him and know about him, and basically, most of the biggest regrets in my life are tied up with him. The regrets are not in being with him, but in losing him.

The second great love is someone I will call Mr. Y. He is still alive, and has actually recently found my site. He is creeping back into my life, back into my head.

I would say back into my heart, but the truth is, he never left.

He and I met in what now feels like a lifetime ago. We actually met in a meeting, and weirdly enough, we both remembered a great deal about that first meeting, although we never spoke directly to each other. I noticed him right away-English with a cut-glass accent. Tall, brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Hands that shake (a big one for me, since Kim's hands shook too. I just love that.)

About six months later, we were with a large number of others at a business conference in Bangkok. It was an exciting time, my first trip to Thailand, and I found the place to be overwhelming. Turn one corner and you were assaulted by the scent of heady blossoms. Turn another, and you smelled some sizzling, amorphous meat cooking on a grill. It was chaos. It was brilliant.

The last night that I was at the meeting, there was a massive party. I was planning to settle into the jacuzzi bath with a bottle of wine and some room service, since the week had been so demanding. My phone, in the bedroom, beeped and I went to fetch it, dressed only in a towel. I had received a text message from Mr. Y, asking if he would have the pleasure of my company for the evening. I texted back and told him I was staying in. We had a ping-pong of conversation for a bit, then I got one more from him, saying simply: "Reconsider."

I threw on a girlie strappy dress, with a tiny thong underneath, and headed down to the reception. Upon entering, I was graced with a garland of orchids around my neck and a glass of wine firmly inserted into my hand. Mr. Y came up to me and we talked. He drifted off from time to time, but always came back. We drank more. The party raged on. At one point, I turned to him.

Me: Y, do you think I am attractive?
Him (looking closely at me, a slow smile on his lips): Well, I think you're an ordinary girl, and I am an ordinary boy.

An ice sculpture melted near us. People laughed. The room was a blaze of flowers, food, people, liquor, and mirth. But for me there was only his company, and only that time.

A group of people suggested we go to more bars, and we agreed. We all piled into cabs, Mr. Y and I riding together in the back of one cab. As we pulled up to a market place, with bars hiding in the background, whispering of decadence and sex, we got out of the cab.

Mr. Y reached out and took my hand as we crossed the road, his fingers wrapping gently around mine.
And it was a moment that changed my life.

You hear cute elderly couples talking, reaching out for each other. They always tell you that at a certain moment, they just knew. They just knew that was the person that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. I always thought it was cheesy Hollywood nonsense, the type of media machine destined to make saps like us believe in that kind of love. No one could be touched by another person and feel electricity, it just wasn't on, they were just giving us false hope.

But I did.
I felt it instantly, all the way down to my toes.
He did, too.

And all I wanted him to do was keep holding my hand on that crazy, brilliant, wild Bangkok street, with my little dress and our garlands of orchids and all the time in the world. We drank a bit in the bar, but all we could do was sit there and stare at each other in awe, dwelling with wandering hands and licked swollen lips.

In no time, we were back at my hotel room, 20 stories above the Chao Praya River. We came in, kissing and touching, and he announced he wanted to shower. He was feeling a bit drunk and wanted to sober up, that this moment was important. So he got in the shower, and I walked to the window. I decided to join him, and walked back to the bathroom, padding my feet on the thick carpet. As I got to the bathroom door, he stepped out and towelled off.

And I was dumbstruck. He was all man, in every sense of the word. Strong shoulders, thick furry chest, deep ridged muscles on his legs, and although the towel he used to dry himself off with was hanging in front of him, I just knew that he would have a spectacular cock.

Never before had I honestly felt I was with a man. And Y was absolutely a man, a real man, a man who woke up feelings inside of me that I hadn't even known existed. He turned to me, and whispered "No regrets", just as his hand reached my face and the heat of his just-washed body hit me like a wave.

We didn't have sex that night. It took some time before we did, and he was one patient man. When we finally did, it was in a tiny European town whose name still rings in my heart and has carved an immensely special place in it.

I wrote this letter for Mr. Y. In it, I tell how we first made love. How we touched. How he made me feel. He was my first proper orgasm, and about five thousand ones after that.

My Jiminy Cricket once told me something about how romance happens when we do not expect it-there is no right time to fall in love. He was bang on. Meeting Mr. Y was at the worst possible time in my life, but falling in love with him was inevitable.

We had it all. We had passion. We had fire. He was my best friend, my confidante. I trusted him beyond trust. Telling him the truth became a drug, one I couldn't live without. In return, he told me every inch of his mental attic, and we found true comfort in the idea that someone, in the big wide world, knew us and understood us.

All the feelings, secrets, thoughts and dreams that I had always bottled up were poured out into him, a ready receptacle that drank me in and seemed to always only want more. It wasn't easy, it didn't come naturally to me, but he never gave up on me. We would stay up for hours talking into the night. Things that had been bottled up inside of me for my entire life came out, as he kindly, patiently, lovingly coaxed them out of me.

We never got tired of touching, and sometimes we had to have sex four or five times a day, it was never too much, we always just had to get closer to each other. I loved him more than I thought it was possible to love someone, and it wasn't "newlywed love" or anything like that. It grew over the long time we were together into the type of feeling that is almost tangible in its strength and depth.

Sometimes, I was ashamed, as I loved Mr. Y more than I had ever loved Kim. How could I betray his memory like that? Kim had been surpassed, and in my memory, I held him special and close and felt so guilty that he was no longer the greatest love of my love. He was the first. Mr. Y was the second. And sometimes, the ones we love the most are not the ones we get to love the longest.

He wasn't perfect (and neither am I, in fact far from it). He could be stubborn. Resistant. He would sometimes commit a crime in the relationship and expect instant exoneration, only understanding the magnitude of the crime once I had committed it. He was sometimes unsympathetic to my paranoid mind (which I understand, since I can be a real management nightmare to deal with). He wasn't, in the beginning, overwhelmingly supportive of my career. And he could be jealous, but it was something I also loved about him.

With Mr. Y, I was able to explore it all. In college, I had had some pretty strange experiences, mere fumblings that were inept at best and drunken misbehaving at worst. But Mr. Y and I tried it all, and we tried them with organized style. Swinging. Threesomes. An orgy once. Tying up, tying down. Sex toys. Spanking. Al fresco sex. Fantasizing. Above all, degrees of domination and submission. Sometimes, it was as if someone had poured the contents of "The Book of Sex" into us and pan-fried us to a crisp.

But then we got too brave. We ventured too far. We were so cocky and so foolish. One of us slept with someone else once on the side. Then the other, with the consent of the wronged party, slept with someone else in order to "even the score". We thought it would save us.

Instead, it became something that lay between us from then on. A hurt that couldn't heal. A betrayal we couldn't forgive, no matter how hard we tried. We had taken the one thing that made us greater than the average love and ripped it apart, and that thing was trust. I used to always roll my eyes at the Diane Sawyer specials where husbands and wives talked about trust with fervered suburban servitude, but finally it had a meaning to me.

Sometimes you can't get over the image of your lover's limbs tangled up with another, and you are nowhere in the picture.

It was that, and one issue from Mr. Y's life (since it is his personal issue, and he is present here, I really don't feel I am at liberty to discuss it) that tore us apart. We could never get over it. The ghosts of the two extra bed-buddies just couldn't be exorcised.

And I have missed Mr. Y every fucking day since. I have tried to lace myself into a conservative vanilla life with vanilla feelings and vanilla sex, with not even a cherry on top. I would give anything to have Mr. Y back (and perhaps will do someday), but before I ever have him back, we would need some ground rules:

- None of this extra bed-buddy business.
- Just one blanket on the bed.
- This time, we marry.
- Vacation again to Jersey, to that special place.
- Never go away again.

And, my darling, no regrets. Ever. And I truly mean that.


PS-3 more days to Judgment Day

PPS-my Guest Map is only 1 person away from breaking 100 (and I did pay for the upgrade)!

PPPS-had a strange dream that Don and I were taking a foreign language class together and fell in love. Weird.

Posted by Everydaystranger at November 17, 2003 08:50 AM | TrackBack

It is only the most intelligent and the most stupid who are not susceptible to change.

Posted by: LaRocca Karl at January 22, 2004 09:28 AM

He already has pet... anyway Janet Jackson is way cuter than Michael.

Posted by: zeno at November 18, 2003 05:10 PM

That one I can assure you isn't true. We do use a lot of the same phrases, but that's because I am a sponge and he teased me mercilessly for some of my word usage, so I adopted a lot of his.

But he uses WAY TOO MANY commas for me!

We are not the Michael Jackson/Janet Jackson same person rumor. We are two people. You can even mail him seperately, if you aren't sure. I would post a pic, but I know he doesn't want to reveal who he is.

Posted by: Helen at November 18, 2003 02:42 PM

The other option is that Helen is writing as Mr. Y and very little of this is true. There's the same tone and grammar and some unique puncuation repeats both employ. There's quite a few other glaring similarities in these posts.

Posted by: Lurker at November 18, 2003 02:32 PM

Come on, It's not that difficult. Have you never had an idle moment at work, thought of someone from your past (in my case an important someone), wondered what they are up to and then fired up Internet Explorer? Well I have done. Many times.

I thought of Helen one day and started idly searching on Google. Then it became a bit of an obsession but fortunately it wasn't that difficult.

I knew H's dream was to write - blog, I thought
I knew she used the name Helen when writing
I knew she had moved to Sweden some years ago to be with her new love
I suspected she still worked in telecoms.

Put blog, Helen, sweden and telecom into Google and see for yourself. It was the blog that was the lucky guess for me.

To be honest I have been following the blog for about eight weeks but didn't dare to say anything. Sometimes you wonder if an ex really wants to hear from you, I was worried I may be something from her past she had blanked out.

Some of her postings made me think that perhaps she was receptive but it was the first one about Mr. Y that sealed the deal. I left a comment.

She mailed me. I regret nothing and I have butterflies in my tummy all over again - you know, like you do as a teenager when you finally pluck up the courage to ask someone out and they say yes?


Posted by: Mr 'Y' at November 18, 2003 11:33 AM

If you smell something amiss, it's because there is indeed one major factor that is the big obstacle for why he and I are together, and that's his personal issue I mentioned. If he hadn't have found this site, I would've told you myself, but since he is here, I leave it to him to reveal if he wants.

I can't stop thinking about him.

Thanks for all the comments, and how cool it is to see people commenting for the first time. I love that. And for Jean, who continues to be my personal Saviour!

Katechen-I think I need some chocolate chocolate chip now...

Posted by: Helen at November 18, 2003 09:08 AM

yeah, i was thinking married too, but then the idealistic part of me spoke up and said well you know, sometimes the right things happen at the right times. yes, it's coincidental (Y did say that he typed in "everyday stranger" a while ago, and came up with the website) but lots of things are that way.
and not everything is simple, but things that are right, are easy.

Posted by: hilary at November 18, 2003 04:10 AM

I agree! "Y" types in words in some search engine that come up with this website. What words were they and why did they mean anything? H - make me believe! Or "Y" - show something that really says you are there because it doesn't add up. Are you bothe married and where does Partner Unit come in or out? Who are you in this story.

Posted by: Inkie at November 18, 2003 03:45 AM

I smell a fish. Long time reader of your blog dear Helen but never felt the urge to speak until now. It feels wrong, those little bits of Mr. Y that we get to read.
I bet he's married.
But then again so are you.
I hope everything falls into place and you let us know what the details are one day. I'm enthralled with the ride. The comments are right you live a very rich life. I love your writing.

Posted by: Lurker at November 18, 2003 03:27 AM

You'll pardon my candor, I hope but I would never accuse YOU of living a vanilla life, my dear.

No, and I think maybe one day you'll look back upon your life and see what I see.

Someone who truly LIVES.

Sorrow and joy -- they are hand-in-hand. One simply cannot appreciate one without the other.

Posted by: margi at November 18, 2003 12:44 AM

Helen, darling, I'm finding myself agreeing with Clancy and Guiness that's there's something ever-so-slightly off about Y showing in your comments and email up at just this chaotic moment in your life. It just doesn't sit right... or something... sort of like the way that milk smells when it's still ok, but you know that it's just *this* far from going off. Does that make sense?

Or maybe I'm just being overprotective; what do I know, huh? It could be this is the perfect moment for re-uniting. But then, if you could be about to be jobless, and he wasn't happy with you having a career... hmmmmm... but he may have changed, yes?

Damn. Of course you have to do what seems best to you, not what some complete stranger in down-home Alabam' intuits!


Mr. Y: Alabama may still be in the 19th century socially, but we do have airplanes... and I *am* Italian... and did I mention that overprotective streak? ;)

Posted by: jean at November 18, 2003 12:15 AM

Um, I think he did fess up?

Mr. Y, kudos for having the bollocks to comment up in here, up in here. I think it can be safely said that there's a large cheering section in here for the two of you (and that should things go wrong, you should be afraid--very, very afraid!). :-)

And you don't have to be a toff to have a cut-glass accent. I knew exactly what she meant, and it was delicious.

Posted by: Sassy McSmartpants at November 17, 2003 11:19 PM

I'm having to agree with Guinness on this one too - there is something rather importantly a-miss here... Whatever this unspoken issue is, it's a biggee.

Come on Y - 'fess up to the deal. You owe it to yourself and H. If there is hope for you two, then do it. If you know this can't be resolved, let her know. Keeping her hanging in the wings like this is wrong...

Then again, Whatdoiknow? Iím just an everyday commenter...

Posted by: Clancy at November 17, 2003 11:02 PM

H, love, I don't mean to throw a spanner into your already laden works, but setttling for vanilla sex when you have a taste for, say, neapolitan or toasted almond sundae will never, ever work. Short term, quite possibly. Long term...darling, when you try it long term, you end up friendlier with the pocket rocket than with your partner.

But you know that, don't you?

Posted by: Kaetchen at November 17, 2003 10:14 PM

It is nice that you had this sort of passion in your life. Still, and I can't put my finger on what it is, but there is something that bothers me about this Mr. Y. I'm not sure what, but something seems just a little wrong. Like the pleasures and follies of youth, but that's not quite it.


Posted by: Guinness at November 17, 2003 10:09 PM

I'm next to speechless. Joey has already said much of what I have to say, so I'll just add that too few people ever get to experience what you two had, and lost, and may even get a chance to regain, perhaps. Or at least heal some of the damage...

Just. Wow.

Posted by: Gudy at November 17, 2003 09:11 PM

Anytime...sweetie - I'm glad to be of service. When ever I see him, I think of you. Wierd huh!

Posted by: Tiffani at November 17, 2003 07:35 PM

Hi H,

Just checked in and saw what you had written. It was beautiful and makes me both very sad and very happy at the same time.

When you talk about those things it is impossible for me not to get a strong reaction in both my heart and my trousers. You have a great memory and I remember it just the way you described (not sure about the cut-glass accent. I'm no toff!). As a couple we were the best!

Any chance we could meet up? Just for a little while, just to see how we feel? Please?

I will write you a mail separately. Let's keep up the dialogue and see where it takes us.

Miss you like mad!


Posted by: Mr 'Y' at November 17, 2003 05:41 PM

Get out of my way-GET OUT OF MY WAY-must buy Cosmo....Am in need of new, sophisticated self-relations material, this will help, Tiffani, thanks! :)

And pylorns-beautifully written, darling. I couldn't agree more.

Clancy-am not at liberty to reveal if we have contact :)

Ted-Yup. It's another way of saying "karma", only in real time.

And Joey, Melo, Serenity, and Kat...thanks. I mean it.

Posted by: Helen at November 17, 2003 05:10 PM

your experience with mr. y reminds me a bit of my relationship with my bf. it is possible to trust again. and yeah, new ground rules are important.

Posted by: kat at November 17, 2003 04:53 PM

Its strange how some people, some moments can be so perfect, you don't know how they happen and you wish you could just stop your life, rewind and stay in that one moment. For you, for me, and for a lot of us, it's that one moment when you meet someone for the first time, have that first touch, that electrical feeling, surge of not knowing and knowing at the same time.

I'd give anything to find that again.

Posted by: pylorns at November 17, 2003 04:13 PM

Different context, but exact same concept: I taught each of my kids that trust takes a long time to build, but only a second to destroy. Actions have consequences. Always.

Posted by: Ted at November 17, 2003 04:13 PM

This has nothing to do with Mr Y (although you made my hairs stand up)..
But, I wanted you to know that John Cusack's in Cosmo for the Dec. issue. He looks soo cute. Nice interview too. He likes dark haired women! GO find him!

Posted by: Tiffani at November 17, 2003 04:08 PM

Well Mr. Y, it appears quite clearly that the ball is in your court...

I wish both of you the best and sincerely hope that there is a flurry of emails going back and forth behind the scenes.

Posted by: Clancy at November 17, 2003 03:35 PM

Jeez, every time I think you've completely poured your heart out in these Web pages, you go and do it again, and again, and again. You're a strange bird, H, but a bloody fascinating and delightful one.

All I can say is that I one day hope to have a woman feel about me the things you feel about Y -- with the exception of the breakup bits, of course.

You have passion. And you don't seem to be afraid of it. How rare. And admirable.

Posted by: Joey at November 17, 2003 02:39 PM

You consistently leave me hanging on the edge of my seat waiting for an update to the post I just read.

I hope Mr. Y responds to you and that the right thing happens.

Best of luck. Damn what a great story.

Posted by: Serenity at November 17, 2003 01:45 PM

Awww... All the best. Whatever H, you're the tops!

Posted by: Melodrama at November 17, 2003 10:21 AM
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