Something a little brighter than the last post. This week we’ve been emailing each other about people you feel comfortable and relaxed around. Then we talked about spilling soup and Aldi own-brand monster munch and farting. Get comfy…
You hit a point with people – boys, girls, cats… where your shoulders fall back in to place a bit and you unclench your jaw and let out a sign and feel properly comfortable.
On the most part, it never seems to take me long to get to that point with a lot of people. In fact, generally speaking, I should just re-read this when I’m finished and apply the crap I’m about to come out with to things in my own life and LEARN from it or something.
Pretty sure I’ve explained previously that my brain seems to be wired to assume every situation and relationship ever will always work out for the best somehow. Not in a carefree ‘what will be will be’ way, no no. More like no matter how bad things are or how rotten something has turned, somehow I’ll get the magical super-happy ending where everything is dreamy and easy and however my imagination thinks it should be. This blissful deluded attitude to life is probably what makes me find it easy to feel so open and comfortable with people so quickly. It should also be some sort of early warning system to remind me that when I don’t feel like that, there’s probably a reason for it.
This isn’t about letting your guard down. I’m talking about physical, actual, obvious things here rather than messy emotional fluff.
Hitting that point where you feel like you can just be properly comfortable around someone. Not even just “be yourself” but be this almost new super-you that relaxes in a completely different way to how you are when you’re alone – like you take on new SuperRelaxoPowers that only come in to play depending on who you’re with.
The boyfriend I had during university – as odd and dysfunctional as a lot of our relationship seems in hindsight – is possibly the only person I’ve had that hyper-relaxed thing with. Sure, some of that may have come from the fact that our bathroom didn’t have a door, and that he would have baths for hours so I was left with no choice but to have him as my audience if I needed to use the toilet, but he’s also the person I think I probably relaxed with in a sexy way the most because we were young, and because we didn’t much care what each other thought, it was easy for us to, errr, yknow… try lots of things. No barriers. At all.
I wasn’t intending to think about the sexy bits actually but there you go. It doesn’t necessarily eradicate any of the uncomfortable stiff shoulder bits, being naked. You can spend hours in bed doing all sorts of unspeakable nonsense to each other and still want to grab a t-shirt to hide in as soon as you step up from the mattress and spend the night getting a stomach ache from not wanting to fart within a 2 mile radius of his house. So maybe feeling comfortable around someone is about how they make you feel about yourself…?
And not just boys. A few things recently have made me realise how instant comfortableness can dictate the path a relationship is likely to take. The amount you tell someone about yourself or your personal life before you’ve even met, for example. This (I find) seems to pave the way for being instantly fine and slouchy-of-shoulder with someone in real life, because they probably already know how mental you are. Nothing to hide, just be you, instantly comfortable. AND it doesn’t always lead to wanting to fart in front of someone or sleep with them. Different levels of comfort.
When I went to visit my brilliant pal who I had never met before in LA last year, I got The Comfies pretty much right away. Which was handy as we had to spend most of the trip in her car together or sharing a bathroom and bedroom. Last week a lovely lady I had only met a few hours earlier decided it was fine to remove my bra from outside of my dress (amazing skill, by the way). Not even horrifying just lovely because it makes you think AWWWW. COMFIES. Similarly, I’ve just reminded myself of the time Panda, politely, with a gob full of half-chewed burger, asked me to quickly QUICKLY (she was very urgent and demanding about it) undo her bra in the middle of the pub so that she’d have the breathing space to shovel more food in. Things like this don’t happen when you stay sat up straight with your arms crossed feeling anxious. Right?
Some people you can just happily lay all over on a couch like a cat. Some people you’re just best off staying neatly positioned opposite at a tall clean table.
I’ll get this off my chest to start with – I’ll NEVER poo in front of anyone male or female. Ok? Good. Being comfortable around someone for me means a lot of different things. Or it seems that I have different levels of comfort with different people in my life.
Starting with the outside, the physical stuff, I’ve a few disfigurements going on – Big scar on my back, missing toes and misshapen feet. Out of my closest friends and family I’m only truly comfortable walking around bare foot in front of my friend Sarah (actually I think she’s my only friend who has seen them ) and that’s because she’s got Spinabifida just like me. I know the others would be totally cool with it, they’ve never made me feel like they wouldn’t but it’s just not something I’m comfortable with.
Boyfriends have varied, I’ve had some that never saw them (I had very sexy socks OK) Others who pretty much wrenched my socks off my feet and were all like ‘Oh is that it?’ and some who I’ve taken ages to show but when I eventually did they were fine.
I had one beach holiday pre having children where I walked around bare feet. My boyfriend at the time made me feel comfortable enough with them that I developed a ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude. Of course back then I had a lovely flat stomach and decent beach body to compensate. Nowadays they stay firmly under-wrap from the public eye and for fear of scaring small children.
I guess that comfort in a relationship is about being yourself 100% completely, I’ve had boyfriends who in the bedroom I was completely myself with them, no embarrassment, not afraid to say what I want and all that stuff but in normal life had to hide away certain parts of myself (and my Ricky Martin ‘She Bangs’ CD Single) for fear they wouldn’t accept me. Then of course it goes the other way too where I’ve been able to be as silly and daft as I like in the relationship but in the bedroom I’ve not been able to show completely who I am and what I want.
I’m not comfortable with wind. I obviously never do it but if I did I would of course be mortified and pretend it didn’t happen. Also if I’ve got a boyfriend who farts it really grosses me out and if it happens when I’m eating I won’t be able to finish my dinner. Toilet wise I quite like watching a man wee, that sounds weirder than I meant it to. I don’t mean in a kinky way, it just amuses me. Ok I’ll stop but yeah wee fine, poo NEVER. NEVER EVER. I’m not sure how you could be sexy with someone after seeing that.
Shaving legs/plucking eyebrows – fine.
Shaving bush/plucking nipples – Do it behind closed doors.
I never want to see you picking or even clipping your toe nails.
I am however fine with squeezing your spots.
Then there’s that comfort that only comes from family. My Mum and Sister are the only two ladies I know who I’ll cuddle up with on the sofa, I like it when my sister plays with my hair, and I once had my period all over my sisters sofa and she was dead sweet and gave me some of her period knickers and cleaned it up for me. I wouldn’t get naked around either of them though, that would be weird.
So I still have certain boundaries with most people, some people I’d get naked around, some I wouldn’t. A few would get to see my feet, most wouldn’t. Some of them I’ll be cuddly with, others not. That doesn’t mean I’m not comfortable around them though because I am. Just not as comfortable as when I’m home alone, eating anchovies straight out of the jar, wearing nothing but two day old knickers and an over sized T-shirt with egg stains on it. NOW THAT’S BLOODY COMFORT.