Oh God, What Was I Thinking

I feel like before I dive headfirst into the following few posts, I need to introduce this next batch: The Newport Years.

To set the scene, I was freshly out of University, still living in Newport, South Wales. The Arsehole of Wales, as it is commonly known. Look, I didn’t make up that nickname, and for the record, I loved Newport and was very happy to be there. I had come out of my shell in those formative university years and had emerged as a grungy art student. I had now slept with a whopping three guys. I had discovered Absinthe. Jägermeister. Emo boys with lip piercings. Tattoos. Hair dye in every colour of the rainbow. Getting drunk on weeknights. Nights out at Clwb Ifor Bach then getting the first train home the following morning. I had a fabulous friend who would dye his beard and moustache a different colour every week. I’d dye my hair to match, and we’d go for a lunch once a week at a vegan café – neither of us were vegan, we just wanted to be pretentious, cunty art students. I very nearly had a threesome with him, but we’ll get to that part later, I promise.

For a long time though, I used to look back on these years and cringe. When I started listing down the people I had slept with so I could start this blog, I realised that the numbers jumped significantly over these so-called Newport Years. The order of who came first (as in each person I’d slept with, not like…never mind), was a little disjointed and blurry. Names had been forgotten. There was at least one person whose name I don’t think I ever asked. There was definitely a sense of shame surrounding it all.

Since I started writing this blog, I’ve noticed that the blanket of shame has been lifted somewhat. Who fucking cares if I enjoyed life and sex in my early twenties? Isn’t that when we’re supposed to indulge and enjoy these things? If anything, I wish that I had been even more confident, more outgoing. There is absolutely knowledge I have now that I wish I had back then, and there are some moments that probably weren’t my finest. Like, for example, ending a relationship by pretending I was a lesbian and then jumping into bed with his friend. But I have no regrets. Not a single one.

Well…

Maybe a couple…