Date 3

I met J through on online dating site two weeks ago. He was nice, but a little bit too nice and sometimes a little bit boring. On date number 2 we went out and met some of my friends, T included, who said I was being daft for thinking he is "too nice" and that, in his words, he is "a good lad".

He went away for a week at Christmas and I started to think that maybe it could work out. I have been a bit bored of being single and had stopped having random shags - I hadn't had sex since the beginning of August. And maybe being with someone too nice is better than my previous partners. Maybe I deserved too nice.

So we went out again last night, danced close, kissed and then went back to my place, shagged and went to sleep. That was the beginning of the end. He snores and I had a bad night sleep. When I woke up next to him I wished he wasn't there. There is something about waking up next to someone that I don't like very much. He wanted to have a cuddly morning/afternoon in bed, I just wished I had woken up alone and could do my thing, rather than faff around in bed with someone else that I realised I wasn't that into. I didn't want to look into his eyes or stroke his hair, so I put the pillow over my head and pretended to hide, which he thought was cute.

We went to breakfast then said goodbye. I couldn't help thinking the whole time that I had gone off him. Already.

I'm left wondering what it means that I keep being uninterested in these guys who are cute, smart and funny. Why am I left feeling a load of nothing?

Remiss

I have been a bit remiss in not keeping this up to date of late. It is not, however, due to lack of personal/sexual drama.

I have though changed my perspective - I have not slept with anyone since in four months, since the beginning of August. There have been attempts by various men, but I have spurned them all in the hopes that I am not giving myself up too easily for will most likely be unsatisfying (sexually and emotionally) sex. Mo has been around and made a rather sweet attempt at trying to get together with me, but I was insistent on the "just want to be friends" line. Another chap, J has made a few drunken advances, and despite giving in for a few snogs, I also turned his advances down.

There has been some success in that I drunkenly told off E, but in a nice kind of way, and I think it has paved the way for my issues with him to be resolved and for us to proceed as good friends.

Indeed, tonight E & G are having a Christmas party. I drunkly admitted to KT last night (but didn't remember it until she reminded me this afternoon), that I had gotten it into my head that I fancied his new female flatmate, even though I have not even met her. My mind runs away from me sometimes!

Whilst plucking my eyebrows this evening, KT asked whether I would get some satisfaction about snogging one of his friends. Because, she added, if it were her, she would. Tee hee! Of course I would, but I'm not setting out on a path of destruction and I don't know whether he has any single and sexy friends.

I shall endeavor to update you on any drama this evening.

xx

Ridiculous

One thing that I seem to be exceptionally good at is feeling sorry for myself in relation to my singledom. Yesterday, being hungover and feeling slightly sheepish at having snogged Mo (my last shag at the beginning of August). There is something that is both slightly charming and a real turn off about him - hard to put my finger on, so when he said in a crowded night club on Satutrday "I need to talk to you", dragged me away by the hand, and then kissed me, I couldn't help but kiss him back. Although there was something not very enjoyable about it. Rather than to just tell him to piss off, I walked away, found my mate T, and asked for help.

No help to be given, other than for him to state the obvious - "What do you want me to do? You did snog him back." Oops, so he was right. I escaped the night otherwise unscathed, though very drunk.

On Sunday I laid around wishing I had someone to cuddle up with. I got so desperate that I joined yet another online dating site.

Zoe Strimpel wrote in a column published today in the London Paper that one should not get too excited about a good date - there is no guarantee it is going anywhere until you get a firm commitment for a next date. Meanwhile, I find myself quite pathetically getting too excited about having exchanged two emails with someone from said online dating site.

This is starting to get ridiculous.

Pleased

Lately I have been very horny and in need of a good fuck. This is slightly difficult, as I have come to realise that I'm not going to get a good fuck from a one night stand, and I don't have any other prospects at the moment.

It is for this reason that I am very pleased with myself that I didn't cave in to this feeling last night. Despite being walked home at some ungodly hour with my bra in my purse, I didn't invite him in.

I was therefore very pleased to have woken up by myself.

I used to fancy a guy called Owen.

This was at university, many years ago. He was perfect - a genius. We studied at the library together - me politics, him physics. We ate mushrooms and contemplated life together. We enjoyed machinery together. (The reason for this memory is that on the way home from the pub I noticed a giant, yellow tube curled up on a holder - my immediate reaction was that I wanted to lay in it and maybe take photos. I was alone, which made me think of Owen, because he would have always been up for playing.) Problem was, I had a boyfriend, and a serious one at that, at the time. We spent a lot of time together, even the last night of uni (for me), I broke my way into his dorm to see him. We got stoned, went outside, watched the stars, then it rained and we went out separate ways. I was not the cheating type, and he was not the type to encourage it.

I wonder what Owen is up to now. Last I heard, he has a girlfriend and multiple dogs and maybe living in Colorado.

Distraction

Me: "We need a distraction from men and sex."
L: "Well, I'm spending 4,000 quid on a part-time sports massage course, and you are going to spend 7,000 on a part-time law course - both of us working full time. Isn't that distraction enough?"
Me: "Clearly not. Look at us eye-ing up everyone that enters or leaves the bar."
L: "Aren't we sad."

I don't write this because I want to talk about it. I write it because I don't want to talk about it.

I have a work mate who seems to know what I'm feeling before I do.

I walked into work, early for a change, and was told that I either looked exhausted, or pissed off. I thought I was fine, but on reflection I said, maybe both.

At the moment I am broke as a joke. Last night I went to the gym, had a meal at home, then went to bed. I woke up at 12:30 to hear some chatting in the flat. I had an instinct as to who was about, which was confirmed easily.

Tonight on the way to the gym we made it 10 yards before ducking into a pub because my work mate had twenty quid. Now, she is smoking hot, despite being 44, with an 18 year old son. She could pass for at least 10 years less than her age. She recently split with her partner of 10 years, who was an alcoholic shit. Despite this, we talked about feelings of rejections - although she walked away from her partner, he didn't try to stop her; I walked away from ex, but the same, no attempt to stop the situation; then, as trivial as it is, E rejecting me.

It weighs on the mind and is not easy to get rid of.

Getting ready but not laid

There is something about getting ready that gets me in the mind set for going out. Listening to Prince or the Libertines, showering, shaving (and more than the legs), nice knickers, dressed up, makeup, etc - it all makes me ready to go out, meet some new people, and maybe get laid.

The plan goes awry when I arrive at a party awash with drugs, light on men, and none of them take my fancy. Plenty of Absolute and Diet Cokes later, T and I stagger off, get a taxi and head home.

At least I have a vibrator - or six.

Wanting what I can't have

This is a common theme in my love life (or lack thereof) recently.

E was emotionally unavailable, then when he started to sort things out, he has now started seeing someone else. He hasn't yet had the grace to tell me that himself, but I shall be making enquiries of him over breakfast - much to his discomfort, I'm sure.

I chatted with an absolutely lovely man at a pub on Thursday night, whose voice just made me swoon over him - alas, he has a girlfriend that he lives with.

A co-worker and I were in the hallway getting into the lift when a guy walked past, looking suitably geeky in a sweater vest and tie - co-worker poked me and exclaimed in the lift"He is SO your type!" "Yeah, I know, but he is gay and has a boyfriend. Believe me, I already sussed that one out."

We are in the Roxy for happy hour last night when a very cute guy caught my eye. Alas, again, he was drinking smirnoff ice with a straw. I think I can draw a fair conclusion from that.

I'm left feeling not remotely settled in my singledom, which then makes me a bit more anxious. Why can't I just forget about it and get on with my life as a happy person? Why can't I find anything remotely in between casual one night stands and nothing at all? And how can I get over being distressed about this?

Fucking

Me and friend G catching up at a bar in Hoxton.

G: So what's new?
Me: Well, I'm going to meet an artist tomorrow to discuss me posing nude for him.
G: You know he is going to fuck you, right?
Me: Um, well, the thought had crossed my mind, but not tomorrow. I have made a resolution to not fuck people the day I meet them.
G: What?! But that was part of your charm
Me: ?!!?!

Ill

Sometimes I think I have a death wish. Twice this week I drank myself sick. And for what? The second time involved a boat party with a bunch of students. Maybe I felt out of my depth. Maybe since I have quit smoking I am downing alcohol more quickly. Maybe the nicotine replacements don't agree with me. Maybe my liver and other internal organs are screaming out for help. I wondered whether I was pregnant, but yesterday took a test in the WC of our local cafe over breakfast and only one blue line appeared. Whatever it is, it is making feel as though I am losing my youthful edge and am starting to slide somewhere scary and dark. I am not feeling particularly good about myself lately and it is hard to pin the origin of that down.

Monday night in style

Before even being able to find out whether E and I's Monday night of staying up having hot sex until the sun came up was still on the cards (it was almost two months ago that we last shagged), I got too drunk, was sick, and fell asleep in bed fully clothed while he happily chatted away with our friends in the lounge.

I would say its time to give up on this one and cast my net a bit further than my local.

Testing II

All tests were negative! Well, almost all tests. The lab "lost" my blood sample for the HIV test, so I had to repeat that. All is well though, as I had little concern about that one, it was just a matter of getting the whole work-up. Now, my resolutions are:

1. No more slip ups by not using a condom. I don't even know what I have been playing at over the last year, but sometimes I think I have gone crazy and developed some sort of self-destruction wish.

2. No more drunken (and probably not sober) one-night stands. For the time being at least. It does not make me feel good about myself and certainly hasn't gotten me any closer to finding a proper date.

3. If I am going to try to find a date, I need to start getting myself a further than my local. Get out, meet new people, and so on.

4. Stop feeling pathetic about being single for coming up on two years. My coworker explained that I should be happy to be single, as it reduced the chances that I will be murdered by a parter. Some 40% of women who are murdered are done so by a past or present partner. My odds are therefore looking alright at the moment.

And so, here we go.

Unwell

Apologies for the lack of posts, dear readers. I am feeling unwell, depressed, unmotivated, and rather pathetic.

Hopefully I'll snap out of it in good time.

Please bear with me in the mean time.

xx

Burlesque

On Friday night a group of us went to/met up at the Bethnal Green Working Man's Club for the final night of Hip Hip. As North Londoners, we don't tend to wander very far - the reason for this foray into East London was that E was a dancer in one of the many off-beat burlesque performances of the night. I, and indeed several others, were prepared to venture out of our local comfort zone to see what the heck this was about.

M, C&D (couple friends) and I arrived, having never been to the venue before, to an exciting crowd of oddly dressed folk - top hats, lounge suits, short dresses, lace, hats...No wonder - the website described the dress code as "Summer Lace vs Circus Chic with a twist of Tassle Tease and a pinch of Sparkle!" Bingo! My kind of night. Also, behind the stage was red curtains and a giant red light up heart. Sultry.

It was a small venue and it wasn't long before E&G found us. They were both in lounge suits - E had a mustache, G had a trilby that M pointed out made him look like a Mormon. Drinks all around and we chatted in various combinations until the show started. We collected L (of K&L) and T along the way.

The show was fantastic - women in lingerie, women in just knickers and nipple tassels dancing with fans, a hairy man doing a Gene Kelly impersonation, and so on. Fantastic. We cheered and whistled at the dancers and laughed a lot. E's group consisted of a pianist, a lady singer, and he and another bloke as back-up dancers acting out a gay parodic scene to the music. It was a grand old time.

The night livened up when L continued on her mission to get M to snog her, trying every trick in the book, including asking me for advice, to which I responded that she should leave it because M is straight. Not to be deterred, L decided to try to make M jealous by snogging a man - first E, when I was sat next to them. E was incredibly uncomfortable, while L was insistent, and I just laughed at the situation - a lesbian snogging the guy I was sort-of sleeping with. L told E that he had to relax and I just laughed harder.

After having a slow dance with G to the last songs of the night, we caught a taxi home, although E insisted on riding his bicycle. G came back to our flat for a nightcap and continued trying to try to get into M's pants, and continued to be unsuccessful.

Meanwhile, I went to bed alone.

Testing

I finally got around to making an appointment for STI testing. Its been weighing on my mind over the last year, and in particular recently as there have been many news articles about the rise in STIs in Britain.

I arrived at the clinic at 5:30 - my appointment was at 6pm. The waiting rooms were separated by sex and there were anywhere between 8-12 women in the room at a time. I surveyed the other clients, read the London Paper, thought about my low level of responsibility over the last year, and then started to get sweaty palms and a quickened heart rate. A girl near me kept getting calls from her boyfriend and she kept telling him that she hadn't been seen yet. There was soft, yet slightly inappropriate music coming through a speaker - Barry White, Scissor Sisters, Tina Turner. Sweat broke out on my forehead and I had to concentrate on my breathing to prevent a panic attack while I thought of all the worst case scenarios.

I was finally called in and introduced to a male doctor who was likely from the Indian sub-continent. He was incredibly friendly, but that didn't stop my shakes. We went through a series of questions: When was the last time you had sex? Saturday. Did you use a condom? No. Was it vaginal, oral, or anal. Vaginal. Was this a regular partner, someone you know, or someone you met? Er, someone I met. And before that, when did you have a different partner? A week before that. Did you use a condom? No. Was it vaginal, oral or anal? Vaginal, and um oral. No anal? No. A regular partner, someone you know, or someone you met? Um, a semi-regular partner. And a different partner before that? About a month before that.

I struggled through the questions he fired at me in a kind sort of way - sex with anyone gay or bisexual? Sex with anyone from (list countries with high HIV rates). Intravenous drug use, etc. And how would you like to receive your results?

He then advised me to go back to the waiting room to be called in by a nurse. I sat for another 30 minutes. Finished the paper, started doing the soduko to keep my mind off it. I finished the easy quickly, then messed up the moderate and gave up because I was struggling to keep it together. I was thinking about how I had sex without the use of a condom with four different people in the last year and though only two came in me, that doesn't mean much to infections.

I looked at my watch - it was five minutes since I last looked. I craved a fag and a drink to calm my nerves. I listened to Bob Marley on the radio. I looked at the posters that showed young girls saying:

He said: Its like sucking a sweet with the wrapper on.
You say: If you want it to be sweet, keep it wrapped.

I was finally called in. The nurse took two vials of blood and in the middle asked me whether I was dizzy. No, I mumbled, fine. I then got into the stirrups to have three swabs taken, while she chatted away about why they don't recommend douching (who does that, anyway?).

I was done, result would be posted in the next two to three weeks. I stepped out, still sweaty and anxious, walked straight to the shop to get some fags. I thought about buying an alcoholic drink to consume while I walked, but thought better of it. I passed two pubs and finally stopped at the third - an old Irish pub with two men at the bar, ordered a double vodka and tonic, sat outside, rolled a cigarette and smoked and drank for the next five minutes before continuing on.

I'm feeling a bit better, though still slightly distressed. I must get my act together so I don't have that kind of panic again. I need to be responsible again. I'm not the superstitious type, but what the fuck - keep you fingers crossed for me and my results.

Tea

Saturday progressed nicely, with the gang back in Camden for drinks in the beer garden of the Oxford Arms, then off to the Dublin Castle for dancing. By the time they closed at 2 or 3, we weren't done yet. We had reduced to a group of about 8 of us and went on a mission back to T's flat for more drinking and dancing in his living room.

I don't quite remember how it came about, but Mo (a guy I've met two or three times) ended up in T's garden with me on my back on a bench and him going down on me. I don't dare tell T about that aspect of the night.

We went back in and people starting drifting off to bed and falling asleep on the couches. Mo and I left and as we walked to my flat in the daylight (it was well past 5) he would occasionally grab me and push me up against a car for a snog and a grope. We finally got home and again he went down on me until I told him that I was tired and just wanted to sleep.

Went to sleep at 6 and woke up at 10 and again he became very enthusiastic about going down on me. I was laying there thinking about the fact that I really wanted a cup of tea, but feeling unable to broach the subject with his head between my legs. We ended up fucking, but not because I particularly wanted to, but because it seemed like the quickest way to get what I wanted - my morning cuppa. I am now still feeling slightly sheepish and annoyed with myself about this, especially since we didn't use a condom. I am very unimpressed with myself and still feeling a bit rubbish about it, but so it goes - live and learn.

I finally got my cup of tea, he got dressed and as he was leaving he said "So, do you want my number?" "Err, well, you can take mine if you want it." Off he went.

I am left feeling a bit strange - he is cute, smart and funny, but I am completely uninterested, and indeed a bit put off. Circumstances are everything.

i heart london

Now that it is August it is finally warm and dry (for the weekend at least - rain is back from Sunday night). Last night I met my friend B, an absolutely lovely chap, for after work drinks in Camden. His flatmate then turned up, with his german girlfriend and we lounged in the sun on the deck of Lock 17 in Camden with beverages. We then moved onto the Hawley Arms for one drink, then trecked up to Enterprise, where they had a DJ playing motown. B's flatmate and girlfriend left, by this time it was about 10pm and we had been drinking from 5:30 with no food, so we went and searched out a fantastic chinese dumpling place, where he ordered another bottle of wine.

M and my conclusions from the morning were confirmed when I told Barry that I had a urinary tract infection and he had no idea what it was. "You mean you have never had a girlfriend who has had one?!" "No, not that I was aware of" "Ahhhg. Men have NO idea."

We finished our meal and couldn't finish our wine, parted ways with affectionate words for each other and went to our respective homes to sleep.

This morning M and I went to the Hayward Gallery to see the Antony Gormley exhibition. I can't describe it other than to say that it was fucking amazing. Blind Light blew our minds and we loved the sculptures. Standing on the roof of the Hayward counting the castes of his body that were perched on buildings and bridges. We found about 17 - there were 31. It was surreal.

Down below on the ground were at least a dozen young, fit men doing flips and jumps to the cheers of a crowd. It was a beautiful sunny day and everyone was happy.

We then wandered over to the Tate Britain to see The Way We Are photography exhibit that E got me free tickets for. Again, it was fantastic and I bought a postcard and a book detailing the origins of all the names of Underground stations. woo!

Back home for a rest before going out for the last round of T's birthday drinks, again in Camden. Another plus to the day, a very cute girl on the online dating site messages me saying she wanted to get together. On the off chance that she got the message in time and that she had not plans for tonight, I've invited her out. I won't hold my breath though.

Today has been a great day, and its not even over yet.

cast of characters

In case this is getting confusing, or for those joining us recently, here is the cast of reoccurring characters in this blog (one night stands not included):

Me, Tereza - 26, single, soon-to-be-divorcee (separated for over 1.5 years), bisexual, living in and loving North London, bored of being single and trying rather unsuccessfully to get beyond the status of fuck-buddy with a few choice people (see E and S below).

KT - 23, female, flatmate (although spending the summer home in America), straight, music post-grad student, in a long-distance relationship with a guy in America.

M - 26, female, flatmate for the summer, straight, post-grad student, we've known each other since we were 4, in a long-distance relationship with a guy in America (though I doubt it will last long when she returned).

T - 33, male, best male buddy, straight, single, won't tell me when he last got laid (but it's definitely over a year ago).

E - one half of the E&G double-act, 31 in a few days, male, straight, single (but broken hearted an therefore emotionally unavailable), my fortnightly fuck-buddy.

G - the other half of the double-act, 33, male, straight, single, lovely and cute but inept with women, unsure of when he last got laid but suspect its been a while, hits on my flatmates but tends to get shot down.

S - 33, female, bisexual, has psychotic ex-boyfriend, my drunk snog friend that i sort of fancy.

K&L - a lesbian couple, 21 and 33 respectively, fun but slightly insane, tried seducing M but as mentioned above she is straight and it was therefore unsuccessful.

P&R - a heterosexual couple, 33 male and 28 female respectively, married, play twisted mind games with most people involving jealously and desire, both of questionable sexual orientation.

Get it? Good.

"I like you but..."

Was the theme of my weekend.

Saturday was T's housewarming. He had gotten it into his head that it would be a quiet gathering, but no - it was rocking until the sun came up, despite the fact that he and his other flatmates went to bed. It became a girl on girl snog fest - me and S was all I recalled myself having partaken in. Flatmate M was seduced by a lesbian with a jealous kung-fu fighting girlfriend, and they swapped dressed, had lots of pashes, then she followed M home like a puppy, whilst I chastised her - she lived in the opposite direction and after all, M is straight. M also recalled the next day having had a snog with R and indeed it was her and P's 6 year wedding anniversary. How charming.

Unfortunately, on Monday night, R insisted that she had a snog with me and not M. I clearly didn't remember and she was offended, much to my amusement.

At one point I dragged S by the hand into T's room so we could have a chat. I can't recall what I said because my head was swimming in a sea of vodka, but it was probably sometime to the effect that I thought she was lovely and I fancied her, to which I got the old "I like you but I can't......" I don't even remember the reason, I tuned out by that point. Maybe it has something to do with her psychotic ex boyfriend who she is on the verge of being tangled up with restraining orders and lawsuits with, and who incidentally, contacted me on myspace yesterday. If I knew better, I would stay far far away, but alas, I don't.

Sunday was spent recovering in the park - the weather has actually picked up in time for August. M was feeling sheepish and nauseas, I was feeling physically injured (cut finger while trying to slice limes and some mystery bruises on knee and elbow), but in good spirits. M swore that she would never drink again and we teased her about swapping dresses with K and being hunted down by above-mentioned kung-fu fighting jealous girlfriend. I felt I had a tame night in comparison.

Monday night rolled around and off we went to the pub. P&R were boring me, but it was occasionally funny to hear them tease M about Saturday night. G eventually turned up and relayed his hectic drink filled week with great enthusiasm. We came second in the pub quiz, got drink vouchers, and stayed until the landlord chucked us out, but only after having tried to convince him to let us stay because as of midnight, it was T's birthday. At some point, E turned up.

As me, M, E, and G walked back towards our flats, G kindly gave M her jumper to stay warm - we therefore convinced them to walk up to our flat, then bullied them into coming in for a drink. Whiskey and wine for three - M was still off the booze, so was slightly bemused by G's drunken advances.

E and I whilst on the balcony sharing a cigarette had a talk that went like this:

E - "normally I would really be going for you - you're cute, clever, funny, nice etc...but"
Me - "Yes...the infamous but...."
E- - "...but you caught me at a difficult time in my life."

At this point, I was completely expecting him to go home when G left, but no, he stayed even though I didn't even ask him to. We stayed up talking shit for a few more hours until I said I had to go to bed. We got into bed, and now typically, stayed up fucking until the sun came up and I had to put a stop to it because I had to get up for work soon.

Why does this always happen on a weeknight? I told him he was a bad influence on me, but he just reversed the statement.

I supposed despite the "I like you but..."s, things could be much much worse.

Stranger in a strange town

Everything has been a bit sketchy lately:

Seeing last year's fuck buddy Alex for the first time in six months and fancying him for the first five minutes, then being done;

Seeing S - girl who I went to bed with at my party and lecherously fancying the pants off her (not literally, unfortunately);

Seeing Brabs - a guy I threw out off bed because he wouldn't tell me how old he was (since learned he is 41) and feeling quite sheepish that I ever considered sleeping with him;

Being reminded off the "bus stop barrister" by walking past the cafe that we had breakfast in the morning after in Stoke Newington (and therefore being reminded of Alex, as I went from being in bed with Alex until the afternoon to rushing off for a date with said barrister);

Seeing E and being cross at myself for still fancying the pants off him;

Not remembering how last night ended and therefore requiring being filled in by G - thankfully nothing embarrassing happened, though maybe he was just being polite;

Looking through my text messages this morning from last night and realising that I made plans with sleazy Dave to go to some show at the Royal Opera House, but having no recollection of doing so.

It used to be that my husband was the drunken daft one and I was the responsible one. How roles change.

mouse

There is a mouse in the flat, has been since we moved in. I can't decide whether I find the pitter patter of little feet comforting, or whether I should get some traps and kill it dead.

I keep putting off the decision, and the mouse keeps getting more brave.

hot sex and planes

I have finally managed to put two and two together and sort out what is going on with E - friends who occasionally have (really hot) sex. That the is the beginning and end of it, no matter which way I look at it.

On Thursday night we stayed at the pub until closing, about 1:30ish. We then went back to mine and stayed up listening to music and talking until about 3:30am, when I decided it was time to go to sleep. However, being in bed together got the better of us, and we stayed up shagging until 5:30am, at which point the sun was coming up and I was slightly anxious that I had to be at work in 3.5 hours.

For better or worse, I have come to the conclusion that there is no point sleeping with any other guys at the moment, unless it happens to be going somewhere, because it would just be a waste of my time. E is fun, open-minded, slightly kinky, not afraid to speak up about what he wants, and incredibly persistent in trying to get me to orgasm. I can't really go wrong, except that our sexcapades are not frequent, tend to be mid-week and therefore make me late for work and turning up looking slightly disheveled.

I did manage on Thursday to pin him down for the air show on Saturday. I collected him in his sleepy state at 9am on Saturday morning and off we went to RAF Fairford. On arrival we were both grinning ear to ear, pointing enthusiastically at planes. He was the best possible person to bring to an air show - a complete geek about planes, who knew a heck of a lot about 98% of the planes, both on the ground and in the air. It started to scare me a bit when he could rattle off not only the name, the country it was built in, what it was used for and when, and some random facts about the design, mechanics, or that it broke a speed record in such and such year. I knew he was strange, but that just blew me away.

We had a fabulous time looking at the planes, eating dodgy food, drinking beer, and taking photos. He had wanted to get back in the early evening to get some drawing done, but we ended up staying until around 7:30pm and getting back late. It was all a purely friendly affair with no hint of romance or any such thing. We parted at King's Cross (I was off to Camden, he was going home to draw) with a hug and a friendly peck on the lips.

I don't mind - obviously I wished it were a bit more, but I understand his situation and to be honest, I don't think I could have a fuck-buddy who was more generous in bed. The only problem is, how is one supposed to make a booty call by posting a letter?!

Royal Mail

On Wednesday I wrote and posted a letter to E. I believe I have reached an all time low in terms of desperation - posting a letter to a man who lives a ten minute walk from me because I have given up on all other forms of communication with him. That and he has never once, as far as I am aware, telephoned me, despite his assurance last time we shagged that he "would be in touch."

Letter posted and I awaited a response. By Saturday, not a peep. I was in "T mood number 137", i.e. insanely hyper hangover mood, and decided to call his house because it was a nice day and I was going to the park. E answered, sounding a bit under the weather, but my invite to the park was turned down, in his roundabout and polite English sort of way ("well, I'm going to watch Le Tour de France, but if I don't, I'll come by" - fucking hell you will, I won't hold my breath). I then cheerily asked whether he received my letter. He said he did and he had intended to respond - he had even gone so far as to start to write back but he "got bogged down in prose". Is this guy weird or what?! (Rhetorical question - we know the answer to that one.)

At this point in the telephone conversation I was handed over to his flatmate, who was also unable to come to the park, but we had a bit of a natter anyway. End of conversation.

So, I thoughtfully came to the conclusion that no matter what I might think otherwise, E and I are just friends who sometimes fuck when we see each other, which isn't all that often anyway. And bearing this in mind, I need to get over it.

I still wonder though, will I see him at the pub quiz at our local tonight?

First sun in two months

It's finally a nice, sunny weekend in London.

Why do men feel the need to honk/catcall a woman wearing short shorts?!

My legs aren't *that* nice and anyway, its just obnoxious. Itmakes me want to make insulting gestures back, but rather than provoke, I just ignore it.

Annual Garden Party

Just when I thought I hadn't done anything embarrassing when I was drunk at a work do last night, I was reminded that I had been dragged away from the pub after snogging a guy in a blue fringed leather suit, who looked like he had escaped from the circus.

The fact that I went through all day today having not remembered that particular part of the evening is more troubling than the act.

Thankfully, no numbers were exchanged.

happy smoking ban

I have been left feeling slightly cheated by the weekend. Friday night was the first in a long long time that I stayed in, despite an old flame having been out with some of my mates. I simply could not drag myself out of the house. Records, codeine, in bed by 10pm.

It might have been the fact that I was working overtime on Saturday, which nearly did my head in and threw my conception of space and time for the rest of the weekend. After a long day on Saturday, a coworker and I went for a few glasses of wine, I nicked fags of some guys at a nearby table, and counted down until the smoking ban - 12 hours to go. I rang E and miraculously he answered and we made plans to meet up at our local sometime after 11pm. Around 7:30 I staggered out of the pub, did some drunken grocery shopping, and headed home. Some friends were going to come around mine before going to our local.

More beer, I dressed to the nines, and again rang E's house, but got flat G. G and I had a gossip about whether he had or had not gotten laid the night of our party. I invited them around for pre-smoking-ban-party drinks, but G said they were going to Bethnal Green - well that was news to me, but hey, plans change. We staggered to the pub and I was already three sheets to the wind. We smoked, drank, chatted, had a boogie, but by 1:30 I was too drunk and had to go home and go to bed. The pub was open until 4am, and I didn't even make it to the usual closing time of 2.

Sunday: wake up at midday, ring T to make breakfast plans, and feel very alone. KT has gone to America, new flatmate hadn't come home the night before, and well, E certainly wasn't there. T's plan involved a Sunday roast at a nearby pub. I arrived at 2pm, he arrived at 2:30 with a new flatmate in tow. We lounged around, ate, chatted, read newspapers, I watched some girls at a nearby table down a bottle of red wine in the middle of the afternoon. We smoked in the new outdoor smoking section, and eventually - say about 3:30 - I hit the booze, T followed not long after.

We didn't leave the pub until after 10pm, after a gut-wrenchingly hilarious afternoon after we started talking to above-mentioned girls in the smoking section. Two bolshy and crude Australians, who were both utterly charming and clever. The five of us laughed rancorously all afternoon, downing bottle after bottle of wine. Stories and stories: T's new flatmate had been with a guy for five years and he just then stopped taking her calls - she therefore dumped him by text message with the following, "You clearly don't want to communicate with me, so take care and best wishes for the future." We learned the virtues of writing a text message and sleeping on it - if it seems like a good idea the next day, then it is. T just laughed hysterically and pointed at me, as though I should take this on board. I replied, "My problem is that usually when I'm sleeping on something to decide if it is a good idea in the morning, there tends to be someone else in bed with me."

We spent the best part of the day lounging around in the wee outside smoking area, where whenever anyone came back, a cheer went up and welcomes were all around. Many new friends were made with the local smokers, one of which had his name tattooed on the inside of hit bottom lip.

By half nine we ordered our second meal of the day in that pub. By the end of it all, T and I both had tabs of fifty quid each, and our new friends' mobile numbers. Incidentally, the reason they were getting pissed on a Sunday afternoon was because one of them had her wallet stolen on the tube - what does one do in that situation? Hit the pub and allow your friend to get you wrecked because you have no cash or cards.

Now Monday has rolled around again, tired, hungover, etc. I was meant to have a date with a girl from an online dating site, but canceled because I was tired and couldn't be bothered. So, a sex-less weekend has left me trying to figure out what I should do about the "E situation".

I'm thinking about my doorbell...

A month after I last had any contact with E because he went underground, he resurfaced when KT rang to invite him and G to her leaving drinks. Boy, was she surprised when he answered and said he would be there.

Just when I had started to get him out of my head and he was gradually dropping off my radar, he turns up, being charming and funny and with sexy new glasses. I was excited and happy to see him, but also a bit pissed off that he could waltz in after being disappeared for over a month and it takes about 5 seconds to realise that I still fancy the pants off him (quite literally it turned out later).

Later, after closing time, KT, me, E and an old flatmate went back to ours to carry on the party. E and I were smoking on the balcony when I drunkenly confession (in a typical blunt style that I have a reputation for), "E, I don't know why, but I really fancy you and that really pisses me off." I don't actually recall his answer, but not long after we were in bed.

On waking with a terrible headache, I downed some water, took some tablets, and hopped back into bed for some hot morning sex, that involved me orgasming without the use of a battery operated device for the first time in I don't know how many years. That, and morning sex before going to work is very satisfying.

So, I'm back to feeling pleased, but also slightly distressed that there is this person who I can't get out of my head, and is very difficult to contact. When parting I said, "So, I'll see you again in, oh, about a month?" He did say he would be around on Saturday and Sunday, but at this point, I'll believe it when i see it.

In the meantime, I'm thinking about my doorbell - when you gonna ring it?

You keep hanging round me...

Today is a strange day, with over-exhaustion, hangover, lots of mind-fuck thoughts of the Soon-to-be-Ex-Husband, and intrigue, but ultimately ambivalence about the girl I went to bed with last week. The result is me staying in listening to records rather than taking up any of the several options I have for going out tonight.

Last night involved going to be Ex-Husband's band with some mates, getting completely pissed, going to the Roxy. Ex-husband later joined us at the Roxy. Bearing in mind that he hit his one year anniversary for sobriety two days ago, it was slightly surreal to be hanging out with him while I was drunk - this is the second weekend in a row that I have found myself in this situation.

So, me being clever, and drunk, decide to try to talk to him about us, our past, and the fact that I can't possibly get back together with him. He senses this is the direction of the conversation (as we are sat on the stairs in the entryway to the club for quiet) and stops it with "Tereza, you are drunk" signaling that this is not NOT the time to have any such conversation.

We go back in, dance with various men and women, some we know, some we don't. Our friends leave and he asks me if I want to go have a coffee somewhere. We wander through Soho in attempt to find a cafe open at 2am. Success! We drink coffee after coffee, eat cake, smoke and talk until after 3am when we are too tired to continue. We catch the bus homeward and he exits at his stop.

It is strange - I think he is afraid of touching me. Although we try to be friends, and are able to talk and talk and talk about almost anything, we do not hug or kiss hello or goodbye. I try to avoid the over familiarity because I can still see pain in his eyes when he looks at me and I don't entirely know what that means. He probably thinks that if he touches me he will burst into flames.

I crawl into bed as the sky is getting light, after 4am, thinking that I wish I had someone to cuddle with when going to sleep as the sun comes up. I woke up at 9:45am, awake, but hungover. Following breakfast I go to Canary Wharf to meet some friends in order to check out some dance festival in the streets. On the train I start lamenting in my mind about Ex-Husband. All these emotions that have not been present for months are resurfacing - anger, resentment, confusing, thoughts of us as a couple, thoughts of what could have been had things happened differently, thoughts of what would have happened had we met now instead of (almost) 5 years ago, thoughts of why the fuck I was thinking these thoughts.

The weird dance shows and tasty vegetarian dinner clears my thoughts a bit.

Meanwhile, on previously mentioned girl's myspace page I see the following message from her ex, who I knew she was meeting this past week to exchange belongings left:

"A few days ago at yours- We were having a post nookie cuddle and you fell asleep. I watched you sleeping for a while, then put my head to your chest and listened to your heartbeat and also drifted off. That was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in the last 15 years."

Hmm, sounds like they exchanged more than books and movies left at each other's flats...

She had said she might come out last night, but texted at the last minute to say that she was ill. I texted her this morning, having seen that message, to ask if she felt better and how the meeting with the ex went. Her response was: "... Meeting was a bit tense to begin with, ended pretty amicably though. Am, out for B [mutual friend]'s birthday if you're around."

Hmm. I'm left confused, unsure of whether to go out to see them tonight, unsure if I really can be bothered, and generally feeling that women are too complicated and confusing for me.

It is now almost 11pm on Saturday night and I'm trying to figure out what to do with myself and how to sort myself out.

Party - any excuse

Friday night KT and I threw a bash - it was my 26th birthday two weeks ago, KT leaves in two weeks until September. We'll take any excuse for a party. The planets were in the right line and everyone turned up that said they would, plus more, plus they brought friends. The result was a perfect combination of 30+ people raging it in our flat until well after sunrise.

The highlights:

*A guy I know that I call behind his back "sleazy David": When he is not being a world-class sleaze, he is interesting to talk to and can be fun, as long as he keeps his paws off me. He turned up half in the bag dressed as a Spanish Republican and on form. He managed to piss-off and creep out EVERY SINGLE girl in the place - what an achievement. I have never witnessed anything like it. Ass-grabbing, breast staring, hand-kissing, cheesy compliments, etc. It was endless and when one girl ran away, he turned to the one next to her. At one point a mutual friend asked whether he should take him away because he was afraid the women were going to throw David off the balcony - one in fact threatened to. I said no, because I didn't want the friend to leave. When David fell face down the stairs, I decided it was time to go and said friend was kind enough to take him away.

*I walked up to a sort-up friend out of the blue and said "F, I don't fancy you", much to his bewilderment.

*When I introduced a friend to the ex-husband, her mouth dropped and she explained, repeatedly "THIS is you husband? You are such a cute couple, you shouldn't get divorced!" An awkward (but amusing after the event) moment for all.

*Me hooking up with a really gorgeous and cool girl, in KT's bed (she was passed out on my bed and it seemed to complicated to move, so we shut ourselves into KT's room and got naked).

*Everyone complimenting us the next day on how it was a wicked party! Yeeeaaaaah!


PS, just saw above-mentioned girl and, fingers-crossed, it might be going somewhere. I got hello and goodbye kisses on the lips (she was just collecting the bits she forgot here on Saturday morning and had to jet off) and hopefully we will get together on Friday.

WTF

2 months ago at a gig in Islington I met a guy - S. I was exceedingly drunk and don't recall how I started talking to him, but before long we were having a pash. I took his number, but didn't realise he also took mine. My mates tore me away from him eventually to go on to our local. The next morning I deleted his number, thinking that I would not want to meet someone again that I met when I was that drunk - and indeed, I didn't remember anything about our conversation.

I thought no more of it, until 3 weeks later when I received a mysterious text message saying "Hi T, what are you up to tonight? Don't offend me by not knowing who it is, just fake it." After a bit of banter, I established his identity and remembered the encounter, but not the details.

We texted for several weeks, but were never able to meet up - he was in Amsterdam, I was in Italy, back to Amsterdam, etc. With some persuading from friends, I invited him out last night to catch him before he was off to Holland again (for work, ostensibly).

He managed to find me in the Roxy around 1am and we tried to talk over the noise about music, work, travel and so on. Hand on arm, hand on back, leaning in - it was actually quite some time before we snogged and then even only fleeting - I think he was trying to be a tease and was succeeding. We danced, talked, snogged - hand on leg, hand on ass.

In my current state of sexual frustration, I decided he would be a good shag, and if can make such predictions, and suggested we leave. We had a back and forth about whether to go to his or to mine, but settled on mine. We were at the bus stop, waiting for some time for the night bus - I was sobering up and having second thoughts - the first night in two weeks when I would be able to sleep alone in my room might involve waking up next to someone I don't really know, and I never like "the morning after". He seemed able to sense my hesitation, which he noted. I made a comment about all the "things I have to do tomorrow" and said something stupid about how maybe we should be sensible to do this another time. He hopped on a bus, and mine came a moment later.

I had thought at the time that he had been understanding, we had a goodbye snog and I thought everything was fine and even considered sending him a text on the way home saying that I'd had a good time. When I got home I received a text from him - "Slightly baffled what happened there, but never mind. all the best." That is an "I'm never going to see you again" text if I've ever seen one. I responded to try to smooth it over, but not had a response and he is off to Amsterdam today.

I woke up today though pleased with my decision, pleased to wake up alone, not having to deal with the morning after and having some time to myself. Also entirely frustrated with men.

Desperate?

Back from a week holiday in Italy with my mother, who is in London until tomorrow. Last night KY and I were at the local with the usual suspects, but both feeling slightly agitated. I walked around the bar to have a peek at the live band, to realise what what getting me down - I needed my mother to leave and I needed a good shag. Having spent the last two weeks with my mother trotting at my heals and staying at the flat, it has slightly cramped my style and ability to even get myself off. So it goes.

I returned to the table and after a bit KT leaned over and said "I know why I'm so grumpy - I need to get laid." We clinked our glasses at the shared realisation about our modiness.

E has been absent for coming up to 3 weeks and counting. Although I was on holiday for one of those weeks, KT, or indeed anyone else we know, has neither seen nor heard from him. All attempts to ring his flat have gone unanswered. KT's message via myspace has not been responded to.

My hopes that my holiday abroad would get him out of my head were dashed, and learning of his continued disappearance on my return fueled both concern for his welfare and paranoia - KT and I wondered, did they move and not tell us? No, I'm sure thats not it, maybe he had a family emergency... I hope they haven't barred our number - we pondered, half in jest.

An attempt to ring him (and G's flat) last night was answered by their flatmate, who said she hadn't seen them all day, but confirmed that they both were about generally. Oh dear, what to make of that? I have decided to leave it until I see or hear from him - I can't go chasing after him.

Tomorrow, in attempt to get ourselves out of our local watching who is coming and going, we have decided to get out of North London and go drinking and dancing elsewhere. With any luck, I'll get a snog or two, and shift my mind elsewhere.

questioning

What is it that attracts us to emotionally unavailable people?

Last week, Tuesday night perhaps, KT and I ran into E in the pub having drinks for a friends birthday. He and I snuck aside for a bit to have a "talk". I was aware this talk was coming, had thought extensively about what I wanted to saw, and was glad to run into him so we could get it out of the way. He said that he had been worried that he was taking advantage of me and giving a false impression about his situation, which is in fact thus - he is still in emotional turmoil from being dumped by the love of his life a month or two ago and was, in effect, still in love with her. I explained that I was fully aware of this situation and did not have any expectations on him. We did the whole "whatever happens, we should still be able to be friends" thing, which he qualified with that he hoped we could still have a cheeky snog now and then, I said he could stay over whenever. Typical - that night, having gotten everything out in the open, and gotten very drunks, went back to mine for a shag.

Now I'm back to vacillating between thinking this is a fine and fun situation, to thinking "what do I think I'm doing?" Certainly not in a bad way - just fleeting thoughts that don't particularly give me much bother, but I do wonder whether I'm setting myself up for failure so to speak.
The problem is that I can't seem to stop fancying him at the moment - is it the unavailability? or is it very simply him?

I think its a combination of the two.

crushing

KT and I went to a housewarming on the edge of the earth (NW10) to find that it was actually just watching Eurovision. KT spent the night on the phone to her BF and I spent mine texting with a mystery man, who it turned out I had snogged three weeks ago in the Hope and Anchor, then deleted his number in the morning, not realising that he had my number.

We left in time to get the last trains home, and on the way out the door I rang E to see if he wanted to meet in the pub in an hour. He was working to a deadline of today and was slightly worried, but said he could probably use a break. I was thrilled because I was wearing a very short dress, which is probably more accurately described as a long shirt - with leggings - a look I quite like. I was also wearing some of by best knickers and had shaved earlier.

It took us about an hour and a half to get there, after a wrangle with the trains and buses. By that time I was desperate for a drink and a fag. Plenty of lovely people arrives, but no sign of E. As last orders approached KT said "He's not coming" and I agreed.

As everyone dispersed, T and I were the last to leave the bar, which was noted by the bouncer as the norm and bid us farewell by saying "see you next weekend". A slightly disconcerting reputation.

I went home, whinged to KT about how I had hoped to get laid that night, gave E a comment on myspace, and listened to Bright Eyes until fell asleep on the couch for the second night in a row.

Although I have seen/slept with a number of people since soon-to-be-ex-husband and I split up, this is the first time I have actually liked someone and look forward to seeing them and get a bit nervous and gitty, which has me right freaked out about it. Its scary, but also exciting, and feels positive because it is at least forward movement and proves to me that I am not in fact emotionally crippled after the demise of my marriage (which had been weighing on my mind).

What is interesting is that my mother is going through a similar situation at the moment, except she does not really fancy the guy she has been dating, but she has been disrupted by the fact that a man has come into her life in a romantic sense for the first time in the ten years since my parents got divorced. She is scared and nervous and confused about whether she likes him and if not, whether it is just because she is too scared.

As I get older, I find it very endearing to realise emotoinal commonalities with my mother, though it is also at times slightly worrying.

sickie

I met KT at our local last night, having done the usual "why don't you call the lads?" She tried and didn't get an answer - during the course of our first drink whilst she was in the toilet, I sneakily tried them again, and got E but promptly a drunken G also got on the phone and said they were on their way to the pub. Hooray!

They joined us, along with one of their friends, and then the whole of our local friend group turned up. We stayed in the pub long past closing, after I made a deal with the landlord to let us stay if we bought a bottle of wine instead of glasses. Unfortunately, KT was drunken at this point, so it came mostly to me to finish the last bottle. We then stumbled to E & G's flat, where we had a final beverage, before E and I went upstairs. Hands and mouths groping, kissing, succking, but he hadn't a clue where in his mess of a room he might find a condom. That was fine with me because I was by then exceedingly drunk.

We woke up at about 8:30 and I hemmed and hawed about whether to say I would be late to work or to throw a sickie. Eventually I decided on the later, and whilst on the phone in the hallway only wearing a towel, I saw KT and had to contain my laughter when on the phone to work. She tisked me for calling out of work, I pointed and mouthed "what are you doing here?" I got off the phone, we had a giggle in the hallway, she went home and I got back into bed with E, who had advised his work he would be in late due to "bike problems", i.e. laying naked in bed having a pash and a cuddle.

Feeling guilty, I eventually urged him out of bed and got dressed. We had a hug and a kiss goodbye and he cycled off to work, and I met KT for breakfast and gossip swap.

I think I shall be spending the day lounging around the flat, listening to records, and smiling at the lingering man-smell on my skin.

Another shot in the foot

Saturday night found me in my local as usual. Dancing to a funky bank with good company, tossing back the red wine and then later Duvell. I stood at the bar waiting to order another round when an incredibly cute guy came up to me and said enthusiastically "Hi! How have you been?" I responded with an equally enthusiastic "I've been great, but do I know you?" He laughed and looked a bit confused, so I persisted "Really, who are you?" "Umm, we had a snog on M--- Road..."

Oh shit! This was Andy, from Easter bank holiday, a lovely snog in a hammock, who said he was sort of seeing someone and I didn't get his number! Gee, that was embarrassing - so I apologised profusely, though I don't think he was very impressed.

I did remember his name, but he had forgotten mine - so I tried to play it off that we were even. "Um, no, I forgot your name, but you forgot my face." I tried to make amends, not sure how far I got. T came over and on that night a few weeks ago they had a good chat about comics and whatnot, so T asked him for his number. I pipped up with "Ooohh, me too, me too!"

So at long last, I saw him again, though certainly did not impress him. I did get his number, sent him a friendly text apologising again, but did not receive any response. Oh well, I think I'm going to have to let it all go.

Obsession

A few weeks ago we met some chaps in our local - absolutely charmingly geeky and clever English guys. The pub was packed and we asked to share their table, and struck up a conversation because I recognised them as the winning team in the pub quiz from earlier in the week. Drunken antics ensued and one of the three who was visiting from abroad, was trying to set me up with G, and to this end tried to convince us that his father was the seventh richest man in England. A bit pathetic really, but the two were finding it hilarious, much to the embarrassment of G. The night carried on and we all ended up back at our flat. Before long, KT was sick, with G and I looking after her. Eventually the night ended innocently, though very drunken - everyone went their own ways. I got E & G's home number - they are both in their early thirties and don't have mobiles.

Since then, KT and I have been desperate to hang out with E & G - to the point where I worry that we are stalking them. A typical conversation:
KT "Should we call E & G?"
Me "Yes, but you should call them."
KT "Why me?!"
Me "Because I can't call anymore - I got told off by their flatmate for calling after 1am."
KT "But I called them last time, it's your turn."
Me "Maybe T will call for us!!"
T "Keep me out of your love triangles!"
Me "Ok, let's not call them tonight."
(Fast forward two glasses of wine.)
KT "Let me borrow your phone and I'll step outside to call them."
(Re-enter KT)
KT "No answer, so I hung up and didn't leave a message."
Me "Maybe that means they are on their way to the pub?"

And so on... all bank holiday weekend.

E and I struck up a little thing, with him having spent the night twice. Let me be clear - we haven't had sex, just a snog and cuddle and sleep. After my last casual sex encounter (which has not yet been detailed in these pages) I decided that I needed a break from casual sex - the sort of was getting was extremely unfulfilling and left me entirely uninterested in the men. I have therefore decided to hold back a bit and see what happens. E, however, is on the rebound, so I must remind myself to tread carefully.

Meanwhile, G has been hitting on KT after he has had one too many whiskeys, bearing in mind that she has a boyfriend.

It has all become a bit of a strange - two flats on a double date scenario, but mostly a bit pathetic because we have become obsessed with hanging out with them because they are some of the most genuinely nice and easy to get along with people we know in the area, or indeed London.

Anniversary

1 May.

It seemed like a good idea come up with young, communist lovers - get married on May Day. So we did - 3 years ago.

Now it is an impossible date to forget, and unfortunately, none of the memories are good. The wedding day was fine, but that night we all got drunk, my brother and father almost ended up in a punch-up, my new husband and I almost ended up in a punch-up. Instead we had a screaming row when we got home and I slept on the couch. We woke up in the morning trying to pretend it didn't happen and putting it down to too much booze.

Our family time together with his mother and grand-dad and my mother and brother was slightly downed by not only the hangovers, but also the fact that we learned that his brother had tried to commit suicide the night before and was now admitted to the psychiatric ward of the Doncaster Royal Infirmary. They were trying to keep it secret from his grand-dad. Nonetheless, in attempt to act normal, we had a pub lunch, walked along the Thames, and went to the London Dungeon (which was not as good as the York Dungeon I might add).

That was 1 & 2 May three years ago.

Two years ago our anniversary was only a few weeks after the first time he took coke, blacked out, and we did end up in a knock down, drag out fight. It was the first time he had ever hit me. He broke the door off the washing machine, and said the most awful and abusive things to me. I left the flat and wandered around Archway at 3am trying to find an open cafe that I could stay in. Eventually I went home and he was passed out. I slept on the couch and left before he woke up. He didn't remember a thing in the morning.

I slipped into a deep depression, crying at random, but unable to tell my family what happened. We took a weekend away for our anniversary to try to release the stress. On 30 April we had another awful fight, no violence this time, but shouting about breaking up. Again, alcohol fueled. In the morning, our first anniversary, he tried to pretend it didn't happen, or what happened didn't mean anything. I couldn't and was miserable and teary all day and until our return to London.

By our second anniversary, we had split up and I was living elsewhere.

Now its number three and we have been split up for a year and a half. I worry (a bit pathetically) that I won't be able to have a meaningful relationship again. I worry that I won't be able to trust another person or indeed myself in a relationship. Then again, I know this is foolish, as I am only 25.

Bank holiday weekend wrap up

I went into the weekend slightly panicked about what I would do with myself with five days off from work, but in T's words - "cracking weekend, wasn't it?!"

It sure was.

Friday: Funfair with Ex-husband, dodgems, and other sketchy rides - I went on the really tall scary one but he was too afraid, thai food, watching Nathan Barley, dinner party, my local, meeting fun new people, kissing in a hammock, running out of tobacco at 5am, only to find a half a joint hidden away, gutted to have not gotten Andy's number, despite the fact that he is ostensibly seeing someone - oh well.

Saturday: waking up hyper and probably still drunk at 11am, the zoo with T and A, tapir was my favourite animal, lions and tigers and bears oh my, more thai food, a nap while they watch Dr Who, then dragging myself back to my local, a distinct lacking of cute young guys or girls - everyone was worn from previous nights of excess, after party at E & D's, *meeting* Nathan Barley, cocktails, stumbling home at 5am, slumber party in my bed with A and T, drunken sleep.

Sunday: again waking up drunk and hyper, Tim "I actually snogged more people than you last night, what a surprise!" Me "Who did you snog?" Tim "Well, you" Me "haha, oh yea" Tim "And Amy" Me "bwahahaha!", giggling incessantly at breakfast, being asked by the waitress "Would you like bread or toast" and responding "What's the difference?" "Weeeell, bread is bread, and toast is toast" Did I mention I was still drunk?, hour and a half journey to new cross, being asked for my number by a drunk guy on the East London line, Ex-husband's band, curry for dinner, early night.

Monday: having a lie in, taking naps, more Nathan Barley, watching Chinatown, curry and beer, back to the local for an end of bank holiday drink, not being able to stop myself scoping out the talent, despite Monday being probably the worst night of the week to pull, being too shy to talk to anyone not at our table, another early night.

Tuesday: Not back to work until tomorrow, had another lie in, laying in bed with window open and fresh warm air coming in, children playing next door.

Only another three weeks until the next bank holiday. yeeeaaah!

xx

Friday - always eventful

The night began with a lovely dinner party by a couple friend of mine in the area. Fantastic food, good company, etc. Near midnight we headed off to my local to meet T, and P & R (the couple I inappropriately propositioned two weeks earlier).

I wondered whether I would run into the 40 year old music promoter, who I didn't call after he put a note through my door. Low and behold, I was there for about five minutes before he found me. He came over and said hi, stood around awkwardly, then said he would be sitting over at another table. The band was shit, but we had a good dance to "I don't want to grow up" before moving into the main pub room without the bad band.

As a side note, R, the wife I propositioned, was exceedingly drunk and rubbing my leg before husband decided to take her home. Strange.

We moved tables and music promoter followed with his cousin and his girlfriend to the table behind us. I managed to ignore him until his cousin's girlfriend tapped me on the shoulder to talk to me. "You know he put a note through your door? He did actually lose his phone you know. He was really upset that you didn't call him. We're having a dinner party tomorrow, do you want to come? He's really lovely, but really shy and really likes you." Egad!

And when I tried to talk to him, there was again nothing to say. C and I jetted off to dance to Guns and Roses and he followed. When the song finished he said he was going, so I pulled him to a side couch to give him a talk. C suggested that my best let-down is the ex-husband. She suggested that I say I got back together with him. I didn't go that far, but said to him that I am in the process of getting divorced (true) and its difficult (true) and because of that, I'm not able and ready to date anyone (untrue). He was really nice, etc etc, but I just can't see him. We had a hug and a goodbye snog and he said "you have my number" - I didn't give him mine, and off he went. I was so pleased with myself for the good let down line. No one hurt or upset, I don't feel like a heartless bitch. Hooray!

I go back to my table of friends and C said I had done well, but the guys gave me grief for snogging him (they could see) and that by saying what I did, I was still leading him on. Can't please everyone all the time.

The night carried on with me scoping out the rest of the talent in the pub by that time. I love my local because there is always someone that I am attracted to - maybe its the drunkenness. A guy at a nearby table smiled at me and so I started talking to him. He was Japanese and his friend was Italian. I gave him some lines of Japanese I remembered from when I studying, and he was impressed, so I invited them back to my place for a drink (it was closing time at the pub). I grabbed T to tell him, and he was talking to some people who were going back to a neighbour's place. Side note- there was a hot girl with pink hair at a nearby table that I told him to talk to, T of course didn't talk to her, but went and talked to the guy sitting next to her who had a hulk hand. He said that they were going back to her place, where I had actually been before for a party and lives a stone's throw from my flat. SO, we all gathered together and went to the shop to get beer and trek up the street.

Somewhere along the line we looked back and didn't have my Japanese friend, or indeed many other people. There was me, T, cute pink hair, and three other guys. We had beer, a record player and records and were very happy. I ventured into the back garden with one of the chaps - the one with the hulk hand, called Andy - and we lounged in the hammock together. We had a snog and a grope, but he said that he came out of a long term relationship last Saturday and was now sort of seeing someone else. Uh, ok, whatever mate.

We eventually went inside and all danced to Michael Jackson, then as 5am rolled around, it was time for bed. I invited Andy back to mine, but he said it would not be a good idea and we just had a goodbye snog at the door. I rolled across the street with my beer, stumbled inside and into bed alone. Shame that I didn't swap numbers with Andy - he is 26, cute and interesting. As he is moving into the flat across the street in the next couple weeks, I'm sure I'll see him about.

What a curious night. Even more curious that I woke up six hours later, still drunk. Ahh, bank holiday weekend.

Fucked with being fucked

On my way out the door to work this morning I found an envelope with my name on it put through the letterbox. Inside was a note from the 40-year-old music promoter from Friday night. In it he said that his phone died and he therefore lost my number and said that if I still wanted to hang out I should call him on ....

I was curious, though relieved, that he hadn't called, after he asked me at least a dozen times on Friday night if it was alright to call me the following day.

I felt deeply unsatisfied after this weekend - wondering why it is that I am so bored with men, bored with the game, don't see the point, yet nonetheless still manage to end up snogging and/or shagging some random guy that I don't particularly fancy.

Should I go back to being a recluse? Spend less time at the pub? Drink less and therefore have less of a chance of making a silly twat of myself and/or leading anyone on?

This is a dilemma, bearing in mind I am coming up to a bank holiday weekend and I have five glorious days off from work and very little idea of what to do with myself.

Maybe some nights out to lesbian bars/clubs would cheer me up this weekend...

Saturday again - is this getting tedious?

Pirate Boy came around last night, ostensibly to cook me dinner, but having arrived two hours later than I expected and with nothing to cook with, we went out. Then off to my local to meet my friend and current lodger, T. T was there with the married couple that I had propositioned the female half of at a party last weekend. They just giggled when they saw me. Not only had I asked her if she would have sex with me, but before that, I had asked him "P, can I have sex with your wife?" To which he rightly answered "You'll have to ask her." I always manage to do stupid and embarrassing things when drunk. T said that that exchange would go down in infamy. Great.

After a wee bit of dancing, we came home. I was tired and still felt worse for wear from the previous night of excess. We listened to the new Arcade Fire record and then went to bed. Now it is morning, Pirate Boy is in the shower and we are meant to go to an exhibition. I can't help but feeling bored by him. The sex is pretty good, not amazing, but then again I have never known amazing sex. I do however get slightly confused when he says things, such as during foreplay this morning he said "what do you feel like?" "Um, what do you mean?" "Just tell me" "Er, I don't know." I guess I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

I don't feel gitty or excited by him as a person. He's a bad dresser, bad dancer, and what about that ridiculous grin? I am left feeling not thrilled about spending the afternoon with him - yea, come around, have sex, but then I tend to be happy when he goes and I get some time to myself.

When I describe my dealings with him to a coworker she says that I sound like a man - indifferent. Whereas she is completely neurotic about men. I wasn't always so indifferent - I think it has come with the breakdown of my marriage and then my person recovery from this.

I know it is a bit over dramatic, but I do wonder whether I will get excited by someone in that can't-stop-thinking-about-them sort of way. I can only remind myself that I am but a wee 25 and I have years to go.

Friday night antics

Had a rather strange night last night.

It all started with some bubbly after work - it was a coworker's hen do. We then went on a booze cruise on the thames - got wasted and danced to crap music surrounded exclusively by straight women. After I escaped the hen night madness, I went to my local intending to meet a friend.

I sat by myself, occasionally bumming a light from a neighbouring chap. Some sketchy french guy insisted on sitting next to me and talking to me. Then got a call from above mentioned friend asking me to meet him at my flat, so I left - beer glass in hand to walk home. On the walk home I was fiddling with my ipod when a man ran up behind me, grabbed it out of my hand and ran off. I shouted at him something along the line of - you fucking twat, what are you doing?!

I called the police and continued walking home. The police called back to say they were on the way and then the doorbell rang. There were four lads in their twenties or thirties on my doorstep. One asked if they could come and and I said no, so they showed me their badges and my mobile number that I had given to the police on the phone. Fair enough - I let them in, gave them the details, declined their offer for a drive around to try to spot the guy as I wouldn't recognise him, and the thought of driving around with the cops made me uncomfortable.

Friend then arrived and we went back down to the pub. Closing time came quick and when I tried to walk out with my beer, the bouncer confiscated it. I saw the guy who I had bummed lights off and began chatting with him and his cousin. When we were chucked out of the pub, I invited them back to my flat, stopped at the shop to get some beer, then the four of us - me, friend, lighter guy, and his cousin, went back to the flat.

After a bit cousin left, friend went to bed, leaving me and lighter guy to have a snog. I honestly didn't have anything to talk to the guy about and was rather shocked to find out that he was 40. He must have said about a dozen times - I like you, can I call you tomorrow? Yea, yea, whatever. He then went home, leaving me to sleep off the booze.

I had made drunken plans by text to go to Brighton with Pirate Boy today, but on waking with a splitting headache, I texted to say I was too hungover.

Down one ipod, up one business card of a 40 year old bachelor. Not a fair trade.

Monday Blues

Monday evening and feeling cranky from lack of sleep last night and that drop in seratonin levels lingering from a weekend of excess. Still feeling stupid for my drunken Saturday night gaffe of asking a married woman whether she would sleep with me. Not only that, but I am neither attracted to her nor even like her as a person. Not only that, but she responded with an emphatic no. Am I getting desperate?

In my morning low I thought - I want to meet someone. I want romance and love letters and mix tapes. I want someone who likes me best. Is that unrealistic? I slumped into the gym at lunch time and got some relief, to only run smack into my soon-to-be-ex-husband. I keep putting something off - making the first steps to get divorced.

After the initial chit chat, I sputtered "So, I was thinking...we should get together sometime to talk about...you know...er...."

"Divorce?" he said.

"Um, yea. I got the papers from the family court."

"What do we have to do? Does one of us have to serve the papers on the other?"

"Um, yes. We need to put specific reasons on paper. And it costs 300 quid."

"Shit."

"Yea, well, maybe we should at least start talking about it."

We tentatively booked Wednesday. Leaving me to return to work late, still hungry, and feeling no less of the Monday mean reds.

The bus stop barrister

Back in September for my coworker's birthday, we went on Friday night. Four of us single women - me the youngest by almost two decades. First we hit a local wine bar near our office and plowed our way through an unknown quantity of French white. We were chucked out at 11 and somehow along the way we picked up a barrister, another coworker and his girlfriend as we tromped up the road to somewhere still serving.

It didn't take long before there were three of us dancing on the bar - I was actually glad when the music stopped because in that state of of drunkenness, I was surprised to have not fallen off the bar. My coworkers dropped me at a bus stop to get home. No buses were forthcoming and in my double vision drunk state, I tried to hail a taxi, only to end up flailing my arms at cars that weren't actually taxis.

A man at the bus stop chatted me up and after a bit invited me to go with him to find somewhere else that still serving. This was probably a bad idea bearing in mind my current state, but I agreed. He was a barrister and had a cute Northern Irish accent. We found somewhere still open and upon receiving my gin and tonic I promptly dropped it on the floor and smashed the glass.

St closing time he invited me back to his place, which seemed like a good idea at the time. We caught a cab and went to Stoke Newington, stopped at a shop and picked up a bottle of wine and a pack of fags. He had a beautiful two bedroom flat in a converted warehouse near Clissold Park. Wood floors and high ceilings. He had recently bought it (for 350K) and even more recently moved in. Everything was in boxes.

I don't know how long we stayed up talking before we ended up in bed. I remember thinking that I had a renewed confidence in the ability of men to give good oral sex. I did, however, put this down to his age - 37.

I woke up with a killer hangover, but put on the Velvet Underground, though a bit too loud for his taste. We went to breakfast and then a wander around Clissold Park. I was slightly uncomfortable with him trying to get a bit romantic with me while we looked at the deer and rabbits and skirted away. It is one thing to have sex with a strange, but quite another to hold hands and kiss in public - this is a sign of intimacy that I am only comfortable with after a certain amount of time and commitment. He asked if he could see me again and I gave him my number, but with the warning that I had lost my phone (I was a bit disappointed with myself that I had gone drunkenly home with a man when I did not even have a mobile) and that it would be a few days for I got a new one.

He did of course text after I got a new phone and wanted to set up a date for the weekend before he was about to jet off to Riga to give a lecture. I hummed and hawed about whether to see him again as I was not sure whether I actually fancied him and felt that 37 was a wee bit old for me. A 37 year old commercial barrister earning 200K a year that was still living the bachelor lifestyle, having not even been married and divorced, was a bit strange to me.

At friends urging, I did agree to meet him once sober before making up my mind.

On the day of our date, a Saturday, I had a wicked hangover and had taken a friend/shag buddy home with me the night before. A and I dragged ourselves out of bed at around 3pm, got some lunch and then off I went to get ready. Slightly odd way to start.

We met in Chinatown at around 6, then went for a wander towards some pubs that he knew, or purported to know, as we got lost on the way. We stopped at a cash point because we both needed some funds. There I was thinking, even if I don't want to see him again, at least he said that he would take me out and, well, I've never had a guy offer to take me out on a proper date and pay for everything. Luck be it, the cash machine ate his card and he didn't have any other cards. So ultimately, I paid for it all. We went to a pub, had a few drinks, though not many because I wasn't fully recovered from the night before.

We then went on to chinatown for a meal and at about 11 I managed to bid him farewell. He did ask whether I wanted to go back to his place - cheeky bugger. To which I said I didn't feel well and had to go home.

Incidentally, I did not go home, but went and met KT and some other friends at our local and gave her the lowdown.

Oh well, an unsuccessful date. To his credit, he did get in touch to try to convince me to go out with him again and he would take me out to make up for the lost card. Honestly though, it would have been more effort than what it was worth. I decided I really didn't fancy the guy and he being 37 going on 27 didn't sit well with me.

I do still wonder whether I will run into him again - his chambers is a stone's throw from my office and I am just waiting for the day when I run smack into him on the pavement at lunch time.

A first

The first time I had sex with a woman was in 2001. It was also incidentally the last, though not by choice. Since then, I have not gotten much further than snogging friends and/or drunk straight girls trying to impress their boyfriends.

Her name was Jess and I still remember it as the cutest way that anyone came on to me. It was also the worst I have ever treated someone.

I worked in a slightly upscale pizza restaurant and had just finished waiting tables in the lunch shift and was sitting at the bar with a pint preparing my cash out. I was wearing a denim skirt and a red t-shirt that I had bought at a thrift shop and cut the sleeves off. There was a big white number nine on the back, like a sports shirt. A friend a coworker came over to me and said, “Don’t look now, but the girl in the blue shirt at table 13 wanted me to give this to you, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell her who you are.”

She handed me a folded note, which I opened and it read:

“Hey number nine, I think you are cute but I am too shy to dare to talk to you. From, girl with the blue shirt.”

Wow. Not only had no one ever hit on me while I was at work, but it was a cute girl who had written me a note! So as to not embarrass her or get my friend in trouble for having pointed her out, I scribbled a return note that said “You should come in and say hi sometime, I will be at work tomorrow night. Tereza” and gave it to my friend to hand back to her. I finished my beer and went home.

The next night she came into the restaurant and asked for me. I went to the entrance and we introduced ourselves , exchanged numbers, and made plans to meet up on Saturday night at a local pub for a drink with friends. I was gitty with excitement and went to tell my friend Bob, who insisted on coming with me (which no doubt had to do with his own fantasy).

Some background: At this time I was dating a guy who I also lived with. We had lived together as flat mates and then hooked up and became a couple a few months earlier. He was going away for the weekend for a visit back home. Respecting the fact that we were a couple and not wanting to be deceptive, I told him what had happened. I asked if he minded that I would be going out with this girl on Saturday. He said he didn’t mind. I asked him whether he realized that it would be like a date. He replied “As long as I get mine, I don’t mind.” Charming guy, I know. So, permission was granted.

On Saturday we met at a local pub for a few pints/pitchers. It was me, Jess, my friend Bob, and two of her friends. We had the usual get-to-know-you chats. She was a few years older than me (I was 20 at the time, she was maybe 25) and she worked in production for a local television station.

Somewhere in the course of the evening Bob and her two friends disappeared and I invited her back to my flat for another drink. We sat in the living room with the flat to ourselves (in addition to the boyfriend, I lived with my brother, who was also away).

So as to not lead her on, I explained that I had a boyfriend and that I also live with him. She said that she has not interest in men and also no interest in sharing someone. I thought that made us slightly incompatible in the circumstances, but nonetheless, one thing led to another and Jess and I started kissing and then ended up (surprise, surprise) naked in bed.

The sex was fun, but I was not exactly relaxed in the circumstances. As we lay in bed afterwards, I got a bit quiet and she asked whether she should go. I said that would probably be best. She left and I was slightly uncomfortable because I did not know what she wanted from me. I was living with a boyfriend and she was looking for an exclusive girlfriend. I was not prepared to break up with him and move out. I felt very guilty, so when she telephoned about an hour later (she had left without us really talking about these issues), I didn’t answer the phone. She left a message on the machine and I didn’t return her call.

I completed blew her off without ever discussing the predicament with her. When I didn’t respond to her telephone messages, she wrote me a letter and posted to me at work saying that she did not do one-night stands. For some reason, I felt paralyzed and unable to speak to her, so I didn’t.

I ran into her a few years later at a club in Boston when I went to see a band called Le Tigre. We had a few awkward words but then went our separate ways. I still feel guilty about the way I treated her - the old fuck and run.

Since then, I moved to the UK and intended to explore the side of me that is attracted to women. When I arrived at University here I went to a few GLBT meetings, but they were not really for me. I went to a club night in the hopes of meeting a woman, and instead met, at that time, my husband to be, who was there trying to meet a man.

Now I am back at square one and single.

My dear readers,

I would not want you to think I am a sexaholic. Quite the contrary, I tend to go long periods of time without either having sex or indeed even thinking about sex. When my soon-to-be-ex-husband and I split up, we were having 10 days intervals between having sex.

After we separated, I did not have (or indeed want to have) sex for ten months. I wondered whether there was something wrong with me. Would I enjoy sex ever again? Our boring, routinistic and unsatisfying sex life was symptomatic of many other problems in our relationship. It became the elephant in the room. We did not talk about it, let alone try to fix it. I simply did not enjoy having sex with him anymore, but became very self-conscious about it because I thought that I was the problem. I wondered whether I was a lesbian and even went so far as to tell him this during the course of our protracted break-up. That didn't go down well.

The problem was this: I could not orgasm during sex without the use of my vibrating friend. Even oral sex did not get me off. The concept of the g-spot vaginal orgasm was as foreign to me as Cantonese. This bred serious feelings of sexual inadequacy in me. The result was that after P and I split, I had no interest in sex, and honestly wondered whether I could shake the negative feelings. Months passed, and I began to start to feel better about myself. I started thinking about sex again when I realised that it was soon approaching one year since I last had sex.

In August I went on a beach holiday to Turkey by myself. I discovered Turkish men to be completely shameless in their attempts to hit on women. I had been in the country for about twelve hours before a man in a shop called me over and started telling me how beautiful I wad and was unlike other girls. Um, ok.

He asked whether he could show me around Fethiye, which I accepted because its always nice to be shown around by a local. It was nice, but I started to feel like I wanted to be alone. We walked back to his shop (he owned a slightly tacky shop of imitation designer clothes) and he tried to kiss me, but I managed to dodge it. I insisted that I needed to go back to my hotel to meet my (imaginary) friends. He was rather persistent but I did manage to get away and start walking back to the buss stop, only to find that he had followed me on his motor bike and tried to offer me a ride. After a firm no, I managed to carry on alone.

That night I went to a party on the beach and one of the holiday reps invited me out for a drink after the party. He seemed nice enough, so why not. He picked me up later on his motorbike and we went to a place that was charmingly called Club Grand Boozy. He got a bit frisky with me, but I didn't mind because I found that I was actually enjoying it. We went back to his place, which he interestingly shared with the girl who was the holiday rep for my hotel - he was slightly paranoid because if she came home and found him with me, he may get sacked. We did have a fun time and I was thrilled to find that I actually could enjoy sex again. With my confidence up again and the realisation that I was not necessarily doomed to an unenjoyable sex life for the rest of my life, I went on to have two more one night stands with some local men (one of which was pretty crap, but I felt good in thinking that it was not my fault).

The holiday was fantastic and I returned with a renewed confidence in myself in that I can be an attractive and sexual person. The orgasm thing is still a bit of a bother, but I have learned that this is not the be all and end all of enjoying sex.

My sex life is still a work in progress.

Friday done and dusted

We had a wee party last night, to which i invited Pirate Boy.

On my lunch break I bought a new outfit - a brightly coloured long shirt or very short dress that I had my eye on all week. I of course decided to wear it as a very short dress over leggings. I must admit, it looked pretty hot.

I didn't actually talk to Pirate Boy much, but that was fine with me. At one point he followed me into the kitchen where I went to refill my vodka and tonic, then grabbed me for a sexy kiss. He said something along the lines of "Sex in the kitchen seems like a good idea" and lifted me up so I was sitting on the kitchen counter. We carried on kissing for a bit and then decided against sex in the kitchen and rejoined the party. KT was talking to her boyfriend, who was a virtual guest at the party with the use of webcams. I went over to say hello to him and she said "What were YOU getting up to?"

Several vodka and tonics and a tequila shot later, Pirate Boy and I were naked in bed in my bedroom having a quick shag before rejoining the party with slightly disheveled hair and that post-coital glow, receiving winks from my mates.

Party continued with dancing to Michael Jackson in the living room until our doorbell rang and it was our downstairs neighbour asking us to quiet down because he had to work in the morning. At about 1am I made the executive decision to end the party and send people home, because by that time I was seeing double. Pirate Boy and went off and had another shag before falling asleep.

I woke up at 8am with a splitting hangover headache. Pirate Boy also woke up and began giving me the sort of back rub that leads to sex. It got pretty hot so I opened a condom and took it out of the packet when the doorbell rang. What timing. Our telephone line wasn't working and I had booked the engineer to come between 8 and 12. I put my robe on and went to get the door, which KT had beat me to. She wanted to go back to bed, so I stayed with the phone man. He left after about twenty minutes and I went back to my room to resume where we had left off. I threw caution to the wind in and decided to introduce my vibrator into our sex. I imagine that some men would find using a vibrator while having sex weird or uncomfortable so I had no idea what to expect from Pirate Boy. I thought, fuck it, now is as good a time as any and if we are going to continue as shag buddies, he might as well get used to it early on. Thankfully, he didn't miss a beat and was nonplussed by it.

We then went back to sleep and woke up at about noon. He said he needed to go but first we should go out for breakfast. I asked whether he had work to do today and he said no, he had to go somewhere. I asked where, and he said to do role-playing. I burst out laughing and said "Are you kidding?" No, he was not. He was going to play Dungeons and Dragons of all things.

KT joined us for breakfast and then as we were leaving a bus was arriving, so he jetted off without so much as a kiss goodbye. I didn't mind because I was slightly glad to see him go because he talks a lot and I wanted to continue tending to my hangover in peace and quiet.

Overall, the sex is pretty good, but I'm not sure I can spend a significant amount of time with him at one time.

Until next time...

Captain Barbossa

My inspiration to start this record came from last weekend.

Background:
My flatmate convinced me to sign up for a free online dating site. This is how she met her current boyfriend, who she is devastatingly in love with (despite the Atlantic Ocean separating them at present). "Go ahead" she said "It is a good way to meet new friends." So I joined. I uploaded some photos and prepared my profile, which included the statement, "I drink coffee in the shower and wine in the bath." I received the following message through the site:

"I can picture myself having a coffee in the tube (in a proper espresso china should be understood), riding a bike (hands off the handles), in the rain (à la Gene Kelly), in the middle of a riot, during an emergency evacuation, skydiving, in the hospital in coma (this will of mine shall be known of my friends) even in the peak of WWI inside the trenches under german artillery fire, but....

...in the shower??

Am impressed."

I was of course impressed. I checked out his profile and I actually thought he was cute. There was a photo of him dressed as a pirate with a stuffed rabbit on his shoulder. This made me laugh incessantly. We sent back and forth a few messages, then started regularly chatting online - for between 1-3 hours at a time - about books, music, our shared lack of understanding of "the game" as played by the english...

After a few weeks of this, we met this past Saturday. We decided to see a Saturday matinee of The Last King of Scotland (which was fantastic). We drank coffee, chatted, were late to the movie, went to a cafe, carried on talking. He was the sort of person that I thought I wanted to sleep with within about five minutes of meeting him. After a lovely afternoon, all of the sudden, he realised he was late for a work dinner so he had to jet off, with the parting note that we should meet again.

At about 10 that evening (we had parted at about 6:30) I received the following text:
"Help! Everybody in the dinner speaking bloody german. So bored! About to insult everybody and say have to go home cos i forgot my pills for the tourette syndrome!"

SO, me being me, and bearing in mind that I had been incredibly attracted to the guy, invited him to come for a drink with me and my flatmate.

(Story detour: Because I was so charmed by his sexy pirate photo, and later found out that his surname was the same name as a certain character from the Pirates of the Carribean, my flatmate dubbed him Pirate Boy.)

He agreed to come for a drink, but on the proviso that he could only stay for a half hour, because he needed to catch his train back home. Well, half hour came and went and it was decided that he would crash at ours. Whilst at the pub, my flatmate thought she saw someone we had met once before. I went on a round to see if I recognised him. When I returned, my flatmate (KT) was telling Pirate Boy about how I had shagged the above mentioned guy's friend, R (more on that later). Slightly awkward. Moment passed and we carried on drinking, did a bit of dancing (he dances like a bloody scarecrow!) and then went home about 1:30am. More drinking ensued and there was even a tequila shot thrown in.

Me, KT, and Pirate Boy sat in our lounge, talking about sex of course. Somehow KT managed to bring up another guy I had shagged - a mutual friend A. She proceeded to explain how A was a fan of my sexual style. Again, slightly awkward conversation to be having with a guy that I fancied, but so it goes.

KT went to bed. Pirate Boy and I went into my room and lounged around listening to music. I felt determined not to make the first move. And, neither did he make a move. We were up until almost 5am talking, then both crashed in my bed with nothing more than a bit of a cuddle. Until the next morning...

The following morning, I felt that erotic hand-stroking-my-back. I turned my head, and, well one thing led to another until he asked if I had any condoms in the house. KT and I have had the discussion before that we SHOULD have condoms in the house, but never quite got around to buying them. So, I said there were none, but offered to go to the shop. His head between my legs convinces me that I should in fact go to the shop.

I threw on some clothes, left the room and went to get my wallet, only to find I had no cash. Knock knock on KT's door.
Me: "Um, got any cash?"
KT: "I don't think so, why?"
Me: "You don't want to know..."
KT: "Spill it"

So, I explained my 9:30am condom call. She found a few quid and bid me good luck. Off I went into the bright outdoors. What a beautiful day! I almost forgot that I was going to get laid for the first time in 4 months and was ready to just go sit in the park. I passed a church, with everyone entering for mass (It was 9:45 on Sunday morning) and arrived at my local shop. I grabbed a litre of grapefruit juice and went to the counter. "Um. Can I have... the durex extra thins?"

Arrived back home and Pirate Boy ripped my clothes off. When we finished, he fell asleep and I went into the living room and watched two episodes of the L Word with KT. time for breakfast. Woke up Pirate Boy, had another round of sex before we set off to the cafe.

During breakfast, Pirate Boy brought up the concept of the "naff shag". KT and I looked confused and he therefore explained that the naff shag is the person that you would not normally sleep with, but might sleep with under the right circumstances. I must admit, I found this a slightly uncomfortable conversation bearing in mind that we had shagged about two hours previously.

Nonetheless, the conversation continued:
Pirate Boy: "KT, who is your naff shag?"
KT: "I would sleep with anyone under the right circumstances."

We went on to debate the relative merits of the naff shag versus the booty call. By this time I had gone off Pirate Boy. I was ready for this date to be done, but fucking typical - he forgot his watch at my flat. Finally at about 3:30pm ( 25.5 hours after we first met), he went on his way with a peck goodbye.

It makes me wonder why it is that after I sleep with someone, I lose interest. All week I have been avoiding making contact, but awaiting his next move. After a few flippant texts, on thursday we went back to having a long chat online, and what did I do? But invite him over on Friday night because we are having a party. He said he is coming and asked whether he can crash here.

I, of course, said yes.