Saturday, 28 February 2009

Families and Albino fruit Bats

Families are an unknown commodity in my life.
I love the idea of them - indeed, I wish I felt part of one but I don't. Because of that when faced with one - I generally find it difficult. Families to me, are just like gatecrashing a private member's club. By rights I shouldn't be there, I don't have membership, and I should sit in a corner until the participants have finished their private interactions.

Families are alien, something integral to the vast majority of people on this planet, but to me, they are a mystery. I may as well be talking about the nocturnal habits of albino fruit bats during the mating season.

When I was 19 year old I met Mark's family. He was my boyfriend at the time.
We both arrived at his parent's home, and his sister, his aunt and her husband whose birthday they were celebrating were all chin-wagging in the kitchen.
They were and still are a very close family who were warm and welcoming to me - but still, I stayed precisely 15 minutes before doing a runner. The Walton's had got to me.
I used the excuse I thought I'd left my gas fire on at my flat and I needed to go back home to check it was off. Jesus, couldn't I have thought of a slightly sexier ruse? My imagination must have been numbed by the overwhelming love that was being spread around the room.
The second I left their house, alone, I burst into tears. I waited nearly a year before meeting them for a second time. That time I was fine.

These days I don't find families as hard to deal with. I can control myself more now I'm older. I can stay past dinner and chit-chat afterwards without feeling inundated and I certainly don't constantly wrestle with an urge to run to the hills.

Take the other night with the lover's folks; it was good. No problems, but I can't help but feel sad when I think about the bond they have between them. An attachment which will never be broken. That must bring with it much comfort and security. The thing I crave most in life. I'm not jealous of other people having it. I'm not like that. But there is a part of me that dreams of emotional security and I think it's the type of security one would get from knowing that they are never fully alone.

Today I met with his dad, his step-mother and his sister and her beautiful new baby. It was pleasant. We giggled, we chatted, we gossiped, but still, I didn't feel a part of their clan.

Like I said before his family are really lovely people. I like them, I know they like me, but sadness seemed to grip me as I watched them all together. Their similar mannerisms, similar expressions, similar habits. The love they share is obvious, and I wish I felt that from my family, my dad.

Take Christams, I have to say I was shitting myself being with the boy's family for three days. Not because of all that wicked 'mother-in-law' baloney - none of that comes into this. It was utter fear at being faced with three days of laughter, unity and my own feelings of aloneness...

I've had Christmas with my dad once in 14 years. I'm 30. Dad goes to Algeria most years for winter, so of course some times he hasn't been around.
The one Christmas I had with him was immediately after I completed rehab. Before that, even when I knew they were in Yorkshire celebrating the mass that belongs to Christ with my step-mum's son, I was never invited.

Even this year they were in England, and guess what? The bugger's didn't invite me to go see them.
I don't know why. Christmas was not even discussed. Not once - weird, right? I think it's bloody odd - but I've given up trying to normalise a very bizarre situation.
I must live with what I've got and if that means from time to time feeling as though I must be a one woman army - so be it.... but I must remember, like this evening when the boy and I go to his brother in law's birthday shindig - I am no longer fighting a battle.

Friday, 27 February 2009

I was on top form....... apparently

this afternoon i slept for over three hours. I was in pain with my shoulder. During my snooze I dreamed that I had sex with Brad Pitt. Hell, am I turning into a teenager? I mean, Brad Pitt is cute - but dreaming about him? I feel almost embarrassed to admit, but there we go.

My shoulder is still killing me. I'm fed up with it. I'm very rarely physically unwell and when my body breaks down, it's poo.
Anyway, I must thank God I'm not suffering like Jade Goody, the poor mite.

So, today, I've been thinking about last night... dinner with mon amore's mother and step papa. I felt different last night with them. I've met them a few times, but last night I felt less urgently that I must impress them. And as a result of this today I got the feedback that I was 'on top form' last night. Funny that, I felt as though I kept contorting with discomfort with every muscle movement.

So i thought about what was meant by I was 'on top form'. I wondered if his mum actually thought I was a tad cheeky at times, because for the first time, I contradicted a couple of things she said that I disagreed with. She's a very astute and opinionated lady who loves her own way. Well, so do I, but let me tell you - I'd back down to her if ever I thought I could actual offend her with my differences in thoughts.
The last thing I'd ever want is to upset the cart.
I've no need to prove myself as an adult in a bid to have my say. I value peace these days rather than conflict, at least with boyfriend's mama. I spent years mouthing off my opinions, not caring about the consequences and look where that got me - I was miserable.
Anyway, I'm off. I've just painted my nails and tapping away and trying to avoid smudging the nail varnish is proving hard work - and I hate hard work.

Just a final thought that has just come to me ... maybe the lover's ma's comment meant that she actually thought I was more amusing and more entertaining that the previous times she's met me...
that is a possibility, is it not?
But I think I mentioned to you before... paranoia and I are regular bed fellows.

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

Nowt so queer as Folk

Ouch! My shoulder is aching. I injured myself today.
Before getting together with my fella, eight months ago I'd have quietly gone about my business with my near-dislocated shoulder and not thought too much about it.
But spending an inordinate amount of time with my handsome, great-cook,hypochondriac boyfriend, I've realised I'm turning into a health freak. Well, kind of. So I find myself with a combination of my strained shoulder muscle, my obsession with poor Jade Goody and her tragic turn of fate and a swelling under my arm, and I'm now convinced I am desperately ill.

I have to say, sitting here writing this and smelling my boy cooking us 28 day matured steak and salad (I'm off carbs for a while) perhaps I'm starting to feel a tad better already...

Oh dear, oh dear, which makes me sound more of an ass? " I'm off carbs" or "28 day matured steak"?
It's got to be my use of the word "carbs" right?
It must the the copious amount of Ibuprofen I've taken today that's getting to me. I have a habit of taking what some may think is an unnecessary amounts of over-the -counter painkillers. It's not something I should be doing really, being an
'addict' and all.
The process of me reaching for paracetamol, neurophen (spellcheck!) or codeine based pills when I get a twinge in my little toe is supposedly psychologically damaging.
Next, they say, I could find myself reaching for a bottle of vodka or maybe even a line of cocaine. Who's they? The masses of recovering alcoholics and druggies from NA and AA meetings.
But let's face it - similar to when a cheating lover uses the old chestnut "I was drunk" as their justification for turning your life upside down, it's not as if they slipped and landed on someone's cock or they'd impaled themselves onto a woman by accident, now, is it?

I like to think my use of non-prescription drugs will not end with me uncontrollably guzzling from a bottle against my will. But anything is possible, I suppose, if I don't keep my eye on the ball. The ball or balls, in this case, are my excesses - of which I still have many. For example, I use a bottle of shampoo every week and conditioner. Tubs of moisturiser, toothpaste straight into my mouth from the tube; excess amounts of washing powder for clothes, washing up liquid - then wonder why the sink is over flowing with bubbles. I've been instructed I can only use the dishwasher from now on. More coffee than is healthy - and I still manage to sleep like a cat. How I live my life is something I often have to curb because if I like something even for no obvious reason, I do it, and do it, and do it... As my Aunt Flo used to say to me 'Nowt so queer as folk.' Aye! I'll drink to that... juice, of course.

Sunday, 22 February 2009

The lover and Management speak

I'm back to my fighting weight today; smiling and chirpy, which I suppose is my usual state. At least I get told that quite a lot by other people which is lovely considering I am very open about my feelings. I don't hide anything.
If I'm down, angry or fed up people know it.

I am jolly a lot of the time despite being poor, family-less and no nearer having children or having a legitimate marriage - which is something I want in my life.
The rest of the time I fantasise about my death and wish I'd been drowned at birth...
Hey ho, anyway, back to today.

Today has been a good day. And today is my biggest concern. When I start thinking about the future, I get anxious and worried that some of my dreams I will not achieve. I worry about everything when I look into the future.
It's a blessing that I no longer live constantly in the past, though. For a long time I did and it was hell.

Today the lover has been feeling normal. Well put it this way - he hasn't been a grumpy git like he can be, which really gets on my tits. He swings from happiness to utter doom for no obvious reason, and that's without a hangover. He's not like this every day to be fair on him - but too often for comfort.

It grates on me because the guy has has everything in his life. Everything that matters. A fantastic, close and loving family. A sexy well paid job in Advertising. A home, friends, very good health. He's a hypochondriac so he gets regularly checked for cholesterol, thyroid, blah, blah, and gives blood on a regular basis - to get a free health check. He goes to the gym daily after work and watches that his diet is healthy and nutritious.
We couldn't be more different in many respects. He insists on buying only the best meat (most expensive)tons of fruit, he drinks fresh smoothies every day. He insists on eating only organic vegetables and he's a picky eater which really bugs me.

I, on the other hand aren't fussy about all that organic stuff. I am just grateful to be eating. And this morning I was certainly happy to be chomping on the delicious fry up he brought to me in bed. Organic or not - it was bloody tasty, so I shouldn't complain.

Ooo, listen to me! The cracks are showing, my friends... They've always been there - I just haven't been comfortable to share them with you yet.. Now I've started though - it'll all come flowing out. I'll take out my little log book of his misdemeanors and share them with you soon.
Just kidding! He's not that bad. Not all the time.

So it's all good at the ranch. Oh dear - did I just say that? I hate those kind of expressions... "It's all good" Oh, fuck off Gee! But you get the gist - today's been a good day. All gravy...err, another God-awful expression! "All gravy" Urrgh! Where the hell is that saying from?

Where do some of the expressions that are banded around our innocent ears come from, hey!? Take management speak - it's so harrowing to hear it at times.

I'm just a plain speaking girl from Yorkshire who doesn't tend to find herself in a, 'Blue sky thinking,' 'Move the goalposts' environment. I can do those things without verbalising them in that manner - indeed if I've understood their meaning correctly.
Hearing people use that kind of filthy language actually turns my stomach and nearly make me throw up. Luckily I don't get to hear those sayings often. And thank God that the lover, despite working in Advertising where this kind of speak is acceptable (actually, it's promoted) he despises it. In fact it's probably offices like the one he works in that bloody invented these grotesque sayings.

Let me tell you, I've worked in an office and I sometimes still do, but thank fully I've never had all that crap imposed on me daily.
You know something... I only learned how to use a computer in the past 3 years.
Before that my first 18 months after rehab I'd spent fucking one of the guys I met while in there and trying to hide from my scary new reality.
I remember that first time I went to a recruitment agency after getting clean and leaving prostitution.
It was an awful, awful experience. One I'm glad I don't need to ever repeat.
I'll tell you about that tomorrow.

Saturday, 21 February 2009

saturday hangover

God, the lover is pissing me off.
I can't bear being with a guy who is quiet and solemn when he has a hangover. I cant bear to be with a man who has a weekly hangover.

This is a hard quandary I find myself in.
Since I stopped drinking and pumping my body full of toxins and strangers ejaculate... OK, they did use condoms, but anyway...I haven't had a relationship with anyone that, God forbid, gets drunk on a friday night after work.

Well, I kind of did, briefly. That was with the 51 year old silver haired sexpert who was one of the horniest fucks of my life. He drank a fair amount too regularly for me to feel totally comfortable with his liqour consumption.
The current lover restricts his binges to friday evenings with his work colleagues. A practice I have often mocked (perhaps jealously) and described as 'following the herd,' 'twee','tedious','monotonous'... should I go on? No? okay then...

Yes, I know it may seem completely unreasonable - especially considering friday night drunkeness is ingrained in British culture.
As a non drinker I would be most comfortable in a relationship where my partner drank very little, and very rarely if ever, got drunk. In fact never getting drunk would be good, like my last relationship - the sexless one.

I don't need my boy to be abstinent, like me - I just don't want him getting pissed every week then ruining Saturday's with a hang over. It's a dull, boring habit. Change the record mate.

I spent many times early in our union, and if I'm truthful I still think even today, 8 months on - am i not enough? Why must he drink to get drunk? Why then does he get so absorbed in his weekly boozing ritual that I then get cast to one side of his mind and he doesn't call me for five hours?
I hate that.
I want his attention all the time, even when he's getting pissed - in fact especially when he's getting pissed. Drunkeness makes everyone vulnerbale to so many dodgey things, that considering I'm completely sober, literally all the time, it's not something that I'm always at ease with.

He's not an alcoholic, so i know his weekly piss-up it doesn't ruin his life, but he's going out with an alchi and I wish he'd understand why I get into a strop when faced with a sweating and morose chap who's likely to have an anxiety attack on me at any moment. He gets them from time to time. He's a sensitive soul.

You know something? I do wish, at times, I could join him on these sessions and drink like the rest of them - maybe that's what my real problem is; I can't.

Well, I could, but as I said to you before - I choose not to... "boring!" The frustrating thing is - I know that if I did jump on his band wagon and get drunk as a skunk, that first time we'd probably have a brilliant and fun evening together. Probably, not definitely. Of course the fun would only last until the next morning and my overwhelming guilt at tumbling off the wagon would force me to push him away while I set to work condemning myself to a life of grim inevitability.I used to be very aggressive and rude when I was drunk. In an instant I'd turn into a rabid monster who was out to impose my self-hatred onto anyone in hearing distance of me.

The lover is not like this. Drunk or sober he's a friendly soul who has never courted Satan never mind invited the dark side into his home and into his daily life, as I did.
The boy doesn't switch like a maniac just 'cos he's tipsy - he's jolly and he enjoys himself, and other people enjoy him so what's my problem?
He said this to me earlier today 'You don't like me doing anything that doesn't involve you.'
How arrogant. But maybe, just maybe, he has a point.

Friday, 20 February 2009

an ex and a curry

I'm home.
I just got in after meeting with an ex... how can I describe him? Calling him an ex-boyfriend seems too strong a description - an 'ex-fuck-buddy' does not give what we had enough credit. OK, he was someone I had a thing with; fling, liaison, romance... (sounds old fashioned, huh?) whatever you want to call it - we once had an intense sexual thing for approximately 2 months.

He's a good friend now and he was at the time.
This evening we met at Farringdon, went to Smiths for drinks; he had beer, one pint of, I had diet coke.
Afterward we went for a curry.

Shortly before arriving at the restaurant he started pawing me and trying to suggest we re-ignite our past affair.

"I'm seeing someone" I told him.
"It's okay" he said

He left it for all of five minutes before her started again. I felt uncomfortable and instead of realising that, he persisted, defiantly, proclaiming that I would go back to him.

" No I won't"
" Yes, you will. I gave you the best sex of your life."

Isn't it funny how some men believe their own propaganda?
I'll be the judge of our sex being the best of my life - and let me tell you, although it was good. It wasn't the best - I know. I was there.

Saturday, 14 February 2009

just another day

Saturday 14th February 2009

8:15 Was woken up by the lover who was muzzling my neck and rubbing my clit.
8:17 The lover maneuvered his way under the duvet and nestled his face where the axe man got me. Apparently he loves organic flavours, personally I prefer to have a shower first (probably a habit I can't shake off from my time as a hooker) but if that's what he likes who am I to argue?
8.30(ish) We both went back to sleep.
11:00 The lover was already up and he came back into the bedroom to say: "I love you, I love you, I love you." - so sweet. How could I be annoyed at being woken up before I was ready?
11.01 Went back to sleep.
12.30 Finally got up.
12:35 Made coffee using Taylors no.3 coffee beans and sat on the sofa while he watched football.
12.50 Went in the shower and washed my hair.
13:15 The lover went in the shower and I put one Kanye West's 'Late Registration' starting with the track 'Mama.'
13.16 Started trying to dry my hair, condition it and brush it. Quite a task.
13.26 The lover dressed and left the flat to go to a local shop to buy two Pizza Express pizzas and salad. I had pepperoni, he had something different but I've no idea what.
14:15 I wore: a bright pink sheer tong,a black lace tight vest to contain my size 30Es, over that a slate grey casual silk top from Riess, navy skinny jeans, and white leather converse. I wore my black fitted 3/4 length wool coat and a bright lilac coloured cotton/linen scarf.
14:40 More coffee and cigarettes.
15:05 I wore no make up, took no bag and put two bank cards in a back pocket of my jeans. I carried a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in my coat.
15:24 On the train heading to Canary Wharf.
15:55 Arrived at Canary Wharf.
16:35 The lover bought me a bag that I'd spotted. A complete surprise. He told me he was popping to the loo and he went back to the shop and bought it fro me. Lovely. I was shocked and thrilled.
17:10 Spotted Danny Dyer AKA fit cockney actor who gave me the eye as I checked out his packet. He's bloody sexy even with the dark circles under his eyes. Didn't stare too long though. He was with a pretty blonde thing.
18:55 Arrived at the lover's place armed with food from Waitrose. He's in the bath right now reading Esquire magazine before he cooks us dinner of blackened pork with stir fried vegetables with a chinese style sauce. I'm about to lie on the sofa to stare at the TV before we watch the film In Bruge.

All in all a thoroughly pleasant day. Lots of kisses and cuddles as usual - and the bonus of a MoonPig personalised Valentine card and a swish bag.
Who was it that said she doesn't celebrate Valentine's day? Well as you can see in our own way, I suppose we have.

Friday, 13 February 2009

Valentines Shmalentines!

I feel reluctant to even give Valentine's day the pleasure of my finger tapping - but I think it is only right that I do not ignore a day which for many is seen as sacred.
I don't subscribe to Valentine's. To tell the truth I find it all a tad cringey. I read in a news paper about how women, allegedly, that say this actually say it to cover their ass in case they get ignored during this time of showering ones love with the attention you couldn't be bothered to give during the past year. But now the start gun has gone off we must all jump to attention and get the previous year's plastic rose from out of the top of the wardrobe and grab those crotchless knickers from your other lover's home.

God, you know what? I actually sound like one of the women that are allegedly terrified of being alone when the world is celebrating love, but I'm sure I'm not one of them. At least I'm not conscious of feeling that way.

I have to admit to you though, since the lover wanted to take me out tomorrow and I refused, instead he's taking me out tonight - for dinner. Tonight suits me better to avoid starry eyed couples holding hands across restaurant tables while casting aside the crap of their past year together,by outwardly abiding to what they see as protocol on this here day.
I'd rather sit at home eating toast than part take in such contrived shows of adoration - and all because it is dictated to us. Any other night of the year and I find it sweet but on Valentine's day? No thank you. In my opinion one should exercise the 'new going' out by staying in.
Surely there's far more fun ways indoors to express your lust, I mean, love...

Thursday, 5 February 2009

sex for the ears

Insulting someone in the nicest possible way

'It's the thought that counts' is a statement which irritates the crap out of me.
My ex-boyfriend used this too many times when we first met and it really got up my nose. I thought he was taking the piss out of me by saying:
"yeah, I saw blah, blah and I thought of you..."
" Yeah? where is it then?"
It's not the thought that counts it's the doing - that's my philosophy - and if you can't 'do'then just don't mention it. Keep le mouth shut.
But over time I realised that he was saying this out of embarassment, because when we met he had no money. So what he'd do, the gorgeous mite, was tell me what he fantasised about being able to do more for me, for example holidays and Cartier - nice! But he simply couldn't afford to.
The poor guy had lost masses of money on a business venture which hadn't worked.
We'd got together when he was depressed and worrying himself sick about the plight he was in and I too, I was going through massive changes - I'd recently left rehab when we hooked up.
He and I had been friends for 3 years before we got together as a couple,(never done this before) that's why he bothered to tolerate my apres-rehab quirks (neurosis) and I tolerated his poverty. Kidding! I don't need to be with a rich man. God no! Altho, it'd be nice.
But I do want a man who can take me for dinner and the occasional weekend away and perhaps a couple of holidays a year. I think that is reasonable, no?

Anyway so back to my ex. We had already established a respect and a liking for one another before we got together. He knew me when I was drinking, sniffing and fucking for cash. Of course, he didn't know that I had sex for money - he'd have run to the hills and never got involved in a relationship with me; even after I'd stopped living that life.
He is very proud and the thought that people knew his girlfriend had once been a hooker would have killed him.
He'd admired my ' independence.' We met by both of us going to Kabaret, a club in SoHo.
He saw I never relied on other people (men) for drinks or taxis etc. After over 2 years of utter bliss together I realised why we'd remained just friends during the three years prior to our union.

No sex.
Ok, very rarely. And when we did it was usually just oral.
In the last 7 months we did no physical activity except kiss( peck) and holding hands. There just wasn't kind that of connection.
Can you believe it? hilarious, no? I, an ex-hooker end up in love with a man and in a sexless relationship.
But after 2 years I spoke to my dad and step-mum about the situation. When my 77 year old father told me that it was'not normal' I knew I had to get out. It turns out he and his wife were having more sex than me.

Another expression that is just silly is: ' With all due respect...' i.e.
'With all respect that's due to you, you're an c**t' - What a beautiful way to insult someone.
It's totally obselete in its most commonly used fashion, but it typifies middle-England inverted snobbery.
This was a favourite of my fathers.
Another phrase daddy enjoyed banding around was 'Madam' or 'Sir'; generally used when he was pissed off with someone.
The things that would piss him off are wide and varied but usually they amounted to him feeling 'snubbed'. An example of this could be if he said good morning to a shop assistant and they hadn't replied he'd launched into something along the lines of:
'Madam, I said Good morning to you and I find it most rude that you didn't have the decency to respond'.
God, I used to cringe - really bad.
When I was young I hated the way my father spoke. It is so English, so proper.
Of course now I love it, and the men who share a similar accent. But Saying that, the lover does have an accent but it's certainly not plummy English.

As a child I would see daddy getting cross over things which were of no concern to me, but quite naturally he'd share them with me. He didn't have a partner to confide his day to day disgruntlements with so I was the closest thing to that, almost a surrogate wife.
I was treated as an equal by my dad from the age of 5 years old. Our relationship is/was complex.
My opinion was asked on all things. And the only time I recall it being ignored was when I suggested we swap my single goldfish, for a tank full tropical fish. The answer was no, and I was reminded that in the time I'd had my pet goldfish I'd never washed it out and changed its water. Not once.

If anything is proof that I wasn't spoilt - it is this. I didn't get everything I wanted, you see. I didn't get those bloody fish!
I'm not bitter...
no, really, I'm not.

25 snippets of inane information about me.

25 bits of inane information about me.1.

1. I have size 6 (39) feet
2. I love Curb your Enthusiasm and I love Chris Rock
3. I hate people over apologising or over thanking me for something ( although I do both myself)
4. I hate someone coughing without covering their mouth
5. I love chilly and well spiced food.
6. I love sex in a hot country.
7. I wear a big silver ring on my middle finger, right hand.
8. I’m addicted to Eye Dew eye drops which I use throughout the day .
9. I’m a good cook. At least I thought I was, before the lover started cooking for me. Now I feel that my cooking skills are a little redundant
10. My bra size is 30E. Sounds huge but at 5’10 it works well.
11. I had 50/50 fruit and cereal Dorset Muesli for breakfast this morning giving ‘unadulterated breakfast pleasure.’
12. I sleep on my back. Always. Not my side, or tummy. Nope. Just my back.
13. I smoke Lucky Strike or Marlboro Lites, roughly10-15 a day. ( sometimes more)
14. The most important thing in life is: Peace of mind.
15. I usually go to bed between 10.30/11pm. The lover is obsessive about sleep and is ritualistic (controlling) about it.
16. I hate wasting water. Running a tap for an unnecessary length of time is wasteful, vulgar, and thoughtless.
17. I love to sleep. If I don’t sleep during the day over the weekend, I feel robbed.
18. I am the first born of my mother’s 4 children and the last of my dad’s 4 kids.
19. I love to be educated by the man I am with. I greatly respect and get turned on by a bloke who is fiercely intelligent and who knows more about ‘stuff’ than I do.
20. My mobile phone is a Sony Ericsson.
21. The last three places I went on holiday - Seville, Egypt and Sri Lanka.
22. I am defensive and usually doubt people’s motives. Sad but true.
23. I brush my teeth, gums, and tongue twice in succession first thing in the morning, and once in the evening.
24. I had a fling with a film maker last year, who asked me to go to Ecuador with him while he shot some documentary about something which I had little interest in. I refused, but the problem didn’t lie there. It lay in the fact that I felt as though the last two times we’d had sex he’d been selfish and focused more on himself. I can’t tolerate that. It signals a lack of adoration, which is something I require. I give it, and I need it back. That was the beginning of the end.
25. I desperately want to do river rapids in Colorado (don’t ask)

Wednesday, 4 February 2009

the lover is sexually assaulted

The lover told me something funny last night; at least I found it humourous.

On his way to my place after he'd finished work, he was standing waiting for a train on a busy platform when he caught some random guy checking him out.

He always gets this.
I've never been with another boy who gets checked out as much by men. I've notice more men staring at him than women do - unless it's just that women are more discreet about it.

Anyway, he gets onto the first busy train that pulls into the station...and the other bloke follows him into the same carriage.
Minutes later, after much uncomfortable eye shifting, the lover's admirer disembarks the train but just before doing so, he squeezed passed my boy and rubbed his hand over the lover's crotch.

I felt instantly jealous when he told me this. Silly I know.
We've agreed to have a monogomous relationship so someone else grabbing at his packet felt an intrusion.

"Did it turn you on?" I asked him?
" No. I can't say it did" He replied with a straight face.
" well how did he do it?"
" Get up I'll show you"
"Ooo, is that how he did it? It was quite firm then.."
" What was?" he asked
" well, you know, the way he fondled you."
" Don't use that word! 'fondled' it sounds so creepy."

" What did you do after 'the fondling'?" I laughed.
" As he got off the train I shouted to him to get back on and finish what he'd started" The lover smirked.

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

Men posing as Women? Pointless.

I was asked something today (on my Miss Gee facebook page) based on my writing and apparently, the 'lack of evidence pointing toward me being a woman'. Oh, and the fact that I 'Seem to have an understanding of what a man thinks when it comes to his own semen,'
I was asked, if indeed I am a man, posing as a woman?

Well, the question is somewhat dispensable but still, i must say I was aghast initialy; someone questioning my female prowess. Shocking. But I guess it's a fair question considering there are only a couple of people reading this that know me and can certify that my genitalia is certainly that of a female homosapien.

You know something? Even writing this now I'm thinking I wonder how many seeds of doubt I'm planting in your mind right now by bringing this topic to the forefront... Or maybe, just maybe, I'm doing a spot of reverse psychology - and calling your bluff!
I'm just kidding!
I'm not that kind of joker. That type of humour I don't find overly funny, so I will treat you with the decency you deserve mon cheries and remain all woman.

It's odd, that it never occurred to me until very recently that a man would pose as a woman on a social networking site. Why bother? If it's to lure unsuspecting women into a false sense of security, wowing them with pretend girlishness, only later to announce that they do in fact vaguely resemble a female - but with a cock and no tits,I'd be freaked out, not turned on by that.
The other possibility as I pointed out to my dear friend who brought my sex into question was that the only possible advantage for a man posing as a woman, is if that man is gay and he's hoping to encourage fit young bucks onto his page... But come on! If that were the case - why pretend to be a girl if he is interested in men? Pointless.

Doubting Thomas also based his judgment of my biology based on the fact that I say things as I see them, taste them, smell them, experience them, with little flowering over the grit.
What else can one do, huh?
My perception is what I share with you, be it ridiculous or life changing... OK, that's a step too far - but you now what I mean.

By the way: This is a good time to let you know that I received my ovulation tablets through the post yesterday.

Ha! There ya go Mr Non-believer! You see, I have a womb - albeit defunct - it's still a womb. Which is more than you can say, so there!