Tuesday, 31 March 2009

one night stand

How dare he not call me! I am a fuckin’ catch! We've all been there... well, most of us have. You know who and what I’m talking about, right? That bizarre territory: The one night stand.

I didn’t know much about the guy, and quite honestly I didn’t care. After all I wasn’t doing this for marriage, I was doing it for my own pleasure.
I didn’t care what his politics were, how many siblings he has, or what his favourite food is – I was just interested in finding out if he was circumcised or not. He was charming, intelligent and he had thick fingers.

The decision was made and I was doing this on my terms.

We’ve all had a one night stand; some, more than others. We may not want to admit it maybe not even to ourselves, but every woman hankers after the thrill of unchartered territory, especially while trying to get over a break up. OK, so in retrospect it may not be the wisest of moves but nevertheless it’s one many people follow.

At the time I thought I was doing what any other self-respecting, sassy girl would do; getting myself a servicing.
We’d talked enough, I’d watched his lips as he talked and I’d checked the bulge in his jeans –none too shoddy. So phase two was at play - we went to bed. Within moments, my legs were spread wide open as he lavished me with the attention I’ve been lusting after.

Although exhausted with all the unnecessary chat, he easily stimulated me and awakened my inner hussy.
Not knowing this guy until hours earlier I didn’t have the self consciousness that can occur, had I been on a few dates with him first, so I could let loose and do things I otherwise may not - without caring how he judged me or if the neighbours heard.
After all I may never see this bloke again, so if I wasn’t wearing matching lingerie and hadn’t shaved my legs for days, what difference would it have made? What was he going to do? Back out? I don’t think so.

But because I’d invited him over with the soul intention of riding him - I was prepared. So why the hell has nothing happened since? I mean my legs were silky smooth and I give incredible head,I figured his sexual style before feeling his dick, so what the hell?

In the morning as I lay next to him I stretched by the side of the bed for any article of clothing big enough to cover my front and back bottom before sliding out, desperately clinging onto my modesty; disregarding the fact that hours earlier he was getting more personal with my lady garden than a louse sucking on a horses ear.
So it shouldn’t matter what he sees now, right? Wrong. Strangely, it matters more now than ever!
As I apologetically head towards the bathroom, I feel his eyes boaring into the back of my disheveled hair judging my every move.
I’m desperate for him to be more interested with what’s happening on the ceiling than with me. I turn to look at him and try gauge what he’s thinking. He just stares at me intensely.
The kind of look that rattles your cage and is unnerving, but totally turns you on; like a lion that’s caught its prey. Men – you gotta love ‘em.

As I quickly but quietly shut the bathroom door, finally; I can breathe, I can fart, stare at last night’s make - up smeared down my face and itch that spot which has been plaguing me for the past hour.

Why the hell do I put myself through this? Well, it seems fun at the time, and I’m certainly not
complaining when he’s making me feel like the only woman he’s touched since the start of the new
millennium. So the start of the big questions: Will I see him again? Will he call? What’s gonna happen now?
Of course if the sex had been crap and my loins weren’t adequately awakened, I wouldn’t bother asking myself these questions, instead I’d console my lack of morality with remembering what my Auntie Joyce used to say to me ’The proof of the pudding is in the tasting’, so that’s what I’m doing, having a good old bite of the pie.
What’s wrong with that? Girl’s like fun too.
We may not like to admit it, but before we’ve even kissed him good bye, us girls are asking
ourselves if this is the guy that will take us off the shelf and give us a regular dusting over?
So as you hesitantly bid your lover farewell, wondering if he really will call you try to read his face for any signs. Nothing.
Whoever said we aren’t meant to have any expectations of people was living in a dream land; people do all the time.
We think that if someone can caress with such tenderness, and kiss you like his life force was being
delivered through the joining of our mouths as we inhale each other’s breath; that this has got to mean something. So, why isn’t he calling? Doesn’t he want me? How can he not want me? Doesn’t he think I was a vixen in bed? Of course I was a bloody vixen in bed!

Although I want to act like I don’t care, I do. I’m hurt and confused he hasn’t called.
I’m a big girl, I got what I wished for, so why the grump?
All too often myself and my friends spend an inordinate amount of time dwelling on an event that lasted 30 minutes (if you are lucky), about a man who let’s face it probably leaves the toilet seat up, and scratches his crotch in public.
Remembering that a one night stand can be invigorating, even empowering, and just plain horny, if it remains just that; and we let go of it, and don’t pine after the person after they’ve left. In his company he treated me well, and I laughed a lot. Why should I feel used, or unworthy? Is it still a mistake when it leaves you feeling bad? Yes? But I got what I wanted. I had fun, the sex was satisfying but I’m not happy…. What was that? “Be careful what you wish for…?”
Oh, hitting me with that old chestnut, are ya?

By the way: thanks for voting for what you wanted to read next...

Sunday, 29 March 2009

Better with Time

OK I’ve just listened to Leona Lewis - 'Better in Time'. She's lovely, no? Leona, I mean... I bow down to my mixed race sistah, for all her talent and integrity. I love when young people are able to work at their passion and become successful. Anyway, so as I was saying... I've just heard 'Better in Time' on the radio, and I have no desire to slash my wrists or throw myself off my building and impale myself onto the artwork below.
I must be recovering from my break up; for now anyway. I’m very changeable – I don’t think you need me to remind you of that.
I don’t have a sniffle in sight, over here. In fact late last night I wondered if my relationship with my boyfriend had ever actually happened? It seems distant some how, almost an imagined, extended moment.

“Was it all that easy. To just put aside your feelings” Leona Lewis
It’s not that I’m not thinking about him. I am, but it feels peculiarly as though one moment he was here, next - gone. Just like that. Gone. Did he ever exists?
Much like my mother. She was with me – then in a moment, a simple gesture of waving at her and she disappeared from my life never to be seen since. And that was 26 years ago.
“Thought I couldn’t live without you.”Leona Lewis-
I actually thought this about my boy a few months back. The psychologist reminded me that 4months ago, this is how I was talking to her. My fears were far worse than the reality, it often is, no? But now I’m questioning my own sincerity.I don't consider myself fickle, so what the fuck? How could I jump from an intense belief of love for him ( and others before him) to this? And this, at it's worst has been sadness tinged with a resignation to the reality of our incompatibility. For the first time ever during a break up I don't think I'm going to die. I don't think my life is over - you know why? Because with my boy I wasn't dependent. He's the first relationship where I have not needed him for something, and that is a revelation for me.
“Thinking that I deserve it. Now I realise that I really didn't know” Leona Lewis–
It’s as if my boy and I were trapped in a plug hole, perpetual gravity forcing us to spiral repetitively downwards and neither of us had the guts to do anything to change it, for 9 whole months. I could have grown, fed, loved, and kept a baby warm in my tummy ready to be hatched during that time. Nine months is not to be sniffed at. Life goes from nothing to existence and clearly the other way round. I thank God we didn’t spend more time trying to find the balls to eject ourselves from a no-win situation.

“If you didn't notice you mean everything”
Leona Lewis –
How can I do this to myself all the time? Why when I’m with someone do I take my friends, my focus, my ambitions, my individual life, pop it onto my shoulders then heap it all into the toilet?
I could blame him and say I was with the wrong person, which indeed I was – But this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. How weak and pathetic. If you met me you would never guess that I can be like that. It must be the obsessive side – I give everything all or nothing. Not good...not good.

“All I know is I'm gon' be ok”
Leona Lewis.

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Saturday, 28 March 2009

advertising for a husband

'Ex-coke-head-party-girl , slightly mixed up on occasions, not all the time, but some times. Not very conventional – but gives appearance of being so externally, seeks husband.'

About me:
I’m friendly, warm, I genuinely like and care about human kind – unless of course you’re an asshole, then I don’t have tolerance for that. I’m hard, I’m very soft. I’m kind and rarely mean – and if you’re mean to me, I wont be mean back. I will simply not speak to you ever again. But there are different levels of meanness and you have to be pretty insulting to get to me, and that’s not a dare by the way... I’m emotionally demanding and need to be treated with tenderness most of the time and I need a good talking to on occasions.
I’m affectionate and I’m funny, on a good day and thanks to the tablets I have many ‘good days’. I’m vibrant, vivacious, beautiful , good in bed and modest, and I enjoy laughing at myself more than at others.

I seek:
Male 33+, who is calm - very important attribute. Two hot headed folk together, trouble makes. He must be laid back, not easily fazed and let me chatter away some of my over anylitical neuroses, and love me through them. He must be strong, emotionally and spiritually and he mustn’t drink to get drunk and he never takes drugs. He loves sex and is intense but does not want me swing off light fittings or participate in anal, just cos it indulges his ego.
He must be tall,over 6’2, any build, any nationality. The basics, good teeth, clean... god, do we really need to mention those things in this age? He must be kind and be close to his mother. He does not have any outstanding warrants for his arrest and neither does he have any ongoing resentments or feuds that overcast his life. He is patient, with me and small children. He must be creative, talented, and passionate about life and people. He is interesting and interested. He must be compassionate towards others and loyal towards me. And of course fiercely intelligent. He must be able to teach me or bring different perspectives to my views.
Any ideas?
Just one small thing ... I’d never consciously be with a man who knows about my past before we’ve met – particularly the sex part of my past. I would always miss-trust him and his reasoning at being with a woman he knows was a call girl. Yep, no doubt that is about my judgment towards myself, about the things I did – which would make me suspicious of a guy’s motives who took this on board. I’d be obsessed with the idea that he’s talking to me and the whole time thinking of me as a hooker.
There you go B – maybe that’s why we haven’t got together after such a long ‘courtship.’ And there you go ... finally I’ve mentioned you, here. Happy now!?

I think arranged marriage is the future... I really do...Maybe I will advertise for a husband? What do you reckon? It makes sense to thrash out the actualities of two people being together rather than doing all that guess work and tip-toing around one another’s thoughts feelings about the present and the future.
Or perhaps I could get my friends to ‘interview’ a number of men and arrange me a marriage. I'll wait a little, get my book into Borders, then get cracking with the next part of my future plan.

Sounds good, huh? Yes, I think so too...

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Friday, 27 March 2009

fingers and squidge

I'm knackered.
I'm not sleeping properly and my emotions are so up and down despite taking beta blockers here and there the past days.
Yes, I do get them prescribed - I don't often take them though. Only when really needed.
Anxiety is a massive issue for me. My body is so used to secreting massive doses of adrenalin (past cocaine mis-use, no doubt) that if someone sneezes I jump into the air. Actually I'm exaggerating there, but really, I can go from still to Pluto in literally a second. I hate it, it's not pleasant but I do try and manage it the best I can. Usually by waiting for it to subside then giving myself some power chat.
Sometimes this works better than others - and when I am medicating with beta blockers, I realise I am not managing as well as I'd like, which would be to not be taking them. But nowadays, I no longer give myself a hard time for reaching for the blister packet and popping a red pill.
I struggled emotionally and continue to do so for many years that, if I occasionally feel the need to take prescribed medicine in the way it has been prescribed to me, I will. When I started taking anti-depressants for the first time 3 years ago I was saddened by the amount of time I'd wasted beforehand fighting a losing battle with a condition that at times made me incapable of going to the shop to buy milk.

I was like this in my second year of abstinence. A wreck. I was struggling terribly and I couldn't cope with living without the crutches I'd depended on all my life. When I think of the number of times anti-depressants were suggested to me and the number of times I refused them, believing that I would relapse into cocaine and drink, or that I am socially inadequate for not being able to manage my emotions - all that time was wasted.
It was in fact 5 weeks after I started taking SSRI's for the first time that I found the confidence to get myself a job.
My struggles weren't over, but the war had finished.
I found a temporary solution to a very real illness.
The past days I have not been suffering depression, I've just been down.
I am weaning myself off another human being. I grew accustomed to having the boyfriend around; laughing with him, bickering with him, touching him - and now he isn't here. Have you ever read the book ' Love sick' - It describes the actual biological effects on the body and the chemical effects on the brain when a habitual relationship is severed.

I'm OK though - I will get over this. I must just concentrate on work. I have much to do. When I refer to work I'm not talking about my current office employment. That's going fine. Nothing more,nothing less.
Nope, here I'm talking about my work, my book, my dreams, my ideas. I love nothing more than dipping my fingers into lots of squidge and seeing what comes out of it... and hopefully it'll be something tasty - sweet or spicy, it's all flavour. And experimenting with difference tastes is what I love to do.

And if I'm not finger dipping - some other stuff I like is:

1. the smell of slightly damp concrete.
2. freshly laundered cotton sheets.
3. flowers. Any type, and usually yellow.
4. sunshine. Everything seems brighter on a sunny day. Life glows.
5. the smell of petrol turns me on. literally.
6. afternoon snoozing cannot be beaten. Not even by squidge on my fingers. And that moment when you are aware that you're just about to drop off. That, right there, is nirvana, in the land of Gee.
7. laughing. Lots of laughter. Any medium works for me. I love to laugh until I get to the point where I have to pull myself together.
8. kissing without leading to sex. Altho in my mind it nearly always leads to sex, but I love the contentment of smooching somewhere public knowing that you are simply uniting with one another. And you feel your knickers getting moist, but nothing can be done about it. You just enjoy what you're doing then and there.
9. climaxing through cunnilingus then sleeping, without me feeling the need to indulge my partner in exchange. This is rare. Not rare that I don't give him a suck and tug in return, but rare that I don't feel I should. (hell, does that make sense?? not rare, rare...you know what i mean though, right?)
10. A lengthy foot massage is the ultimate seduction. Could only be bettered if Tyson Beckford was applying the pressure - but then I'd only be focused on feeling his cock than enjoying the moment.

hey ho...

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

brim full of soul


Tuesday, 24 March 2009

On the Up!

Do you know what I'm doing right now?

Well let me tell you mi amiga/os - I'm eating cake and drinking tea.
I'm here, at home with my lap top in my sexy but small flat, the blinds are open and I can see the Millennium Dome and the Thames glistening below.

I am a very lucky bunny.

I am healthy, I'm looking hot right now, been doing my eye make-up differently. I'm feeling slim and my new hair just can't stop getting me compliments.

I've just arrived home from a late appointment with the Psych (remember, Psch = Psychologist. She's not a 'Shrink' in the technical sense.)
I feel good tonight. I'm hopeful for the near future and I'm not shitting myself about life as a spinster.
Actually I'm not technically a spinster anyway, am I? - I've been married twice already, and as you know, both marriages at the same time. So spinster I am not, Bigamist I may be - but that's all in the past now, Y'honour.

So, life could be looking glum at the moment, but it's not feeling it. I mean, I'm broke, I'm boyfriend-less, I'm potentially homeless soon 'cos I'm broke and I'm more likely to pass a gall stone than a credit check, but I've still got a great pair of enhanced tits and a cute smile, which let me tell you will only get cuter when I spot my next fuck piece.

What can I complain about? Summer is coming (supposedly), I'm going on holiday, who with I don't know yet - but I have a spare ticket...
My dad is well, L. one of my closest friends is bronzed to perfection (she says) while sunning herself somewhere in the depths of Asia. Another friend has just managed to hold onto her temperamental boyfriend a while longer - so everyone is happy.

All good in Gee Towers, except one thing which I am not sure how to deal with - no not Irish. I've avoided that situation at the moment. I know what the potential is to find him impaled onto my body, despite not yet being ready for new dick. It's high. The potential, that is...
Nope, my biggest problem right now is one I thought I had rectified on Sunday. But it appears as though I haven't...
My hair has split ends.
I've had many compliments about my sleek new do the past couple of days, and although it looks all right the condition is clearly appalling. It's all gone to pot since I had the red colour put through it a couple of weeks back.

Now, this situation with my hair, I will use as a metaphor to describe one of personal dislikes in life:
Something giving the appearance of perfection (which lulls the observer into a false sense of security) but on closer inspection, the cracks (the split ends in this case) scream with laughter and point at you as you admire it.

Now, I'm not one of those 'Imperfections make the beauty' kinda gals. Nope. I like the full and honest picture from the beginning. I like people to be open about what they want, how they feel, how they like it.
If it's cracked, split, chipped, or held together with tissue - just give it to me straight. Tell me if you're fucked up and deeply insecure at least then I can make my decision to run to the hills.... or run to the mountains.

Of course the taste is in the eating, I know that, and I also know that this is irrelevant to my hair, because no one except me knows that my hair is wrecked, and no one except me cares - but the fact that I know is enough for me not to want to suffer it.

Let's face it if it wasn't for me experiencing acute paranoia (insecurity) when I first got with my fella, I wouldn't have started to see the Psych. No one would know that I am a walking bag of insecurity who used to sell her snatch for cash.
I carry it well - but I know.
In the same was that I know my hair is screwed - and the only way forward is to have a large amount of it lobbed off. It's dead at the ends. I can work with it no longer.

Get rid of it. Start again. Take no (split-end) prisoners.

It's no biggie and no one will get hurt cos my hair has turned into straw - but when it comes to people - Well, pretending to be something I'm not could be harmful, or hurtful, no?
I used to play these games (or try to) a lot in my past - and altho fun at times it was friggin draining, hard-work.

Tonight when talking to Psych, I realised just how fortunate I am with everything I have and have not, today. My life has changed beyond recognition (emotionally.) So what, I don't have a boyfriend? Who cares? So what if I don't have money? At least I don't dont get fucked by strangers for the little I have.
So what if I'm unsure of myself at times? At least I no longer have psychosis and I'm not trapped in a relationship with cocaine.

But let me tell you what I do have... I got love in my heart maaan. I got a Daddy who loves me and whom I adore. I've got friends (altho I'm rubbish at keeping contact. Err, sorry girls.)
I've got a belly full of cake; Oh and I got my rabbit. Let's not forget my faithful friend who's in desperate need of some attention... And If I want a piece of real dick I'll just open my phone book and dial out for some.

Right now,this moment, I love that I'm sober. I love making choices I'm less likely to regret in the morning than if I was high and just 'acting' without thinking.

So, just for an example, nothing more than an example ... Say, if I wanted to sit on Irish's cock and grind my clit onto his pubic hair, maybe, tomorrow evening... then I could, right? I know where to find him.

Don't forget - 'The woman chooses the man that would choose her'..... so please fellas, form an orderly queue.

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Monday, 23 March 2009

fear and fear in Las Londres

I’m aware that right now I must be vigilant. I must take care to do things consciously and be careful about my motives for my actions. Why? I’m feeling vulnerable, alone and afraid.
And vulnerability encompasses my main emotions right now. It is at a time like this that I am most likely to be a danger to myself; even when its not pre-meditated.

I seem to have a propensity for trouble when I’m in this state of fear. If I am not focused on the moment, my current head space will see me voluntarily offer myself up for added confusion and more battered feelings as result of fickle decisions.

The best way to describe how I’m feeling is to imagine that you’ve been deprived of sleep for 24 hours, you’re strung out on coffee and there’s an air of expectant doom, and unknowing surrounding you.
I feel nervous and fearful right now; of the future and of my ability to look after myself.
You know, things that have often eluded me such as paying rent, organising bills, doing things that I’ve never really been wholly responsible for previously – and all this on my lowly temping wage.
I’m f**king 30 years old and I’m shitting myself at the idea or taking responsibility of my life. What a loser.

It’s at times like this that I’m aware of demons making their presence known in my life again. My ‘fuck it ‘attitude starts to seep through and although I try to ignore it, I’ll tell you something the ability to cross a boundary of sanity is currently alive and well.
Ultimately, at times of emotional turbulence every escape fantasy of mine leads to booze and drugs, possibly men and sometimes death – cos I’m aware I’m sitting on the precipice of freaking out.

But one thing for certain is I’m terrified of losing my sanity, if I was to use chemicals again. Death isn’t an option ‘cos I’m not brave enough to top myself and I’d regret it anyway….My only viable escape is sex. But in a way I don’t want to involve another person in my current instability. Maybe a male escort would do the trick… yeah, for that time and then once he’s gone it’s just me, alone, again.

I don’t like myself like this, yet at the same time my body is so used to this weird state, that I kinda get off on it. It feels painful, but I feel powerful through it. It’s a kind of survival thing perhaps; mania fuelled by adrenalin.
The same edge that cocaine gives, is how I’m feeling today and how I have been feeling for the past 48 hours, and I have no doubt s that I will continue to feel it for the coming days.
I can’t eat, I’m not sleeping but I know I must ride it through – that, or allow myself to fall into a familiar pit where darkness lurks, Vulchers dwell and Vampires reign supreme.
Saving that, maybe I should stop talking shit, stop feeling sorry for myself and think positively. Hey, I have lots to be grateful for…. Yeah, I do. No, I really do. “Yep, Gee get a grip, girl. Think of Jade Goody. I bet her family wishes she was here to b able to moan about her boyfriend leaving her…”
True, true…

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Sunday, 22 March 2009

Officially Single

He's moved his stuff.
I didn't see him, instead I went to get my hair done.
He's gone.
The boy is no more.... well, not as my lover, but he still exists as a fine human being.
We won't talk for a while - 'Why ever?' my step-mum wonders. 'Don't you have enough ex-stragglers?' err, kinda,I suppose it depends on your view point. I mean, I'm still a little pally with my two ex-husbands, and Mark the guy I was with when I was 19, and my ex-non-sex- relationship.

The two ex husband's are not exactly friends in the traditional sense, but they do contact me for a catch up from time to time, nothing more.
Now, Mark - I have Mark in my life because I love him. I always have and I know he will always feature in my life. He's the stability that enabled me to continue to want to live, at particularly dark times in my past. My sexless ex is still around because we were friends for 3 years before we got together, and during and after our relationship that's what we've remained.

Now the boyfriend who just left has not 'supported' me thru anything in particular. I don't feel that we have a 'dependency' on each other. We just liked one another, but now it's over, I don't know about cultivating a friendship. Neither of us owes each other anything. It was all pretty balanced.
Right now, I gotta say, I don't know what the heck is going to happen, I really don't. My flat doesn't look or feel vastly different to when we were together. He's left a few bits and bobs here, some of which he will require back e.g - the remote controls for his t.v and dvd player.
Other things such as a tooth brush and a shaver thingy, he won't need - they are here for psychological triggers. He's clever like that. Whenever we'd argue before we broke up and he left me.... boohoo!
He'd do cute things like line up our shoes next to each other, so the 'cuteness' of my small shoes compared to his humongous foot wear would be emphasised for maximum awwwww appeal. It worked sometimes, other times if only seemed to impact on him. Poor sod.

Interestingly, he did leave his duvet and I'm not sure why; possibly one of a couple of reasons. When we first slept together he told me afterwards that he'd gone to buy a new duvet and bed linen so everything was perfect for our first sex.

This is the duvet he's left here. Why do you think he's left it?
I guess there's always a possibility that he left it cos there just wasn't enough room in his car...

I'm sad. I keep thinking that I will let every thing cool down, then contact him shortly to try and mend bridges, but then again maybe not. The truth is I don't know what I want - but one thing for sure I can't mess someone else around. But one kinda annoying, but to be honest, quite flattering feature of this break up is that now the news is out amongst people I know that I am single once more, already three of my ex-sex partners have offered their services. One, in a very crude manner and the other two using far more subtle tactics, but c'mon fellas it takes more than that to blind side me. I know they're after a piece of Gee pie because my past liaisons with both these guys was cut short due to meeting my boyfriend, so perhaps it's unfinished business, which may or may not be dealt with.

Whatever happens - you will be first to know, I can assure you.

Oh shite! I just remembered something.... the holiday! I was meant to be going away with my boy to Sardinia. Oh poo!

On a different note : Newsflash - My period finally came nearly 3 months over due, so at least some things are moving - if it's the right direction I can't tell just yet...

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Saturday, 21 March 2009

I fucked up

I don't have the brain power to continue with the Men's Do's just yet... sorry. I will do tomorrow.
I'm down.

I had a wonderful yesterday with my dad. I looked at him as I approached and was touched with sadness at how 'elderly' he looks,but still both he and my step-mum seemed to be in good spirits and we had a brilliant time filled with laughter, chat and red wine, for them.
They both ate a cheesy vegetable lasagna (they're both vegetarian,) and I had a medium steak, which overly cooked but edible so I didn't complain. I find complaining in restaurants embarassing. Someone I know says that I'm very
'Yorkshire' to think like that...so what? I think as long as the food is edible, who cares?

Today I am down and miserable and a tad worried for my future emotional happiness.

My fella and i have finished. Something happened this morning and i did something I shouldn't have done. Anyway, we're over. He's gone to his father's place to pick up his car and tomorrow lunchtime he will come back here to take his belongings, and then he'll be gone for good.

I never go back - once it's over, any trust that was there is gone and after a spell away from each other I wouldn't want him back after other paws have been on him during a time of separation. And even if he told me he hadn't been with other women- I would still judges him by my own behaviour.
He told me he hopes we can be friends. Fuck that. Nah... why? I have two ex's who are 'friends'. That's enough...
My boy is a really lovely guy. Really cute, funny, affectionate, handsome... but for so many reasons' we couldn't sustain happiness. Now, because I am the first relationship he's had which has been more than a casual fling since he was 22 ( he's approaching 34)you have to wonder why...
So when he's doing whatever he does and convinces himself that he's the damaged party - he needs to question himself about the reason why he has been unable to find someone he wants to be with these past years...

But over here - I'm bored - of myself. I'm fed up and pissed off that I have so many issues and I struggle with sustaining relationships. Of course it takes two - and my fella / ex fella, is not the most balanced of people - but me solely footing the blame for our failed relationship is bollocks, which is what he'd have me believe.OK, I fucked up today and I did apologies straight away.I always put my hands up to mistakes i make - always.

But why don't so many grown people admit to their part in a disagreement? Men are particularly bad for this. It is not a sign of weakness and you are not accepting all blame if you admit to your individual errors. It's called humility surely, for Christ's sake....

Whatever anyway - it's over, it's over...
A relationship is the last thing I want right now.
Actually that's not strictly truth, but I can't seem to handle them. Will I ever be able to? I mean, I'd love to get married and have kids one day...I don't know....

Maybe I was just with the wrong person that's all.

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Thursday, 19 March 2009

10 DO's for men wooing women...

OK- 10 DO's (for men) when wooing a woman.

1. You initiate contact. Don't wait for her to do so. Don't use that ridiculous 3 day rule thing either - It's lame, boring even. Us girls all know what you're doing and when it comes to the third day and you finally rear your head, we just shake ours and raise an eyebrow. I know for me, I think, 'How conventional and unoriginal' - but L. a real good girl friend of mine thinks it's rather sweet when a guy waits til the third day to call, because according to her, he is 'playing by the rules'. Sod the rules. I want his passion to transcend unwritten protocol. Call on day 2.

2.Be forthright when suggesting your date. Appear to have planned something. For an example tell her, 'OK, let's meet at the bar in the National Gallery, have drinks there and see the blah, blah exhibition, if you fancy it, before we go to Cocoon for dinner. Then I'll take you to such and such for coffee and ice-cream" in my case, but probably more booze, in yours.
(God, I envy you.) She'll be pleased that you've thought about it and thrilled that you seem so sure of yourself.

3. Don't try and prove anything to her. There are some exceptions of course: If you're generally a grumpy bugger, do please try and show her that you can actually enjoy yourself because that's what you're doing with her right now... Please do not, and that is a categorical do not, boast about your job, your car, your money, your flashy holidays or the fact that you get the dole every two weeks and actually your mate lent you the money for the very drink she happens to be clutching. Don't even say it as a joke. You will plant a seed which will be hard to eradicate, unless you're minted, of course - then she'll just think you're either weird or you'll suddenly become 'sweet' or that 'whacky sense of humour guy'.... do you really want either of those accolades? But quite possibly (and most likely) she'll love you forever more for your mo..modesty. What you wont know yet is if you want her to, so steady on...

4. Talk mainly about her. Rarely about yourself. If you genuinely feel attracted to her then surely you'll genuinely want to get to know her. That's the whole point isn't it? 'Getting to know someone' is about talking to them about themselves, their thoughts, their feelings and values, their ideas, their hopes their sadnesses, their loves...Ask questions and If you have to think hard about what to ask and the conversation isn't flowing - you're either lacking social skills or you're not actually sitting opposite the right person. Either way: Don't despair, people - there is still hope. There is always hope.

5. Smile at her, look at her; not her tits and don't constantly watch her lips as she talks, but look at her. Allow yourself to be soft. Don't play any of this cool shite. Coolness is surely about being friendly, confident about yourself and kind. Don't argue every point you disagree with. Don't ever be blunt - for example don't snap 'You're wrong...' or ' Just giz a snog, it's only a kiss for god's sake...' Try and relax and don't focus on the next move, cos she might be smiling on the outside, but you don't know yet just how she's feeling inside. The time you spend together will have a natural rhythm and you will be aware of that beat without concentrating on it. So when the time to move, to kiss, to cuddle, to hold hands , to stroke her nose comes, you'll know it.


Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

10 sins men comiitt when wooing women #2

Cont...//part 2

6. Please, please don’t use school boy tactics. Don’t tease her within a inch of her life or say anything that you and your mates may laugh at, just cos “Y’all got a crayzee sense of humour, maaan”. Don’t say anything that could possibly cause offence. If you do, you will get exactly nil point – and women never forget and at early stages of courtship – she’s unlikely to forgive.

7. OK, if you are married, engaged, or you state that you’re in a relationship, please don’t try it on with her, unless you’ve met through a swingers or ‘extra-curricular’ website. If you try it with a woman who has not admitted she wants a piece of attached cock, she will only think you’re a creep and disrespect you. Do yourself and her a favour and don’t even bother going there.

8. Again, unless you meet through an S&M or fetish site - please don’t start proving how liberal and open minded you are by declaring your sexual preferences or kinks. This can be left until you actually get to know each other. I want my bloke to be confident about what he likes, course I do – but coy is also very alluring. I’m way more intrigued by men who don’t tittle tattle than men who do.

9. Once you finally meet each other – for God’s sake make an effort. Turning up in your work clothes ‘cos she needs to ‘ take me as I come’ is not on. Be clean, smell good (not too much scent, now…) and please smile at her. When I first met my boy the first things I thought were, Oo he’s good looking, he’s tall, but fuck, I don’t think think he likes me, cos he didn’t bloody smile. It thru me off kilter for over half the evening which in my book is wasted time. I didn’t consider that he was shy – I just thought he was bloody miserable and initially I didn’t want to be there.

10. Now for the cardinal sin: DO. NOT. MAKE. HER. PAY. HALF.
If you do – she should never see you again as stated in the law of Gee. Women: You are making a rod for your own back if you spend time with a tight wad like this again. Don’t do it. I don’t care about that shit about ‘Being an independent woman doesn’t allow me to let a man pay for me’ – oh fuck off please. There’s nothing wrong with some fucking manners, men and if she offers – she’s only being polite, ok. Just ignore her. Let her pay for a drink if she insists – but only if she pushes.

OK – so your call… Do you want me too mouth off what I reckon men should do to capture a potential mate’s attention?
OR, you want me to lecture you on WOMEN’s sins? OR I’m taking lots for other suggestion of a similar ilk…

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Wednesday, 18 March 2009

10 sins men commit when wooing women

I've just been having a tet a tet with various folks on Facebook about men propositioning women with lines of seduction such as ‘ Wanna suck my long schlong baby?’ – actually, I just invented that phrase ‘cos I like it, but things such as ‘ Wanna check out my 11inches?’ are all too popular.
I mean, 11 inches? Please!

Do men really get anywhere by asking a complete stranger if they want to have random sex? Do women ever allow a complete stranger into their home just so they can receive ‘the best licking’ of her life?
Do women respond positively to these propositions? By positively I don’t mean they tell the guy to fuck off, although that would be positive - I mean, do they get involved and take the gentlemen up on their offer? I wouldn’t have the nerve. Weird to think that I probably wouldn’t have done it even when I was working as an escort. But of course when meeting a stranger for sex was ‘a job’ so I went ahead…. a potential lamb to slaughter. By God’s Grace I survived.

10 sins men commit when attempting to sleep with a woman.

1.Offer cock shots via email, social networking sites, text, web cam or any other medium.

2. Boast above the size of their member, then offer the above as ‘evidence’ “Exihibit A” which is supposed to be big, may not be viewed as so big after all – so be careful. Also, who the hell wants some crumby cock shot which has travelled half the globe trying its luck to impress?

3. Don’t offer to lick, suck, fuck, nibble, or give her the best sex of her life…it’s so off putting. She’ll be the judge of if it’s the best sex of her life, thanks.

4.Don’t offer your phone number too soon. Never just give her it (or the number.) It screams desperation and no woman likes that. Over eager is a turn off – but so it aloof. Just wait. She will let you know when the time is right to do number exchanges.

5. Don’t push, and push, and push – unless you’re already in the sack and she’s asking you for that. Just be steady. Don’t rush her. Don’t forget the French expression:
“A woman will chose the man who would choose her” – She make’s the ultimate decisions, not you…


Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Tuesday, 17 March 2009

love with conditions

I love him, I love him not, I love him, I love him not... he loves me - and there seems to be no hesitation. Why not?

I'm not playing the 'Poor me, I'm not lovable' bullshit card... - I am lovable, very lovable, thank you. I just don't get why some people can love and never question it. Take my boy, he is one of those types....

Of course the love I dish out is conditional, it makes sense that it would be. That's what I know. It's normal for me. So if my fella is down, I question my love for him, I do. You may not like that - I'm not celebrating it myself, but it's a fact.

I've witnessed people in families where the love for each other is non-conditional, and it bewilders and amazes me at the same time.
OK, there seems to be a child in me who has always loved my dad regardless of his bizarre ways, his todler-like tantrums and very misguided beliefs on child rearing. For example, when a child decides to leave home, in my case aged 16 ( i was a renegade elf) from that moment I was no longer any of his responsibility, emotionally and otherwise I had to stand alone.
Even when I screamed for help he insisted I had to take care of myself. The door was repetitively shut, quite literally time and time again.

But my boy has never had this. He will never experience this. I find it odd that he has keys to his parents' house. I find it odd that he doesn't have to pre-arrange to visit either of his parent's weeks in advance. I find it odd that he can discuss a problem with his mother or father or sister and they don't huff, puff and become stern or tell him that 'We can't deal with this.' 'We' being daddy and step-moma.

I'm also amazed at how whenever my boy speaks to his folks and shows anything other than utter joy at paying his road tax, water rates and congestion charge, that they still give him time and space to express his thoughts without presuming that disaster is about to strike and their world of security will be compromised as a result.

I'm amazed at how it's never a question at time like Christmas if his family will spend it together. How when something happens, either someone is ill or has got a new job or is moving house - that they keep each other informed.
I know my boy's mum would never see him homeless, hungry, frightened or lonely - she would always support him. You might say that's because he wasn't a mischief maker like I was. Indeed you'd be right - he wasn't, neither was he perfect like any one else. But I'll tell you something - I've seen families love eachother unreservedly even when one or more members of their clan have been utter rogues, and even exhibited traits of wickedness.

I do understand on one level that many parents would probably not see their child suffer if they could prevent it. This I suppose is usual, based on how I see other people operate.... But the thing is, my father and his wife come from the school of 'Be cruel to be kind'. And by these measures, they were kind, very kind. I just hope that I don't fall into the same traps, persuading myself that when someone I love i.e my lover is having a difficult time I must leave him in order for him to sort his depression out alone ... If i ended up using this excuse for the rest of my life surely I'd end up alone and lonely...and I don't want that.
Of course i may be with someone who doesn't suffer depression if I left the boy - but like I said before no one is perfect... And it's not perfection I seek - it's loyalty, devotion, security,friendship, laughter, cuddles and snuggles. And you know something? I know my fella wouldn't leave me to battle through my struggles alone. I know he wouldn't, he's already proved that.

Check out my Facebook page if you fancy a more personal chat. I'm under the name Missy Gee.

Monday, 16 March 2009

today's drama

Bollocks! That’s the best word to describe today. An otherwise pleasant sun shining start to the day was quickly ruined by a dismal nausea in my tummy, because my boyfriend had once again read this blog - and what has he read?
All about Irish.
This was his text – word for word:
“Its Stephen Fry, not Stephen Fray. We are done. Its over-no way back. Part of me is relieved. I’v copied some of those posts and emailed them to myself, so that if I ever wonder what might have bee, I will remember you were never that special or worth all the shit when it came down to it.”
Right. OK.

From now I am not going to consider what he may see on here – I will write honestly regardless of what he thinks, cos he’s gonna read it even if he tells me he isn’t. My attitude tells me a great deal about how I feel about everything between us.

I’ve been nervous and anxious most of the day but I’ve rarely questioned if us breaking up is the right thing to do.
I can only just about cope with my own emotional ups and downs, I’m certainly not sure enough of myself to cope with someone else’s, when they are weekly like this.

During my life I have suffered emotionally. God knows I’ve been through the ringer – but you know something? Even as a 12 year old child I tried to help myself by using alcohol to ease the over bearing tension and feelings I carried about my mum leaving me. I was being pro-active, I was trying to help myself. Of course over time the emphasis shifted from self-medication to gratuitous intoxication, but still I tried. Why can’t an adult who is emotionally suffering. Depression is a very real illness and I wish he would really seek help.

You see the thing is with me is that if I was to be on Mastermind, my chosen topic would be Human Nature. I know how to be patient and have empathy for people’s pain and I also love to share their joys. But when a grown up either totally refuses to participate in helping themselves, I don’t push and push and push – Why would I? I understand that it is not within my power to force someone to try and change. They may not really want to. Maybe they can cope with how they are, so what business is it of mine ultimately. No one could have told me anything, until I was ready to listen – and quite honestly, my sanity and sobriety is based of bloody, hard work, determination and a fighting spirit which did not want me to continue how I was.
I have paid my dues.
I have applied myself and continue to do so in order to keep my emotions in order – and I’ll be damned if I will now allow someone else’s suffering to taint my new found peace of mind. Fuck it. No, I won’t. Selfish? Fine – I don’t have a problem with that, cos you know what???
I only have me. And I only have this life and after wasting so much time, I am determined by any means necessary to keep fighting my corner and protecting myself. I deserve that.
Possibly my attitude is because I don’t understand unconditional love? But hold on, I do – I have continually loved my father throughout my life despite some of his life issues. But one thing for sure is that I haven’t yet learned how to love and tolerate another’s struggles inspite of myself, and still manage to hang around.
I just can’t seem to do it.
Maybe worse, I have no desire to.

Sunday, 15 March 2009

the boy and i are over

I've told the boy it's over.
I can't continue with things as they are, I'm just not happy. There's just one thing though.... he's suffering from depression. He's got tablets which haven't been doing much over the past 6 weeks to help him.

He's genuinely unwell right now and he has suffered with this on and off for years, as I have.
Am I cruel to leave him? We've been together 9 months and altho it has been lots of fun on many occasions - I'm feeling selfish and don't want to deal with the situation I've got myself into. But you know what? If people had taken that attitude with me at various times through my bouts - I'd have been utterly broken and utterly alone
What to do? What to do..?

Saturday, 14 March 2009

Irish makes another appearance

I've just got home and I've just eaten most of a tin of HOT CHOC MILK real chocolate droppings which are meant to be added to hot milk to make a gorgeous hot chocolate drink - except I didn't add milk. I've eaten them as they are and they were bloody tasty!
There's no food in the flat - tragic state of affairs, similar to hooker days. Well, actually there is food - but it's either in the freezer or in a tin, and cooking is not what I fancy doing right now.

OK - i just arrived back from the Jazz Club again. He was there... Irish.
Remember him? The guy I have a crush on...
I'm taking a big risk and trusting my boy's word that he is no longer reading this...

I gotta admit, Irish is one hellova handsome chap. For some not particularly obvious reason, I'm drawn to him. I think it may be that he is everything that my lover is not.
He's rugged - my boy is far from that.
His weathered skin looks similar to tanned leather - he's a builder don't you know. Now, the great outdoors is not my boyfriend's terrain and having him out on a building site would be the equivalent of watching Stephen Fray wearing a hard hat while dodging flying concrete. It would just be wrong - cruel even.

Irish has huge hands with dry skin with scuffs and grazes - my fella's got a hefty paw on him let it not be said otherwise but that paw is moisturised daily and the claws manicured to perfection.
And another rather alluring thing about Irish is, he's a bit of a rogue. Now I don't usually do rogues never mind find them attractive, but in this case the more he gives himself away as a tinker and a scoundrel, then smiles at me with his surprisingly perfect teeth (Maybe these aren't real - maybe he had his real ones knocked out while wrestling a bull) I realise I have this crush because I would never take a rogue as my husband, my boyfriend, father to my kids or anything other than a mutual appreciation society with 2 members, me and him.

Is there anything wrong with a spot of flirting, even when I'm in a relationship already..? I'm sure it's harmless - right?

She says.

Thursday, 12 March 2009

quick catch up

• Thought I’d let you know – I’ve started taking those ovulation tablets. Gave up on waiting for the period which is now 2 months overdue to come before starting to take them. I’ve been suffering headaches and PMT, but I’m sure it will all be worth it especially if I start bleeding in a week or so...

• Been a bit of a space cadet the past days. I get these times. My security levels ebb and flow faster than British weather changes. I can usually tell when I am have a spout of ‘oddness’ cos I become a lot more paranoid than usual. Today I thought someone had got down on the floor at the front of my desk at work, just so they could make me jump! Maybe it’s a latent fantasy I’ve got : you know, someone on their knees worshiping me at work - but alas the only person that was crouched down there was Mr Invisible, and I still felt my heart lurch when I sat back down. Some times sudden movements on my part and I imagine there’s a shadow there. Bizzarrio! I’m convinced I’m a tad psychic. I sense things that aren’t there, you know...really, I do - or at least these things aren’t seen by others. Hhmmmm, ok – maybe I’m just paranoid.

• I just spoke to my dad on the telephone. He sounds stressed and worried, but he says it’s nothing. I worry it’s his age. My step mama seems to be ‘much better’ now so that will help him feel more content. Routine is paramount to their happiness, and anything, even illness disturbing that is a strain for them. For a moment hearing my 79 year old daddy’s voice on the phone, I wished I could climb down the wire and give him a huge cuddle and make him a cuppa and feed him some cake. Sometimes he sounds old – and that bothers me - a lot. For all his faults, I adore him.

• The boy is away this weekend! Yaay! It’s gonna be so nice to have the weekend all to myself. I love not talking to anyone, and being alone at times. It’s been a strain at certain moments in my place of work listening to hear constant chit-chat even if it’s not directed at me. But when it is, of course I have to participate. Silence is something I cherish and like now as I’m writing this, I’m sitting in silence.

• I had a text from husband number 1 today. I couldn’t believe it. Very random but nice. He’s a really good guy with a very forgiving heart, clearly – otherwise he would never ever contact me again. I treated him shoddily and that guilt smacked me in the chops when I read his sweet message. He’s having a baby. I’m happy for him. He’ll make a brilliant father. He has all the attributes to be a loving and successful husband it seems; he’s been married over 4 years.

• My book is starting to take over many of my thoughts. I have had a development of late which I don’t want to mention, because I strongly believe that when I start blabbing about good things taht happen - they gets taken from me by a Greater Power, in a bid to keep me humble. I understand the value and importance of humility but sometimes when you want to let the world know that you got a going on ... well, I can’t, it’s not good for me. If I’m that fucking fantastic, it’ll all come out eventually...

• The boy and I have been getting on really well. We’re in love with each other and happy to be together again, for now, for today. He panicked last week and he told me yesterday that he thought i was going to leave him. Awww, he’s such a sweetie.

• I’m about to run a bath and wash my hair with some fancy grapefruit shampoo I bought from Selfridges. If I was less lazy I’d get up right this moment and go and check the brand name, so I can be very specific about my hair cleansing products, but like I’ve said before I am lazy, sorry. After my bath I will griddle tuna steaks and serve with salad ( and rice) for my guest, the lover. I’m sounding like a bit of an arse, aren’t I? ‘griddle tuna steak’ – Oooo, if only my Yorkshire friends, Mark in particular could hear me now – I’d be torn to shreds.

• Finally I ordered some ‘stuff’ online. Adult stuff, naughty stuff, play things...I shudda told you before. There I go again telling you after the event like I said some habits are harder than others to break.

Wednesday, 11 March 2009

OPINIONS, assumptions and men, men, men

Yesterday Gee’s Law proclaimed that men who are in love with a woman, love more deeply and lastingly than a woman loves a man. So, now I’ve made that point – how about we discuss the different stages of men…
I am 30. Guess you need to know that in order for my figure to make more sense. Here goes… "Gee mouths off her opinions again - who the hell does she think she is!?"



Older men = 42 YRS(ish)+ who live in life’s fast lane.
Younger men = 35 YRS- who are in the slow lane.
Wilderness years are the 7 years in between. No-man’s land, where men between 35 and 40(ish) test out what it actually means to be a grown man. They’re in the middle lane.

They, the middle roaders understand that aged roughly 35-42 society is, (unfortunately for them) regarding them as fully fledged adult males. So, apart from worrying about greying hair and pot bellies they feel they must start actually acting like grown ups – at least part of the time.
During these wilderness years maturity becomes a prototype, still under construction and not yet a smooth running appendage.

If these guys are not yet responsible for one or more children – this is the time they will start to wonder if they are infertile?
Maybe years of drinking, smoking, drugging and numerous partners will leave him wondering if he is now unable to reproduce. Instead of congratulating himself for being responsible, the sustained lack of impregnation becomes a bone of contention niggling at the back of his mind. Is he firing blanks?
It’s question after question about everything for men of this age. Yeah, they can screw with the best of ‘em, in fact, much better now they’re more sure of themselves and what women want. And it seems, proving to themselves that they are productive member of society becomes more important that focusing their energies into lots of different women.
I’m accustomed to men in this lane, but quite honestly I notice that they are very focused on themselves. I mean this with regards accumulating trappings of social success - and internal spiritual well-being gets cast to the sidelines. They probably consider that a woman would balance the scales bringing a more rounded dimention to life. Oh, and of course she gives a fantastic appearance of ‘respectability.' People will think he must have his shit together - he’s got a woman. Now if his girl resembles the 6’ft blond Russian he saw at the strip club the other week - even better.

Men who are in the middle lane of life’s autobahn, from my experience are obsessed with their careers and making money and mostly everything is an accessory. They desperately want to acquire possessions before they turn 40, which sadly for many men seems to be a cut off point before they deem themselves a ‘failure.’
Until they get there of course, then hopefully it's a different story.

I don’t need to be with a man with millions – absolutely not! Just living decently is success in my book.
Don’t get me wrong I’d like to be with a fella who is wealthy – but I would never choose dosh over genuine care, attraction and mutual understanding. Why would I? If I did I may as well just call myself a whore, again.

Men over 40 have confidence about who they are, their status in life and their future plans. That is such a sexy attribute. If they’re broke, they’re broke – take him or leave him and if they’re financially successful, so what? Either way he’ll spoil you in his own way.
Men over forty have usually been involved in a long term relationship of some kind. Personally I think this is the making of a man; sexually and other wise - and if he hasn’t had a long term relationship and he's in his forties - then why the hell not? Surely it’s an older man’s experience that adds to their appeal? And a long term relationship is an 'experience' surely? Errr, not that I've had one...
I've barely managed 2 years.But I'm not in my forties.

These forty plus guys reside in the fast lane.
I’m talking men with spirit, passion for life, here. They are at least relatively physically healthy, they may have children, they may have had a wife, some probably still do – and ladies, it is your business, okay!
Men in this category take life by the balls. They love everything that stimulates the senses: delicious food, drink, new locations, sex, travel, fun, laughter. They take care of themselves (especially if they’re single) and if you catch ‘em early enough, his erection problems will still be somewhere in the distant future. You probably won’t even be around for that anyway – so enjoy.

Older men love impaling themselves onto younger women who in turn purr liberally, appreciating these new-found bedroom skills.
The guy is grateful to be fucking a young piece of pussy and he’s eager to please. He’s a gentleman, he takes her places. They visit the latest exhibition at the Tate Modern, she pretends to be interested, but she loves being taught. They go to upmarket sex parties in Europe and dine at beautiful restaurants. God - and the kisses You'll think he won't ever stop. He’ll make you feel cherished, he indeed will cherish you. He can because he’s not as self absorbed as he used to be. He takes you away at weekends and he’s not thinking about work and how he will conquer the universe. He either has already or he accepts that he may never, and trying to do so is no longer what is used to be.
He’s generous, attentive, physical. He wants nothing from his girl except enjoyment.

Finally men in the slow lane are ones who are still painfully learning some harsh life lessons. I call it the slow lane in terms of self development and appreciation of life - ‘cos however many times these guys get slapped in the face before they're 35 - lessons are still not easily learned.
Why would they be?
A lack of responsibility, a love of booze and adoration of sex is surely an accepted right of passage in Britain for this age range, right? These guys have passed their puny twenties, their bodies are changing and becoming broader.

They now need to prove that they are no longer officially ' young men'. In their own minds - they are in full bloom.
They need to promote their prowess to friends and to themselves. They need affirmation from women that they are sexual beings who are virile and good in bed. The looks and awkwardness of their twenties seems in the distant past as they start bedding women they never thought they could - spurring them on to screw more.
They need to bang this girl, suck that one’s tits and finger her cousin preferably all at the same time and if not – in the same week will have to do.

Men under 35 are only saved from themselves if they’ve had a serious relationship or a child. That’s the only way they’ll learn how to put themselves aside for a moment in favour of pleasing another person. He needs to have experienced a woman who will help him develop sensuality in the bedroom – otherwise, he will be reduced to shameful jack-hammer sessions with random women who will regret the moment they saw him.
Give me a man under the age of 35, 2 mins alone with him, naked, and I’ll tell you his sexual history. I managed it with my boy – and I was bang on.

Tuesday, 10 March 2009

how men love women

Today has been a successful day. I’ve been in a fantastic mood – partially thanks to actually being around people and hearing about their lives instead of being in my own company too many hours of the day.
My head isn’t the most comfortable place to reside, you know. Not all the time.

Also my good mood is partially thanks to my boy giving me some hardcore lovin’ last night.
Right, I haven’t mentioned something here – sorry I still have a tendency to break news that I’m not happy with, after the event. I can keep things to myself until I go blue in the face if needs be.

OK, I don’t know why this has been something I haven’t wanted to share with you, until now (now everything’s okay again I can say it) but the lover and I were struggling with our sex. He loves sex and so do I, but I was feeling increasingly bored of getting banged, more than being ground on.
I am of the gyrating school of intercourse, rather than pumping style. Yeah, sometimes I like to be slapped around, called a ‘dirty bitch’ and have my knickers ripped from off my body – but you know something?
I love slow sex. I love it. Deep, sensual, full body contact, slow sex.
I like it when he doesn’t really move much inside me. I like it when we kiss and I feel his cock is there, inside my body, without added jerky movements.

I didn’t know about this type of sex until Alex showed me. And although the boy will have me believe that he’s participated in everything to do with sex, except, being with more than one woman at a time – I don’t think he’s made luurrrve before now.

I’m kinda his first love; his first committed girlfriend.
Now, have I told you that I’ve been in this same situation with nearly every guy I’ve had a relationship with ? – again with the exception being Alex.
Miraculously my men have either never had a committed relationship prior to me or they haven’t been in a relationship for years prior to us.

I’m not saying this as a ‘Hey, I’m so fucking sexy, they just gotta hang on to me’ ego trip – well, maybe a bit!
Just kidding!
No, it’s clearly something in me which subconsciously taps into an aspect of these guys which I sniff out, before reeling them in.

I know one thing for sure, if a man who hasn’t had a relationship for years, or who hasn’t had a ‘proper’ commitment with someone falls in love with you – he will adore you. Probably always, to some degree.
And my belief, for what it’s worth - ziltch - is men love more powerfully than women. When a man really loves a woman, really loves her - he will never quite get over her.
It takes longer for a man to fall, but when he does he rarely finds a replacement for that love. I reckon men only have the capacity to really love one possibly two partners in their life. Where as women biologically have to be able to love deeply more than once. They are the child bearers and have to protect their brood, so if anything goes wrong with their partner, we have the ability to move on and love again. Which is better for her and her offspring.
I might be talking bullshit, I don’t know. It’s likely.

I talked to the Psych about this – and her opinion?
Just a smile. A non –committal smile. She’s terribly professional, you know.

Sunday, 8 March 2009

Minimising Past Relationships.

Funny how past relationships often get minimised when talking to a new love.
A great love can be reduced to 'Someone I once used to go out with' very quickly.
Someone you've spent an intense few months with can be relegated to 'A guy I used to know'...
"How serious was your relationship?"
"Errr, it wasn't really. It was pretty casual, ya know..." I just don't mention that the guy just happened to break my heart and he left me devastated.

It's only ever the woman in question who really knows about her past relationships, flings and one night stands. Not even her friends will necessarily know everything.
Hell my ex-husband's don't even get a look in, on my tally of past liaisons. Not even under the category of 'Someone I fucked when I was drunk, years ago.' Those two marriages and the two men involved get the grand total of nada recognition on my scale. I'm happier with it like that.

A friend told me two things over dinner the other night, which made me smile:
It's only ever a woman who know the father of her child.
And: You find out how many children a man really has when he dies.

Blimey! Call me old fashionoed but I hope that isn't really the case. Not in my life, anyway.

Saturday, 7 March 2009

my boy's insecurity

oh dear, oh dear...
The boy arrived back from a day's work in Geneva yesterday and he 'sensed' that something was wrong.
He thinks I've been 'different' the past days, and I am 'not as bothered about our relationship.'

Ahh... well, something being 'wrong' with us is not a new phenomena.It's our default mode:

"What's wrong?"
"No, I know something's wrong... what's wrong?"
"Well, I can feel that something's wrong"
"What do you mean?"
"I can sense it. I know you very well don't forget..."

These conversations are very usual and are instigated by both parties. It's always boringly the same. Unless it's me pursuing the cause of the frost which has descended between us - then the difference is I rarely give up until I get to the crux of the tension.

But last night after 'I sense something is wrong' - I got:

"Have you met someone?"

What? Hells bells!

As a result of this question (which is the first time he has ever asked me that) I realised that he truly was feeling insecure,so I decided to take down my last two posts. He'd began to read them and I don't want to make him more worried than he clearly already is.

Just now, literally this second while seeing me writing this he's just said:

"Err...don't worry I'm not longer going to read your blog, so don't let it stifle what you write, OK?"
"Oh, have you been reading this the whole time?" I asked, considering he'd always told me that he didn't want to.
"No,just today but I won't again...I promise. Just one thing... who is Alex?"

Friday, 6 March 2009

Photo of me in Sri Lanka

For those of you who haven't seen my facebook page, which is under Missy Gee. The almighty Facebook would not allow the name Miss! Boohoo...

The above photo was taken of me in Sri Lanka

Tuesday, 3 March 2009

le wicked step mother has an attack

“I’ve been in hospital for the past week - I’ve just come out today. I had a heart attack,” were the first words spoken by Elaine, my step-mum yesterday evening when I answered their phone call.

Right. Let me get this straight.

I haven’t heard from my dad and Elaine for over two weeks, cos they were sulking about the fact I hadn’t given them a concrete date when I would go to Yorkshire to visit them. And here I am, being told by the family they try and encourage me to feel a part of which didn’t bother to inform me, that the matriarch of the said so-called unit has just had a heart attack.

OK...well, I don’t really know what to say. Of course I made all the right noises on the phone when speaking to them.
But to be truthful, I felt irritation.
She sounded completely normal. Her usual self... does someone sound well, 7 days after a heart attack?
I don't know...
This whole debacle illustrates the oddity of those two people, my dad and Elaine. Part of me thinks it’s a major exaggeration, another part of me is bewildered at their peculiar ways - you know, not telling me a little thing like my step-mum has had a heart attack... And another part of me, I have to say has grinned the couple of times I’ve mentioned this event to people today. It’s ludicrous. It typifies them and how crap relations have been between us since I was 17.
It confirms to me how weird and out of touch they can be. Of course I’m shocked and I wish le step-parent well; of course I do – but what the fuck is that all about? Not telling me?

And before you say it ‘It was not done not to worry me.’
They’re just fucking odd.

I promptly told my dad that if anything ever happens to him like that and I am not told about it I will hold the wicked step-mother responsible, and I will not be pally with her no more. My dad is nearly 80. I want to know if he’s ill for Christs’s sake. Not unreasonable.

Since passing down the law of Gee to papa I’ve realised that I actually wouldn’t mind being exempt of any guilt feelings of responsibility towards his wife when he was no longer around. That’s awful, isn’t it? But it’s true. I’ve been - to coin an expression from Withnail and I... I’ve been an awful cunt at times through my life –especially to Elaine, but I can assure you they’ve given me a good run for my money with their retaliation, which usually was dished out in the form of complete silence. We managed over two years at one point.

Elaine and I have only been able to chat without a sheet of ice dividing us for the past, maybe, three years. Bloody hell – My relationship with her, and as a result with my dad, (who will only ever support his Mrs) has been utter hell. That’s another story – or fifty.

Look, forgive me – I must go for now.... I’ll come back later this evening and finish off the tale about dinner with Alex’s folks, like I said I would...... But for now, I want the lover to walk through the door and see my computer off. I’ve told you before he loves cuddles, and having his head stroked. He just loves attention and I don’t want him to feel neglected. He thinks my laptop is receiving more snuggles than he is these days..... aww..... he’s such a cutie - when he’s not moaning.

Sunday, 1 March 2009

a child having an adult relationship

I am officially glum, pissed off, fed up, want to throw everything away... what
'everything'? I have nothing except a boyfriend who thinks I should be tidier and moans; a lot.
I think I mentioned this before. I.Am.Not.Tidy.

I'm not tidy, never have been, and more than likely never will be and shall I tell you something else? I couldn't give a f**k about having a spotless apartment.
I live in the space I inhabit and people that don't like it can piss off - or take their bloody moaning somewhere else. Go and bore the ears off some other woman who will tolerate it. I've just called him 'tedious' and asked him not to speak to me.
He's really getting up my nose.

Some times I want to throw on my cloak of defiance, find me a man who won't insist I do the cleaning, who will allow me to be how I am with all my household laziness - if he wants things tidier, then employ a flippin' cleaner and don't whinge or make an issue of it.
The luxuries I want in my life are: Not to have to worry about anything practical. I want to feel spoilt, I want to feel safe, I want have security and I want holidays.

Right now I feel down. I'm miserable and I'm fed up of trying to have an adult relationship when I feel like a child. Apparently according to the psychologist, I seemed to have jumped from around 13 years old (when I started to fuck up) and woke up at 26 when I went into rehab.
What doesn't help us, or should I say, me, is my boy - he is exactly that - a boy. He isn't yet a fully fledged adult man even at 33. He's in that awkward transitional period between being a boy and a man....his second puberty. You know, that few years that men who don't have much responsibility go through in their early thirties.

Damn, really.... I don't get what's happening here.

I know I'm not easy. I'm not. I'm emotionally damaged, emotionally needy and I crave constant reassurance and lots, and lots of cuddles.
I know many men believe that they can handle it, me, because they don't imagine that someone can actually be as genuinely insecure as I am.

The problem is they buy into an external package. A fantasy of who they think I am or could be. They see the height, a pleasant smile, long dark hair, and a trim physique... oh, and big tits - and they don't initially think beyond that. In fact even after the first date, second date, the sex date - by then I'm already telling them what an emotional liability I can be; what a strain I can be on their time, their patience, their tolerance. But some men see a vulnerable girl poking through the tantrums I tell them about, the doubts I have, the paranoia I experience, and they stay passed the warning.

Usually it's me that leaves, so why can't I this time?
I talked to the psychologist at my appointment today about how the love from my dad was quite obviously transactional. I do well at school, I get rewarded. I listen to classical music day and night and daddy thinks I am a good and sophisticated girl.
I go to the opera with him and comment about how wonderful it is at opportune moments and I'm such a clever girl.
But when I say I don't want to sit with him to watch Wagner's de Valkeri, for the umpteenth time - then I hurt him. Daddy's upset with me, he's disappointed and I feel like a bad girl. I feel immense guilt and join him and sit quietly, smiling occasionally, wishing to God - I was doing anything else than listing to The Ring. But if listening to Wagner is what will make daddy like me again, I'll do it.

I refuse to do this with the lover. I won't tidy my home just cause it makes him 'happy'.

I don't know why we are still together. This is not my dream relationship, and anyone who bleats 'It's not realistic to expect your dream relationship' - I think that's bollocks.
I believe I can get all the external dreams I desire. But finding the love, affection, patience and fun, as well as not having to try and act 'grown up'- that would be perfect. I would love to relinquish responsibility of my own life (to a degree), glide by and not have to stress about stuff, you know.... boring, shitty stuff like cleaning, that no one wants to do. And if they do want to do it? then why??
Being with the lover feels like two kids playing at house.
I hate that. I want a man to look up to who is a fully formed bloke; a man that knows more than I do about life's intrigues. Someone who will teach me more than just spelling, grammar and cleaning.

queen of the bongos