Sunday, 30 September 2012

Come on! You've got to love it!

Its all over the blogosphere...but it is so much fun! Makes me smile at the silliness! Plus I love the song even if it is pure cheese. Have you ever been on Chatroulette? The first time I ever went on -not knowing what to expect - I got an image of a big fat erect cock! I was like: 'er...what the f%ck?!' 

My Spanish friend told me that some girls went on and there were some dudes with a massive snake and a little chick and they were like: 'Show us your tits or the chick gets it...'

Pretty horrendous!

Its an interesting concept though...Anyone got any stories?

Anyone out there yet?

Saturday, 29 September 2012

Getting started...

So in my every day life I write a blog that most of my friends and family know about. I write about my aspirations, my travels, things I have created and various ponderings. This is a new venture that I wanted to try because I'd like to be more open and discuss some issues in more detail than I do on my normal blog without, say, my father reading them!

Writing a blog takes a lot of self promotion and you need to work hard to get it out there. You can have great content and strong writing skills but it is still hard work! Back in the day, when I first started writing I was a bit of a web-whore. I was commenting and reading all I could get my hands on and stats  really seemed to matter.  Nowadays, I just treat my blog as a mini online diary and I don't care so much about who reads it and who doesn't. I write to record the time that passes so I can look back on it later and remember those times.

I want this blog to be a little different. I want more people to read it and I want this to fuel me to challenge myself to come up with interesting and thought-provoking posts. I also want to explore ways to promote it more. I've started to look at other relationship/sex blogs to get an idea of what is out there but I'm still a little unsure of where to start. Anyone reading this with any tips please do get in touch! Would be much appreciated! In the meantime I'll keep doing my research!

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Little extravagances...

So...I've moved to Spain for a while. It is all new and exciting and I'm not sure what to make of it all yet.  My friends expect I'll find myself a Spanish man at some point...

I'm not sure, I've yet to spot any talent but I haven't really been looking....yet! I have made sure I have packed a good wardrobe though. I'm quite a fan of black lace which I think is sexy yet classy and I treated myself to a bright red MAC lipstick (Lady Bug) as I passed through duty free. I think it is rather womanly to have a few little extravagances -superb lipstick and a decent perfume. 

Since arriving here I have also taken time to enjoy fresh figs, warm gooey goats cheese with honey and fresh bread for my supper.

So you have no one to love and lavish you? Even more reason to love and look after yourself!

Sunday, 23 September 2012

Is it possible to share a bed platonically?

I'll admit to having been rather naive a few times when it comes to this situation. Somehow I don't seem to learn either...

The first time... 
I shared a bed with friend who I had mixed feelings for it turned out to be a success story -i.e we didn't mess things up and get it on. We were both too well behaved, clearly. Maybe this successful sleeping arrangement tricked me into thinking it was safe territory...who knows?!

The second time...
I wasn't so lucky. I was a student and had been out late to a local cheesy night club. A group of us piled into my room for late night /early morning chats and drinks afterwards and I was distracted by my soon-to-be boyfriend's hand that was edging closer and closer to mine quietly, unnoticed by anyone else but me. Doubtful of this situation and worried about where it might lead, I didn't want to be left alone with him so I offered one side of my double bed to his friend who had joined our group. I did it with no agenda whatsoever, seriously.

Needless to say our feet brushed, we were both feeling a bit tipsy and I'm not ashamed to say it but in the dark, curled up in a warm bed, I thought 'Why not?!' It was fun and I was happy to see in the morning that he was much fitter than I remembered so altogether it was a pleasant experience. For a while it also drove a nice wedge between me and the other guy giving me time to figure out how I truly felt.

The third time...
was a long-time-passed ex and good friend. We shared a bed as I was visiting and we didn't feel it would be a problem as he was besotted with a mutual friend/on-and-off girlfriend and I had a boyfriend- also a mutual friend. Unfortunately our familiarity with each other led to a strange situation. He decided to show me some 'artistic' photos of his girl and then a 'home' video of sorts. 

All of which I approved of and was relaxed about but in the end it was all too much for the boy and I had to advert my eyes whilst he er, let's just say...sorted himself out. His subsequent awkwardness and guilt later led to me acquiring a nice bottle of wine for my troubles which was fine by me as it had not really phased me. I didn't tell my boyfriend though the real reason it had been bestowed upon me...I deemed it unnecessary.

The fourth/fifth/sixth (who knows how many) time... 
No brainer. My recent long-term ex who I was clearly not over, and I guess he was having trouble detaching himself from me too...We were just kidding ourselves and 'platonic' sleepovers for 'convenience' when I was in town visiting were never just that. We eventually realised these sleepovers were destructive and I stopped staying over and began staying with other friends.

Er..the seventh time... ?!
Fit guy, I'm ashamed to say with girlfriend... Let's not even pretend it was meant to be a platonic sleepover though we went through the pretence of it all to get there...

'Oh I'm too drunk too walk all the way back across the field to my dorm,' 

'Okay, stay in my bed, fully clothed...'

'What a great idea! Oh whoops my clothes came off somehow...'

'Oh dear...what a pity so did mine...'


The eighth time...(we return to this week's date)
I'm really not making a habit of sleeping with taken men, I really don't approve...until this year it had never happened, I swear... and then they go like dominos! Like Ash (Bruce Campbell) in Evil Dead 2 with his demonic possessed hand, Lash's hand had a mind of its own even as he slept...

... (imagine my earnest look)...

...who are we kidding?! 

Though it did kind of seem that way at the time and he was a little perplexed by it when we'd recovered. I did try and steer it in more healthy directions but it was like a compass set to north... 

More on this another day perhaps...

What have we learnt from this little collection of tales? 

Maybe don't sleep in a bed with someone you have mixed or complicated feelings for...?
Or anyone remotely sexy for that matter...
Or after watching porn together...
Or if you are feeling an incy bit horny...

We can probably fashion a list. I have other friends who can offer up their stories too. 

If anyone is reading this blog out there I'd love to know your thoughts/stories/anecdotes...feel free to engage! 

Friday, 21 September 2012

Date Debrief

So, the date came and went. Here are the notes.

Not wanting to sound all philosophical or hippy, I realised, after I wrote the last post and when I was on my date, that you really can't compartmentalise. You just can't...though it is fun to!

To place Lash into the 'womaniser' category and leave him there is too easy. He's a colourful human being and the picture I have built up over time is something I have honed and it is my perception. How much verity you can take from it I don't know.

In my last entry I queried whether he'd ever set foot in a gym - turns out he does now. Oh and he is more of a devil than I last supposed...though we'll come on to that...

The date was wonderful...It is great to be wined and dined and I enjoyed dressing up even if it is a little stressful deciding on the perfect outfit. Some gentlemen complimented me as I walked along the street though my critical mind makes me wonder now if they thought I was a whore, dressed up so finely in such a part of town. It is really not unheard of and this hotel supposedly has a reputation for it. If you've read the Belle de Jour diary you'll also be aware of this.

The hotel we met in was a little too luxurious for my liking and I hid in the toilet before he arrived, adjusting my make-up and texting a friend, but once he was there I relaxed. It didn't feel like a year and a half had gone by, we just picked up where we left off.

A terribly strong martini and a spritz in the hotel and then on to Nobu for dinner to feast on a range of ceviche, sashimi, wagyu beef, all complimented by sake. 

It was sophisticated and lush...I wish I could be taken out like that more often. Lash takes it all in his stride but for me it was just a little bit special. The last and only other time I went to Nobu was to celebrate a big day with a long-term ex and I had cried when he'd revealed the!

Lash was the perfect all was going so well. I felt no underlying agenda or seductive air.
We went back to his and even the cat was an adorable sprite of an angel. I felt no concern at sharing a bed. He's done this before with a mutual friend and nothing came of it (and she's hot stuff) so I felt rest assured we could handle it.

And we did...we fell asleep.


But later in the night, you roll over, you move and hands stray...

To be continued...

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

An Artist when it comes to Wooing

Tomorrow I am meeting up with an ex that I haven't seen for a year and a half and he's taking me out to a very swanky restaurant in Mayfair.

The last time I was due to meet him two of my female friends cruelly made me cancel. They were right to do so but I was grumpy about it nonetheless as they had just cheated me out of just about the best darn sex ever.

It's not too complicated but it requires some explaining. This ex - he wasn't a real ex, more a six month fling - was the first guy I began dating after a serious split of 5 years. Let's call him: Lash (which means 'famous warrior' in the Name Dictionary. I think he'd approve though he's probably never even set foot in a gym let alone gone on a crusade - unless you count all night binge drinking shenanigins). He was my rebound guy - and what a rebound guy!

Picture the scene: me nervously entering probably the most lavish, high ceiling bar I have seen in London thus far. Him: casually centre stage, smack in the middle of the room at a sort of bar, alone except for the poshly suited bartender and many bottles of spirits. 'What flavours do you like? Tell --- (he knew the bartender's name, like they were old friends). He has a great talent, he'll make you the perfect cocktail...'

This guy is, in most simple terms put, 'a womaniser'. I'm convinced he's read all the books. At the time I thought it was rather modern and open minded that he'd watched all of the Sex and the City series but later I realised that he'd clearly watched them as a form of research.

What do women want? This guy clearly knows it...

He's got a girlfriend now and its serious so don't get too excited. This guy may be a lot of things but as far as I am aware he doesn't cheat. Well...actually that is complicated...

You see in the past, as a bachelor, he was happy to woo girls with boyfriends...(technically they are the ones cheating here, not him) in fact, I'd go as far to say it was his speciality. He never explained this to me but I later came to believe it was quite a sly move on his part.

Think about it - if you date a taken girl:

No. 1 - What an ego boast, you've stolen someone's biatch. How sexy are you?!  Licence to steal...
(I imagine he says this to himself in the mirror, one raised eyebrow, as he adjusts his tie)

No. 2 - The clever devil knows -naturally an affair makes the sex all the more steamy, all the more forbidden and exciting -and addictive! We once ate dinner sat opposite one of his other mistresses and her boyfriend. She was clearly as wicked as him because there were covert cheeky smiles aplenty! (Yes, I knew...we'll come on to this fact in a minute)

No. 3 -  You enter the 'relationship' (he never calls it a relationship) with a clear EXIT sign or get out clause. If the girl goes mushy and all serious on you, you can turn it on its head.
'No, I'm the one hard done by! You used me to escape your failing relationship! We're not at sea; I'm not a life-ring. How do I know you won't cheat on me too later down the line? Sorry darling, it's just never going to work, I've seen what you're capable of...' Sobering logic you can't argue with.

What a scoundrel! I hear you cry. He doesn't deny it. He models himself on the devil from his favourite book 'I, Lucifer'. And we all secretly love a good anti-hero...

Being bad is...sooooo sexy. Just take Don Draper from Mad Men...(another of his role models)

When I knew him he was very much a bachelor. He had his tastefully decorated (I might even say 'over feminine' for a man) pad and he had his cat...

Yes, his female cat...another weapon and asset of a First Class Womaniser.

This is how the cat works. You come back to his. You want him, you want his attention...but who does he give it to?! The cat...

What does it do if not make you frustrated and then you want him more. You actually compete with the cat for god sakes!

'Some women in the past have been jealous of my cat,' he says quite openly - he's always so frank and open, even if he gets caught, he doesn't care, probably purposely planting ideas - whilst rubbing the cat's chin knowingly. Quite rightly so...she's the only female he's been fully devoted to these past ten years.

The cat knows it too. All sweet and fluffy and then a hidden claw will come out when you least expect it, often when his back turns.
'He's mine!!!' she hisses, and you recoil in shock. She watches you, she knows...she's seen many like you.

He knows all the tricks...he's a Master Jedi (I was wise in choosing the name 'Lash' in someways).

So he's open. He doesn't do things like other men. He's friends with his many ex's, he revisits old ground, keeps everyone as sweet as he can. He charms and delights whilst always doing what he wants, only what he wants. Try and step in the way of that and you'll know, like a cat, he quickly turns...

You know about the other women, he tells you and you accept it because you have such a great time with him. If you're stupid enough (and many of us are), you kid yourself that you might be the one that changes everything...that you might win him over.

Keep dreaming...even the more long term ones have lost their sway eventually.

The man can cook better than I can - and that is saying something. He eats out in the best places, he is an avid reader, lover of art and film watcher (biggest DVD collection I have ever seen), he loves the theatre, he can speak fluent french, he has an overwhelming passion for ice-cream, he loves to talk and debate. He's not conventionally attractive, he's short and a little chunky, but he's just so sexy...dark stubble, that intense look...I-just-want-to-eat-you sexy...

He's got a death wish - he drinks an incredibly amount, parties hard - live fast, die young...

But if you can enjoy a little bit of the ride he's on - do it I say...just don't fall in love.

My friends stopped me from going to see him that one last time because I'd just met someone else, someone kind, decent and reliable, who deserved my fairness and respectful treatment (even if it pained me slightly to do the right thing) and that is another story for another day too...

So...tomorrow we meet again. It won't be like old times, we won't pick up where we left off but it will be good to see him. 

Will tell all at the end of the week I guess...!

Monday, 17 September 2012

My mum gets some action

(Hey Macarena!)

This weekend saw the whole family popping along to the local community centre hall for a birthday bash.

My sister, who has just flown back from a very chic European city, remarked on the contrast.

'Just the other day I was sipping vermouth from a cocktail glass in an upmarket bar...and I am.'

If you want a clearer picture think Corrie, think Benidorm or Phoenix Nights...this was the kind of scene - British 'working class' locals (I say that with inverted commas as we live in a somewhat classless society these days).

But hey - it's quirky, it's British, you gotta love it.

There was the beauteous dj set up with disco ball and neon lights sweeping the dance floor; there were the flashing fruit machines in the corner bleeping and chirping in computerised tones; the cheap non-branded gin, vodka, whiskey; the beaten toilet doors and scratched walls from years of wear and tear and little funding, the Union Jack bunting; the faded football team photos and glass cabinet trophies; the finger buffet complete with sausage rolls, scotch eggs and wotsits -it was all there. They'd even poshed it up a little with a cheese board and asparagus wrapped in Parma ham.

My dad's fiance had literally flown in from the Far East on Friday morning and we had dragged her along with us. The poor woman had never danced before and suddenly she was being twirled around the dance floor to cotton eye joe and being forced to do the conga.

I don't know what she made of it all. She certainly didn't understand that the 'Yummy Mummy' (dressed in tight black with her tits spilling out, sporting long nail extensions and blonde hair that spilled down her back) was not remotely trying it on with my dad when she just came over to say: 'Hello'. 

Yes, her manner was overly tactile, but whilst my dad's fiance only sees a creature on the prowl; the rest of us see a woman who is simply dressed to the nines because she's forty, she's churned out two kids, her partner left her for a younger model, and she's still making the most of her sex-bomb body whilst she still can.

Unfortunately my dad's fiance's deeply routed impression of Westerners is that we are all exceptionally horny, rampant things and are not to be trusted in ANY situation...

...Oh well...maybe she'll learn to understand these little cultural differences and idiosyncrasies.

I had invited an old school friend along - my first ever serious crush at twelve; though nothing ever came of it back then despite the numerous amount of times I scribbled his name in hearts on my workbook or prayed to every god under the sun to make him fall in love with me whilst listen to Mariah Carey's Music Box album lamenting on my cabin bed.

The guy's now divorced with three offspring. My family adore him because he's a charmer and he's got no shame - the perfect Recruitment Consultant. Plus they remember how cute and big hearted he was as a little boy (He was indeed cute though he's like 6 ft 3 now...).

He encouraged me to let loose with the standard cliche: 
'Dance like no one's watching and sing like no one's listening.'

Thanks for that.

He continued to ply my folks with booze and twirl each and everyone of them around the dance floor - he's a good bloke to know. My family latched onto the idea though that we should be an item (due to our long standing history no doubt and because he is basically ace) which became a little weary as the night wore on and I think gave him a false impression...

Anyway...back to this 'plying of booze' that I aforementioned. So my mum...she's drinks wine like its water (though tonight it was the cheap G&Ts). At the beginning of the night she's got a cold and she declares that she's taking it easy.

Taking it easy my arse.

By the end of the night she needed three people to support her. My mum's more of a wild child than I'll ever be. And just put on some particular 80's cheese and she's away on the dance floor with all the choreographed moves.

Early in the evening she spots a man she's chatted to before at some gathering prior. We all know she's got the hots for him so it is no surprise that she makes a beeline to chat to him. And so I try not to watch  as my mother goes into flirt mode. Lots of arm touching, tilted heads, the body language says it all and the slow dancing...oh dear...

It soon comes to light that 'Yummy Mummy' feels threatened by this...
(Why? Who knows...I think there is some history there despite him being her ex's best friend - the birthday boy. Territorial perhaps? Who knows...Whatever, it's complicated, clearly)

And so a somewhat tacit tug of war ensues. 'Oh darling, I need you to come with me...the birthday boy needs you.' drawls Yummy Mummy, pulling on his arm. Mum smiles on as Yummy Mummy leads him away but her eyes tell the real truth. Both act all light and pleasant about the situation, but no doubt they are both muttering 'Bitch' under their breath.

But my mum, instead of making a scene (her usual method when drinking), waits quietly and latches back onto him later....

Yummy Mummy dances and shakes her tight black bootie on the dance floor vying for attention.

'1-2-3-4-5 Everybody in the car so come on let's ride, to the liquor store around the corner, the boys say they want some gin and juice but I really don't wanna...' plays Mambo Number 5.

It really is like watching a badly scripted soap opera.

Then mum disappears...

Good God...

I catch the trail of her dress disappear around a corner towards the toilets. I don't want to follow but I do. I don't see anything substantial but I see enough to get the idea: an embrace.

'Mum is snogging!!!' 
I hiss in my sister's disbelieving ear (I had decided the word 'snogging' was an apt choice for the theme and style of the night at this given moment, despite the childishness vulgarity of the word) .

'Noooo way!'

'Yes way!!!'

She goes to take a sneak peak...A female family friend also gets in on the peeping tom action.

Bloody hell...

And then he walks out a little later, and she follows a few minutes later. Oh so subtle mother...

As her daughter I am so not down with the 'uncoolness of this' -parents snogging and acting love-sick is gross...but separate to that, you've got to hand it to her...

'The belle of the community hall.' 
My sister declares later as my old school crush twirls her round on the dance floor and she later comes to rest, so inebriated that she keeps knocking numerous glasses off the bar.

Yup, that's my mother... 

Seriously, I could write a book about her.

Friday, 14 September 2012

Pandora's Box

A younger male friend of mine popped up online today to tell me his troubles.

A girl is obsessed with him and he doesn't know what to do. 
She also has a long term boyfriend. 
It also transpired that he fucked her in park after dark a few days ago.

Well... that probably didn't help the situation.

What should I do? He asks me.

Well, you probably shouldn't have slept with her but it is a bit too late now to be giving that advice. I made a comparison to Pandora's Box without registering the sexual slang connotation initially. He's Spanish so he missed it too.

It is a typical scenario. Girl cracks onto guy, guy wants sex...if its being dished out, one usually takes it if one so desires it.

I have no problem with encouraging people to have lots of sex but you should always be aware of the consequences. Maybe it is a generalisation but men can be a lot more detached about the situation then women.

Clearly this girl is not happy in her current relationship, she's probably feeling insecure and she's looking to jump ship. My friend looks like an appealing option and by sleeping with her, she probably thinks it signifies her ticket out of her old relationship. 
Only problem is he is not feeling the same way. 
He just wanted sex but she confused sex with him wanting to be with her.

I told him he had to just be straight with her. Rip off the plaster.

He'd prefer just to avoid her but I was like: 'Dude, do the decent thing, yeah?' 

So many times, men seek the cowardly option and then they wonder why the woman in question goes nuts/ bunny boiler on him.

'I always attract the crazy girls,' he says...

'It is a two way street.' I reply. ' You make it a lot worse for yourself. And they are not all crazy...just probably insecure.'

You choose to avoid being straight, you need to expect the consequences. Plain and simple. And I tell him that I don't expect him to follow my advice. He says he will but we'll see. Often, annoyingly so, you have to live through it first to fully get the picture...

Wednesday, 12 September 2012

Lame Ass Friends: Case Study 1

Some friends are so lame ass. It drives me nuts.

Like my friend of 5 years who recently decided to declare his love for me after I moved out of his apartment. He used the excuse of me moving out to declare it. He said he'd missed me (after two weeks of me leaving) and this had led to the realisation that he had deeper feelings.

No, it hadn't. We both knew these feelings had been there all along, from way back, but I had had a long-term boyfriend and I hadn't felt the same. I assumed there was a tacit understanding and I was careful never to give him any leads to cling to. I talked about my flings and forays openly and stressed our friendship wherever possible. I was even deliberately know, burping, farting...warts and all. No shame. You'd have thought after 5 years he'd have just let go of the idea and settled into the status quo.

I sound a bit harsh here I realise (you're probably thinking: 'ungrateful biatch, he even liked you when you belched in front of him, what is True Love if not that?!'), but I have been on the other side of the coin. There was a guy - there is a guy - a good friend and I always harboured a secret crush. I've known the guy now for ten years and in that time I worked out that it was never going to happen. I tested the water subtly, I looked for signs and I didn't delude myself. We have a very good friendship and I wasn't about to ruin that. The idea has since long been let go of and those feelings have evaporated. It wasn't meant to be.

What if I had confessed my love?

It wouldn't have gone down well. I knew this, so I never did. End of story.

My other friend, let's call him David, didn't read the signs very carefully...

But that's makes life a little awkward but it's flattering and it's okay, it should have been okay...

But it isn't okay, not for David. Now he's hurt, insulted, rejected. He's taken it as a personal insult. So he initially tries to sell me the idea - like what he has to offer is a marketable product and I might still buy into the idea.

Honey, you're not chocolate. It doesn't work like that. I can't just flip a switch. I can't be persuaded to manufacture up these feelings if they don't exist. You need to accept this. It really isn't personal, please, you're hurting yourself unnecessarily over an unwavering fact.

And then he's gone. He cuts me off. I'm not even allowed to contact him directly. I have to get in touch via one of his friends - and only if it is an emergency.

'I have to do what's best for me...' is his excuse.


One minute I thought I had a good friend...and then...well it was all a lie I guess. And it sucks. 

(Oh and I'm not the first close girl friend that he's done this to. You'd have thought he'd have learnt his lesson too as he was full of regret about it a year down the line...)

The whole thing is out of my hands. There isn't anything I can do about it.

Friend down.



It wouldn't be so bad if there weren't other lame ass friends acting up elsewhere...

Until next time.

Tuesday, 11 September 2012

Sweet Transvestite

As I have been creating this blog this morning I have been humming along to this wonderful Rocky Horror Picture Show song to get me in the mood. An ex-boyfriend of mine, a wonderfully eccentric thespian who liked to impersonate Jim Carrey's Ace Ventura often, buggered off with my CD a long time ago and I really should replace it. 

Isn't Tim Curry wicked? How old must he be now I wonder...?

Forgive me if this blog is a little slow starting. I'm told, as a woman, I'm in my sexual prime right now and yet whilst England has had the wettest summer in the last one hundred years, my own sexual landscape has been suffering a severe drought.

I don't see this as a huge problem but it doesn't help for current material. Fortunately there is a whole plethora of backlog material to dig up and divulge...

Stay tuned.