Out with the married, in with the new

You may be wondering what happened with Mac? Well, Mac put off the the date til January which was really the last straw for me, plus I still had the niggling feeling in the back of my mind that he was still happily married. Although he swears his wife is in name only and they lead separate lives and he can do what he wants with whomever he chooses, it didn't feel right. I wrote an email to him saying all the fun and spontaneity had gone out of the idea and the fact that he wasn't free until January, meant he didn't really seem that keen. He wrote back saying it wasn't because he didn't want to see me but it was down to too many commitments with the wife and family! Bloomin heck! If you are even thinking of embarking on an affair, you don't tell your prospective lover that you are a bit too busy with the family do you?? So, I put a stop to it immediately. I said I think I may have made a mistake and I was sorry for having started it all up again. That he should call me if he really was separated or moved out or divorced his wife. The End.

So, the night I was originally to have gone out with Mac, I ended up going out in East London with a very fun gay friend to drown my sorrows. We drank too much, we gossiped, we drank more, we smoked lots of cigarettes, we drank tequila shots, we slow danced in a spanish bar and ended up swaying around in the streets at 2am as happy as larry. My friend tried to hail me a cab by standing in the middle of the road and eventually a car pulled over. I remember a conversation with the driver asking if he was a real mini cab and was I safe with him and he replied ‘yes, of course’. What else would he say? We obviously thought he looked trustworthy enough because I sat in the front seat ready to have a good old conversation with him for the long journey home, which was an hour. This man was hilarious! I laughed the whole way home and I kept saying “you don't seem like a minicab driver”, which I meant as a compliment, of course. Most minicab drivers in London are foreign and don't really like to have a conversation. They tolerate the drunkards that get in their cabs and just pray they don't vomit!

Adrian (I found out his name in the first 10 seconds) finally said “well, I only drive a cab sometimes, my real job is a theatre director!” What, sorry, pardon? I was so confused and said so... I think I implied that he might be fibbing and he handed me a business card. Theatre Director, Woolwich Theatre. Blimey! I suddenly became a little more interested in Adrian and my beer goggles kicked in to overdrive. Here was a big black man, making me cry with laughter who just happened to be involved with the theatre... my passion in life! Hello Adrian! The rest of the journey was a bit of a blur but I remember talking about theatre and the plays we had seen and acting and performing and oooohhhh, it was fun. When he pulled up in front of my flat I leant over and kissed him!! I know, I'm not proud. Kissing a strange mini cab driver at 3am. Bad! Anyway, I vaguely remember him being happily surprised and compliant!

The next morning I woke up and smiled at the drunkenness with my friend and then I sat bolt upright and shouted “Noooooooooo, what have I done!” Flashbacks of cabs and a black man and then, Oh shit, the kiss. What the fuck was I thinking! Then the hangover from hell kicked in and I worried about that for the next 12 hours whilst lying, groaning on my sofa.

A few days later I was rifling through my handbag and found his business card. Oh my God. I then decided to do a bit of internet stalking and there he was, theatre director. So he hadn't made it up. Oh Christ... and a photo. Here was Adrian, a giant grinning black guy, about 40 something, eek. Should I get in touch? Was he really very funny and sexy or was I just completely trolleyed with no sense of anything? Fuck it! I texted him apologising for my drunken behaviour. He texted back that it was a pleasure and would love to have a proper date with me. Shit, what now? A few more texts, a bit more stalking, a bit more interest, a phone call with much laughter, several more phone calls, more laughter and chat. A date. A date for tomorrow night.

I will leave you on tenterhooks!

Reschedule

Just heard from Mac. He wants to re-schedule our spontaneous night of passion until the end of January when his diary is less hectic. Talk about taking the whimsy and excitement out of things! Thanks but no thanks!

Spontaneity is dead!

So... after the last email from Mac, where he basically suggested a quick shag in the local holiday Inn, he came to his senses, realised what he'd written was pretty insulting and after a couple of days sulking, suggested we meet in a gorgeous luxury hotel in East London. The Hoxton Hotel, chic, cool and a favourite of models and rock stars. That’s better I thought.

Then at the end of last week he wrote that it was really hard to book anywhere because we were meeting on a Friday, close to Christmas and everywhere was full. Rather than email back I looked at The Hoxton and a few other hotel websites for availability on that date, and they all had rooms. Weird. So either he has cold feet again and thought he's make something up so we wouldn't meet OR he's just a lazy bastard and can't be arsed! I don't know.

So I wrote back a very nice email saying that I would book if he wanted , that I'm sure I could find somewhere... calling his bluff, you see. Then nothing! I have not heard a word from him since last Friday and today is this Friday. I really can't be arsed with it all anymore. It was all supposed to be sexy and spontaneous and now it's a pain in the bum and has lost all that was exciting! Might have to try toyboy.com!

Old Flame

Old flames are aptly named because they are the smoke with no fire!

Having recently returned from a trip to Morocco, and having witnessed all the loved up couples on my travels, I realised I had been single for 2 years, therefore, having had no sex for 2 years! It's tragic!

So to resolve this dilemma, quickly and efficiently, I decided to offer my booty to an old flame. The old flame is one I have written about on here before and swore I would never see again. I actually told him I never wanted to see him again because of his lying and bullshit about separating from his wife, which is transpired, he hadn't.

The reason I picked him though is that I know where he's been and I know he's discreet, rich and desperate! The last time I saw him he told me that although he hadn't left his wife quite yet, they slept in separate bedrooms and they hadn't had sex in over 6 years. Not sure I believed that but judging on his performance, I would say it had been a good couple of years at least since he'd had sex. You can sort of tell these things! So a perfect match for some harmless, one off sex I thought.

I tested the waters with a short and sweet email. When I got an excited reply about how he thought he would never hear from me again and how he'd missed me and how he'd like to take me out for the day, to the coast or a long lunch, I dropped the bomb. "Actually," I wrote "I'm going to be very honest with you but as we have never had a normal relationship and our romantic day and weekends away have always been a disaster, I was thinking that maybe we could just meet at a lovely hotel for a few hours and have some hot, dirty sex?". There it is.

Nanoseconds later he replied "Oh my god, I wasn't expecting that and I've just fallen off my chair. But yes, Oh yes please, I would love to meet and have dirty sex with you." Well, what red blooded man would turn down free uncomplicated sex?

We then agreed on a date and it was all going to plan... UNTIL I suggested a few places in town that are beautiful and quite luxurious for our little tryst. Whenever we have been anywhere in the past, he has chosen lovely, tasteful places so I thought that would still be the case, especially for what we had in mind. He came back with a reply that was a bit... well, yuck!.

He wrote:

“Fuck me, for a girl who didnt want romance St Pancras is described as londons most romantic hotel plus a fab breakfast which we wont have obviously!!! Im slightly, errr, impecunious, at the moment. Lets get down at the nearby Euston Ibis - you book it and check in (and out) and i'll pay you. Drinks on me as well!! I'll come up to the room and meet you there. I'll send you link for hotel. Ive stayed there a couple of times after dinners and its very comfortable if functional. I'm getting very excited by this cos i never thought Id hear from you again.”

Yuck, yuck!! There are so many awful things in this I was gobsmacked.

1. Implying it will be a quick fuck so no need for breakfast.

2. Even typing the words "let's get down.." Eughhh!

3. The Euston Ibis the worst kind of salesman's motel. Ten steps down from a Holiday Inn. Characterless, cheap and ugly. Him saying "comfortable and functional" is so clinical. Yuck!

4. "You book, check in and I'll pay you". Am I a prostitute?

5. "Drinks on me as well!!" The bar at the Ibis is even worse that the rooms!

5. "I'll come up to the room and meet you there". Ok, now starting to make me feel like a whore.

In fact, even typing it out has got me sooooo angry again. I know emails can be misread and the tone of voice lost but really. It's all too sleazy!!

I wrote back a terse paragraph: "I think we have our wires crossed. The Ibis is dreadful and the opposite to what I had in mind Mac. When I suggested a sexy evening with you it didn't mean it has to be in some tarts hotel for a quickie and then "pay me"!! If you want that sort of thing, you can go to the Ibis with a girl outside Kings Cross station and pay by the hour!!"

Unsurprisingly I haven't heard back. It just might be a little longer until I have sex again!!!

Lots of friends, no one to talk to

I read an article about Eddie Izzard, the comedian, the other day and he said that he was often incredibly lonely because "he knew lots of people but didn't have any friends". I felt like writing to him and saying "I know what you mean, I feel the same way sometimes."

It didn't always used to be like this. Ten years ago, before all my friends began having children, there would be endless dinner parties, girls nights out, girls nights in. My social life was wonderful. I honestly never thought it would change quite so much. I guess I was lucky growing up because my parent's friends never seemed to change when they had children. Their social lives got busier and the children would be taken everywhere... dinner party, ooh yes please, I'll just shove the baby on the spare bed. BBQ, fantastic, can the kids watch TV?

There is one huge difference though. I'm the one without the kids. That's why my social life has gone wrong. I feel sometimes like I'm being punished, not by God .. although he has a lot to answer for, but by my friends for not having children. I'm constantly told "You don't understand, I have no life. I'm exhausted and have no time for myself. EVER! You are so lucky Jules, you can lie in bed and read the papers, you can read a book, you are able to travel and have dinner dates and so on and so on". Some of my friends seem to hate me for it. They have no idea that I still wonder why I should be on this planet if I can't have children. That I am a waste, totally inadequate as a human and as a woman. That no man will ever want me because I am barren. That I feel totally excluded from their lives because I don't have children. It makes me feel unwanted and useless. But then I can't tell them that because then it sounds so selfish.

And, its bollocks about not having a social life. My friends tell me about their BBQ's and their street parties and their childrens parties. It's just I'm not invited. If I had children I'd be invited. Also because I'm single I get left out of couples dinner parties and there never is a spare man is there? So it's not always greener is it?

I have a best friend. Someone I used to tell everything to. She is still my best friend.. if you're reading this. She means the world to me but I never hear from her. I leave it weeks and I still don't hear from her so I ring or text or email. Then I get upset because I think, if I never ever rang her again would she think to ring me? I could be dead in my flat and she wouldn't know for months. This morning, I read about the unhappy time she is having... on her blog. I try and reach out and ask her what's wrong but she puts up her wall and says nothing. I feel I lost her a few years ago and when a particularly traumatic event happened last year, I felt I'd lost her again because she wasn't there. The thing is, I know her so well. I know that when she is lost or miserable the first thing she does is recede into her shell and says nothing. She can't share. She's not like that. Her lovely Mum was very stoic and stiff upper lip and my darling friend is the same. I miss her like mad. I feel a bit of her has disappeared with her sadness and I wish I could make it better. But how do you force someone to talk to you without becoming over dramatic or a pain in the arse??

I started writing another blog a few months ago and she had links to that and this blog on her own page. When I read her blog this morning I noticed the links had gone. I'm not sure what that means. I'm not even sure if she reads either of them. I want some sort of sign if I've done something wrong. I want her to tell me to stop being paranoid. I want to be told to stop worrying and believe her. I want to not have to write a very personal blog in order that it might reach her.

To you, my darling friend... I love you.

new

Just to let anyone know... I have started another blog. Not sure if it will take over from this one or not yet...

www.whatisawwhatiheard.blogspot.com

What is... normal?

I haven't written in months which is very naughty, sorry. I actually only have about 5 people that read this so probably could apologise individually.

Anyway, the road to being normal is still in guinea pig mode. When I say normal, I mean relative to me. Other people’s normal is not mine. I am now seeing a rather good specialist who is an HRT and menopause consultant. She has me currently on a recipe for feeling good:

2 squirts of a french oestrogen gel - rub on upper arms every morning
1 pea size squeeze of testosterone gel - rub into inner thigh (this, I was afraid would give me full beard and make me drink Stella but for now it is prescribed by the doctor to regulate my testosterone levels to normal (again, my normal) which will help my energy levels, my libido and might help with my weight loss. The libido thing is a worry... my sex drive is perfectly fine for someone that hasn't has sex in about 2 years. Ha, ha, ok so that's not a great statement. If (and always hopeful) and when I get a boyfriend I will probably not let him out of bed for the first week!

1 progesterone capsule - shoved up my vag every night for days 1-10 of the month. Jesus Christ, this is the one thats killing me. Its horrible and so so unladylike putting something up there and no, its not like a tampon. My doctor did make me laugh though... she said if I was being intimate with a man, then the benefit of having this was that I could still have sex. When I frowned at her she just said I could put it up my arse instead (I hoped she meant the capsule not the penis!) Except she didn't say arse, she just did 2 short whistles and pointed to her bottom. Brilliant, so the choice of 2 places of rest for this butt plug should make me feel better!!! It makes me feel hideous too, imagine 10 days of the worst PMS you have ever had, times 10.

Then I have my period and then, ooh, arent I lucky, the remaining 2 weeks of the month I feel ok. So, a work in progress I am.

What else? Um, soya and flaxseed supplements and of course, I'm still on weight watchers and watching the tedious progress of losing only about half a pound a week. Have been on this particular strict diet for over 10 weeks and have lost about 6lbs. Slow but moving in the right direction.

So I will try and update again sooner. I am about to join an internet dating site called Muddy Matches so wish me luck!!!