Tag: jan

feeling unsettled

I saw Jan the other night – he’d invited me to his local and I went because we hadn’t seen each other since the last time before he went away, halfway across the globe to attend a cousin’s wedding.

It was a strange evening – I was tired and his friends seemed aggressive in their bantering irascibility.  Back at his we spent a companionable couple of hours on the sofa before his lodger, an ex returns.  I kiss him goodnight just past midnight and drive home.  Neither of us slept well.  His sleep punctuated by surreal dreams – of weddings, not unusual as he has just returned from one.

I think sometimes that he is self absorbed – a little unaware of the needs of others around him. Is that why Carly and his other women fall to the wayside?  I’m still around, he must like me.  I like him but am wary, of giving too much away.

In contrast to this relationship with Jan is the one I have with Goran.  I love the wild sex with him and always have.  But he isn’t always accessible as he lives with his young family and jealous, alpha wife.  The sex was punishingly good last night, even though we had tried to keep our hands off each other for the first hour or so.   I flirt with the thought that we might be something more to each other than lovers but know that I want his marriage to succeed.  And because of this I keep my emotions in check.

This morning we went for some coffee at our local coffee bar.  I was feeling a little rough as we’d finished a bottle of cava between us and some red wine after that.  We kissed chastely outside and go our separate busy lives, until next week.

It bothers me that an ex thinks it is un-womanly my having so many lovers.  I am not ashamed of it.  I don’t draw attention to this lifestyle but the men I date are aware of it.  It bothers me to think that they might think badly of my character or morals but I don’t really aspire to that kind of virtue/morality.

I couldn’t fully focus on writing today as distracted by the men who send me messages, I am flattered by their attention, and break off from what I’m doing to reply to them.

Jan asked me up to his this Friday and I made arrangements to stay over at his.  We had a slight misunderstanding but it was cleared up in minutes – when we both openly spoke our minds.  I have been feeling a little over sensitive and vulnerable lately, my senses working overtime, occasionally picking up slights where none were intended.  I am grateful I have his warm friendship and feel a little guilty for thinking early in the week that he might have been self-absorbed.  No one is completely without virtue.


Why don’t you come over to me one evening next week?  – Jan suggested in the car this morning, just before we kissed our goodbyes as I dropped him off at the station.  We might do something a little more exciting than sleep.

I asked him if he had felt like it during our date or in bed and he said he hadn’t been that interested.  I agreed that it didn’t occur to me that sex was on his mind. We both agreed that sex was not a requirement in a relationship but he said he knew that I was interested in it and he felt obliged to put out as it were, but age etc meant that he was physically limited.  He was only seven years older than me.  In sharp contrast to Goran who is seven years younger than me.

Just before we went to bed I’d had on one of my more risqué nighties, a silky red number that skimmed the tops of my thighs.  I suppose at the back of my mind I’d hoped that it might have tempted him, but alas, it didn’t work.  I wasn’t too disappointed but wondered if it meant that we were destined to be just very good friends.  We get on very well and I don’t feel too jealous when he tells me he might have had a few sexual encounters with other women.  Although I am ever so slightly satisfied to hear that these romps weren’t as earth shattering as either party had hoped.

I realise at the end of this week – a week which had begun with my diary filled with dates every evening of the week, only for most of them to be cancelled and a few replaced with ones with Jan – that perhaps I can be content with only seeing Jan, and Goran, and perhaps occasionally Sebastien and R.  Certainly with the latter duo, my relationship with each is completely platonic.  Lars had sent me an invitation to play but I had politely declined.  There is no one I want to give up my single status for and perhaps it is enough to sleep with one man and see a few others now and again.

Asking for the moon

I have always led a charmed existence in that going by my instincts,  steer myself down the right path, usually.  So the uneasiness that I feel over my present lifestyle unsettles me.  I struggle to identify it and can only approximate it to guilt.  Feeling guilty for enjoying myself, feeling guilty for doing things differently to others, feeling guilty because I overpaid for something, feeling guilty for not doing more than I can, feeling guilty because I’m dating four or more men at the same time.  Even though this lifestyle is no longer censured, I come across articles and news of the devastation that infidelity wreaks on relationships and realise that I am still the anomaly.  Most people I know are in or want a monogamous relationship.  Being the oddity I question my motives from time to time, and wonder if it’s due to something lacking in me that I am unable to conform.  I don’t feel guilt exactly for the way I conduct my affairs but a certain amount of uncertainty, whether there might be a better way to lead my life – these thoughts creep up on me.

The other day this guilt or whatever the unease I felt, raised its periscope and struck me again,  causing a slight breathlessness.   Over the next few days it sat forward waiting patiently to be addressed.  It had been there all along at the back of my mind, lurking, and then it was in plain sight for a fleeting moment.  One of my friends gave it a name, but we’d had quite a bit of wine that evening and I forgot to write it down and it was lost again.  I have not been able to recall it and so am unable to assess its accuracy.

I’d kept away from this dating blog long enough.   What I’m looking for might actually be within my grasp if I had courage enough to face my own shortcomings.   But then distracted I lose that strain of thought and the old cowardice returns. And whatever had surfaced a week ago returned into the depths, unidentified, unnamed.

Jan asked me from half a world away yesterday – Why do you feel the need to keep dating?  The only too obvious answer is that I’m still looking.  Looking for that answer, that name which eludes me still, that will satisfy this hunger that keeps me seeking out man after man.  And even though I’ve found one who complements me in bed and a few others who meet me on an intellectual level, yet one more with whom I can be silly and banter and watch all manner of films together and talk endlessly about what we’ve read and the world around us; perhaps I would like to meet the one with whom I will not find impossible to live and who will accept the presence of these others.

across continents and being at home

How’s the dating?

It’s Jan’s turn to trot across the globe this time and we swap travel tales and tips, he sends me pictures of dishes he enjoyed on his exotic holiday.  He asked me how I was doing with the dating and it’s become a happy pattern now of seeing two or three different men in the week.  Even R has returned and become quite fun to hang out with.  We went to see that very quirky dystopian film The Lobster before going on to a restaurant and then a pub for more drinks.  Finally at about half eleven he walked me to the station and we kissed and hugged each other goodbye.  It was friendly and lovely and we promised to see each other again before he had to go away to dangerous destinations for work.

I told Jan about the Texan who entered my dating life a few weeks back.  But not in any great detail because apart from his sartorial elegance and Harvard background he is still very new and a little unknown.   We take our time between dates and I marvel at my own restraint – perhaps I’ve learnt to savour and enjoy the entire experience, the delicious anticipation, confident that my expectations will not be disappointed.

And of course there’s Goran over whom my heart still skips a beat occasionally.  But the fact that he belongs elsewhere has tempered my enthusiasm and I have sought to distract myself by reading the consolation of philosophy and other works by that  philosopher of the quotidian.  It has given me some comfort to know that my motives in seeing him remain selfless in so far as I don’t wish his marriage to end.  Whilst he remains married to another, we might continue our love affair in a bubble of indulgence each happy to please the other, fully appreciating the short time we have together and making the effort to delight and soothe.

don’t turn your nose up at online dating darling

I hate online dating

the above snapshot was taken from Dolly Alderton, 26 writing for the Sunday Times

She’d been watching too many movies clearly, those Before and After Sunrise type ones where you want to just grab Ethan Hawke, snog and shag him senseless into silence.

But who am I to make these pre-judgements?  The thing is I’ve not been patient enough to wait 5 years –  less than a month into being single and I’m hooked up with someone has been the story of my dating life.  Except in the last 1.5 years – which gives me another 3.5 to look for that someone in real life.  In the meantime I went on holiday with the first one from a dating website, optimistically called *****… Soulmates (!), and returned home NOT feeling like knowing him had been a huge mistake.  Thing is though, having had your heart broken and definitely approaching the end of days makes one a tad cautious.

Here’s a little preview of diary entries during that holiday –

It was promisingly sunny but bracing when we arrived and were met by our car hire rep.  I never quite got used to driving on the wrong side of the road, causing Jan to wince and chastise me for veering into the hard shoulder on the passenger side fairly frequently – it was mostly good humoured ribbing as he was equally incompetent.  I drove towards Stykkisholmur, stopping at Bogarnes to take in a heritage museum and hear Egil’s saga – he of warrior poet fame, slaying his first foe at the tender age of seven to the fulsome praise of his mother.

That evening the rain came down and tested our rain jackets.  We were recommended a pleasing diner at the tourist information centre by an enthusiastic young information guide (there are lots of good restaurants around here, well, ok not lots, but good …).  So we found Skirinn where we each had two large pints of the local brew with our first of many fish meals.  My inhibitions very much lowered after the strong beers, as we headed to the harbour and the lighthouse to take photos of the stunning sunset and rainbows when the rain cleared, I declared that I was ready to give my heart to the island.  I’m sure Jan must’ve thought me utterly reckless and almost as crazy as the rest of his women friends!

Our second full day, Jan at the wheel when we crossed over to the Westfjords with its breathtaking landscape saw us reaching for our phone cameras; he stopped the car every few minutes to take another scenic shot with his DSLR. We were headed towards Bolungarvik at the northern tip of the Westfjords opposite Hornstrandir peninsula.  En route we stopped off at the Dynjandi falls where the rest of the tourists on this wild bit of Iceland had also decided to congregate. It was still magical enough and we were able to have quite a few moments just taking in the booming majesty and spectacular beauty of the place.

Fresh off the ferry from Stykkisholmur earlier we’d paused at the side of the road and walked down the sides of a waterfall. I particularly revelled in the cushiony mossy banks.  If it hadn’t rained a few minutes before, I might have lain down on it.  But it was damp and the hovering midgies also a nuisance.

The mountains throughout the journey had rough black faces of lava rock, some were tiered with columnar basalts and some still had sheets of unmelted snow on them; the glaciers were only faintly visible, merging with clouds in the far far distance.  Some greenery was creeping up from the valleys, along fissures where water might have carved small rifts downwards.  It was beautiful and although most of the guidebooks said that we would encounter few people in these parts we did pass a number of cars on our journey – a sign of mounting tourism.

We arrived at the guesthouse – Einarshusid.  It was quaint and built at the turn of the last century. To be honest it wasn’t very inspiring initially not least because the washing facilities were shared but the hosts were charming and the place grew on us – we stayed there for three nights.

The next day we drove up to a bay at the end of the headland – the sands were a dark grey and there was a seal having a little swim in the deserted water.  We walked on the mossy grassy cliff top towards the end of a waterfall and I had a little drink.  It started to rain and the clouds descended rapidly as we drove away towards Isafjordur.  There we joined a ferry to Hesteryi, once a thriving settlement centred around a profitable whaling industry and then later when whale hunting was quota curtailed, herring.  But it lost even that trade when all the herring left the region, coincidentally at the same time as when telephone cables had been laid in the waters’ bed.  Now it is only visited by hikers, campers and the odd tourist like us.  There were two resident arctic foxes who gambolled up to us with quite docile expectation of feeding.  We all snapped away at them with our cameras and then it was time to get back on the ferry where the whales obliged us once more with their surface presence.

The hosts at the guesthouse were really a number of students on summer jobs but one of them, Alex, was particularly informative and helped us find amongst other attractions a lovely fish restaurant where we ate on our last night there.

It was called Tjorhusid (the Towerhouse) and we made friends with three other diners on the long tables who were seated next to us.  One was a young American from LA although he was born in Oahu, the other two a French couple from Brittany.  Jan was his convivial self and invited Kevin, the American for a post prandial drink but he declined.  We ended up in the basement of our guesthouse but no one else joined us.  Ennis, who was a Berliner had had a drink with us the previous evening, regaling us with her tales of driving woes.  She was making her way towards Akuryeri on her own and the previous evening we had been invited by two German couples to join them on their film night.  They had connected the TV in the bar to their laptop to play Fading Gigolo.  We watched it to the end that first evening and went to bed at around one in the morning.

When we woke up, Jan had been a little amorous but we were fairly chaste after that.  Goran has been messaging me on what’s app throughout this trip and I detected a little despondency in his tone on Sunday.  He asked and I confessed to him that Jan and I had had a little romp that morning and nothing since which was the truth.

We get to the middle of our holiday after an epic 5 hour journey weaving in and out of the fjords on smooth roads.   We play our music on our iPhones to each other and take turns with the driving.  Intent on arriving, a little anxious about the journey and destination, we missed a couple of sights.  We had eaten our packed lunches fairly late and didn’t feel like having a full meal so went for a walk on the beach and into the tiny interior before going back to the hotel bar for a drink.

I am enjoying this holiday a lot as both Jan and I quite like spending time reading on our own, not making any unreasonable demands on each other’s time. We’d had an honest sort of chat about our circumstances which helped tremendously to lay the boundaries for how we relate to each other.

I broke off from writing this halfway to entertain Jan on his PPE whimsy, Peston and Corbyn came up a few times and then we got distracted somehow and now I’m back to writing as he seems to be intent on a game on his phone.   I go off for a dip in the hotel hot pool, joined by a honeymooning couple from Kansas.  Jan sees us but disappeared back into the room.  I get out after the pool closes and find him on his phone, intent on the screen, lying on the bed.

We’d had a chat about what we want in our relationships with people and he is very much happy in his present state although still very much looking. A bit like me. We are all looking for something that will suit us.   What suits is not getting hurt after an adult lifetime spent with the wrong partners.   The next morning we’d had an unexpected romp – I was in a silly giggly mood.  The walls were uncompromisingly thin and we dared each other to remain silent in our enthusiasm.  He’d said the night before that sex was like sneezing but took it back after I challenged him post-coital.  We settle into an easy, comfortable pace and he says that I am nice to go on holiday with as I’m not at all mad, unlike some of his other women friends.  I laughed but felt inwardly quite pleased and then wished I might be thought a little mad after all.

The day of the journey down the F35 dawned blue and golden and the sights magnificent – glaciers in the far distance, moonscape in the foreground.  Sheep in threes – ewe and her two lambs were a fairly common sight, in the middle of the road licking the salt and then skittering off as we approached.  The road became rough and full of pot holes so we stopped off at hot springs at Hveravelir, and had some tea before pushing on to Gullfoss – the mother of all waterfalls.  The road thankfully improved as we reached the tourist trodden Golden Circle before getting to our final guesthouse.  Towards the grassy plains in the south we saw plenty of Icelandic horses.

Last full day – quietly seeing the main city, a visit to the penis museum and then some souvenir shopping before a drink at b5 to revive us.  I’d come across Halldor Laxness at one of the bookshops and am determined to find him at the library.  It was late – around 4pm but I managed to persuade Jan we should drive to the Black Sand Beach in Vik.  It would have been even more spectacular if it hadn’t been raining and so we spent a mere fifteen minutes there before picking up a couple of Russian hitchhikers on the way back.  The talk inevitably turned to Putin and the Russian economy, or laughable lack of it, according to them.

Things I liked about the holiday – listening to Jan’s music – Pink Floyd, Emiliana Torrini, June Tabor and a bit of his early band Valhalla – whilst on the road trip; also the breathtaking landscape and quiet desolation of most of the north west; and of course the final guesthouse just outside Hverargedi – a modern charm of simplicity, owned and run by an Icelandic sculptor.  She was an interesting character and Jan wished he could have chatted more with her, found out more about her etc.  I also found the last two nights refreshingly relaxing and would vote it the best place to stay.  The holiday could all have been a little cheaper but we’d had a fairly incident and drama free week.

Said goodbye yesterday and we returned to our ordinary lives.

And for your patience and reading to the end of the additional 1800 words, this is why I adore the music of the Icelandic singer Emiliana Torrini –

parts of the ideal man

How are the bees? 

When we first met Jan had flirted with the idea of beekeeping.  A year on and he has a solitary bee box but no honey bees.  He has been over to see operations at my apiary and not been completely put off yet although he confided that the idea of responsible swarm management made the whole venture seem a trifle overwhelming.   So occasionally he starts off communications by firing an inquiry as to the well-being of my livestock.  This is usually followed by an invitation to a meal or a drink.  Last night we finished planning the last leg of our Icelandic holiday over cheese and chilled prosecco.

I had brought my dog round with me, who having satisfied his curiosity by exploring every inch of Jan’s house and garden, lay down between us in contentment.  He is over ten and for a large dog in his dotage.  Still, he was a vigilant enough chaperone and I left Jan’s with my virtue intact.  He waved us goodbye and promised to get in touch midweek.   It was a half an hour’s drive back home because at eleven o’clock on a Monday evening the roads were fairly clear.   We exchanged a few good night text messages and confirmed our next date.  I fell asleep warming once again to Jan who seems attuned to my present emotional state.

a quiet life

Is this what you call life after sex?

He arched an eyebrow at me.  I wondered that he might have the temerity to jibe.  We’d had rather a lot of sex last night and earlier this morning.  I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was the only one I was having sex with now that I’d kissed off the others.  I was still self-conscious about my mid-life body, stretched and flabby with quite a bit of wobble in all the wrong places.  But when he removed his glasses and we were in bed together, his appreciation of me very plain and priapically evident I could believe that I was quite hot.

We’d also started text chatting with each other almost all the time now and meeting up practically every Friday evening.  When he suggested another Friday date I asked him if this was a regular thing now and he’d said it could be if I fancied it.  I was hesitant initially – because of course when expectations are raised disappointment inevitably follows.   I discover that the optimistically shameless hussy still lurks as I make an assignation with him midweek after 10pm.   I would not fall in love with him even as I enjoy his body.  He belongs in an open marriage and I belong to myself.

My life as a single woman now revolves around the choices I make about whom I see and date.  The other evening Jan came round and we pored over the map of Iceland, planning routes and booking ferry crossings, guesthouses, etc..  We’d gone to bed tired –  I’d fallen asleep in his arms, which was lovely but not sexy, for some reason.    We’d woken up in the morning together and then fallen into discussing Jung and dreams and being content in ourselves rather than looking for someone on whom to hang our happiness.  He echoed my sentiment that sex was not everything in a relationship.  Which caused me to wonder if he considered that we were in a relationship …  He must suspect that I see other men, although he is smoothly diplomatic and never intrusive about how I spend my time, even when I quiz him about his dates, both virtual and in the real world.   When he bemoaned the fact that we’d spent another sexless night together I rather indignantly replied that he’d not made any overtures or intimated that he might be inclined towards a romp.   We had already showered and got dressed by then and were kissing our goodbyes.  Not quite virginal kisses but very warmly and the dog had got a tad jealous again.  I went back upstairs to strip the bed and wash the bedlinen despite our chaste night together.  At the end of the week Goran was coming round for his regular date.   He had already sent me a morning text and it has become something I look forward to now.

Hottest day of the year

I’d thought he didn’t want to meet again but the following morning I received a reply from Max with several more ideas.  We may meet up on Monday evening after all for a literary reading and then dinner later.

Last night Jan and I met at the Vimtry, a pub off Cannon Street – it was where I had first met him in public and his mate Gerard was there again.  His girlfriend Magda came later on and we spent most of the evening discussing Jung.  Jan is very much taken with the idea that the first three years of a child’s life defined them as an adult.  Of course none of us has any genuine recollection of those early years.  Later we also discussed the plots of Game of Thrones and how much we were anticipating the coming episodes.

The topic of conversation shifted again when Gerard remarked on the fact that Magda only had male friends.

And you don’t approve of any of them – she said.

We all turned to look at Gerard.  Why is that?  I asked.

He thinks that they’re creepy – Magda answered for him.

It’s because I think they only want to sleep with you.

I don’t want to sleep with them and I don’t think you’re right anyway.  Men can be friends with women without wanting to sleep with them.  Why does everyone think the opposite?

Because it happens to be true.  The three of us were in agreement about this but we decided not to let the debate spoil the atmosphere.  Later the young lovers went outside for a smoke and Jan leaned across the table to kiss me.  He took me to his favourite Indian restaurant nearby and although he said he needed to go back home when the meal was over, he ended up taking the tube back with me.

I had disgraced myself that evening by drinking too much and falling asleep when Jan was supposed to get off at his stop.  At Hampstead station I woke up and was so confused that I persuaded him to get off there before realising that it was the next stop I wanted.  When we eventually got home I threw up magnificently into the downstairs loo.  I decided to have a quick shower hoping that it might make me feel better but the next morning I was sick again.  Jan was quite sympathetic but he had to leave to go to work.  He kissed me on my lips and forehead and wished me better.

I went to the shops after walking the dog and got some tinned soup to have for lunch.  The sun was heating up the day and people all around me were happy that it was going to be the hottest day of the year so far.  I got a free cup of tea at the supermarket and after putting the shopping away went down to the allotment to do some bee keeping.

Goran and I messaged each other when I had finished.  He was coming over tomorrow evening to make spaghetti carbonara for us.  I told him that I was swearing off alcohol for a bit and he thought that my Asian genes did not contain the necessary ethanol tolerance which most Celts have in abundance.  Which probably explains why Jan was none the worse for wear despite his having drunk a lot more than I had.

I still hadn’t replied to Tristan and wonder if he would assume I was no longer interested.  I had told Andy by text that Amy had quit her naughty ways.  When he asked why I’d told him that I’d had enough of meaningless sex.  That was only a half truth, the real reason was that I was now in a position to be choosy about who I wanted to see, date and sleep with, and he was not among my chosen few.

Post Easter shuffling – who remains in the inner circle

I have now struck Darren off my shag portfolio.  That is my only option after getting the following email from him this morning:

Hey Amy

Some disturbing news.
Hope you are good. Sorry for not being in touch but had a few personal issues. 
I have a bad feeling that I may have caught something when we were together and worse that I may have passed it to my wife. I may be overreacting but best to be safe than sure. After our time together I began to feel a bit of an itch in my penis and ignored it at first. It then continued so thought I best get some antibiotics from online thinking it could have been a thrush sort of thing.  This seems to have done job but my wife has had tonsillitis like symptoms for several weeks that are not going away. Looking online this ‘may be’ gonorrhea like symptoms. I am obviously very anxious in case this is the problem. 

As you are the only one I have been with for a long time (>year), do you think you might get your self tested asap for your own benefit and to let me know. If you have got something you want to get rid asap before it does any harm.

You can get a home test kit online.

Please let me know. I hope it is not the case.

My thoughts ran along the lines of – what a paranoid ass.  He had not had the decency to go and get confirmation but was quite content to try and cast blame for his own and his wife’s symptoms.  It was just as well that I’d already received the all clear from the STI clinic and I had the pleasure of letting him know that, as well as throwing in the added sting that he could not be certain of course whether his wife might have picked her own symptoms up from elsewhere and that they might both wish to go and get themselves tested to be sure.

Jan in the meantime is now someone I see as an old friend and we seem to have so much more fun out of bed that we inevitably end up too exhausted to do anything else other than sleep when we do share a bed.  Lars by comparison I only see purely for sex.  I worry that I am too vanilla by comparison but it could be that vanilla is what he enjoys with me after his extreme jaunts with Madame et filles.

Max and I continue testing our boundaries in bed and trying out new adventures outside.  In the middle of one romp his slaps continued up my body from my bottom and we both shocked ourselves by enjoying his slaps on my cheeks.  We talked about this later and agreed that it wasn’t something we were that keen on and it was something of the moment.  The refrain – where will it end – was raised once more – might we try pressure elsewhere in future, his hands on my throat, for example?

Goran meanwhile, has invited me to meet him at a hotel this week.  Whether we end up in bed and how satisfying that experience will be is something I’m sceptical about.

the very first one

shameless hussy

indulging in sexting, i marvelled at my boldness, which truth be told was not of my own initiation.  then as i pressed for a closer encounter,  felt resistance and so backed off.  still, not one to give up, i left the door ajar and eventually a knock came …

on a drunken whim he asked me over one evening and i, shameless hussy went.  perhaps the reason was because i hadn’t had sex in a while, since end of may at least, that i went knowing we would end up in bed.  it was past midnight after all when the invitation was issued.

as i sped along the m1 my mind was racing with anticipation and apprehension. the anticipation was arousing, but the apprehension added an edginess.  i had the usual radio 4 on in the car which at 1am ended with god save the queen.  it was merely white noise to more burning thoughts, replays of conversations we’d had on text or spoken.  so i turned the radio off and then i was on pitch black country lanes before getting to his village, thank you map apps on smartphone!  he wasn’t asleep after all and came out to help me find his house as all the house numbers were obscured in the darkness.

i think we were both quite nervous, me because of my saggy wobbly body, and he for his own self doubting reasons.  he prattled on about doing up his house eventually and my mouth was dry despite the glass of water he’d given me when i arrived.

we sat on his couch in his living room and then he lay down with his head on my lap.  i can’t remember what we talked about, my tummy was making awful rumbly noises which i was sure was putting him off.  he realised i didn’t have any knickers on as he commented on the softness of my skin.  before leaving the house i’d pulled on the dress i’d worn earlier in the day and had decided against wearing any underwear.

after a decent period of time had passed, he suggested we go upstairs.  i had a moment of panic and asked to go to the loo.  as i loitered downstairs asking myself if this was what i wanted, i realised that i knew it was and thought to hell with what he might think of me.  so i went upstairs and stripped off and got under the covers.  when he got into bed he asked me if i wanted all the lights off.  i think ordinarily i would’ve wanted to be in the dark but because this was something quite bold and uncharacteristic of me – i wanted to keep my eyes open and be able to see and not hide the truth of what i was about to do.  in any event there was no penetration although he made me come with his hands.  he has almost feminine hands, slim fingers which stroked and delighted me intimately.  when i’d come quite a few times we lay back. clearly he was exhausted even though he hadn’t climaxed.  i might have tried a little harder if we’d known each other better, but i didn’t and instead turned off the light and we both fell asleep.

somewhere in the middle of the night i got very hot and sweaty and woke up.  i knew i had to get back home before morning and as i leaned over to kiss him goodbye i noticed that  he had become aroused in his sleep. this time he slid inside me from behind and above me.  we got into a hot sweaty tangle as i came over and over again.  still, he didn’t come, for which i was slightly grateful as i wasn’t sure if he would’ve pulled out instead of risking getting me pregnant – he didn’t seem to think it was likely due to my age!   Even so, i think he is a sweet man,  incredibly giving.

and then i was in my car again and as i drove homewards i saw the small silvery sliver of the new moon against a lightening sky.

A conversation with my lover


Done any more blogging? 😉


Having a break …  did u fancy contributing to the blog?




Sure. I’ll add you as co-author.


How many other people have you invited? 


Zero. Why?


Just wondered! 


Do u think I should invite more people?


Not necessarily but a blog is a blog!


It’s not open to joe bloggs (pardon the pun)


Ho ho!


Well it’s only known to u and me




A  bit of trivia re blogspot – it’s sometimes blocked by keyword-based internet filtering systems because of the substring ‘gspot’ … 😀


Mmm. I don’t think I found yours anyway!! 


Mmm I beg to differ



A couple of minutes pass and then both messages appear simultaneously:


Was that your roundabout way of asking for a shag at some point in the near future?


Perhaps we should do it again sometime?


Ooh yes!  I’d love another kiss or 2




What r u doing now?


Having a beer at home…


On your tod?


On my sofa actually but yes…


Would you like some company? Just an undemanding cuddle?



a second coupling

why is it so hard to do this – dating.  you’d think wisdom and maturity would be a boon this time round.  no more the adolescent awkwardness, the ugly duckling insecurities.  but some things repeat themselves – it’s in my nature, this eagerness to rush things, to couple. The physical pleasure is exquisite in the hands of my considerate lover.  This time we are both bolder – he reveals that he has been chaste in the last 2 weeks and I am left in no doubt of the sensual delights to come.

On the sofa in his living room we sit facing each other as he tells me about his holiday and we talk about our children.  When he suggests that we go upstairs I ask to sit closer for a cuddle, so I lay my head against his chest and his hands stroke me.  I am no longer self conscious about my body.  He leans over and i look up and we kiss.  This time he slips his hands under my dress and bra and cups my breasts.  He lifts up my dress and takes my right breast into his mouth – his lips are gentle and soft and one of his hands plunges into my knickers. He calls that part of my body a dark muscular cave, a place which he says he enjoys feeling with his fingers.  I touch him through his shorts and gradually he takes my hand and guides it under so I can feel how hard he is.

We go up to his room and at the threshold i turn and kiss him – his kisses are soft and sensuous but remembering his lovely hard cock, i slide down and take this into my mouth.  He eventually lies on the bed as I keep pleasuring him with my lips and tongue until truly aroused myself, I move on top of his body, straddling him and with one hand take his cock and slip it into that dark muscular cave.

I remember that he had said before that he liked a woman on top; I certainly found a great deal of pleasure having the upper hand as it were, moving my hips against him, sliding up and down his cock and came several times over, burying my head in his neck as I did.  He asks me if i would like him to wear a condom and i said i didn’t mind as long as he was careful not to come inside me.  He wanted us to climax together and considered briefly whether to put on a condom or continue.  In the end we continued unprotected.   He rolled me over onto my back and continued thrusting into me.  He had to stop for a bit to stop himself from coming.  I managed to stop and lie still for  i did so want it to continue, and he did for a delicious while.  He had asked me what I found pleasurable and it was just the simple possession of his cock inside of me.  Feeling that hard muscular extension of him, gripping it with my vaginal walls was enough to tip me into sexual ecstasy.  He pulled out just before coming.  I always get this feeling of gratification when that happens.  I had after all, already climaxed several times earlier.

Postcoital – we spend a companionable half an hour or so chatting about various things, bees, children, circumcision …  As he was exhausted and I needed to go back to my boys, I left him and drove home – this time the moon was in a neither this nor that shape, the crisp outline of its circle on one side in contrast to the other which was bulging, smudged, on its way to fulness, just not quite.

– who was it who said “sex is the consolation you have when you can’t have love”*.  The question percolating at the back of my mind is this – is it greed to want more good sex and ultimately will either of us want more than just good sex?  What happens then?  past failures on my part haunt me at times – i’m no good in a domestic day-to-day for example.  I long for romance but my critical faculties undo me.  So i settle for now, for good sex with a lover who seems, occasionally in step with me.

Que sera.

* Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores

The following day


was sorry to leave you last night but hope you slept well x


Like a log. Thanks for coming over!


 It was a pleasure x 🙂 but u knew that!

having some doubts:

Could i have misread all the signals?

i think he’s bored with me – evidence for this:

1  he said a few sundays ago that he was feeling jaded

2  he doesn’t ever call me, instead he demands that I call him

3  i make the suggestions about meeting up

4  i’m the one who goes to his house

5  he showed the blog to his mates – he’s a kiss and tell of the worst kind

why i was fooled into thinking he likes me:

a  the sex is good

b  he initiates the texting some of the time

c  he likes our blog but then look at 5 above

d  we’ve started talking about things other than sex

e  he was chaste for 2 weeks before he called me – ok others may have blown him off and i was the only one left on his list.

so this is why dating is such a minefield!  Why am I such an idiot in matters of the heart?

A pleasant and very proper night out

almost smugly side-stepping a family with innumerable toddlers under 5 and a push-chair taking up most of the pavement, we skipped down the busy streets of london, ourselves child-free and relatively carefree in search of sustenance.

meeting mid-week at king’s cross, we chanced upon an unassuming japanese eatery catering to a european palate.   from the moment we paused outside it I knew that we would be stopping there – a young diner had given us the nod and thumbs up as we approached the door.  When we sat down another young woman overheard us discussing an item on the menu and began to wax lyrical over the dishes she’d sampled.  so of course we were hooked.  as both of us were conscious of our mid-life tendency to rubenesque proportions, we were fairly selective in our choice of order.  The man/boy who served us was an ingenuous fellow with whom my dining partner engaged in banter.

it was a most civilised experience – as though we were both quite different people to the ones described in the opening and subsequent posts of this blog.  When I got home I marvelled at our ability to have avoided risqué repartee – I know that I certainly did not rise to some of the bait bandied by him, an innocent comment on the size of fruit, the chill in the air having a noticeable effect on the body, etc…  Being in the public eye it was as if I had adorned myself with the cloak of respectability and circumspection.

I wonder at this new turn in the relationship.  it is at variance with the tone set at the start.  I can only guess that perhaps it is in tune with my body cycle.  I know that since two days previously I have become slightly prone to over-sensitivity.

The animal allure endowed by mother nature to ensure the perpetuation of the species appears to be on the ebb … or perhaps we were simply tired and needed some respite.  at the end of our date, we parted after a brief quick kiss, he to catch his train and i to get on the tube.  later when walking back home i glanced up and saw the super moon ever so slightly on the wane.

Is this the end?

What’s a girl to think

but that the writing’s on the wall.  Tell me my lover if you’re suffering from dementia, reading the chain of events detailed below, whether I’m mistaken in my belief that you’re just not that interested any more:



When shall we •two• meet again, in thunder, lightning or  in rain?


Um dunno. When are you free?


This evening. You?


Was hoping to get day of fasting in today!



If you fancy popping down do but I’m starving and need food!


Given up on the fast?  Kings cross?

30 minutes pass

I would like to see you but you have to let me know where you want to meet x


Oh yes. 

Ok kings cross. Am leaving now.



well, would you like to meet up again?


Yes of course


Ok would you like to come to me or …? 


Not sure when but could come to you sometime


i don’t mind coming up to you if you want to meet up tonight …


Feeling horny??


Maybe.  N u?


Got my kids tomorrow so not sure


Ok next week perhaps. let me know if you feel like it


Ok. I’m sooo tired



Sleep well then i don’t feel too terribly raunchy just missing some human touch I guess.



Did u want a cuddle after all?


Not tonight thanks! 🙂

Monday  after some text exchanges


I’m so tired. Need to say night night x


ok … x night

to sleep, perchance to dream xx





N you?  What have you been up to?


Soooo busy!!! Sorry not been in touch tho

it’s ok, i won’t break – i only have my silly enthusiasm to blame, it runs heedless of any warnings – we’ve had some great sex, banter and the occasional sharing of minds.  i can thank you sincerely for initiating me into the questionable joys of sexting, getting me to look closer at current affairs especially those which make me normally flinch away because of their hopelessness or immense human suffering, for listening to me talk about my son, for being a decent dining companion twice.  it’s been short enough that i won’t miss you too much, after all i’ve already had my heart broken in the greatest possible way 10 years ago, this should feel a mere flea bite – already smiling now that i should look back on this dating misadventure.  I can say I’ve enjoyed spending the little time we’ve had but I need just a tad more to keep going.  I’ve learnt some things about myself, strengths and limitations and i hope we can remain friends.

I know that i value both an independence of mind and freedom of spirit but this not knowing where I stand robs me of my emotional balance.  



Have you uninvited me to read our blog?


oops – is it our blog again?


I tried to read it but can’t get in to it!


It was a simple question you’ve seen it haven’t you? and when you didn’t respond I assumed you’d agreed.


I read it but wanted to read it again

Why?     why would you want to read it again?

A few more days pass,


Why don’t you ever answer any of my questions??
I did.  I replied [to why would you want to read it again] “Just checking it for accuracy ;)”


Tongue in cheek?


No I thought you’ll miss something out


 I will?

After some time,


So the crucial q is whether you think this relationship has any more mileage or if it’s run out of steam. I await your reply. Of course I had hoped there’s more but I was getting rather impatient waiting for the next part


Sorry I’ve been out of contact a bit. I do think you expect more from me than I am prepared to give though. It was always going to be a lighter relationship I think. It has been fun though and I really appreciate your company


It has been. I think I realised that.  It doesn’t help that you’ve been so sweet 😉


Thanks :).  Sorry if I’ve misled you.


Piss off 😉 x

The last few exchanges helped assuage my feelings of idiocy and we’re back to the easy banter of the early days.  i’m determined not to be as silly over the next one!

Phoenix from the ashes

at 19:25
So you’re an author now?
at 21:56
Erm … Where did u hear that??
The literary world is awash with the gossip! 
Are u a part of that back stabbing milieu?
No. I eagerly await my copy of the first edition. 
As long as you don’t mind a long wait 😉
at around 2300
 What have you been up to tonight?
You can’t go round asking me what I do of an evening.  Whatever gave you that idea?
Just trying to titillate myself
Is it working?
Sort of
Her 🙂
Am actually very horny
Hmm no one to service your needs?
Maybe …
What did u have in mind
What are you prepared to do?
There’s nothing much I haven’t done with you although I much prefer the real thing
Come round?
Bit too tired to drive anywhere. Plus had a bit to drink
Ok     I really am very hard
You could come here
But I’d have to leave in the night
You can stay to morning. 
Ooh I dunno. I guess I could
I’ve had a couple myself though
Let me know if you want to come here I’ll set the alarm in 40 mins 
Ok I’ll come. 
 at 00:34 Him:
I’m here!

Post Fin

i’ve been a tad precipitate to say fin.  through facebook private messaging, i received a rather salacious invitation from my lover last night … i could have turned him away except that for some bizarre reason i didn’t (more of this later).  i was less eager and did not offer to drive to his house – partly because i was tired having gone out for dinner across London earlier in the evening and also having drunk a couple of pints.  So he came over instead.  which is quite a big deal as he hadn’t done so before.

we went round my little house and at the top of the stairs is my room where we stopped of course.  it was a warm evening and i opened a window.  he suggested that we lie down on the bed which we did.  i was in a short cotton dressing gown with an easily accessible front.  he put his right hand down this and began to play with my right breast.  eventually i turned to face him and he brought me closer to him.  i touched his cheek which was stubbly and he rather apologetically stated the obvious – sorry i haven’t shaved in a few days.  i whispered – i don’t mind that.  

when i tried to undo his trousers, he apologised again, this time for wearing jeans with a button-fly.  they weren’t too difficult to unfasten and i made a joke about his stripy grey and black y-front shorts underneath.  i hoped it broke the ice although he might think it ruined the mood.  he was very attentive and solicitous and it’s always pleasurable being fucked by him.  i took him into my mouth and i hoped he found this as sensually delightful as i did.  he put on a condom and we came at the same time.  we laughed at the rubbery odour of it all later and i wondered aloud if i should return them to waitrose and demand a refund (tongue in cheek of course).

we did it again in the morning and this time he came outside me.  i picked up on his self-consciousness about size but really i think he needn’t have been. His cock is of sufficient girth and length to be fit for purpose.  In fact at one stage during our congress he entered a little too far in, a little too roughly and hit a rather tender part inside me which caused me to cry out. he was immediately contrite about this.  

My old friend Jasmine would not have approved of my entertaining my lover last night.  She is of the view that men should be as attentive as they possibly can, following a strict order of progress, for example, 1st date – a kiss on the cheek, 2nd date – on the lips, 3rd – some petting, etc… and woe betide any man if they managed to cause you a moment of distress – you should ruthlessly kick him to the kerb (Jasmine’s own words).  Needless to say she has been through quite a few men on the london dating scene in the last 10 years – her mantra of treat them mean etc clearly works when the one reeling the line is a petite blue-eyed blonde.  We lost touch when we fell out over some trivial matter and she may have found her soulmate by now for all i know.  somehow i’m sceptical, for Jasmine had very high standards, unlike me obviously.

 I am quite happy to entertain a reasonably intelligent and articulate man as long as he not only satisfies me (not difficult this one admittedly) but that he should not be too much hard work to bring to orgasm either.  There are certain body smells that turn me on and equally there are some incredibly powerful off putting ones as well.  I have to date refused to contact 2 men in the odiferous category and 2 of the hard work variety.

 Since my criteria are somewhat different to most women’s I’m quite happy to skip the first 3 bases and find out if we’re physically compatible from the outset – which may inevitably kill the romance somewhat and frighten off most.   And perhaps this explains why i will give my lover the time of day no matter that he is somewhat pre-occupied the majority of the time – he is an assiduously good lover and apart from the hiccup over summer which may have been entirely my fault, one cannot accuse him of being overly demanding, needy or wary of women who know what they like in bed.

 When we parted he called me sweetie, i think, which is only marginally less offensive than baby or babe.  And I laughingly replied – see you next month.  in the meantime i don’t think it is unreasonable that i should continue to date others who show some interest.