Commercial break

I'm doing the sex post, honest. Hey, I had to wait so I don't see why my beloved visitors shouldn't share the anticipation...

During the break I simply must post about the new Amy Winehouse album, Back to Black. I loved her first, Frank - Stronger than me was my theme tune during my last relationship! Her voice is amazing and her lyrics heartbreaking and hysterical in turn, so I was a bit worried that the second album wouldn't match up but it's brilliant! Quite different, certainly less jazzy but still liberally peppered with sex and swearing amongst the Supremes style melodies and production. 'You know I'm no good' is the track I most relate to but I've played the whole thing on repeat all day (I'm sure my neighbours think I have OCD!) and my favourite changes with each repeat.

I hate what she's done to her body but, for all her badly drawn ink, extreme dieting and boozing, the girl can still sing Joss Stone into a cocked hat and for that I applaud her.

Right, I'm off to finish the sex post... and play it a few more times.

Waiting for (Oh My) God

Wednesday evening, I'm having a paddy about what to wear. What do you wear when you know full well you're going to someone's place to have much discussed sex with them for the first time? The full on sexy outfit seems contrived but jogging bottoms and an old martial arts t-shirt hardly scream 'take me now', do they? Up to now we've been so wrapped up in each other we've hardly noticed clothing, tonight it seems important to me and it's driving me mad. I finally decide that the stretch jeans that hug my arse and a nice top over pretty undies works and go to P's carrying a tin of green tea bags, a jif lemon and some seriously chocolate-y Ben and Jerry's for dessert.

We kiss 'hello, missus' and go to the kitchen, I make the green tea and show him how much lemon I like in it, he pushes himself against me from behind and shows me how much he likes me. He's forgotten he said he'd cook, the div. I'm not hungry anyway and even if I had been I'd soon have forgotten in the midst of the lips and tongues and hands and hard-on entity that we became against the worktop. 'Wanna go to bed?' he asks, his voice a little deeper than the norm. I bite back a sarcastic retort cos I'm learning that sometimes my humour is inappropriate and mutter into his neck, between nibbles, 'God, yeah!'

We step over the three-legged cat and into the bedroom, fall onto the bed and continue with the fabulous kissing and exploring that's driving us both mad in the most delicious way. He shifts position and notices the cat staring at us from the doorway which sets us both off in a gigglefit. I get up, nudge the cat, close the door and return to the bed, feeling his eyes on me all the time and loving it. He's finally hit his self control threshold and peels my jeans off, then the top - leaving the underwear in place - kissing my nipples and stroking me lightly over the top of the panties so that I'm getting the touch of him that I've so wanted but only through a barrier of lace that frustrates me and turns me on even more at the same time. It feels good to let him set the pace and I just go with it, enjoying every sight and sensation as he stands above me and removes his t-shirt and slouchy pants (no clothing angst there then!), leaving his tight, black boxers on so I could see the outline of his cock. He's beautiful. The gorgeous face, the shoulders, the arms, the single, subtle tattoo on his bicep, the just-right amount of hair on his chest, I'm drinking in every detail of him from top to bottom when I hear him say 'bugger!'.

Confused, I snap out of my dream like state as he finishes the exclamation with 'I really need a piss!'. We're laughing again as he goes to answer his call of nature and I take sips of the, now cold, tea.

He returns, relieved and cleaned up. Giggle time is promptly dismissed as he purposefully strips us both of our remaining clothing so, finally, we're completely naked with each other. It's the best feeling in the world. All the death metal undertones are forgotten as he licks his way down my body from mouth to mons then laps tantalisingly soft circles around my engorged clit. My self control is non existant, I push and grind against his tongue as he alternates between licks, laps and sucks. Oh god I so want to cum, need to cum, simply have to have him taste me as he feels my most private muscles spasm against his beautiful face, my hands are raking his hair and I'm absolutely desperate to let go and show him how much he turns me on but something is holding that final release back and I realise it isn't going to happen right now so I pull him up to kiss him deeply and savour the taste of my own lust from his beautiful mouth.

We kiss for a while before he says 'sorry babe, I got distracted with you so you'll have to do your duty'. I reply that sucking cock is more pleasure than duty and dip my head to his shaved balls with an enthusiastic tongue. I fill my mouth with each in turn before turning my attention to his cock. With one hand firmly gripping the base and the other playing gently around his perineum and balls I torment the tip of his cock with my tongue before gently sucking on him; first the tip, then an inch further, then another inch further until he's filling my greedy mouth and his neatly trimmed pubes are brushing against my lips with each thrust of my head, the tip of him discovering that I have, indeed, had my tonsils removed.

Not only do I love it but I know I'm damn good so I revel in it for a while till he stops me with apologies for not being as hard as he could be, citing work stress and flu aftermath. I mutter acceptances, move up his body and position myself astride him. Hard or semi isn't important, right now I just need to have him inside me in any form so I sink my wetness onto his cock and ride hard, relishing the feeling of my 36DD's jiggling right in his eyeline as I thrust my hips against him to take him as hard and deep as I can. For a man that has (somewhat unusually) rarely put his beautiful, big hands on or around my tits the sight of them seems to push a button and he deftly flips me over onto my back to fuck me deep, hard and sweet before asking if he can cum on my tits. I tell him he can cum wherever he wants to as long as I can watch and he thrusts even harder then pulls out just in time to direct his warm spunk over my pudenda, across my belly and up towards my erect, expectant nipples.

I've had worse first-time sex but I've also had better. As had he. He couldn't apologise enough afterwards and kept saying how he was usually much better than that. The cynic in me took it all with a rather hefty pinch of salt till the following night...

To any virgins out there, waiting is over-rated. Take it from me and do it when the feeling takes you, not when your society-addled mind says it's ok.

Easy Peasey

Not sure how many more P puns I can think of or get away with as titles but this one fits cos things are just so damn easy with this gorgeous man! So, to those that roll their eyes I apologise and, to those that like silly word play - me too!

After saying we'd wait till the third date on weds to get jiggy, when the day arrived it was all a bit teenage and angsty. As usual we text and talk a lot during the day but this time there's a dark background beat behind the melody of us being us. Like playing early Kylie cd’s whilst your neighbour has death metal blasting next door. Very disconcerting.

’Hello missus, you ok?’

‘Yeah, running round the supermarket now he’s finally picked the kids up. How’s work, babe?’

I'm having the mother of all fat days, how can I possibly think he'll fancy me without my carefully chosen, flaw-disguising and best-bits-emphasising clothes on?

‘Trainees are quite good, there’s not much for me to do but torment J in the office’

‘That makes a change from you tormenting me. Tell me again why we decided to exercise self control?!’

Exercises. For all the pelvic floor exercises I do, I've had three kids - will he

feel like he's playing his organ in a cathedral?

‘Because we want this to be more than just a bunk-up’

‘Oh yeah, that was it’

Will I be good enough? Or (without wishing to sound big-headed) more likely, will I be too good and will he then think badly of me? Will I become ‘just a bunk-up’ material because I’m more into the physical act and can’t easily let my emotions come into play?

‘Bloody hard tho, ain’t it? I’ve had a lazy on all day thinking about you’

‘That’s not exactly hard then, is it?’

He's 44 which I love cos I do have this thing for older men but they sometimes come with old fashioned attitudes. Usually I'd say if he can't handle it he ain't worth it but this time…

‘Cheeky cow, you know what I mean’

‘Yeah I do. And you’re not exactly alone in the situation, it’s just easier for me to hide. Tho I have had to stick my head in the freezer cabinets a few times during this shopping trip. The store detective is giving me funny looks and must think I have a frozen peas fetish’

‘I’m leaving early, the gas man should have been and gone by then so get round as soon as you can. Bring the peas’

I’m still grinning like a loon when it occurs to me that the neighbour has turned the music off.

Keys to P's

The ex-husband was due to have the kids for the day, an extra bonus for all concerned that comes about due to school half term holiday and his day off from his anti-social hours job. He’d called the house the previous night while I was at karate training (actually I was acquiring a large internal bruise on my instep at the time from delivering a head high round kick to a much taller, higher grade which I’m rather bloody proud of, being a short-arse!) and said he’d be round at 10.30.

Knowing, as I do after all these years, that his version of time is somewhat tardis-like, I worked on anytime past 11am and, when he finally turned up – having had a guilt-inducing call from his daughter - at gone midday, jokingly said he’d have to keep the kids till midnight.

He laughed, wearing an obviously new shirt that he probably imagined made him look taller, slimmer and less of a prat than he is. No shirt on this green earth has this kind of power but he’s yet to learn, bless.

As soon as he realised this would work in my favour cos I had yet another date with P he stopped laughing and started the old ‘Yeah, I’m going out tonight too, the kids will be home early cos I have to be in the pub by eight’ shit. I’ve sat in on my own for hours and hours before now; waiting for him to bring them back, unable to leave the house in case they turned up any minute. This time tho, I refused to rise to the bait and merely made sure that at least one of the boys had their keys on them so they could get indoors to eat what I was planning to go shopping for whenever he deigned to drop them off. That fucked his ‘I’ll make her want me again, you just see’ plans up slightly!

I wish he’d meet someone else, I really do. It’s been seven years since I left him for someone else yet, as the true Scorpio that he is, he keeps on hanging in there trying to exploit every moment of stress or weakness that he perceives me to have in order to get back to the status quo and my bed. doG only knows why, I was a totally mental bitch when I was with him ffs! I had flashbacks of the childhood abuse during sex (not that he knew *sigh*), hated men in a really nasty, passive-aggressive fashion and suffered terrible post-natal depression. Oh, and lived solely on plain chocolate digestive biscuits which didn’t help my weight or my notoriously sensitive skin. I simply could not have been an attractive sight under any lighting, which confirms to me that he only ever wanted the power he gained in his head from keeping me barefoot and pregnant.

Anyway, I went round to P’s and as soon as he opened the door I went into ‘auto-relax’ mode. It’s the first time I’d actually noticed this effect but, thinking about it, its part of the massive attraction. No matter what is going on in my life; be it single parent stress, late night drinking guilt, having my step-father arrested and charged with 3, very ugly counts of law-breaking after 30 years, none of it matters when he says ‘hello, missus’, puts his arms round me and leans down a foot or so to kiss me. And he knows all this shit cos we’ve talked about it, something else I’ve never done with any man before him.

So when later in the evening we snuggled on the sofa, chatting whilst half-watching Alan Partridge repeats and he said ‘I’ll get you a set of keys cut so you can just let yourself in whenever you like’, I didn’t bat an eyelid.

This has been Fussy Bitch with the emotion report. Coming up after the break...

the sex entry!

Stay tuned. (Is it Ctrl and D for 'add to favorites?', I'm a firefox girl so I can never remember!)

Having a P!

After texting/calling for a week I met him on Sunday which was so good that I bunked off teaching karate with A on Monday to go and see him 'for an hour'. Yeah, right! We spent another 4 hours talking deep, laughing hard and petting heavy.

doG, it was good!

Both of us simply and absolutely craving each other, as well as the physical release we know we could have found, so damn much! Both of us still holding back and being quite unusually restrained cos there's this other , deeper, connection and we both want this to be right in every way - not just sexually - and then actually voicing this to each other in between tongue-down-throat moments.

doG, this is just so damn good!

And neither of us can quite believe that the other feels the same way so we're still being fairly guarded in our very frequent texting/calling-when-apart words, whilst telling all with our bodies the very minute we're alone.

I know I could properly love this man. Really. Fucking. Easily. I know he'd be safe around my kids and fantastic around me. For the first time in my life I want to do this right because it's worth it. I'm not used to it but I'm loving it.

I'm going to his place on weds (oops - I meant today!). He's cooking something for me cos I'm crap at cooking so tend to eat bog all but meat, mayo and salad with the occasional carb. His upstairs neighbours bang the headboard for three minutes precisely at 9pm every night (I know this cos he told me and when I was there at the time it was absolutely hysterical when he set his watch by them!). He has arranged an early finish from work and tells me we can raise the roof in private for as long as we like if I can get there for 4.30.

As well as making the effort to leave his own business early and lose money, I really like that he's astute enough to pick up from our two snogging/petting sessions that I'm not exactly a quiet girl...

Ever needed a P but had to hold back?

I need a P cos he's fucking fabulous! He knew I was busy seeing a play on Saturday afternoon and being designated driver for six other women that night so we exchanged a few text messages while I was in the foyer and the pub, mostly at my instigation cos he was being careful to be ok and understanding about my social life, love him.

I texted him with a light hearted 'Wakey, wakey - it's Sunday!' message this morning. He came back with 'I was up with the lark! Ok, it was the lark that didn't turn up till ten...' I had no kids in the house so hadn't woken till gone 11, not that I told him that.

I pulled into Sainsburys car park at 12.50 and my mobile buzzes with his ringtone. I don't rush to answer cos I think it's yet another message from T-mobile HQ saying he's sent me a mms that they won't allow me to download. Bastards. Why they won't just give me my pictures on my pink v3 I don't know.

Anyway, it wasn't a pic from midweek reminder, it was him saying 'Where are you, hun? It's fucking pissing down! Wanna pick me up on the way through, babe?'

By voice.

God I love his voice! It's not a traditional manly thing, it's a real, honest tone - very metrosexual, actually.

I'll complete this at some point but, for now, I met him at 1pm and had to tear my lips from his at 5.45, having had a text from the ex-husband saying that he and the children were outside my house slightly earlier than usual but none of the kids had their keys on them. Bastards!

P and I originally planned to meet again on Wednesday night.

Fuck that!

I've decided I'm gonna bunk off late lesson karate with A tomorrow (previous to meeting P I was gonna do this anyway cos I'm proper pissed with A recently - which I'll explain later) to go to P's place for another fantastic snog so it's officially the third date on wednesday. Which means I can boot his cat out of the bed and put myself in it in such a way that retains my 'Yeah, I really love sex but ain't desperate so I follow the modern girls rules for propriety' image. Knowing what he told me today, plus the fact that he's a Capricorn, I reckon I'm onto a right winner here.

Is it Wednesday yet? I so want to rip the shirt off him and sit on his cock! If it hadn't been raining and I hadn't been wearing a pink suede jacket I just know he'd have pushed me back against my car and really let me know how he felt rather than grinding his hard-on against me in such a way that let me know he wanted me but respected that the weather was getting in our way slightly.

I'll have a P please, Bob. Naked and horny, if possible.

Fucking firemen in the Channel Isles!

A few weeks ago a guy got in touch with me through a dating site. He was lovely but a couple of years younger than me and further away than I was looking for, having done the long-distance relationship thing and found it lacking. I mailed him back and told him this, he said he was planning to move back to mainland in the next six months so we get chatting. Which extends to text messages. A lot of them (he was hot!)

Today I got an email to say I have a much larger than normal mobile phone bill. After cursing No 1 Son for subscribing to phone porn I log into my account, only to discover that every text I sent to the the firefighting jodoka that I never even met has been charged as a international number! ffs!

The bastard cost me £35 but wasn't worth 35p in the end.

P is looking like a much better prospect, emotionally, sexually and financially - in T-Mobile terms.

Is it Sunday yet? I need it to be Sunday so I can meet him for real and have our silly conversations over a drink rather than over a mobile network. I need to be able to touch his hand, arm or thigh when I'm laughing at something he's said. I need to sit close to him and listen to the lovely timbre of his voice whilst looking up at him with my big, blue eyes and that 'kiss me, now - you know you want to!' look on my face.

Sadly he's a Capricorn so taking him somewhere (semi)private and sitting on his cock won't get me into his soul. I still think I'll fuck him wildly tho, he's fabulous.

I'll have a P please, Bob

I am not a phone person. I love words but would much rather converse in person or behind the safety of my keypad/board so the fact that I spent nearly four hours of my day on the phone to various people did not chuff me. The hangover I had wasn't helping matters, granted.

First call was from L, to see how I was and tell me pretty much what sis had already relayed last night. She's another 'face to face' person so we've arranged to meet tomorrow for a proper chat where I expect to get her full opinion.

Next was sis, to confirm the meeting, generally catch up and re-hash events and our reactions to them. And to broach the subject of 'what do we tell the kids?' That's a thorny one and something I need to do a lot more thinking about. It doesn't help that sis and I come from very different angles on this one and she slips into counsellor mode to try and analyse my points of view towards hers instead of just hearing them and admitting that she can't know how it feels or provide the answer. As I said, much thinking to be done which probably means I'll drink more than I should and do a stream of conciousness journal entry to try and make sense out of it. 2 hours into the call I'm breaking my neck for a wee having drunk 5 mugs of green tea so we end the call on a slightly adversary note, which saddens me.

Mid wee I get another call from L, this time to get my ex-husband's details so he can make a statement.

Then a call from P, after a few days of mailing and texting this was the first time we'd spoken which is always a bit nerve wracking cos voices can make or break things for me. (AA had an awful boring voice on the phone, I should have listened to my instincts and not wasted a lunch time listening to him). No such worries now, he has a lovely accent that's a mix of London and Midlands, a really nice tone to his voice and a fabulous sense of humour and honesty. We were meant to be meeting tonight for a drink but he asked to put it off till the weekend cos he still has a cold and feared he wouldn't be on top form, bless. I was quite happy to agree being that it gives me a few more days to lose two stone, get a tan, arrange a haircut and decide on my outfit.

Yeah, yeah. I do know that's ridiculous. I'll never get booked at the hairdressers with such short notice.

I finally make it into the shower only to miss two more calls. No 1 Son has the sense to call back ten minutes later and confirm that I'm collecting him from school to take him to the local newspaper so he can try and get work experience there, ex-husband has no such sense so I have to call him.

As I waited in the school car park I couldn't help but think about how that call from P brightened my day. We've developed a habit of me texting him (mostly dirty) jokes while he's at work but my mind was having a blank moment so I sent this instead:

Can't think of a joke right now and I'm in the car so can't look one up. Have a compliment instead. You're proper lovely, you are. And you make me do this ---> :o)

He came back straight away with 'loved chatting with you, ur really lovely too. In fact I just said that to a friend of mine'

I did this ---> :o)

Let's hear it for the Girl!

Not only is she a heroine of mine for being brave enough to stand up for female sexuality and fight stereotypes, even when her anonymity was ripped from her in the most disgusting fashion, she gave me something today that I don't think either of us could have ever expected.

I don't have a fancy job in Londinium, I don't listen to current affairs programs, keep up with politics or read newspapers (I don't count Grazia even tho it does attempt to cover worthy stories amongst the pictures of fabulous handbags that I can't afford).

I'm a 37yo, single, mucked up, full time mum from the outer reaches of Essex. The most unlikely blogger in the world, probably. So, if it wasn't for her I'd never have known about One Day in History, let alone been able to contribute a blog entry of my own. Which, without wishing to sound big-headed, I feel is much more relevant to the whole 'history' theme than the majority of 'I got up at 7am and ate some Weetabix' posts that I saw whilst flicking through to see what the rest of Great Britain thought people of the future might find important/interesting.

My post there contains the words chickens, roost, abuse, martialarts, arrest, denial, endorphins, history, rotten, future, bright.

Just in case you're interested, like...

Returning to girl for a moment, I'd like to add that she's the reason I started blogging and, more than that, went on to book myself a place on a writing course. Me, who just knows how to prattle on and keep the typos to a minimum whilst ratarsed, with real, bona-fide creative types! When I get the advance on my first novel the champagne will be delivered to her before anyone else.

The Queens speech

...was later than usual. I heard nothing all day other than a few texts from P, who I have a date with tomorrow night (Note to self - google him when you've done this! Note to beloved readers - it's not stalking, it's part of the modern woman's self defence armoury)

Despite an attack of the ocd's (which was much needed actually, my windows and curtains were bloody filthy!) I held it together and did all the mummy things I had to do, dropped No 1 Son off at school again for the 'evening of world culture' that I'd ducked out of attending and went to training for some mindful exercise and a bit of violence. Forgot to put my phone on silent and earned a look from Sensei when my kit bag vibrated and it rang five minutes into the session (everyone knew it was mine cos my main ringtone is Booty Call)

After that it beeped every five minutes to let me know I'd missed a call and had voicemail. I've never known a phone that could beep louder than thirty adults kiai'ing but this one did. By the time we got ready for sparring I was feeling nauseous so thought it was probably best that I didn't fight anyone. The time crept by at a rate of injured snails till I could finally check my voicemail. Not that it said much other than they'd finished for the day (this, just after 7.30pm), she couldn't contact sis either and she'd call me tomorrow to give me more details but there was nothing to worry about. Now, I really have grown to like and trust L, the policewoman in charge of the case, but I found this even less comforting than when the GP's surgery calls and says 'could you come in at first light tomorrow? Doctor would like to see you, but it's nothing to worry about'

So, the Queen had made her speech and the gift was unwrapped, only for me to find another layer of paper underneath the first. And this one is covered in brown parcel tape that will take all night to remove cos I'm not allowed scissors in case I run with them.

Except I'd forgotten that sis has scissors - or, to put it in plain english rather than analogy - L's mobile number. She'd called her (waking the poor girl who'd been up since 3am prepping for the early arrest) and learned that he'd admitted some episodes, though he disputed the context of our memories. I found that a bit laughable and wondered if he had a context that actually made it ok for an adult male to use two girls of 6 and 7 for personal sexual gratification but never mind, the admission is there and that's the gift I wanted.

He's been bailed for four weeks, he's not allowed home as my mother is a prosecution witness now she's made her statement, neither is he allowed near me or sis, not that I expect a visit. I do still expect to hear that he's been found hanging somewhere though...

A joke

Finally there's a male contraceptive pill.

It's very large.

You put it in your shoe.

It makes you limp.

I think this is quite ridiculously funny.



The arrest has happened. Analogy speak for this... The gift is under the tree but I'm not allowed to open it till after the Queens speech.

I think this is quite ridiculously unfunny.

One more sleep

You know the way that little kids count down to occasions like Christmas? That's the terminology I used when I rang to tell my sister that our step-dad would be arrested in the morning. She, as a counsellor, immediately related to me this showed my inner feelings to be that of a child that thinks all their dreams will come true through the arrival of a particular occasion. Personally I think it's because I was in full kiddy mode myself, having just finished teaching karate to a class of 4-10 year olds and hiding round the corner for a crafty smoke before the next lot, that aren't much older, turned up. But that's probably me being in denial.

Anyway, by this time tomorrow I should at least know whether he's admitted or denied it (therefore forcing a trial that we'll have to testify at), which does actually feel a bit like waking up on Christmas day to finally discover whether you got what you wanted or just part of the money it costs and that 'it's for your own good, you'll appreciate it more if you have to work towards it yourself' look. The cynic in me thinks that by this time tomorrow I'll have been informed that he died of a massive heart attack during the arrest and my mother topped herself soon after. And that they'd made new wills bequeathing their complete joint estates to the local cats home, with their daughters to pay any inheritance taxes incurred. She's a pessimistic bitch that cynic in me but I do love her so, she's kept me safe and relatively sane for a long time.

A turned up to help teach the slightly older kids class and began the usual messing around till he realised I was being stricter and more technical with them this week. Afterwards he put his arm round me and asked what was bringing me down but as we were walking to take our places in front of the adults class at the time I didn't feel it prudent to bludgeon him with the truth at that point. I can't help but wonder what he'd have done if I'd told him right then. Just come out with it and all the emotions that went with it, right in front of 20-odd students. Him having just given me the update of how his ex-wife is acting out, being a stereotype spurned wife and ignoring his calls to the kids etc., with the loaded statement '...and people don't understand why my head is so fucked' at the end.

This is the kind of stuff that makes me a fussy bitch. He's basically telling me that his life is so hard and I'm stressing him even more cos I'm not understanding this and hanging around doing the 'supportive but expecting nothing back' thing. And all the while I can't help but think he's got it easy, don't know he's born, really ought to grow the fuck up... that sort of thing.

I've done divorce from someone that doesn't want it to happen (the t-shirt is too big and has the wrong neckline but that's another thing). My ex-husband climbed a 120ft crane in the local docks and threatened to throw himself off if the police didn't get me there to talk him down. I couldn't stop laughing when they told me where he was cos I'd spent years listening to him say he had a fear of heights since he fell off the scaffolding he worked on when I first met him. But I went along cos he's the father of my beautiful children and he was already back on terra firma by the time I got there so I got taken off to the the police station (where the 'domestic violence officer' offered me a lift home and subsequently hit on me - lol! I should have had him, he was short but very sexy. What can I say? I was stressed and missing my kids that day!)

Ick, I'm losing the plot now but I'm thinking I should mention the guy I have a date with on weds night...

Nah, fuck it. For 1) I'm getting pissed now and for 2) I don't want to jinx it.

For my beloved returning visitors...

And I know you're there, even tho you don't comment, cos I taught myself how to read my visitor stats in a fit of 'I'm so fucking invisible in this world' paranoia.

I've just updated and posted a draft from the middle of the week but it's not showing as a new post so you'll have to go to the prior prattlings section in the sidebar and click on 'more men stuff' if you can be bothered enough to be arsed. I'm far too pissed to format links to it from here and just hit that 'drunk enough not to care' stage.

Just thought I'd let you know.

Found that journal entry I mentioned.

I had yet another rash of angry, itchy red bumps around my otherwise kissable neck and upper back at the time. As if I don't feel ugly enough within my soul ffs, my skin has to go one further and advertise it to the world...

[quote]
Maybe if I could cry then the shit wouldn't have to find it's way out through my pores but I lock up and don't do crying cos it's weak and weak people are passive-aggressive and emotionally manipulative and abusive in my twisted experience. Tears have only ever been used against me so I can't let myself use my own for release. Funny really, while I was busy making sure (ok, overcompensating might be a better term) that I didn't lose my sexuality in order to prove that I was a survivor rather than a victim, I forgot to reclaim my right to cry. [/quote]

I need to be naked with a man. More to the point I need to be naked with a man that has a hard cock that he wants to put inside me. It's been way too fucking long.

On the upside I've found some Robbie b-sides that are fun and the new John Legend /Kooks/Razorlight offerings are pretty good.

On the downside I'm a skint single parent so can't afford the most delicious rentboy diarist, Monmouth, to cum and serve my most basic needs (but won't even think about looking for second/third etc., best!). At least not if No 2 Son is to have his replacement phys ed kit replacement needs met. It's a bloody sad day when 'my mate put his wet kit on mine in the locker and it went mouldy' comes before 'I've not had sex in 3 months and am seriously considering paying for it'...

Orgasmic eyes

I cried today. Twice, actually.

I have an old journal entry somewhere that explains why I don't cry. Ever. Till today.

I feel like my eyes just gave my mind an orgasm.

Quickie

I have a draft (I love the 'save as draft' option of this site so much I'd fuck it madly if it were any gender of human) of a post for today but I'm far too pissed to be precise at the moment. I'd think about saying sorry if I thought any fucker gave a toss!

Suffice to say L returned my 'thanks' email. Oh ok, in all honesty it was titled "Ta, darlin'!" cos I tend to type as I speak. It was in his usual sparse and somewhat ambiguous fashion but it was more of a reply than I've had from the firefighting judoka all week so I'm counting it as a blessing.

Better than that tho, AA called me again to say he'd just, *just*, got off the train from Scotland. This one is keen! I had the room full of Body Shop make-up/skincare stuff and a couple of girlfriends (that's a whole other post!) at the time so we quickly arranged a lunch date for tomorrow and I requested that he call me in the morning to confirm where he'll pick me up (being that my car will be in the garage all day).

Right now I'm fantasising about having him pick me up from home, asking him in on the pretence that I'm not quite ready, then seducing him and having fantastic sex instead of a civilised lunch date. I dunno, my period has just finished so there's no hormonal excuse for feeling this horny, I'm just a fussy bitch that loves cock.

More men stuff

Weds morning: Still no mail from L and I'm fairly indifferent about having a 'relationship' with him but I have to admit that I did really enjoy our date and can't help but fantasise about how good it would be to sit astride him on a chair , looking up at him with my big blue eyes and burying my tongue deep into his mouth while I fuck him and feel his fabulously sexy hands on my tits. He has such damn horny hands and I blame Girl for the current fixation with said appendages that's now overtaken even the undertaker I mentioned in my comment.

Also Weds morning: All three kids (ok, and me) forget to put the rubbish/recycling out. Again. I sleep late cos I was up till nearly 6am drinking to celebrate my grading whilst typing up No 1 Son's coursework as promised. Oh yeah, then bully wanking three orgasms. It was damn late but this woman has needs.

Therefore, I hereby apologise to the binman that lost out on the 'will the blonde with big tits chase us up the road wearing a) that short pink nightie or b) some variation of pink pj bottoms and a vest that shows her headlights on chilly mornings' bet this week.

Note: If the loser happens to be bald with a wide, boyish grin and reading this; gimme a knock next week and I'll make it up to you... You have a head just crying out to have my hands pushing it deeper between my legs.

Weds daytime: Boring boiler fixing stuff going on in between flirty chats with my landlord. It's a crying shame he's married (and she's lovely, we get on great) cos he's exactly my type. A fair bit older than me and really lived a life but sexier with age and experience.

I spent a long time feeling bad about my penchant for older men, thinking it was some kind of sick attempt to recreate my earliest, abusive sexual experiences. Since then I've come to realise that I simply love men that have lived a bit and have something to say for themselves, men that I don't have to 'look after' and don't make me feel like I have another child to be responsible for - and you don't get many of them in their 30's. Of course it helps that men a generation above me tend to find my curvy shape and earthy personality extremely horny!

Weds evening: Mad dash to the supermarket with 2 of 3 kids, few disagreements with No 1 Son who wants to buy the sort of stuff that Gordon fucking Ramsey uses and I can't afford which starts us off on another game of who can show the other one up the most in public? In the cereals aisle I, rather loudly, asked him if he wanted a catering sized box of Shreddies to help with his constipation problem; he came back in the feminine hygiene aisle with a '150 Extra Large Tampax, again?! You only bought them last month, woman!', even louder. He won that round, as well as a few more female fans that giggled at him then looked at their own sullen children with sad, rolling eyes. Ladies, fret not. Much like that husband of your friend that you wish you'd married first, he's not perfect when you live with him all the time! Back home to prepare for a Body Shop at Home party that I'd been convinced to hold by a sort-of-mate cos she's just started doing it and needs the bookings.

If anything brought home to me just how few female friends I have, this was it. I invited all the women I know, from my sister's in laws through to the mums of the kids I teach at karate. All people that I thought would be desperate to see the inside of my house if nothing else. Who turned up? My ever loving sister, of course, and one other! They spent the evening checking out the blokes that were interested in me on my dating sites, laughing at my inability to be serious during my makeover and watching me drink all the wine I'd bought cos they were both driving so needed all the coke I'd normally put in my brandy. Still, all party-planners need to learn to cope with low volume evenings (except me of course, when I did Ann Summers parties people would knock and ask to be let in cos they heard the noise!) so I like to think I helped her out in some small way.

I've lost the plot a bit whilst updating this draft so I'll just add that I mailed L to thank him for the lunch and say I hoped the man-flu wasn't making him feel the need to buy the batch of summer wear he'd been offered. Cos I'm polite, like that.

Crap day ends in yay

What a bloody day! No email from L, tho if I wasn’t too exhausted to be optimistic I might say that’s cos he was complaining of feeling ill yesterday and it’s hit hard (like illness only ever hits men!) today. But I’m too exhausted so it’s cos he’s too ignorant a shit to say thanks but let’s not do it again, even tho he did lean in and kiss my cheek on two separate occasions as we said goodbye which led me to think he was fairly interested. Bleurgh.

So, take car to garage first thing this morning, walk the mile and a bit home doing a bit of shopping on the way. Muck about with blog settings trying to get my links to have little pink diamonds in front and fail miserably.

Do some housework, get sweaty and go for a shower to find there’s no hot water. Damn pilot light is off and no instructions from the manual are making it come on again (Not an altogether new situation, A could be a bit like that in the past). Phone landlord, have long flirty chat then wait for call from plumber that he’s going to contact.

Guy from the garage then calls to say they can’t find the lock for my wheel nuts. I tell him it’s most definitely in the glove-box, he says they’ve already tipped it out and it’s most definitely not. I sigh a lot and mutter about children moving things. He sighs a lot and I just know he’s muttering about women being allowed cars.

Walk back to the garage to collect car, book it in for Thursday, when the other part I need will hopefully be there, and drive home. To immediately find the nut un-locker the first place I looked. Which, to be fair, wasn’t the glove-box. It’s there now tho.

Drive to school to collect No 1 Son to be greeted with the news that there’s a Very Important Meeting that I simply must attend. Tonight. I go to every meeting they call at any of the three schools my children attend but this one is just too much. I don’t need to be told that No 1 Son needs to keep his GCSE coursework up to date. We both know this. We know these are important years and he should be foregoing all activities other than perhaps the Duck of Edinburgh Award. We know this is not the time for him to be slapdash and cavalier. He’s nearly fifteen. Of course he’s slapdash and cavalier! He’s running alive with hormones and growing at a rate of an inch a day.

Naturally, the minute I voice that I’ll have to miss this one as I have a karate grading he goes into ‘hurt’ mode. The same way he usually does when I say I’m going to a meeting at school, really… One deep and meaningful chat later and I’ve managed to negotiate going to my grading in exchange for typing up his English coursework. I think I lost that one.

AA (he of the intriguing profile) then called to say hi from Scotland and that he was coming home a couple of days earlier than planned so could we meet up? Could we ever! As long as he’s not the mother-obsessed chubby-chasing-feeder of my nightmares I might have to jump the poor mans bones just to get some relief that isn’t from my own fair hand. I find I’m becoming less fussy and more bitchy as this sexual dry spell drags on into its fourth month…

I won’t bore you with the details of karate training, suffice to say lots of people had to duck out for anti-puking rests and water and I did think I was going to throw up at one point but kept going anyway cos I hadn’t eaten enough to bring back. And kept on going past the point when I thought I was going to die and on to the point that I stopped caring whether I did or not.

But I got my 3^rd kyu (brown belt) at last so fucking great huge yay for me! On now to brandy, coke and No 1 Son’s coursework…

Blimey!

Lunch with L was nothing short of lovely! He's a nice, normal man. Comfortable in himself, easy to chat with, bit mickey-taking, funny, bright, good-looking (couldn't see much downstairs cos of the bagginess of his jeans but damn sexy, large hands), single and solvent.

Which of course means he probably never wants to see me again.

Teaching tonight with A so no doubt will be back later to update again but right now I'm buzzing on caffiene and grinning like a loon whilst loudly singing Amy Winehouse songs.

The men update

So, as previously mentioned A is, apparently, pretty much ready to start thinking about considering asking me round for dinner. I'm assuming this means he'll want to start our relationship up again but as he's so inscrutable I'm taking nothing as read. I think he may want to wait until we can have a proper relationship, i.e. one that he can conduct in front of his children without dreading the ammunition he's giving to the ex when they go home and tell her that daddy kissed their old sensei in his new flat.

Then I get real and think he's just happy as a pig in shit with no-one to think about but himself and the porn clips on his ipod. Who knows? Not me, and probably not him when it comes to it. Sometimes I credit that man with way too much thought capacity.

In the meantime O, the firefighting judoka from miles away, has stopped texting. Just like that. From the regular late night booty texts/calls, early morning 'hello gorgeous' messages and online contact that were all fantastic foreplay for when we planned to meet up, to complete radio silence. He got 'a bit gutted' when I said I was going for coffee with another date but seemed ok after I confirmed that if he and I clicked I'd stop dating other people. We chatted lots after that and he was fine, I was going to training tuesday evening so had to have the phone on silent, he was out for a drink with his mates, we texted late that evening and all was hunkydory. (I hate that word and don't know why the hell I just used it!)

Weds morning I get a 'good morning gorgeous', replied and got another back. My reply to that was unanswered but that's fine, daytimes are busy and I had my own stuff to do. Come thursday evening and no contact and I'm getting a bit weirded out (the firefighting thing isn't all washing cars and playing volleyball, after all) so send 'You're quiet today babe. Hope everythings ok xx'. And get nothing.

By Friday I'm a bit tired of this. I'm driving nearly two hours each way and having to arrange overnight childcare for this date of ours and I need to know it/he's worth the hassle, to be blunt. So I text 'Well I checked the news and your town hasn't had an earthquake so I'm guessing either your text fingers have fallen off or you pulled on your night out :-)'. And receive 'got a lot going on'. Which is progress in that it's a reply, even if it's not particularly illuminating. Plus, it proves that the personal ringtone I assigned him works, these things are important to me. Send a 'as long as you're ok' message and leave it at that till saturday when I was patiently trying to negotiate childcare with ex-husband and copped a sudden case of 'I've pratting well had enough of being pratted around by this prat but on the other hand his mother may be gravely ill or dying or something. I know, I'll check how compatible our star signs are!'

Yeah, I worry about myself sometimes too.

I then laugh so much at the compatibility thing that I simply have to share it with him, like this...

How much did I laugh when I read this today? Gemini woman meets her match in Saggitarius man. As her opposite sign there's a powerful attraction between them and he's her most exciting lover. Passionate and heroic, he leaps into her life bringing adventure in his wake but he can disappear just as fast.

Hope you're ok hun, if you want to cancel saturday just let me know, yeah? I won't boil your bunny !

It's now Sunday night/Monday morning and guess what? Yep, still sod all. Oh, but he's taken his profile off the dating site that we met through - which smacks more of 'lovesick' than 'mum's sick' to me.

Still, I had a nice call tonight from another A (who will have to be known as AA to avoid confusion). Seems very sweet, if a little obsessed by how much money he has. His profile intrigued me with its open mentions of his preference for older women and the fact that Kate Moss types leave him cold. I just had to get to know him to find out if he was looking for a BBW to feed and turn into a mother replacement or if he really was a man that simply appreciated those women among us that aren't airbrushed.

And I have a date for coffee tomorrow with L. Who still calls me Tinks and thinks I'm 'a bit mad' cos I said I'd be the one in Costa Coffee wearing a ballgown and reading Combat magazine. Or maybe it was when I mailed him my mobile number and said calls cost £1.80 per minute and will appear on your phone bill in a plain brown envelope.

That's not mad, that's the frustrated comedy writer in me finding an audience. Mad is what men make me when they don't JUST FUCKING COME OUT AND SAY WHAT THEY MEAN!!! And then whinge when they discover I've moved on without waiting around for them to come out of their silent, moody phase.

Wish me luck with L! (I'm not really wearing a ballgown. My wedding dress is much more figure-flattering)

Techy turn-ons

I did start a 'men' entry but, to be honest (as I always am), I'm halfway down a really good bottle of brandy so can't finish the post in the way it deserves. And I have to get up tomorrow to go and support a dozen or so students through their gradings cos it's me that's given them this love of martial arts and the feeling that they can achieve something, both physically and mentally.

The Chinese say that if you save someone's life, you're then responsible for it.

Right now, I feel more Chinese than Chow Mein.

LOL@random mp3 selection... the song that's just started? You've got your troubles by The Fortunes!

Oh yeah, I managed to delete my quimstefourworth of duplicated mp3's with the help of the most fabbylicious piece of shareware that is quite simply titled 'Check Identical Files'. Who'dathunkthat!?

http://www.identicalfiles.com/Home

Get it and, if you use it more than ten times, pay for it. Worth every penny!

I hate that I want men

Wow. Just found this unfinished draft so I'm posting it, even tho it may well make no sense whatsoever. It's my troof, innit?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I texted A at 9ish on thursday morning to say I was thinking of him. He was at court that day for a driving offence, I was sleepy with a hangover having been up late with a bottle of good brandy and my webcam the night before.

I didn't get a reply and assumed he was still in court with his phone off according to regulations till I saw him that evening to help teach his class. No attempt from him to get me to join him downstairs for the usual between-lessons ciggie but lots of flirting and body-contact on his part, which the students are used to (actually it's why most of them turn up - we have a natural chemistry that makes for a very fun evening whilst learning to hit people hard at the same time)

He'd got out by 10.30 cos there'd been mix ups with paperwork that meant all he actually had to do was state his not guilty plea and wait a minute to hear that it'd been adjourned for trial in summer 2007.

Me: So you could've found thirty seconds during the day to text and let me know then, twat.

Him: Yeah, sorry babe.


I despair. Really.

Techy tart

I finally got my new pc set up. A desktop, which isn't as sexy as a laptop but my fingers like a real sized keyboard. Plus I bought it in a hurry when my old one kept crashing in the middle of essays which was slightly unpleasant being that I already hated the course at the time.

Of course, the day it arrived I figured out that if I left my media player running all the time the crashes didn't happen so I carried on like that for months until I finally got round to swapping them and transferring oodles of music and email history over. Task for today, get some duplicate finding software so I don't have to manually search and delete the 20gigs or so of music that I copied over twice. Yes, I'm a blonde techy person. In fact I'm the stupidest intelligent person that I know.

Fiddled around with some blog settings too, it's nearly how I want it now but it could be better. I'm learning as I go, which is how I like it, just not fast enough. I want snazzy links to all the fab blogs that I've discovered, I want some nice pics, I want a bigger font without having to remember to set it each time I post, I want the men in my life not to just suddenly stop texting without warning and I want to get laid, dammit!

The men need another post, methinks... cross your fingers that I'm not about to lose all my mp3's in the meantime.

Spooky shit!

L calls me Tinkerbell when he mails. The worldy-wise cynic in me thinks this is something he calls every woman in his life in an effort to be cute whilst not having to remember actual names. The currently emotionally-starved girl in me feels he means it just for me cos he's really tall and I'm... er, not.

So, I mailed L to apologise profusely for being absent, disabused him of the notion that we'd fallen out and said I'd love to meet up for

QUOTE

coffee or something

/QUOTE

His reply? Hi Tinks nice to know you are still alive lets meet up for whatever.

Colour me a paranoid fussy bitch but the only place I'd mentioned the word 'whatever' in terms of dating him was here. Hmm...


On the upside, I guess it saves a bit of the boring 'life history' chat in the local Costa Fortune For A Cuppa Coffee.

Nickleback

A told me last night that he felt he was getting his shit together and would ask me round for dinner soon. He was also very touchy-feely all of a sudden after so long being distant, I think he realises that my patience has run out and I'm not going to stay dangling on this string of his anymore.

The song I'd most like A to hear, then call and say "Babe, listen to the words of this track..."

Far away - Nickleback


I hate that the song most likely to make him call and say "Babe, listen to the words of this track..." is, in fact

Figured you out - Nickleback.


Still, the firefighting toy-boy judoka woke me with a lovely booty call this morning and I'm seeing him in ten days. He has potential, that boy. As well as the sexiest voice I've ever heard.

Plus, there's coffee/lunch/whatever to arrange with L, the ten years older local bloke. At least there will be when I can get my gash in gear enough to mail him back and tell him that no, we've not fallen out, I've just been too busy to think of witty, endearing answers to his somewhat sparse emails. I'll do it tomorrow, he's perfectly eligible, single, an ex-boxer and very lovely.

All this the day after I get a booty text from my long term online fuck buddy. We spent one glorious night together a good few years ago and just the memory of that along with our intellectual connection has kept us gravitating to each other ever since. He thinks I'll go to live with him when his daughter leaves home. I think I like what we have now. We'll see.

Men really are buslike - part two

Ok, having explained how A fits into my life and makes my heart itch in a way I just can't reach to satisfy alone, I continue my treatise on why men are like buses...

When I initially determined to date other men I joined a couple of online dating sites. As a single mum that already spends a lot of guilt-inducing time away from her children doing martial arts stuff I felt that I needed the quickest and most direct route to like-minded men and, of course, the internet has long been my answer to life, love and everything. Ever since I met my first married lover and we both left our spouses for each other, in fact. And that was in the days of dial-up - oh, the romance when the phone bills came in!

Actually, now I'm thinking about it, he wasn't my first married lover. That would have been K who I met whilst working p/t in a local transport cafe and screwed regularly for a period of six months or so in his lorry bunk. He was in his late thirties (hmm... now I think about it, early forties? Ffs, just how naive was I?!) at the time, I was in my mid teens, going to Depeche Mode concerts and wearing a uniform of an oversized mans shirt as a dress with a belt slung round my hips (for modesty, if you please!) and canvas slouch boots. He smoked Embassy No1, drank bitter and had the most sexy Liverpool accent. I smoked whatever I could afford that week, drank whatever someone bought me and fucked him like his wife could never imagine. Even tho he never once made me cum, to this day if I see a truck from his firm I clock the drivers face, just in case... Whatever, when I say first married lover what I mean is the first lover I took while *I* was married. And the only one, being that I left my husband for the silly bastard.

But anyway. I have quite a few promising, net safe double blind for twenty five quid a month, email exchanges that lead on to some somewhat less fun dates where I come to realise that I'm quite possibly the only person in the world that is completely honest about who I am and what I'm looking for by email. I've spent a lot of my 37 years being cynical and disparaging about men and, having done loads of personal development work, therapy etc., I'm trying my best to accept each man on his own terms but ffs, blokes! You really don't help yourselves when you build a persona that you can't possibly live up to in a mutually convenient Weatherspoons. I really am the bolshy, giggly, 5'2", fairly assertive, busty blonde that's clued-up to her own needs and not afraid to voice them woman that wears something pink every day and knows how to control her adrenaline response in order to hit an attacker on any appropriate pressure point to cause disablement whilst, at the same time, looking innocent and self-defensive to any cctv cameras that happens to be operating in the vicinity, that I put across in all of my e-communications.

Is it really that fucking difficult for you to be as honest as I am when embarking on a mutually sought, potentially life-long relationship as a bona fide grown up person? For all the idiosyncracies, the 'shrinking violets need not apply' warnings, the socially-inappropriate fuck fantasies and the absolute openness about the fact that you simply don't get anywhere near my kids for as long as I feel like - and this is absolutely non-fucking-negotiable no matter how popular an uncle you are - , and even then there's twelvety-hundred or so hoops you have to jump through to prove yourself safe and worthy enough to even speak to them. You stupid bastards still get your sister/her mates that fancy you/your PA's to ghost write your missives thinking they'll know what to say to guarantee you getting your end away with the Essex bird that has broadband. Mugs.

Please accept my profuse apologies for the part three that suddenly appears necessary to complete this essay of just how and why men are like buses (and for my more than likely mis-spelling of neccessary - bite my grammatical arse, it's just one of those words that escapes my grasp just when I need it most, a bit like men, really...)

Men really are buslike... part one

History of my relationship with A:

Me, November 2005: In love with A, someone that's chronically married. When will I finally break this pattern?!

A: I can't leave even though you're the best thing that ever happened to me and I really want to.

Me, April 2006: Enough, I can't do this anymore. It's not fair to anyone involved, it not only offends my fundamental feminist principles but I've actually realised that I deserve more so I'm going to date other men and see what happens.

A: I'm absolutely not happy about it but I accept that I don't have a right to dictate (subtext - if you really love me then please don't make anyone else feel the same way you make me feel even tho I'm giving you nothing back whilst making a big deal of anything I do give)

Me, June 2006: Having had a few dates I go on my first ever holiday alone. I fly to Fueteventura to sunbathe singly and tingly and welcome the anniversary of my birth for the 37th time whilst my children spend a week with my ex-husband and sister/her large extended family doing cool bonding stuff on the coast.

Me, June 21st 2006: Arrive back in the UK a day before my children return home and plan how to tell him that night that I won't be seeing him again as a lover cos I've spent the week away getting all brave enough to stick up for myself but I had planned how to keep our wonderful friendship. He knows I'm back today so he's bound to get in touch, yeah?

A: Leaves it days before texting me to ask how my holiday was and say he has some news to tell me when we teach together that night.

Me, confused at this turn of events having spent a week developing a 'it's not you, it's me' speech in order to spare his feelings: Weedles some news out of him by text. He's had his tongue pierced, the rest he'll tell me in person.

A, five days afer I return from holiday: Turns up as usual to help out with my class and, in the middle of my teaching a kata, whispers to me that he'd left his wife the day after my birthday.

Me, at that point: Totally gobsmacked. This wasn't the plan. But kinda explains the lack of any happy birthday wishes from him so I forgive him.

A: My family are overjoyed and willing to throw money at me now I've moved on but I'm a bit emotionless whilst I have this divorce stuff going on.

Me: Ok, I've been there and know it isn't easy or undertaken without real thought, I'll quit dating other people and be here for you. It wasn't what I was expecting but I'll cope because I love you.

Soon after: I crashed my car so he picks me up for a martial arts seminar we'd booked to attend together and we go to bed before we leave for training. He's broke so I pay for us both, did I just pay for sex?! Anyway, that's the last time we sleep together.

A, at many and various points since then having been openly and assertively asked if he wants me to just bog off with the supportive texts that never get answered and leave him alone... "No, I absolutely don't want you to leave me. I just need to be emotionally and sexually cold to sort this out and couldn't possibly burden you with talking about it cos it's soooo horrible". Yeah, cos I've not been through it myself or counselled at least thirty mates through their own divorces... *sigh*

Me, lately: Going through the toughest time of my life. Really. Fucking. Tough. As well as the usual practicalities of bringing up my children alone/fending off my Scorpio ex-husband who sees any show of weakness as a sign to try and jump back into my bed/looking after my siblings and students, I'm making a mega-multi-page statement to the police about the step-father that sexually abused me and my little sister 30 years ago in order to try and get some sort of justice/validation of feeling and put a stop to the minimalising-denial at last. I keep all this away from A, seeing as he's acting like the only person in the world that ever got a divorce (thank Dog he never had to do it without emotionally and financially supportive parents like I did ffs!)

So I decide to date again and get some fun back. Plus, I've admitted to myself that I don't feel independent and free anymore; I feel wretchedly, heart-achingly, lonely. Even the wonderful, passionate argentinian I spent the night with on holiday didn't fill all the gaps I needed filling.