#sinfulsunday: "Bite"

This week's #SinfulSunday has a prompt. The letter "B."

Now I know that photos of Bite marks is a fairly obvious road to go down, but I couldn't Not Use these photos.

This is the post that tells you all about the man that gave these to me....

And I cannot wait for him to give me some more.

Part Two of Radio Boy.

Continuing on from this this post about my first date with Radio Boy....


So we arrange to do "something more proper," following on from the weekend. I suggest crazy golf, which he jumps at the chance to do. Unfortunately we went to get something to eat before hand, and then just got so wrapped up talking to each other that we then didn't want to do anything else.... The ensuing activities at the flat were equally as engrossing. I couldn't quite believe I'd only known him less than a week (and neither could he.) I was desperately trying to keep some semblance of walls up, but to be honest, even by this point it was too late. I am absolutely hopeless at not falling for people, and this is absolutely no exception. When I fall - I FALL.


My hand is forced the next day. Whilst all of this had been going on, I had simultaneously been on a date with a guy from Tinder who I'd initially started talking to months ago (actually mentioned in this past post - the Navy Dom, he'd started talking and we'd negotiated a fair amount before he disappeared without a trace. Turns out he'd been crash called (ie with 12 hours notice) back to his ship and had been in Yemen for 2 months. He'd hadn't ghosted me after all....)

Anyway. He wanted to start seeing me as well, which I thought was on a casual basis, so I messaged him to tell him that I'd kinda met someone else and it was going well etc etc...Turns out this wasn't really ok with him, and he'd wanted something more exclusive.



Upshot is - he wanted me to choose. Now I wasn't going to throw away something potential with NavyDom if I wasn't sure things were going somewhere with RB. So I messaged him, calling him out on his "nothing serious" from his OkC profile...(the previous night he said he was going to leave a contact lens case at mine for "next time...")



"Can I ask you something? You say on your OkC profile that you're not after anything serious, is that still the case? Which is fine if it is, I'm just getting a bit of a vibe that you might be kinda ok with something potentially developing over time maybe? Really not trying to freak you out or anything I promise, but I guess, ultimately, in time, I am looking for something a bit more substantial, and I think you're really cool, so if we're not on the same eventual page I'd just rather know sooner rather than later? Does that make sense?"



Reading back through this, this is BOLD. I'd met this man 6 days earlier, and had been out with him three times. In reference to the first blog post about this man - THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU'RE MEANT TO DO. You're meant to play it cool, or something like that. This is totally Breaking The Rules.



He made me wait, all of....3 minutes before replying.



"I am absolutely happy for something to develop and would be really excited if it does."



See, this is exactly what happens when you don't play stupid games and just come out and ask someone what they want. Like an actual kind of Grown Up.

COMMUNICATION IS FREAKING GREAT PEOPLE.

The next time I go onto OkC he's suspended his account.... so I kinda think I know a bit more where I stand with RB now, and so have to sadly say goodbye to NavyDom.




Fast forward to last night/this morning. I actually have the bank holiday monday off, (praise the lord), so RB comes to mine late Sunday night. He arrives about 11 and as soon as he walks in the door he's kissing me, before spinning me round and grabbing me by the throat, my knees starting to buckle.... before stopping and pulling me into the kitchen and starts making drinks.


We genuinely start chatting about something completely nonchalant for half an hour or so, before he then straddles me over the chair I'm sitting in and kissing my lips and my neck. I am so SO worked up by this point that when he slides his hand under my dress and into my knickers I am just soaking wet. We go upstairs and proceed to just fuck each others brains out. There's no other way of describing it. The first orgasm is while we're actually having sex (quite rare for me), we're facing each other, sat up, with legs pointing in opposite ways and it was so intense I think I tried to actually claw myself inside him, just to try and get deeper and deeper......


The second orgasm was from oral sex, with me sitting on his face. Again, rare for me. The third one was when he was fucking me from behind, reaching around with his hands to rub against my clit. I can't even remember how the fourth one happened. At one point he asked me "what do you want me to do to you?" To which I replied, "cum on my face." He obliged, but "only if you look at yourself in the mirror afterwards." (which I always do anyway cos it is h-o-t!) We finally fell asleep around...four?? I have no idea.



Bank holiday Monday morning is a repeat performance. Snooze. Wake up. Chat. Fuck. Repeat. Had conversations about D/s, and how fantastic it is to meet someone who seems to know what to do to press your buttons without even having to ask. They just *know.* But by far, the most gorgeous and most exciting thing he said to me was this:

“Whatever I do to you, when I bite you, I choke you, I scratch you, I slap you, I fuck your arse, you’ll still always be safe.”

I am so frigging excited to see where this goes. I've known him ten days but it honestly feels like I've known him months and months and months. It's like I'm in an amazing dream and I really really don't want to wake up to find it's not actually happening? Because it's all just too kinda perfect. But for now, I'm going to grab on with both hands and go along with it because this seems like an incredible ride that I can't miss out on.




(Hello, yes I am very aware that I am playing with fire, cruising for a bruising etc etc and if this all goes tits up I am going to be beyond RUINED, but hey ho let's just all pray that doesn't happen ok? I think I've had enough shit relationship karma the last 18 months for someone nice to actually be a thing for a bit, kthksbai)

The First Date, aka Breaking All of "The Rules"

There's a lot of advice for dating out there. A lot of "rules." A lot of "don't do this on a first date." A lot of "don't text them too much," or do this, or do that. And definitely "Don't sleep with someone on the first date." And I guess some of it could be good advice?

And then, sometimes you meet someone, who you have just so much in common, that it's just so easy to talk to, that you are just so on *fire* with in bed, that suddenly all these rules and regulations about what you *should* do when dating somebody new just go take a flying jump out of a 25 storey window.....

***

This has essentially happened to me in the last ten days. Let's rewind to just under three weeks ago, a fairly benign Wednesday. I got a message on OkC from a guy who on a cursory glance was pretty hot. 92% match rate (which basically means he's probably into some kind of kink, and likely a Dominant). His opening gambit on his profile was, "Not looking for anything serious, just someone to get wicked drunk with and eat double stuff Oreos."

I was cool with that. I replied to his message which set off an entire days worth of easy flowing conversation over text, culminating with him asking me out for a drink. Unfortunately this couldn't actually be done until over a week later, on the following Friday. We spend the entirety of the next week, messaging a LOT. I get really bloody excited for the date because he seems really REALLY cool. So Friday finally arrives, and, as first dates go, this was has got to be possibly My Best One Ever. (NB by this point I've nicknamed him Radio Boy, or RB for short, because he's a producer for a local radio station. Original af, I know....)

We met at a outdoor bar in the trendy hipster part of town, the sun was shining and he walked in looking 100% bang tidy. He has the most incredible piercing blue eyes, and a perfect white grin. I was lost in the smile instantaneously. And he was well dressed. Like trendy, but not dickhead hipster in dungarees trendy. I can't even remember exactly what we talked about, but it was relaxed and easy going, and we have so bloody much in common. From tastes in music, to going to festivals, to films to morals and ethics around drugs and going out, to how frustrating it is that EVERYONE IS BLOODY GETTING MARRIED AND HAVING BABIES, how we never ever want to start sleepwalking through life....I mean, we even had a conversation about how Finn and Poe Dameron from The Force Awakens are *definitely* gay. (Seriously, talking to me about Star Wars? Major points).

We moved onto another bar, and after a drink or two ended up sitting side by side on a bench in a little alcove. Who knows what I was saying but in the middle of a conversation we just looked at each other, and then all of a sudden we were kissing and fuck me, I nearly fell off my seat. 

I think by this point it may have been around midnight as we were kicked out of that bar, so walked into the main part of town. Stopped off at a tequila bar ran by some friends of his (he used to work as a barman, and hence seems to now know ALL barmen). Moved onto a cosy little absinthe cocktail bar where we stayed until three am talking about bloody Game of Thrones and how incredible it is, interspersed with more snogging. 

(I think by this point I was fairly smitten).

3am comes and goes....and there's only one way this is ending. I ask if he wants to come back to mine. He was quite surprised by this, but agreed...

My flatmates aren't in, so we sit in the kitchen after making some final gin and tonics. We start kissing again, and getting carried away I drop to my knees, unbutton his trousers, and start sucking him off right there. Obviously this doesn't last long as I need to get him upstairs to my bedroom.

Now. As I previously mentioned, this man had a high % match with me on OkC. I mention D/s on my own profile, and his opening message to me ended with "oh, and points for the D/s line." So I obviously had an inkling that he was going to Dominantly inclined. 

And oh boy. He was. 

I'll just leave these here as an example of what the night entailed.....

Next morning he had to go to work around lunchtime, but immediately wanted to set up seeing me again the next night, as well as "doing something next week more proper than just burying my head between your thighs"... which I duly agreed to. Sunday night was a repeat, incredible performance. And he gave off a vibe that he was enjoying it as much as me... 

"You tick a lot of boxes."

"I definitely wasn't expecting to end up in bed with you."

"This has gone a lot better than I imagined."


This isn't how it's meant to go! It's not meant to be this easy! You're not meant to click with someone this hard and this well so quickly. You're meant to play by the rules, and play it cool and and and.......

Ghosting

Ghosting.


According to Urban Dictionary:

"The act of suddenly ceasing all communication with someone the subject is dating but no long wishes to date. This is done in hopes that the ghostee will just "get the hint" and leave the subject alone, as opposed to the subject simply telling them he/she is no longer interested."



It's happened to everyone. To be honest, everyone has probably done it themselves. I'm sure I probably have in the past. But certainly in the last year, if I've gone on a date and not been interested I've made an effort to tell the guy. And I certainly won't be doing it again to anyone else in the future.
Which brings me to recent events. AKA When I Got Ghosted and Got Really Fucking Annoyed About It.

I met ScorTish at my mum's Moving to Scotland with her Fiance garden party. I was completely expecting the party to be full of her 50-60 year old mates. Who granted, are good fun, but certainly not anyone I would be looking to bang. What I wasn't expecting was a young blonde Scottish man in his twenties to be there, who absolutely fit as fuck with the most gorgeous Scottish accent, (what can I say I am an absolute SUCKER for a regional accent).Turns out he works with my mum's partner at the same school. He was also there with a woman in her twenties and I assumed they were together. 

After meeting we all decided to go into town around midnight (plus my gay flatmate who was also at the party), the other girl revealed she was going to go home to her girlfriend. So it was down to the three of us. We went to a great little indie bar and spent the rest of the night chatting and dancing, and then I proceeded to start kissing ScorTish whilst my flatmate essentially third-wheeled around us (sorry Sean!)

ScorTish came back to mine and we had some BANGING sex. He was pretty rough and went at me like an absolute jackhammer. Slipped in a "Good Girl" or two. Highly enjoyable. 

Next morning we went out for brunch and coffee, came back to mine, fucked some more, played MarioKart on the N64, had a nap, then had some more sex. It was just fucking awesome. Got his number, he seemed keen to meet up again.




Cue a week of fairly constant messaging, set up a date. He seems wonderful. Really fucking clever (1st in MATHS at Imperial), decided to be a teacher in a rough school than go into a soulless banking job (which he would have walked into and be being paid a HELL of a lot more), got promoted to head of maths within 2 years etc etc, musical - plays the guitar, into the same kind of music, goes to festivals. Go on date, go to a few different bars. Get on pretty well! The night ends with him back at mine for a repeat run. He leaves pretty early to go back to his to sort out a fridge getting delivered.....




....and that was it. The last I heard from him. No messages for a day or two. And my gut kicked in....this was different. He'd been messaging constantly the week before. I knew something was up. And once again, my gut was 100% right. I wish it was wrong sometimes, you know??



So, I sent a message asking if he wanted to meet up again. Which got ignored. The dreaded "double blue ticks" appeared on Whatsapp. Seriously, those fucking blue ticks need to do one. I went into serious meltdown mode on Twitter about it, but luckily some absolute babes on there (holla guys!) calmed me down.

24 hours later I sent: "Does the radio silence mean that's a no then?" Which also got ignored. 

Not going to lie, I was pretty upset at first. I really quite liked this guy. I then, then I just got royally pissed off. Would it kill you to just send a "thanks but no thanks"? It takes NOTHING. It's just fucking RUDE to ghost someone. Especially someone who's mum is marrying your really quite good friend. Anyway. I composed this kick ass message, but I never actually sent it because you know what? He didn't deserve the satisfaction.

"Don't worry, I've got the message loud and clear so this will be the last text you get from me. You don't want to see me again, that's fine. But really, ignoring me until I go away is childish and actually just plain fucking rude, especially given how we met and who you know. (Mum's fiance) seems to think a lot of you but to me that seems a bit mistaken. It really doesn't take much to have a bit of respect to just say "sorry I don't think I want to see you again," and if you're being a proper grown up you could even stretch to a reason why! I guess I just don't understand what's happened because I thought we were having fun? Obviously got that wrong. I also thought you weren't a ghosting fuckboy as well but there we go. Have a good one."

And about 3 days later I was over the dickhead.




Knocked down thirty three, get up thirty four....

Knocked down thirty two.....

I wrote this post back in June originally but never got around to posting it. So here it is, in August.....

***

So the last month or two has been quite the disaster on the dating scene, with a total of four rejections. First one was the hardest, one I've talked about on Twitter the most probably: Oirish. 

I met him in the staff room at work. I'd just come back after a particularly heavy holiday at a skiing/music festival straight into a run of 12-midnight shifts over a weekend. It was the Saturday night and it had finally started to quieten down so around 11.20 I was sitting off waiting for the clock to turn midnight and go home. 

I was sat on my own in the room when he wandered in. He immediately started talking to me in the most incredible southern Irish accent I have EVER heard. Soft, lilting, proper "top o' the mornin to ye, tirty tree and a tird," stuff. (Ie Cork, for the uninitiated...) he just didn't stop, so full of energy and life it just completely bowled me away. (And henceforth was known as Oirish on Twitter).

God knows what we talked about but he revealed that he should have gone home at ten, and yet he proceeded to stay talking to me until midnight, despite already being an hour and half late to go home.....

He was also jaw droppingly beautiful. 

I saw him a few more times in the next week or so, a chat here over lunch, and chat there during an on call. During one of these episodes he gave me some stick about not telling him/not inviting him to one of the work nights out which was happening the next day (there was a poster up on the wall.) Of course I told him he was invited, and took that as an opportunity to add him on Facebook and message him about the next months night out as well.....

There was then a bit of flirting over Facebook the next day (the day of the night out,) and when he appeared at said night out I was pretty chuffed. I was also pretty drunk so god knows what kind of impression I made on him. The most important thing I remember about this night is 

A) kissing him

B) being in his car (he doesn't drink, was going home at midnight and gave me a lift from a bar to a club)

C) getting his phone number and it being saved in my phone as "[His Name] Legend." Yes. Really. 

Long story short the next two weeks is pretty much constant messaging and flirting. Especially one Friday night when I was out with a girlfriend, literally texting throughout the night out until about four am, despite him being in work the next day. 

We set up a date, which is not the most convenient as its after I finish an on call on a Monday night, so it starts at 10pm. We grab some food and chat for two hours, which feels like two minutes, he walks me back to my car, it's raining, he kisses me, I think "oh my god is this actually happening?" 

We talk about setting up a second date. The next weekend I go to London, he goes back to Ireland for a wedding. The chat dries up somewhat which I do think a bit odd. I really need to trust my gut, it's always fucking right!! 

Message on Monday as I've not heard much which is when he drops the bombshell.

.......He'd kissed his ex at the wedding, and so wanted to pretty much end things with me. He was completely up front about it, which is good, I guess. But still. It kinda hurt. 

Talk about gutted. I mean, this is nearly two months ago, and everytime I see him at work, everytime he talks to me, it feels like I've been punched in the stomach. Sigh. 

At said "month later work do," Oirish was there and it was the first time I'd seen him since the blow off. Predictably gorgeous. Predictably friendly, enthusiastic, wanting to talk to me. Also, annoyingly, doing it just as my second work crush walked past and dropped something stereotypically Irish into the conversation. Me and my flat mate then worked very hard, pretty much throwing myself at work crush number two but to no avail. Second rejection. 

To be fair, rejection three and four were both men I've not actually met, but both were from dating apps and we'd arranged a time and date to meet up. (Both Doms as well). First one ghosted me. After a fair bit of negotiation as well I might add. Second one pissed me off because, again, after initially talking loads, and then mysteriously going quiet - prompting me to message, revealed, AGAIN, that his ex had got back in touch and they were going to get back together. 

Two in two months is some shitty luck I tell you. Just made me rage a bit, "Why can't I get back with MY EX?" (And I know for all my bravado, this made me realise that if HR turned round to me and asked if I wanted to get back together the answer would be yes, without even having to think about it, I would say yes, YES in the blink of an eye.

So here we, 18 months on from being dumped by HR and still, deep down, he's got a hold on me. Not that I didn't really predict this, reading back my entries from just after we broke up I pretty much knew this would happen. Not that there's any satisfaction I can derive from being right. 

Still. Fall down thirty two times. Get up thirty three. 

Sinful Sunday: Aperture

I've only had my DSLR for a month or so, but playing around with the aperture is my favourite way to take photos, especially when it's of my favourite AP underwear......

Sinful Sunday: Hair

I like my hair. It's definitely my favourite feature. It does an interesting thing where it goes wavy if I leave it to dry naturally, but if I blow dry it, it goes straight easily. I like both looks. 

But the way I really REALLY like my hair is the way it looks after sex. After I've been on my back, with it being mushed against the bed, or when it's been pulled, hard, whilst being fucked from behind, or when cum's been sprayed into it, congealing and sticking it together in a gluey matted mess. 

Yup, that's how I think it looks best....

This is my first ever Sinful Sunday post, hope you enjoy!

A trip to the colposcopist: Part One "Crossing The Line"

I wrote the below a week ago when it all happened. I've ummed and ahhhhed about publishing this but I've decided to go with it, both on this blog and on Twitter because, well, I get a lot out of just raging/moaning into the void. I've been in a complete funk the last two days and maybe getting things out and off my chest will help. 

****

You hear a lot from health care professionals when they "cross the line," when they go from being a doctor, being a nurse into being a patient. It's generally pretty uncomfortable and most describe it as being fairly unpleasant. 


I've just had my own experience. 


Just after Christmas I had some lumps on my genitals looked at, and they were diagnosed as genital warts. Grim. I had them frozen off there and then and they shrank away pretty much immediately. The nurse also performed an internal vaginal exam with a speculum and told me that I also had what looked like a wart on my cervix (the top of the vagina that holds the entrance to the womb), and that she couldn't freeze that one and would have to refer me to the colposcopy clinic. She added that quite often by the time you got to the appointment they would disappear by themselves. 


Colposcopy, for the uninitiated, is a test where you lie on your back with your legs apart, feet in stirrups, a speculum inserted and then the nurse/Dr looks through magnifying glasses at your cervix with a big light to get a better view (it actually being quite dark up there!) 


So about a month later I go to my colposcopy appointment expecting it to be fairly routine and they would freeze the wart off and that would be that. So there I am, legs akimbo, staring up at the ceiling whilst in goes the speculum, in goes the acid stain etc etc 


Nurse says, "I don't think there's a wart there. Would you like to see?" I say yes and they turn the TV screen round so I can see it. There's a (my) cervix, something which I've seen before, having done speculum examinations myself. There's my mirena coil wires. But there's also a white rim around the os (opening to the womb), which I'm pretty sure isn't usual. 


I ask what it is.


"It looks like it could be high grade CIN." (They know I'm a doctor). "I'm going to take some biopsies, ok?"


It didn't quite hit, right then.


She put in some local anaesthetic then took the biopsies. It wasn't until they lowered the table and I was clambouring off the bench that I think I actually took it in.


High grade CIN. High grade cervical intraepithelial neoplasia. One of those things that I learnt about at medical school in histology. All those stupid pink cells looked at under a microscope. Squamous cells of the uterus transforming into epithelial cells of the vagina. CIN 1, low grade, 1/3 of the cervix affected. CIN 2, middle grade, 2/3 affected. CIN 3, high grade, whole thickness of th cervix affects. Pre-cancerous. Next step: cervical cancer if left untreated. 



I got dressed and came back into the room. Sat down. Tried to form some kind of coherent thought. Fuck. What does this mean? Have I got cancer? Fuck I've got cancer. No, I don't have cancer.  But I could have cancer. CANCER CANCER CANCER CANCER. It filled my mind like a klaxon, flooding out everything else, rendering me incapable of thinking of....well anything. The only thing I could manage to actually ask was - 


"So what happens next?"


"The results will take around four weeks to come back. We don't know for sure what it is until it's been looked at under the microscope. It could be low grade and if it is then we go to watchful waiting. (i.e. more regular smear tests). If it's high grade then I'd offer you a loop excision." (A procedure to completely remove the segment of cervix that has abnormal cells in it. Makes you more likely to miscarry any future pregnancies). 


She didn't mention what would happen if it came back as cancer.  I didn't ask.  


At around this point I couldn't hold it in and started weeping. It was just such a shock. I'd gone in thinking I had a wart! It wasn't even like I'd had an abnormal smear and they wanted to investigate it more and so I'd had some time to mentally prepare, this was from nothing to BOOM -potentially pre cancerous cells. 


"Did anyone come with you today?"

Well no! I'd thought it was just a wart!


"Do you want to talk about it? Take some time out?"
I started to say no, but it came out as a crack and more tears, and the wonderful nurse just said, 

"Yes. You can go into a quiet room and have a cup of tea." 


The lovely HCA (seriously I can't praise those women enough they were just wonderful) took me round and made me a cup of tea and brought me some biscuits and sat and had a chat with me. Whilst she was gone I instantly got my phone out to start googling things - why do we do that? God I did it even as a doctor being fairly well informed on the topic and knowing very well this is an awful thing to do. I cannot imagine how even more shit scared a member of the public must be having received this kind of news. 


So now I wait. Four weeks to get the results. And I absolutely have to put it to the back of my mind until then. Much much harder said than done. It *could* be low grade. But I really suspect not. The whole reason I went to the gum clinic in the first place was because I was having a bit of lower abdominal pain, AND I've had some bleeding twice since December as well. At the time I thought it was my body trying to have a period - I've not really had them since my mirena was out in over two years ago - but both times it only really lasted a day. Maybe it's innocent and I'm catastrophising but... They are symptoms nonetheless.


What's terrifying is - what if I hadn't gone to the gum clinic? My last smear was pretty much a year ago and was normal. If I hadn't gone to the gum clinic I wouldn't have had another smear for 2 more years! The sensible part of my brain is saying "This has been caught early. This is good. You will be ok."
But there is another side of my brain wanting to prepare for the worst. To mentally steel myself for a potential life changing diagnosis. Because if it's not cancer, everything else is better than that. So if I get used to that idea, being told it's just CIN will be a plus! I guess that's kind of perverted but that is the way my brain is working right now.

****

Luckily, the day after this I went straight into a weekend of three busy 12 hours shifts where I had no time to think of anything that wasn't immediately work related. This was very helpful in taking my mind off it, and probably the only good thing to be said about a weekend on-call - least it helps you forget about your potential cancer scare!!

A week later, on reflection, and after talking to my mum, some other medical friends, and a few select others, the initial shock and numbness has subsided. Right now, there's nothing I can do. I'm carrying on regardless, like nothing's changed. This is a reminder that I AM MORTAL, as is everyone else. Chances are it'll be fine. I'll be fine. Worse things happen. 

When I get that letter through in 3 weeks time it may be a very different story. But let's leave those feelings and that story for three weeks in the future eh??

A Certain Shade of Green

I can pinpoint the exact moment I lost faith in marriage and monogamy. There will always be certain events, certain memories that remain forever seared in your mind, that do not become any less clear, any foggier, despite years passing.

I can very clearly remember sitting in my tiny box room in London 2010, a few months after my dad had announced that he was leaving my mum, leaving his marriage of 27 years, a few months after the bottom fell out of my mum's (and therefore mine as well) world.

I can very clearly remember the betrayal I felt, the anger, the disappointment. I can very clearly remember staring at my wall of photos and thinking, "well if they can't stay together, what's the point?" I can very clearly remember having that knee jerk stereotypical reaction, "That's it. I'm never getting married. What's the point if everyone splits up eventually."


This was now over six years and my thoughts on marriage haven't changed an awful lot, but that's more due to learning about and developing my feminism, something I didn't really think about back then at all. Now my beliefs about marriage are along the lines of "Eww no patriarchy," and my rejection of it is more related to the fact that I think the whole concept of spending thousands and thousands of pounds on one day which is the literal manifestation of The Patriarchy (here I am, a man, GIVING AWAY my daughter as property to belong to another man, and dear lord don't even get me started on changing your surname), is actually obscene.

Plus, you're probably going to split up anyway.

During my relationship with SailorBoy I was particularly troubled by jealousy. Quite near the start of our time together he decided to tell me about a number of girls from university that he'd had flings with. It really fucking upset me. To the point where one of the girls I couldn't speak to and actively avoided, and could never really be relaxed around. I was angry that he'd even told me, I just didn't want to know. A couple of months later he brought up the idea of a threesome with another girl. It never happened, because I knew that I would not have been able to handle the fact that he would be having sex with someone else that wasn't me. Like, just Not An Option.

Jealousy was a problem for the entire relationship. It reared its ugly head to a lesser extent with HR, but rear its head it did all the same. Again, with a past fling that he was still friends with and still talking to. Not even seeing or having sex with, just talking to. And I could barely handle that. Not to mention the fact that the start of our relationship was marred by the fact that he was still hung up on his ex. She was like a cloud, hanging over my head for a while, darkening skies whenever he got upset about her.

I hated being jealous. I hated the feeling of being in a room and being completely on edge constantly, in case my boyfriend talks to someone that I can't deal with, or flirts with someone. I hated that it made me feel like I'm crazy. I don't want to be like that. I want to be relaxed. I want to be not bothered by it at all. 

Which brings me to the topic of polyamory/non monogamy.


From my limited experience of the kink world it seems that it goes fairly hand in hand with non monogamy. Obviously this isn't a hard and fast rule but it certainly feels like those that way inclined are more likely to be polyamorous than the general population. KTG mentioned his girlfriend (specifically described as his "primary") on our first date, they live together, they have a dog, it's all very traditional, apart from the whole D/s thing, obviously. On our third date we popped into his flat on the way back to mine to pick up his bag of sex toys. She was in the flat and there was an interesting moment where I saw stood in their kitchen with her whilst he was getting the bag out of the bedroom. There is nothing in my life that has quite prepared me for dealing with that, like what the heck is the etiquette there?!
I said hello, and luckily the dog decided to attack my legs so I could fill the thirty seconds or so with reacting to him (he is absolutely gorgeous and I do want to steal him). He quite openly refers to her, and clearly she knows all about me (he told me about her being sick and asking to ask me about it-"what's the point of you fucking in a doctor if I'm not going to get anything out of it?"), which did make me smile, although did feel a little odd at first. Odd, but not something I couldn't get used to.


The fact that this guy I'm seeing is non negotiably poly, with a long term primary girlfriend already in place, and that the fact that this is definitely a scene that I want to explore, is making me reconsider something I previously would not have been able to countenance. So far, so good. Obviously I can't predict if I'll be able to continue to handle this without succumbing to jealously, but right now I'm hopeful. I feel that if I start off relationships in this way, it would stand me in good stead for being able to handle and keep the green eyed monster completely at bay. It seems completely counter intuitive - 'how to stop yourself being jealous of partners when they interact with other women by actually saying this is allowed and you can fuck them and I'll be completely fine with that because this is how it works now.' But perhaps turning all the rules on their head is exactly what it will take to shake this out of me once and for all.

I guess it was probably my anxiety about being cheated on, but in a poly world, by definition this can't happen. Once you remove the promise of "I won't sleep with anyone else," once that isn't actually a rule anymore, then it can't be broken. Now, from what I can tell from my limited experience, by its very nature kink requires an elevated amount of communication in order to remain safe yet fulfilling, and I suspect that the same is very much true for polyamory. But I believe that any process which encourages and facilitates extra discussion and communication will only result in positive outcomes. And while taking the time to discuss needs and wants, and where to draw the line in situations can be daunting and hard work, not only will it eventually enhance the whole relationship but it is also completely necessary.


You see, it's starting to make more sense to me. Monogamy for 50+ years seems like an impossibly hard task. Staying with one person for the rest of your life - yeah romantic maybe, but frankly unrealistic in my eyes. You don't restrict yourself to one best friend (well I certainly don't), why apply the same rules to a partner? There are some amazing people out there, and actually this whole non monog setup feels quite right and is working out well at the moment, considering there's two other men (on top of KTG) that I'm fucking and will continue to do so. (Unfortunately both live in London so although not an altogether regular arrangement, definitely not something that I want to end anytime soon). I like people, I like getting to know new people, it's the part of my job that I love the most, the interaction and the sheer joy of hearing about other people's experiences. What can I say, I'm a loud gobby extrovert who loves having sex and who loves people, and upon consideration I almost can't believe I haven't really considered this before.

Who knows where this is going to go, and who knows whether it will be successful for me or not, but for now, at least, it's certainly something to try.

One Year On

On this day, a year ago, I got dumped in the middle of the night by someone I was ridiculously in love with, more than anyone else I'd been in love with before. I had been so deliriously happy with him in the preceding year, happier than I actually thought possible. Fairytale. Thought I'd be spending the rest of my life with this man type thing.

It was brutal. There was absolutely zero warning. (We'd just been on to our normal weekly pub quiz). Out of the blue. Rug swept out from under my feet. Every cliche there is in the book. He didn't want to, couldn't do long distance (which is what we were facing) and so that was it. I wailed. Literally wailed and woke my flatmate who came into the room to see if I was ok, so horrible were the noises I was making. I physically threw myself on top of him to stop him from leaving, but to no avail. I'll never forget that night for the pure animal despair I went through.



When I'm at low points in my life I retreat into music. Listening to specially curated "sadness" playlists. Lying in bed, spotify on, sobbing my heart out. It was around the time after the breakup that Sia's album 1000 Forms of Fear came out, and jesus - all I can say - when an album just speaks to you, when someone writes a song where the lyrics describe exactly what you are going through and feeling, I can't help but just have it on repeat and repeat and repeat. All I know is that Sia must have been through a pretty shitty relationship breakdown to write so many fucking perfect songs about breakups. Like, girl. I FEEL YOU. 

(It got to a point where even just hearing the intro of "Big Girls Cry," would indeed, make me cry. One low point being whilst on the tube.)





Now, a year on, I was shopping after having brunch with KTG (kinky tinder guy), having had a spectacular fuck the night before, and Sia's newest song came on. I knew it was her instantly due to her distinctive voice and although I'm couldn't really make out the words in the verse, the chorus lyrics put a smile on my face - basically:

"I survived, I'm still breathing, I'm alive" repeated x 4



It's kinda nice to know that she went through a hella shit time, and has come through it, out onto the other side, as have I. Better than that, I'm now in a place that I always wanted to be deep down, but never really expected to ever happen. And that wouldn't have happened if we were still together. So to anyone who's going through heartbreak....keep going. You will make it, and you can join me and Sia belting out "I'm alllllive" at the tops of our voices.

The Kink Awakens

- So, since the beginning of December I've had the amazing good luck to have had encounters with at least 3 kinky guys, all of which have been fairly incredible experiences. This post is a re-telling/inspired account of what went down! This is my first go at writing anything even vaguely erotic and I'm just hoping I haven't made too much of a hash of it. I'm having to write this in the third person, I don't know why, it just feels a hell of a lot easier. To be perfectly honest I can't even remember all of the nights properly. Parts have just become....blurry. Not quite there in my memory. Certain bits have stuck in my mind, and phrases, but some things I've certainly embellished slightly. Or put in a different order. Or amalgamated the experiences altogether. Or just completely made up! I guess you'll never know which bits....

******

"Take your boots off and sit on the bed."

She undid the zips on her shoes, laid them by the wardrobe, then sat, kneeling down on the bed.

He took her arms and pulled them behind her back, then placed the black restraints around her wrists, pinning them into place. They were actually surprisingly comfortable, and she liked the way they pulled her arms back, liking the way she knew she looked. He kneeled beside her, towering above, then lifted up her chin to look at her before drawing her up into a deep kiss. Then without warning he pulled her legs out from underneath her, yanking down her tights and removing her skirt in one swift motion.

"Mmmm, nice underwear," he commented on the black silky see-through pants she was wearing. "I can already see how wet you are," he said as he slowly scratched down the inside of her thigh, leaving a thick red welt. He came back up, agonisingly close to her clit, before swooping his fingers back down her leg, teasing, playing with her. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" She nodded back, desperate for him to touch her properly, dying for it, "You want me to touch you, don't you?" Again, she nodded.... "What do we say?"


"Please."


"Good girl."


And with that he finally finally put his hands on her cunt properly, and the touch made her gasp, electricity firing up and down her legs. "You're so wet already, I can smell your pussy from here. You want it bad, don't you, you good little whore." She sank back, deep into the pleasure, his words turning her on just as much as (more than?) his hands were. She lay back for a while with him slowly circling her clit, his eyes never off her face. "You want me to go faster, don't you?" She looked at him, staring at him, wild with desire. She tried to find the words, but nothing came and all she could do was nod......


"No. What do we say?"


"Please."


He smiled. "Yes. But I think you're going to have to work for it bit more." She pouted petulantly, instantly knowing this was a big mistake, huge, as he grabbed her face with one hand, and her throat with the other - "Now, now, less of that. I don't like sulkers. Sulkers will get punished. And we don't want that do we?" She wasn't *entirely* sure what the answer to that question was.....but before she knew it he was talking again -


"Hmmm. I really should have taken your top off before putting these on, they're getting in the way," he remarked before taking the restraints off, releasing her hands. "I need to see a bit more of you," slipping off her top, and undoing her bra, before tossing both onto the floor. "Better. Much better. Now, stand up."


She stood up, now completely naked, staring at him, wondering what was coming next. He rose to stand next to her before slipping a finger, then two, deep into her cunt, without breaking that intense, intense eye contact.

"Come with me. I like leading pretty girls round by the pussy." He pulled her round with his fingers, forcing her to step forwards, onto her tiptoes, making her gasp. "That's it, a little further now," making her go a few more steps, before again doing that delicious thing of pulling her chin up with his fingers to kiss her. She rested her feet back down before, "Ah-ah. Stay on your tiptoes."

She went back onto her tiptoes. It was taking a lot of concentration between the kissing and what was going on in her pussy but she was determined to stay up. She wanted to prove she could do it. "That's it, very good. You can take direction. You're obedient. I like that. Now, bend over the bed."


He released her, and she took a step forward and was starting to bend when a knee went into the back of hers, a hand went onto the back of her head and all of a sudden she was bent completely double on the rail with two fingers being thrust into her again and again and again, which just felt fucking incredible. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to coming, but just as it started to build and build it was as if he sensed it, and slowed down and down, and the feeling subsided. She let out a small groan. "No, you're not allowed to cum yet, I'm nowhere near done with you. Get back on the bed."


She climbed over the bed rail and laid flat out. She could hear him taking off his shirt, and then the pop of his jeans buttons, and then the slow slide of the zip, agonisingly slowly. He pushed her legs apart with one hand then pushed his cock deep into her, filling her up completely. She forced her hand under her stomach down to her clit and started to rub furiously, the amazing feelings growing and growing, all the while he was pumping into her. She wanted to teeter on the edge for a while, seeing how long she could push it and wait, knowing the longer she could the more intense the finale would be....

When she could stand it no more she begged, whispered, moaned, "Please can I cum?" inherently knowing she needed to ask his permission - the reply, "Yes, cum now," and then it was there the most intense fucking EXPLOSION that started deep down before moving outwards, racking through her whole body, making it spasm and arch, and she screamed and it went on for what felt like forever, but the best forever there had ever been, before dying down, leaving her completely limp and dazed and content and never wanting this to end.


Silence. For a beat.


"You looked like you enjoyed that. I certainly did..... And now, another thing that I think we'd both enjoy - kneel on the floor."


She pulled some strength from somewhere, who knows where, and hauled herself onto the floor, kneeling in front of him. She looked up at him, trying to make herself look as innocent (hah!) as possible.


"God, what a pretty face. I fucking love those cute dimples of yours." She smiled, knowing it only accentuated the cute dimples. "Good girl....you're learning very quickly, aren't you? Now, do you know what I'm going to do to that pretty whore face of yours? I'm going to fuck it, I'm going to fuck it hard, and then I'm going to cum all over it."


He pushed his cock into her mouth, grabbing handfuls of her hair as he did it, pulling it into one ponytail which he held easily with one hand. He put the other hand on the back of her neck, pulling her deep onto him, so his dick was pushed right down the back of her throat, her nose touching his chest. She tried to get him down as deep as she could, and hold it for as long as she could before having to pull away, gagging, eyes watering. Again and again and again, skull fucking her throat like nothing she'd ever experienced before.


He paused for a second, staring at her. "God, you look incredible with your hair all tatty, and your mascara running down your face." She smiled, knowing what he said was true, wanting to please him, wanting to impress him.


"Now, hold still." He held her face whilst jacking off with the other hand, she kept motionless before finally he came, hard, a jet of spunk erupting straight over her eyes, eyebrows, nose, dripping down into her mouth. She got up, wanting to see herself in the mirror. Thick creamy cum literally all over her face, god there was so much and it just looked so fucking hot. He gently helped her to clean it off with a wipe before they both laid back onto the bed, entangled, nestled, content. She quickly fell asleep with the biggest smile on her face, yet with something inside awakened at last.

On new beginnings

I've turned a corner. I've got through the storm. I've made it. I've got my mojo back. I've survived. And many other varying cliches.


It's pretty much a year to the day when HR broke up with me and my world came crashing down around my ears, but now I can actually say I'm happy and content and over him. And for a reason that you would probably never guess....


December 2015 is going to go down as a particular memorable month in my life, (and not just because it's when the fabulous new Star Wars film came out). Now, I had been labouring away at Tinder and other dating apps and becoming rather disillusioned with the whole thing. I'd managed to get a few conversations going and had set up a first date with someone on a Wednesday in early December. To be perfectly honest I wasn't massively feeling it but felt like I should at least be trying. He, however, cancelled on me with about 3 hours notice (with the world's Worst Excuse Ever. So fuck him. As I said, this didn't bother me too much and it did instead allow me to ask another match if he was free that night (and this guy I was much more interested in....)

Flicking through Tinder I very rarely swipe right. I came across one (anonymous) profile where the photos were all edited to not be showing his face. But it was the profile that really reeled me in where it said he was kinky.


*deep breath*


Now, it's been in the back of my mind that the world of kink, and in particular domination and submission was something I'd been interested in for quite some time, and by quite some time I mean at least 2012. And I can pinpoint that year because I can remember talking to men about it on OkCupid and early 2012 was the last time I did internet dating. At that point I was 25 and was too scared to actually follow through with anything. It got pushed away and never really surfaced with any partners, but was always something that I knew got me off. In the blogs I read, in the porn I watch, in the fantasies I have. But up until now I'd never really told anyone, talked to anyone about it, never acted on it, and certainly never had anything other than fairly vanilla sex.


So I swiped right.



And when it comes to writing the history of my life, I think that action may come to be one of the defining "game-changers."



He also swiped right. We started talking. We started talking about D/s, and how it was something I was interested in. He told me he was a Dom. He was impressed by how much I seemed to know, and by my curiosity. We met up when that first date cancelled. We went for drinks. We got on really well. And then he started stroking my arms. And then my hair. And then my neck. And then pulled my chin up with his fingers to kiss me, occasionally slipping into Dom mode. And that was it, game over for me. I was a quivering mess.

We stayed in the same bar until 2am, and I barely noticed the time. He walked me most of the way home, and I had the resolve of a fucking saint to go home by myself (and also the fact it was 2am, I was in work for 8am and would have literally not slept). He said goodbye by pushing me against a door and kissing me, whilst parting my legs with his knee and telling me how much he'd enjoyed the night.


The second date was nearly two weeks later. Two weeks of near constant messaging and conversation, about kink, about D/s, about my interests, about Christmas, about Star Wars, about mundane shit, about work, about children, about it ALL, before meeting up on a Monday for dinner and drinks in a small bar, where we were the only two people in the whole of the downstairs area. I already knew that he would be coming back to mine afterwards and before the date was feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. After we finished eating he whacked out a set (? pair? I have no idea) of hand restraints and asked if I'd be comfortable with him putting my hands behind my back and then putting them on me (right there in the restaurant).

I just looked at them. I definitely hadn't quite expected it, and I wanted to but couldn't quite bring myself to, in such a public area. So they were put away, and instead he held my hands together by the wrists behind my back with one of his. Waiter comes down and takes another drinks order during which I can't quite look him in the eye, god knows what he must have thought of the whole thing, as it must have been really fucking obvious.



ANYWAY



We walked back to my flat, which took a lot longer than it should have, as we kept stopping off in various nooks and crannies when he would tell me to sit and keep still, then kiss me. One place in particular  - there's a shortcut back to my flat which involved going through a barred gate which gets locked late at night. It being quite late, it was of course, locked. But considerable time was spent being pushed up against said gate, the bars biting into my back....



Needless to say, not an awful lot of sleeping was done once we were back at mine. The night (and the second night I spent with him) merit a post all of their own. But apparently this has now opened the flood gates on my what-had-been-incredibly-barren sex life, as I managed to notch up getting laid with another four men during December, which I'm pretty sure is some kind of personal best!

So I'm now super excited to see what this year brings, and exploring things a lot more. Tinder Dom and I have spoken about a lot of things and he's really very careful about not pushing me too hard, being very careful about boundaries and asking me what I am and am not comfortable with, which is obviously as it should/has to be! I've also learnt about what sounds like a very intriguing venue close to where I live, which puts on regular kink/swinging nights which I'm sure I'll get to sooner rather than later....


Here's to blowing away the cobwebs of last year and moving on to the next fucking exciting (kinky!) chapter....

The one that got away. To Scotland.

So over the last year me and HR continued to talk regularly, continued to see each other, continued to sleep with each other. He came to see me for a weekend in my new house in my new city in August. We talked about him moving to Liverpool next year. We talked about him coming to my Hallowe'en party. I wasn't really sure what was going on with "us" but I was quite happy for the status quo to continue.

And then, quite suddenly, he changed his mind. He wasn't going to apply to Liverpool for his job any more. He was going to apply to Scotland.


Scotland.


Fucking SCOTLAND.  COULD YOU GET ANY FURTHER AWAY.

The only reason he would come to Liverpool would be for me, and he'd feel foolish if when he got here I was with someone else. And actually, he'd visited Edinburgh recently and quite liked it.


And so, in the period of nine months, he broke my fucking heart into pieces for the second time.

We haven't spoken since. He got disinvited to the Halloween party.

And for the last month I have been up and down like a roller coaster. I've tried to tell myself that I need to get out there and meet someone new. I've downloaded all the dating apps, and have really tried to put some effort into them. But it's not really getting anywhere, I start talking to guys but inevitably it peters out, and not by me! Literally all the last messages sent are from me, not the other way around, so not really sure what's going wrong or why these men are getting bored of me. I go through a flurry of activity, it dries up, I think what is the bloody point, none of these men are
HR anyway, - I think NO - persevere, repeat, rinse, ad nauseum.

Being super busy at work helps, I go through the entire day without thinking about him, and can be generally pretty happy and on top of things but it's the mornings or the evenings or the long weekends alone where I cry myself to sleep/burst into tears in the middle of exercise workouts because I've lost the love of my life. Like, if our circumstances were different and we'd been at the same stage of life we'd still be together. Without one shred of doubt. And I rage against the unfairness, against the sheer bad luck of it all. Because that's the only thing that's kept us apart. We didn't have a single argument.  No one did anything shitty. We fancied the pants off each other. We had so many common interests. We went on two amazing holidays (I can now never go back to either Bruges or Iceland). He made me laugh. He was generous. He let me rant about feminism. He fucking dressed up as a Game of thrones character with me. He made 2014 the best year of my life. He knew me. He got me. He loved me.


And now I'm crying again.


Because now, and for the rest of my life, I'll have A One That Got Away.

Because I have someone that I'll probably never truly 100% get over.

Because we'll always have unfinished business.

Because there will always be a part of me that will ask, "What if?"


And whether I want it to happen or not, every man I meet will be measured up against him and he's set the bar fucking high. And I'm not optimistic currently that anyone will even come near to the impossibly high standard that he's set, let alone surpass it.

On heartache

So. I am, once more, back blogging. And using my anonymous Twitter account.

The use of both of these things generally corresponds to myself being "without a boyfriend and/or sad." Both of which are currently true.


Just over a month ago, HR broke up with me. (Weirdly, an exact year that I wrote the last blog post, you know, the one where I gush about how UHMAZING he is. Just reading it over upsets me.)


It was completely out of the blue. We'd been at our regular pub quiz, our team had won, we'd come all the way back to mine (40mins away from the pub/his house), got into bed, into PYJAMAS, when he dropped this bombshell on me:


"So...what's going to happen in 3 months time?"

My heart sank. In 3 months time I will have finished my final university exams, I go away for two months travelling on elective, then I start my job (most likely in Liverpool) in August. He is in London for at least another year.


Now, when I applied for my job (which I had to do back in October), we'd chatted about it and I'd said I wanted to go for Liverpool. He didn't want to stay in London either, and got excited about Liverpool, started looking at jobs, starting talking about joining the coastguard, started LOOKING AT HOW MUCH HOUSES COST. Like opening the Rightmove app and looking at stuff. So I took this as a pretty good sign that this was all fine and dandy.


So my answer to "what's going to happen in 3 months?" was that we'd continue, and that yes, it would be a bit more work but I'd assumed we'd stay together. (Never assume. Never).


HR did not want to do long distance. Never mind that we could still see each other at weekends, never mind that Liverpool is only 2 hours and 15 minutes on a train, never mind that we'd not even given it a go, never mind anything (and I literally threw every argument in the book at him, for 90 minutes) he was adamant he didn't want it.


Now, although this was a complete and utter shock for me, looking back: it's not out of character for him. He's been on antidepressants for nearly 18 months, and by his own admission is "needy," so I can kinda understand why he doesn't think he could do it. But it was a fucking earthquake of a revelation and I sobbed. And wailed. So loudly it work my flatmate up and he came into my room to see what had happened. I don't think I've ever been reduced to something so animal, so visceral. The noise coming out of me just wasn't human, I was shaking, I was moaning, I just didn't want to acknowledge what he was saying to me.


HR left (also in floods of tears). At 12.30 midnight, into the night, despite me begging him not to, and literally hanging onto him. He turned his phone off, which I then proceeded to sketch out about ALL NIGHT, because I was scared he was dead in a ditch somewhere. I barely slept. I called him pretty much every hour until 9 when I eventually fell asleep having texted him begging him to let me know he was alive.


He was, obviously. I then went through the painful process of telling people, my mum, my friends, (twitter!) and to be fair, they rallied round marvellously. I'm truely thankful to all of them. Especially given the fact it was my birthday 6 days later (yeah cheers for that HR).

Literally the worst birthday I've ever had. I just kept comparing it to the one last year (which was the best I've ever had, mainly due to HR) so yeah.

****

We met up a week later, (my request) because I wasn't leaving it like that, I had more questions. It did make me feel a bit better afterwards. I asked him why he'd not brought this up earlier, he told me it had "dawned" on him over Christmas. Why now? Well there was never going to be a "good" time. (True). 

He explained it was just shit, because we weren't breaking up because someone had cheated, or we'd grown apart, or anything like that. We still fucking love each other but we can't be together. He still wants to be friends, he still wants to talk (and we have, a tiny amount), and I suggested maybe meeting up and doing something before I go travelling, which he wants to do. I asked him, crucially, if he was still going to apply for Liverpool for his job? - maybe. Maybe Manchester, maybe Newcastle. Not London. He did say he'd tell me where he applied when it comes to it...

Part (most) of me really really wants him to come to Liverpool and just pick up things where we left off, (which really could happen.) A smaller part of me wants to be realistic and say, "Do NOT get your hopes up for this, don't be stupid, do not wait around for him," etc etc lots of people have said, "You'll find someone new in Liverpool." And yeah, maybe I will. 

But you know what? Maybe I won't. Maybe I don't want to. I have had literally zero interest in any other men. "Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else," is a shit phrase I've heard a lot of recently, and I can't think of anything I'd like to do less. I don't want to, and I also don't because I know it would hurt him (just like if I found out about him sleeping with anyone else it would c-r-u-s-h me).

It's just right now, no one even comes close to being as amazing as he is. Men are generally shit, let's be honest, and it's taken me 27 goddamn years to find one that I could consider spending the rest of my life with, chances of me finding another one like that in the next year are, quite frankly, minimal. 

Who knows, maybe in 6 months I'll be over all of this, and look back at him and just feel nothing, like my other ex-boyfriends. But none of my other exes came anywhere near making me as happy, None of my other relationships have been as easy, or a patch on this one. This is why it's hurting me so much. Normally when you break up you can say, "but remember all the fights you had, all the times he hurt you, the disagreements." But we DIDN'T HAVE ANY. I have no negatives to fix on. All I have is the knowledge that I had one of the best, happiest years of my life with him. I'm not sure if I believe in "The One," but goddammit he basically was. (Is?)

Maybe I'm just fooling myself, maybe I'm just completely wrong, but right now, I just don't want to, (can't?) believe that's this is The End for us. 

The Holiday Romance

So. I have just returned from a week's holiday skiing with my uni. It's always a debauched affair with a hell of a lot of alcohol consumed. I had a flipping awesome time, the weather was great, the snow was great, the people I went with were great.

I was going single (broke up with SB just before Christmas, which was a long time coming, and maybe another blog post). I hadn't got with anyone since SB so I was quite looking forward to this. On the coach on the way out I'd been chatting with people, who asked me if there was anyone in particular I had my eye on.

Indeed there was. We shall call him HR for now (holiday romance). HR is the year below me, and in a group of friends that I know as mainly acquaintances/associates. People you see in the union regularly, know their faces and names, all play one sport or another. But I'd only really known of his existence for about a month before Christmas for some reason, despite starting uni at the same time (2.5 years ago).


Anyway, he was top of the list for me, but the only time I'd ever actually met him was half cut in a macdonalds at like 3am as he was with some of the people described above, having just been on a halloween zombie run night thing that I'd done a few weeks before. I ended up just talking AT them, (as you do) about how good it had been, but that was the only contact we'd had.


Back to the holiday, we get to resort about 5pm, then get ready and head out straight away for that night. I was preeettty drunk, went to the first bar, had a few more drinks (3euro for a  double spirit....I spent 6euro all night....)


Then I woke up, next to him. HR's apartment was exactly the same as mine, and we, by coincidence, had chosen the same bed in the layout to sleep in, so naturally I thought we were in my room. He mumbled something about not being able to go back to sleep, so I said:


"It's ok I won't be offended if you leave."
.....
He replied with, "Erm, this is my room...."

Ah.. right...I'll just be leaving then.


Apparently we'd spent a lot of time talking in the bar, I'd spent a lot of time telling people how FIT HE IS. Don't remember talking to him, don't remember walking home. Woke up still in my clothes, so we'd obviously not done anything.


The rest of the week was fairly similar. We skiied together the next day, and a few other days in the week and had a few good chats, then spent every night together, in various degrees of drunkeness. Told each other we were lovely a lot. Told each other we were hot a lot. We didn't actually manage to have sex until New Years Ever (4 days later) which resulted in a lot of stick from the rest of the group. (I was too drunk, he was too drunk, I was too drunk, too many people in the room etc).


We managed another cheeky little shag on Thursday after everyone had gone out skiing (it's quite hard work when there's 6 people staying in one room!) after which we went for a burger together. Just the two of us. Had to repeat an awful lot of conversations as I'd/he'd forgotten what we'd talked about. But still, it was nice to be doing it (relatively) sober.



Got back on Saturday lunch time after an overnight coach journey. We were on separate coaches so I didn't see him at all, and then his coach got back before mine so didn't manage to say goodbye. Got home, added him on facebook, then had an agonising wait whilst I waited for him to accept.......

He did, then promptly asked me round to "hide under a duvet on a sofa with tea and biscuits."


I went over, and we went out for food (which he paid for all of, despite me trying to pay), watched a film, I met his housemate (couldn't really avoid that to be quite honest), then we went to bed, had incredible sex, twice, then stayed up talking for quite a while.

One of the things we talked about was how we'd gone two and a half years without ever really crossing paths, how he's really been under the radar for me. It's odd, because he plays rugby, he comes out a lot, I know most of the rugby boys, and most of the boys in his year, so really quite bizarre. He also came out with:

"You're blonde."
I replied, "Is that a question, or a statement."
He frowned, then, "It's just I don't really go for blondes."

.......Make of that what you will.


Next morning, we woke up, had amazing groggy morning sex, he made crumpets, we went out and had a wander round East London markets, went for a milkshake (he paid again), dragged it out for a good hour and a half chatting, he walked me to the station, HELD MY HAND.




So. Now. What to do. This man is beautiful. Like literally the hottest man I think I've ever had sex with. Which is quite a few as you know. He has beautiful eyes, the most incredible smile, his body is banging (typical rugby boy), he's LOVELY and completely not arrogant which he totally could be, considering how attractive he is. We had awesome sex. He's the same age as me so we have the whole "being lots older than all our immediate friends" chat going on. I want to keep seeing him. I'd be very excited if something developed.


But. A few things.


1) SB. We broke up less than a month before I got with HR. I didn't really think anything like this would happen, and I feel a bit weird about it. SB did ask me not to get with "any of his friends" before changing it to "anyone he'd have to meet/see." They played on the same rugby team. SB definitely knows who HR is. I even found a photo of the two of them on Facebook after a rugby match. I said it was probably quite soon to the guys in my room who know the situation, but one of them said, "Yes, but you can never control these things."


2) Whilst on the trip HR did say a few things along the lines of, "We've just always been drunk together, we can't have a sober conversation." I think we proved this wrong this weekend however. I hope we did.
At one point on Saturday night the conversation turned briefly to "Is this just a holiday romance, or something else?"

I asked him, "Well what do you want to do? See how things go, or just leave it here?"

"What, so as not to ruin it?"

"Mmmm," I replied.

"Just see how it goes I think."


As an aside, I was asked by my roommates whilst away if I wanted to see him after the holiday was over and I gave a fairly non committal, "I'd just see how things go." Whilst talking to another girl she asked me the same thing, then told me she'd asked HIM if he wanted to see me again afterwards and he'd said, "yes."


This is possibly one of the most stereotypical Head vs Heart situations ever.


Heart: he's PERFECT

Head: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU'VE KNOWN HIM A WEEK, AN INCREDIBLY INTENSE DRUNKEN WEEK, ON HOLIDAY, CALM THE FUCK DOWN.


Problem is, I think it's already too late. I think I've fallen for him. I like him too much already, so if things go wrong I'll be gutted. I *could* try and claw things back a little now and save myself. But I'm not even sure I can, and I'm pretty sure I don't even want to. I don't know if this lovely little weekend has been an extension of the holiday, or the start of something.



*sigh*.....Watch this space

A year in one blog post

So. It's been pretty much a year since I last blogged. Reason being I got a boyfriend, and I didn't want to reveal this whole secret blog thing, but at the same time I didn't want to lie to him. So I just stopped blogging.

Things were great with him, up until about Christmas. There was one night at the end of term where I got ver ver drunk and had a complete meltdown. One of his best mates (with girlfriend) got off with one of my best mates. At the same event whilst said girlfriend was there. Now this guy's a serial cheater so no surprises, but it just really upset me for some reason. I think I started asking SB if he would ever cheat on me, and then I brought up girls that he's told me he's been with....


As an aside, I don't know why he did this, I didn't ask him to, it really upset me, and generally I'd have been a LOT happier if he had never done it.


That was the start of a few more drunken arguments (always drunk), generally over a) a stupid miscommunication, or b) me wanting to know where he was or why he was late or generally being fairly paranoid.


Fast forward to end of March, it's end of term, he's got 2 weeks until finals exams. We have one holy motherfucker of a fight which ends with me screaming at him outside the union. Ended up back at his crying and talking for hours. Get up next day and drag myself in but spend the next 2 days zombieing, whilst thinking about what we're going to do.


2 days later we go for a coffee and spend about 2 hours thrashing out a trial breakup. Plan was to breakup, he was going to do his finals, go on elective for seven weeks, then we would start again afresh in June. We need to fix our relationship, but there wasn't enough time to do it before he went. He was very much talking "long term" about things, and the whole breakup plan was in order to make us stronger in the long run. We were allowed to get with over people but we weren't going to tell each other any of the gory details. There was a period of 10 days between him finishing his exams and leaving, and we agreed that we wouldn't get with anyone else in that time as it would really hurt the other person. In all of this I have to say that he took a much bigger gamble than me. He'd done this before with a previous gf, who at the end of it had turned around and said, "yeah I've found someone new so bye!" He wasn't going to come back from South America with a new girlfriend, but the chances of me getting with someone whilst here still at uni were much higher.


All very grownup. SB commented that it felt like he'd just sorted out a divorce settlement or something. He walked me back to the tube stop and the last thing he said was, "Think about the long run."


***


Skip to the night he finished exams. I was out and I knew he'd be there. We'd had no contact for 2 weeks and I felt SICK. So nervous. I just wanted to say hi to him, be civil, and just have a good night, not cry etc etc


I bump into him on the stairs about 5 minutes after arriving. He wanted to talk. We went outside and the conversation was something as follows:


"I've really missed you and these two weeks have not diminished my feelings at all, and I thought they would." We discussed changing our plans but we couldn't really come to any kind of conclusion. So he said, "Shall we just not think about it?"


So we didn't. I of course went back to his that night, and had literally the best sex of my life. To the point where his female flatmate didn't believe I was being genuine!! "She HAD to be faking it." Nope deffo not.


We carried on texting and sleeping together that week. And it was great. I felt really relaxed and chilled out. None of the feelings I'd had the previous months were there. He called and texted me in the middle of the night, off his face, but I didn't care. I just loved that he was.


We had a bit of a "debrief" coffee the day before he left. He was so emotionally broken. He had a little cry. He asked for my email, despite previously saying he wasn't going to contact me.


Whilst away, he did contact me. He emailed to say good luck with the musical I was in, and he sent a photo of palm trees. He then CALLED me, from the Carribean! Drunk, because "he wanted to talk to me and didn't care how much it cost."


Those 7 weeks drove me mad, but I made it through. I counted down the days on a calendar and I started a fitness regime. Which I lost half a stone on and really toned up on so really pleased with myself.


***


Then he got back. And I think I was expecting it to be all rosy and back to being bf and gf.


It wasn't.


Our first meeting wasn't great. I didn't get drunk at a party the night before cos I didn't want to be hungover.
SB however, turned up to our meeting hungover (despite saying he wasn't having a big night), late, and dressed like a tramp in ripped tracky bottoms. Wasn't really impressed. I did tell him this! That if it was our actual first date I wouldn't be calling him again!

We hung out all day, went for a meal. It ended up being quite lovely actually. We didn't really breach the issue of "us" which in hindsight was a mistake. He just said something like "well shall we just see how it goes."


***


The next weekend was Hockey Tour. AKA the thing we went on a year ago exactly and where we got together. We arranged to go for a drink on the Thursday night (just like last year) and I assumed that I could stay over at his.


Big mistake.


When I tried to instigate this he said "it'd be a bit weird if we rocked up at the station together." Which did upset me. We had a bit of a chat because we still hadn't really. He said we would be "seeing each other," I asked if that meant we could see other people (I wanted him to say no), and he said no, that would be upsetting for both of us. Which leaves it in a rather odd situation but more on that later.


Hockey tour in general was ok. Nowhere near as amazing as last year. The first night I got very drunk because I was upset that SB wasn't really talking to me much, I felt he was ignoring me etc etc....so I got so drunk I don't remember anything but apparently I was being sick and wanted him to look after me....he put me to bed.....I got up again.....so he had to leave the night out to put me in the tent and then stay with me, sort me out when I was being sick.....I was a general STATE.


Understandably he was slightly annoyed.


Saturday I was hungover. Blerg.
That evening we had sex in the tent, which was a thoroughly odd affair, because it felt a bit like I owed him it. Which is not a good feeling. Anyway. The night out that night was better. We ended up staying til the end and I was trying to get him to leave and he said, "No I want to stay here for a bit longer, so everyone can see how fit you are and how this small drunken mess has pulled you, I want to flaunt you (!)"


He then piggybacked me back to the tent and we sang Angels and Don't Look Back In Anger. The memory makes me smile. I have to say the fact he still wanted to me with me despite having to look after a drunken vommy MESS does rather say something....


Sunday was fine. We got the plane back together and our parting was a bit shit. I wanted a proper hug and a kiss and he was having none of it.


***


Cut to Tuesday. We have a text disagreement because I thought he was going to be free on the Saturday night to do something and turns out he wasn't. He'd definitely given me the impression that he would be over the weekend, but apparently not. I'd also told him I was busy on the Friday which he FORGOT. Anyway had a fraught conversation on the phone where I told him I wasn't really that happy and he wasn't making me feel special, I didn't feel like he was putting in any effort, it was one sided etc etc


He basically reminded me that the whole point of breaking up was so we could "re-start" everything, and that we couldn't simply go back to how we were, because that's when we were arguing lots.


I think I was in the mindset of "He's not acting like my bf wa wa wa" when I should have been "I want this guy to be my bf, but he's not yet."I then deleted his numbers/whatapp so I couldn't text him. I tried to get into the feeling of "if this was someone I'd just met would I be texting him like crazy like this? No, no I would not. So Stop."



Friday night, he rang me twice, then texted LOADS, saying that he now wasn't going out on Saturday (!!) and did I want to go round after my meal. He even said I could round to his after my night out. I DIDN'T. Despite ending up in a bar ten minutes from his house, I got the night bus home which took like 45 minutes. Proud. I did see him on Saturday, we went for a late drink, then lazed around Sunday, made guacamole..


***


And now I'm up to date. There has been minimal texting this week. Which I've been fine with amazingly!! As I left him on Sunday I asked if he would be around this weekend, and he said, "Not sure, might still be away as I've got to find a house." (He's starting his job in August in a town about an hr outside of London). Which was fine. We've made no plans yet and I am fine with this. I've calmed down. I'm pretty sure he'll text tomorrow and we'll sort out something. Casual. No stress. I've switched my mindset. For now anyway....



I guess we'll see what happens. The next few months are going to be very different. I honestly don't know whether we'll last or not. I know some people who are like, "Why are you bothering? It's his first year in his job (jr dr) no one lasts that," and to be fair, I know a lot of couples who haven't lasted it. But this is OUR relationship, no one elses. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. But I am at least going to TRY. It's worth that, at least.