Mucking fuddle…

Oh my days.  I have got myself in a right mess.

I started this week with one date on Saturday in Brighton with Manuel, he isn’t really called Manuel but I don’t know what his name is so Manuel will have to do for now.  It suits him as he is Spanish.

I was, I thought all fine and dandy.  Then as the week has gone on and I keep chatting to others I have got myself in a right mucking fuddle.

I ended up agreeing to a date tomorrow that I really don’t want to go on.  I then arranged another date for Saturday with someone I do like and do want to meet (bear in mind I am supposed to be meeting Manuel on Saturday),  then I arranged to meet someone else for coffee Friday lunchtime and Mr Married will not leave me alone! Nor do I want him too? He is quickly becoming another itch I want to scratch.

Now I am being bombarded by all these people trying to make arrangements and confirm times and sort out a place to go and all I really want to do is stay home, drink copious amounts of vodka and wrap myself up in a duvet.

What am I going to do?

I like the look of Manuel and he seems nice, in the way that he hasn’t yet sent me a picture of his cock , this alone is worth a fair few brownie points.  I don’t really want to go all the way to Brighton and I do keep asking myself what we will do if I like him and by some bloody miracle he likes me, when would we actually see each other.  The distance is too great for a casual fling.

Hence why I kind of arranged to meet someone else on the same day.  I’m going to need a secretary at this rate.  He is more local, much more local and I like him, he is (so his photo says) a nice looking guy.  This makes it a more realistic prospect doesn’t it?  Please say yes.

I have also arranged for my friend to come round tomorrow so I can go on a date with D, 41 from Kent but I don’t fancy him. Our chats started out okay and he was quite funny, I like funny and so he reeled me in.  Why do I keep agreeing to go on dates with people I don’t fancy?  I think I will like hin, he seems nice, I think he will be pleasant company but I know that I don’t fancy because I have seen his pictures.

He did not fall out the ugly tree but he just has no hair.  I know I keep banging on about this but I can’t keep trying to force myself to fancy these people can I?  I keep agreeing to meet them because I keep telling myself that I might like them.  I might find other things attractive about them and then I will fancy them wont I?

So far this theory has not worked for me.  I have met all the nice ones and the seemingly right for my age group ones and the ones who send nice messages and I haven’t fancied a single one of them.

I think I am inevitably going to cancel tomorrow because I just can’t face it. I should be looking forward to it not bloody dreading it.

To make matters worse T, 37 from Kent, remember him?  He was way back at date number 2 or 3.  He messaged a few weeks back asking to be friends.  I kind of brushed it off and said he should look for a girlfriend not a friend blah blah. Then this morning he message a quirky “hey Jo Jo” by this evening he had messaged to say that he wanted to f*** me and had sent an accompanying picture to show me exactly how much.

I haven’t heard from him in three weeks?  How on earth did he get the impression that was the right thing to do?

If my phone was seized by the police I fear I would be in trouble.  They would be hard pressed not to think I was running escorts are us, men for hire, all shapes and sizes available and pictures to prove it.

Then there is Mr Married. This guy drives me nuts. He is rough around the edges I know this because he surprised called me yesterday, through the app.  Something else I didn’t know you could do.  I am such a bloody novice at all this it is frightening.  He has a deep rough voice and probably looks the same.

He is well practised at what he does, I don’t doubt that for a second.  He is not pushy in an obvious way but he is persistent, short sharp and to the point and witty with his one liners.  He knows exactly what he is doing.  He knows when to back of a bit and when to put the pressure on and he is getting exactly what he wants and that is attention.

He wants sex obviously and he has said so and he wants to meet, he does not hide his intentions.  I am still saying no.

Tonight he messaged me and said that at some point today he was within a mile of me.  When he told me where he was today I knew that he was literally around the corner from me.  I freaked out a bit at this news demanding to know how he knew that.  He laughed it off and said that while he was on a job today he searched for matches on the app and I came up as the closest person to him so he rightly assumed he was near to where I worked.  I didn’t know you could that either.  Seems there is a lot I don’t know.

Okay, so I thought it might say something like, this person is within 5 miles but not…

Hey.. this person is literally round the corner from you if you take the next left and then follow the road down 500 yards you will be at her doorstep, happy stalking!

He thought my horror at him almost knowing where I worked was highly entertaining and it seems he works in the same town.  What are the odds?

This has led to us having quite a lengthy conversation this evening our longest yet.  What is it about him that keeps me replying?  Intrigue?  Is that all it takes?

I am late in posting this blog as it has been a hectic evening.  I had to make an emergency call to one of the buddies for reassurance that I am not entirely losing my shit all over again.  She confirmed I never really had my shit together in the first place but set me straight in her conforting and reassuring way.

All this can not be good for you, on the plus side good weight loss again this week as the nervous anxiety is back in full swing!

I am off to bed now in a vain attempt to try and get some sleep.  Tomorrow I am not even turning my phone on!



I need a hero…

You know I said I didn’t need a man.  Well I’ve changed my mind.

This morning, on this lovely sunny Sunday, I have been cleaning my blocked drain.  It was honking to say the least.  I have a very weak stomach as the neighbours found out at 10 o’clock this morning when I was retching rather loudly in the front garden.  Despite my protective clothing, eye mask and rubber gloves I was blantanly not rocking it as Superwoman.

Luckily it was not the poo drain just the kitchen one otherwise there would have been more than retching going on.  I live in an old house which to be fair is starting to cheese me off a bit now.

I don’t even have central heating as there is no gas supply where we live.  Yes really, 2017 and no gas supply has made it to some of the villages in this country yet.  My drains are prehistoric to say the least and are a crude concrete design which means that most things stick to it on the way down.  The poo one is always getting blocked as you can’t make a very good corner out of concrete and anything remotely larger than wee gets stuck on the sharp edge.

I do draw the line at clearing that one though, which we usually have to do at least once a year.

It is amazing how much they stink, after all the kitchen one is just waste from the washing machine and the sink isn’t it?  It was grimy and sludgy and grey and smelly.  Urgh!

However, I cleaned it and picked out all the sludge and hosed it down and now it’s as good as new, well for a few months anyway.  While I was feeling all manly I thought I would chop some logs for the fire.

I have an open fire and although the ‘wood guy’ does bring me small stuff there are usually odd ones that could do with chopping in half.  Yep, I definitely need a man for that.  I gave up quite quickly after nearly losing my toes and instead decide to come indoors and build up my biceps first with a couple of baked bean tins.  That lasted about one and half minutes.

I have never been a gym bunny and it shows.  I have wobbly bits and my arms are about as strong as spaghetti.  Is it too late for me to toughen up?  I am going to need to think seriously about this as it does not look there will be a man in my life anytime soon and as much as it pains me to admit it, the only thing I am likely to be able to chop is a carrot.

Otherwise it has been a quiet weekend, with just me and the kids and I’m a celebrity. Well, I’m almost a celebrity more like but we still love it, if only for Ant and Dec.

That is two weekends in a row with no dates and to be fair it has been quite nice.  That’s not to say that I haven’t had any action, so to speak.

One of the greatest messages I have received to date (apart from Christians offer of dirty sex, which I still dream about, sad as that may be), is below;

“Hi, I’m 42, have a 2 bed flat live alone oh apart from a lodger whose rarely in , 3 kids (one grown up), work as a groundwork foreman, a little wild but big heart, impatient, passionate, all or nothing sort of man. Now this is exciting meeting someone you haven’t met before, John ???? look me up on Facebook and my address is 48 ???? and I don’t want to know about you as the excitement is heightened, I am waiting hard for you now.”

Excitement, I’m bloody terrified not excited.  Why would you give your full address out to a complete stranger and not just to me but probably to a dozen other woman who just happened to be online at that time.  Crazy fool… and why don’t you want to know about me.  You should want to know about me.  You should at least want to know I am who I say I am, shouldn’t you?

I know I said I wanted excitement but bloody hell.  I would also like to make it to my next birthday.

I declined to pop round that night or indeed ever.  I don’t know what frightened me more the fact that he was naked and headless in his profile picture or the thought of his lodger who in my mind (I know It’s overactive) was like Jack the Ripper and just came back every now and then to rip out a few organs.

Okay, I’m fessing up now, I’m struggling with this.

I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but if they are sane they are too sane and if they are nuts they are really fucking nuts.  Where do you go to find your average Joe these days.  I can’t just loiter around in Waitrose on a daily basis like the papers suggest, fondling the aubergines. Who would look weird then?

Two of the guys that are messaging me at the moment are married and blatantly so.  They are assuming that honesty is the best policy and so are offering for ME to USE THEM and then if I meet someone who can offer something better then I can ditch them and we both move on.  If not I can have NSA with them for as long as I want or they want, as long as I’m discreet.

Oh what a lovely lot of humans we are.

The others are the thirty somethings who want to have a casual regular sex thing (whatever that may be) or so they say… they talk a good talk at least.  They don’t really seem to deliver on it though.  I, on the other hand am really fed up with just talking about it.

I love a bit of banter.  Who doesn’t?  I do also love a good bit of chat too though and a nice combination of both works for me.  Remember J, he had it right, he talked a lot about all sorts of stuff, made me laugh a lot and was very flirty but not in a ‘any chance of a blow job’ kind of way, but in a sexual, teasing way.

This it seems is rare.

Luckily (tongue in cheek) there are two, yes just two, out of the 44,468 people currently online that can seem to be able to hold a conversation about something other than what is going on in their trousers and one of them has just asked me on a date.

Quick as that.  He messaged this morning, said Hi.  Simple. Now we are having lunch in Brighton on Saturday.  It’s a long way off yet and so I’m not going to start worrying about what to wear as a lot can happen in the virtual world of dating in 24 hours, nevermind 5 whole days.

By Saturday I could have been swept of my feet unexpectedly by someone who works around the corner from me.  Unlikely, but you never know.  He could also have a date every night next week and the same could happen.  So although I am looking forward to date number 7 (is it?), let’s not count our chickens.

Brighton is a considerable distance from me and so I do hope it is worth the trip and the extortionate parking fees to visit somewhere considered to be so cosmopolitan.

I also hope that it actually happens now as I’ve broadcast it to the world.

It’s always a bit embarrassing when you announce something out loud and then have to say a few days later… oh, well he changed his mind actually, grass is greener and all that…. and trying to maintain your ‘I’m not really bothered face’ is even harder.


Girl Talk…

This blogging lark is hard.  I am someone who generally has quite a lot to say about most things, whether people want to hear it or not is another matter entirely but I can always fill a gap in a conversation.

However, this is way harder than filling a few gaps.  I feel like a performer of sorts, an entertainer who needs to please her crowd.  I know it’s a small crowd but nonetheless they need pleasing.

This is becoming trickier every week.  I want people to be interested in what I say but if I am becoming bored of it, then how can I expect anyone else to be enjoying it?  Is it because I am just bored in general at the moment and still recovering from my menopausal moment at the weekend that I can’t put to paper the things that are going on in my head?  The question is, I suppose, is what I say actually really very interesting at all?

I am, after all, just like a lot of other women in the world, mid forties, kids, single and dating (or at least trying) and one who has never really got the hang of the world.

So thank God for my work colleagues this week.  I don’t have many soppy moments but… I love you guys!

This week at work we have had some fabulous chats.  This is unusual as we are often too busy to have even a passing conversation about the previous night’s TV, nevermind anything deep and meaningful. However, this week the afternoons have been fairly quiet and so we have made the most of a good old gossip.

We are all women (with exception of a few male GPs) of varying ages, from the mid 20’s up to the mid 60’s and beyond.  Our lives are all very different and we have all had varying amounts of life’s ups and downs.  Some have had long and happy marriages but have had more than their fair share of troubles with their children over the years.  Some have had unhappy marriages and are now divorced, but otherwise had no real dramas.  Some have faced illnesses. We have, most of us, lost loved ones and some are going through tough times with loved ones now.

The thing that binds us together is only the fact that we work together. We spend more hours with each of the people we work with in a week than we do with some of our own family or friends.  Work colleagues are a different breed of friend.  They are the people who probably know you better than you think, the ones who see you every day in whatever mood you present yourself and see you through all your tough times and your happier times and all the times in between.

We are a close but odd little group of people, some of those people you wouldn’t normally choose as friends and even though sometimes we all rub each other up the wrong way or might say something that someone finds irritating we get over it because we all have to work together.

Generally we do all get on well and this week has been evidence of that.  We have laughed and chatted and told each other stories about our lives. Some sad, some funny but all important in one way or another.

You can be completely frank and open or sad and emotional because they are not connected to your life, they don’t know your family and your friends and it doesn’t matter if they agree or disagree with what you say or if they tell you one way or the other, it is just another story to them.  It doesn’t affect their lives in any way, not like it might your close family or your best friends.

So it stands to reason that dating and relationships in general have become the hot topic at work.  Since the blog was outed obviously everyone who reads it and some who don’t now know that I am using online dating sites to try to find a potential husband, well alright, alright… a ‘boyfriend’, lets not go there again.

There is a still a certain amount of stigma attached to online dating, although I have no idea why, as most of the country seems to be doing it, even the ones who shouldn’t be.  It is almost the in-thing to do.  If you are not trying to get a quick shag online, well, then there must be something wrong with you.

Now the blog is out, so are all the other online daters in the office and this week we have turned the air blue with our tales of tits, cocks and arseholes and that is just the tip of the dating iceberg.

I was embarrassed to admit at first that I was online dating and it still gets a bit stuck in my throat when I have to say it out loud, so I have to say that finding out some of my work colleagues are doing it, has made me seem not quite so desperate after all.

After all these ladies are lovely, they are slightly older than me (I’m sure they won’t mind me saying that) and for different reasons, have found themselves trying to find love again, or at least a little bit of romance.  Or failing that… well you know!

Anyway, Tuesday afternoon we had a ‘let’s exchange stories’ afternoon.  It was the funniest hour of the year.  We laughed so loudly I got told off as they could hear us out at the front desk.  It was well worth it though and extremely therapeutic.

We talked about the obsession with sexting and people wanting to share photos.  Our dates and our chats with various people.

I moaned about J, 38 from Kent who was all very keen from the beginning and wanted to meet and let’s exchange numbers and yes, yes, yes, alright! I gave him my number and the first thing he did was send me a picture of him at the gym. Fab, thanks!

I told him I would of course have sent him one back but I’ve never been to the gym in my life, so I don’t have one!  To which he replied ohhhhhhh. To which my immediate thought was Ohhhhhhhh… fuck off.

I thought you said you wanted a date? Oh.. I get it now, I send you a picture of my tits first and then you decide!

I think it’s an age thing.  I am 45, I know I keep telling you this but I’m making the most of it as I won’t be for much bloody longer.  The men I like the look of are between the age of 37 and 47  but I have yet to see many over the age of 40 ish that I have looked at twice.  Judge that how you will, but I still stand by the fact that there has to be an attraction of sorts.

However, the men I like the look of are looking for either someone younger than they are or something very quick and very easy, of which I am neither.  Or trying at least.

I am still at that fickle age, it seems, where looks do matter.  I do not consider myself to be a grown up and I am clinging on to my forties like a woman possessed.

Veronica on the other hand is fairing marginally better than me as she is accepting of the fact that she is older and wants her man to be older too and with older comes that mature responsible attitude to dating.  You are not just looking for the next quick fix, you are looking for something that means something and because you are both singing from the same song sheet, this inevitably means that it should be slightly easier (you hope) to find someone with whom you could possibly have at least two dates with.

So after her own fair share of frogs, wooden legs and bent ears she is on to her second date this week and I for one can’t wait to hear all about it.

It is nice to know you are not the only one putting yourself through this painful, ego shattering experience.

Right, better have a look and see whose online now then… 😉



Tinsel and tantrums…

It’s been a few days since my last blog.  The last week has been full of highs and lows, culminating in an extreme low over the weekend.

I was, I think, a little bit like a weather front,  I knew it was coming and the pressure was building but when it blew no one was quite ready, even I wasn’t prepared for just how bloody miserable I was.

It culminated in a very moody me over the weekend.  I am blaming my hormones for this as, well I can can’t I, I am a woman of a certain age and to be honest I can’t think of any other reason for it?  I was like a big black cloud of keep the fuck away from me.

If this is the menopause it can bloody well sod off or I wont have any friends left by the end of it!

Elsie is in full Christmas mode and over the weekend took over the kitchen to bake and sing badly to Mariah Carey’s All I want for Christmas, on repeat and rewind.  All I want for Christmas is somewhere dark and quiet so I can sulk.  It seems I’m not getting it.

She has been playing Christmas tunes since about Tuesday and Tom and I are teetering on the edge.  Me more than Tom as he is just trying to drown her out with his own outrageously bad taste in music.  The God awful noise coming from his room this weekend was enough to make your ears bleed.  I think they call it rap, personally I would stick a large capital C in front of that and that is mild compared to some of the language I heard being shouted along to the strains of a thumping melody.

I love Christmas, I do.  However, I love it when it is here, not in November when it is just the stress of christmas shopping that fills your head and none of the festive cheer.

Elsie in Christmas mode is a force to reckoned with, she loves Christmas like no one else I know.  By the time she had finished baking it looked like it had been snowing in the kitchen.  After baking it was decoration making time.  I’m not sure she had picked up on my menopausal vibe but if she had she was blatantly ignoring it.

All weekend she has been, baking, making and singing while leaving a trail of tinsel, glitter and silver balls all over the place and just generally being downright bloody merry.  She is NOT my child.

Tom has made it out of lockdown.  My money is on him being back in it by the weekend. He was nearly in it by the end of the day.  This morning I gave him the money to get his haircut at the barbers near work.  He was supposed to leave school, walk the 6 minute journey to the barbers get a hair cut and then walk for a further 5 minutes to the surgery without endangering himself or anyone else.

Did he manage it?  No, did he bollocks.

When he turned up at the surgery looking like someone has swept the road with him, I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t had his haircut.  He then went in to a long story about how this funny thing happened and he was so thirsty that he had to get a drink, then when he got to the barbers he didn’t have enough money but he had to get a drink because I am always moaning at him for not drinking enough and he didn’t want to get in to trouble but then he couldn’t get his hair cut because he didn’t have enough money left and now he supposed I was going to moan at him anyway.

No, of course I’m not going to moan at you, whatever gave you that idea?

Could I just ask you one thing though Tom?  When will you ever do the thing I ask you to do, without deviating from the plan or just coming up with a new plan entirely and then making it sound like you tried your very best to stick to the plan but it was someone elses fault entirely that you managed to once again fail to stick to the bloody plan?

I didn’t of course say all of that I just handed him more money and sent him back of to the barbers.  I’m saving that particular flea for when we get home!

No dates this weekend, probably just as well as I am not sure I could have been responsible for my actions.  I am struggling to be nice as it is.

The new site is productive to say the least if you count the number of daily messages compared to those on the old site.  However, if you count the number of messages that actually have words in them and not just pictures, it’s not quite so productive.

What in Gods name is this obsession with pictures.  I can’t get my head around the fact that people are quite willing to share more of themselves than it is reasonable to expect to see.  I have a fairly good imagination and I know what a cock looks like so I think I can manage to maintain a picture in my head without any visual aids, thank you.

I know I said that I wanted to have sex but I would like to do it person if it’s all the same with you!

The ongoing saga with C is still, well… ongoing.  Christian and I am using his full name for obvious reasons as in my head it is that Christian!

You know about C.  He’s the one who winked at me, I winked back then 2 days later he winked again, kept looking at my profile… and so on and so forth.

We (well I) struck up a conversation 19 days ago,  although when I say conversation I am talking one message every few days, which I’m not sure constitutes an actual conversation. It went something along the lines of;

Me: (as it was clear he wasn’t going to, despite all the winking) Ooh, you are hot!

Him: Hi J, thank you. You are not too bad yourself…hot! xx

Him: Good Morning! x (this was the message I waited all day to read never wanting the anticipation to end).

Me: (much later and once I had recovered from the anticlimax) Good evening! x

Him: Sorry, not been on here for a couple of days. How are you? So what do we do now…I think you’re hot, you think I’m hot…we need to get out hot arses together I think!! X 

Me: I’m good thank you. I think I like the sound of that! x

Him: Fancy meeting for dirty sex, could be a great first date? x

Me: So could a Vodka Martini while we decide if we like each other first… after that the worlds your oyster? x

Him: Let’s do it, sounds good to me. x

Me: Okay C, Let me know what your plan is and when you want to put it in to action? x

Him: Nothing, absolutely bloody nada!

Its been 4 days again since he has been online.  Is anyone really that busy?  I will have come out the other side of the bloody menopause by the the time we get this together, if we ever do!

It has taken us nearly 3 weeks to get to this point and we are no closer to arranging a date than we were 19 days ago.  He is hot and I would like to meet him, it is beyond an itch that needs a bloody good scratch.

However, I am bored now.  Bored with waiting 4/5 days between every reply and bored with people saying things they really don’t seem to mean.  We are getting nowhere.

Still maybe it’s a good job he didn’t message over the weekend as who knows what I would have said but it would more than likely have ended with… off! 🙂


Kinky boots…

This blog has sex talk in it.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you Mother.

The hardest thing about being single is not having to do all the chores yourself, even the manual ones, it is the decision about whether to remain single or not.

I quite like being single.  I consider myself to be an independent woman, I can look after myself.  Therefore, I don’t really crave a relationship of the conventional kind.  I do however, still have cravings though!  If you get my drift?

… but despite the fact that I keep telling myself  I am not looking for a relationship, I am dating.  So what am I looking for?  I tell myself that I am looking for a casual relationship, something where you are dating but with no pressure on either side to be any more committed than having evenings out together and hopefully sensational sex at the end of it.

This, it turns out, is much harder to come by than I first thought.

I really thought it would be a piece of cake to find someone of a similar age to me who is independent, has their shit together and is not needy of female company but instead enjoys it and is happy to indulge in a semi-casual relationship with all the benefits and none of the drama.

So far this is turning out to be impossible.

Saturday night I went on date number five with R, 45 from East Sussex.  He was dull.  I can’t say it any other way.

It was a quickly arranged date as he was keen to find out if we had ‘chemistry’.  He told me he was looking for a relationship and still believed that the love of his life was around the corner.  He also mentioned that just incase I wasn’t the love of his life we wouldn’t be having dinner as he wasn’t going to pay.

Good, glad we both know where we are!

Even though he possibly could have worded it better I did understand what he saying.  I do not expect the man to pay for everything, especially these days when it is clear that people go on a lot of first dates.  I would imagine it can work out quite expensive if you insist on maintaining your gentlemanly morals.

Therefore, I would have been quite happy to pay for my own dinner but it was clear I wasn’t being given the option.

We met as agreed at 7.30 pm and I have to admit I struggled from the off.  I wasn’t attracted to him at all.  We got a drink at the bar together before finding some comfy chairs in the corner of the pub and as we started to chat I knew I was in for a long couple of hours.

The chat was almost interview like with what seemed like rounds of quick fire questions with a small pause in between so he could digest the answers.  I struggled to find things to ask him because to be quite honest I couldn’t give a monkeys what music he liked or where he went on holiday or if he had ever once had any bloody hair.

Does anybody over the age of forty have any hair, if they do they are obviously lucky enough to still be married.

He slipped in the occasional joke, like when he went to the bar to get the next drink as I paid for the first one, he said don’t worry I wont spike it.  Great thanks, glad to hear it. Knob.

I may not have thought anything of that comment but previously when we had been texting he mentioned rohypnol and how he promised he wouldn’t use it.  It is bad taste, especially when you are meeting a man you hardly know.

I wanted out of there but I am not one to be rude and so I made chit-chat and answered all his many questions about my past relationships, my children, my love or not of animals and my favourite place to go on holiday.  Then thankfully after two drinks we seemed to be running out of steam.

I asked if he wanted another drink, what can I say I have been brought up well, he said no and to be honest nor did I.  There is only so much soft drink you manage before you start feeling completely bloated and full of gas.   Once again this highlights the disadvantages of having to drive to these bloody things.

He said he was happy to just continue to sit and chat for a bit longer as he was having a good time.  Ohh really, Jesus… Someone give me something alcoholic please.

How do I keep getting this so wrong?  Would I be having a better time if I at least fancied him?  If I fancied him would I enjoy the conversation more?  If I found it dull and he was good-looking would it matter, I might still get good sex at the end of it?  What if he was gorgeous but dull and then the sex wasn’t great either?  Oh god I’m drifting, focus girl, focus.

I can’t seem to find anyone that I want to have a second date with never mind have sex with.

Then to my horror I heard a distant voice say, ‘well on our next date we could…’

I’m sorry did you say next date?

I wouldn’t like to say what my face was portraying at that particular moment in time but it would have been something along the lines of…  NO, just no, there isn’t going to be a second date.

He clearly read my expression well as he then just came out and asked me whether or not I wanted to go out with him again.  Oh God, really, you want to do this now?  Why couldn’t you be like the other 4 and just text me after?

So there I was on the spot and having to nicely say that although I found him great company I didn’t really feel any attraction so there probably wouldn’t be any point in another date *smiling nicely.  He was surprised by this.  FFS, of course he was.  He couldn’t have just turned around and said, oh… Thank God for that, I don’t feel it either. That would have been far too bloody easy.

Instead he had to tell me that I had given him good signals all night and that we had talked a lot and seemed to get on well and he didn’t understand why I felt that way.  I apologised, why I don’t know, because I’m nice?  He just stood up abruptly and said well we might as well call it a night then.

Okay, if you insist.

He strutted across the car park said a very harsh goodbye got in his car and drove off. Leaving me once again open-mouthed and staring in to the dark night wondering why I put myself through this shit.  Once more I told myself this will be the last one.  I have only had 5 dates and in the grand scheme of the dating world I don’t think that is probably many but Jesus, they are draining the life right out of me.

So now I have had it with the paid dating site.  It is dull and the men are dull, they seem old and sensible and conservative and that is just not me.  I am trying to engage but I am just not feeling it.  If I am going to do this I am doing it my way.

This week I took the plunge and joined one of the large free dating sites.  It is soooo different.  I am having a great time.

It is much more to the point and I like that.  I can’t be doing with all the polite chit-chat that usually ends up leading to Nowhereville.  Say what you want to say and have done with it.  If I like what you say I will reply and if I don’t I wont.  Obviously I expect this to work both ways.

I no longer feel like I am only person in the world who wants to have sex anymore.  It seems I am far from alone.  The tricky bit now is finding someone I like, who likes me and doesn’t just want to tie me to a bush and tickle me with a feather duster for hours.

There are certainly no rules on my new dating site. Well except for the no nudity rule, which I have to say is not policed very well.  I have had more than my fair share of anatomy shots already.

Some of the men are forward, some too much so but it is up to you if you engage and generally speaking if you don’t, you don’t hear from them again.  They are the ones looking for easy and are not prone to hanging around.

So far I have been offered a part in a home movie, a red room experience at a flat in Barnet and enough kinky sex to last me well in to the New Year.

I wanted to say yes to all of it.  Does that make me a bad person, I don’t think so.  I enjoy sex and always have and I am not afraid to experiment.  However, whilst I want to enjoy the freedom of being able to have a sexual relationship I have also (probably since joining this site) come to the conclusion that I would still like a modicum of commitment with it.

There are men of every variety on this site, whatever your type is, it is available but they are all just looking for sex, well most of them anyway.  It’s free and it would seem very easy to come by.

Unfortunately I am not in a position to get a message on a Tuesday evening and meet for sex on Wednesday.  Do I want to?  In my head, yes I do.  In the reality, I have no idea.

I like the fantasy of it but the reality would be somewhat different.  I don’t want to be used and abused but I am still craving some excitement.

If I had no other commitments I fear I would turn in to a loose woman, for nowadays it is okay to have sex on a first date, apparently and why the hell not?  I am an adult.  I have a sensible head on my shoulders, well most of the time and if I like him and he likes me why can’t I have sex with him. who says there has to be any rules.

In my twenties I worked as a holiday rep. By definition they have a very bad reputation, for being drunk most of the time, sleeping around a lot and generally being about as much use a chocolate teapot.

I like to think I was a good rep, I cared about whether people had a good holiday or not that did not however mean I did not have a bloody good time while I was doing it.

Life is no longer like that for me though and while I am all in favour of free love in the right circumstances, I want to know that while I am busy doing all the other things that 45-year-old women with children do, he isn’t off shagging half the county.

I think I have realised that while it is okay for people to indulge in no strings attached sex and seek to fulfill their sexual fantasies, whatever they might be, for me it is only in the confines of a relationship that I feel comfortable enough to be my true self.

In a relationship where you are both committed, you are honest and open with each other, you both trust and respect, can you really be free to express yourself sexually.  For women especially I think there are things that you would do for or with your partner out of love and respect that you would never contemplate on a one night stand or casual encounter.

You need to trust your sexual partner explicitly and unless danger is your thing then you won’t have that with a random stranger.

I am not saying you can not have a one night stand if the mood takes you and if you are both willing and able then why not but if you want to indulge in something a little more kinky, then it might be better to hang on until the second date at least.

Nobody wants to be left handcuffed to a door frame for days.


So to summarise I think what I want is a…

  1. 1.
    a person’s regular male companion with whom they have a romantic or sexual relationship.

I will even buy my own dinner if I have to, as long as there are some perks and he has a full head of hair.



The one constant thing…

Last night Tom decided to leave home.  Yes this came as a bit of a surprise to me too!

Apparently he felt it would be a good idea to go and stay with his friend for a few days as I didn’t really want him around and I only care about Elsie and I am always shouting at him and life would be better all round if he wasn’t there.  Seriously?

Anyway, let’s start at the beginning…ish.

It was around 3.45 pm my mobile was ringing with an unrecognised number, usually I wouldn’t answer it but after the last few weeks I answer all calls as they are usually Tom related.

This call was no exception, it was one of the mums from the school.  I am going to try to keep this to the point as if I relay everything word for word (including the swearing), we will be here for a while.  She informed me that she had seen Tom riding down the hill, from the village into the town, crying his eyes out.  She had made him get in the car and once in town had called me to find out what I would like her to do with him.

Answers on a postcard please!

Firstly, I feel I must explain that the hill from our village to the closet town (which is not a big town by any stretch of the imagination), is steep, there are no footways, it has sharp corners and is a 50 mile an hour speed limit, which most cars exceed.  It is dangerous.  He is not allowed to ride down the hill, hence the reason why I always drop him off and pick him up when he goes to the skate park.

To say I was fuming is an understatement.  She put Tom on the phone and in my don’t you bloody dare to think that this is even remotely okay voice, ordered him to come to the surgery, where I was going to give him 50 lashes and tie him up outside for people to throw mouldy produce at him.

He was still sobbing when my friend came back on the phone and offered to bring him round.

Now my colleagues all know the struggles I have been having with Tom of late and had quite quickly assumed more trouble was brewing, so when I slumped on my desk with my head in my hands, they were brilliant.

Reasurring me that it is a boy thing and giving me hugs and trying to make me feel better about the fact that I seem to be failing miserably with him.  What the hell am I doing wrong?

Then he appeared, he rushed over still in his helmet with his face red and eyes full of tears and said ‘I’m sorry mum’ before giving me a massive hug.  Of course, I hugged him back and the first thing that came out of my mouth in sheer desperation of the whole bloody debacle of the last few weeks/months was just:  ‘Oh Tom, we simply can not go on like this’.

I felt like someone had taken the last breath right out of me.

The mum was hovering by the door so before I tied Tom up outside I went to thank her for probably saving my son’s life or at least some of his limbs.  She was very good about it all and said ‘Oh it’s a boy thing, they are a handful aren’t they.  Still he is okay and that’s all that matters’.

For now, yes!

Then while we were talking I noticed that Tom had ridden his scooter… I did a double take at this point… as it was not his bent up old scooter that he hardly uses now because he has buggered the handlebars up on it… No… it was his shiny brand new £200 scooter that I had bought him for Christmas, the one I had locked and hidden in the garden shed… Yes… that scooter!

My shock was clearly evident for all to see and as I said goodbye to the mum, I turned on Tom with a wrath like I have never felt before.  He looked terrified and well he might.  I frogmarched him to the car and told him that while I went back into work to finish up what I was doing and explain that I would now have to leave early (albeit only ten minutes or so by now), again, he had better have a good long think about what the hell just happened.

I left work to a chorus of ‘try not to kill him’.  I am not making any promises!

In the car I could barely speak I was so angry.  I wanted to try to calm down, have a vodka, or three and then talk rationally about what is going on in his head at the moment. It is times like this that were just made for smoking.

As we pulled out of the car park he started apologising again and saying that he supposed I hated him even more now.  For goodness sake Tom don’t you get it, I don’t hate you.  I love you.  I want you to live, although you are not going the right way about ensuring that happens at the moment.  None the less I do still want you around, even though you make every nerve in my body twitch on a daily basis.  I LOVE YOU FOR FLUFFS SAKE!

Now this is where it gets slightly complicated.  The whole thing with Tom is a mixed bag of pent-up emotions, some old, some new and while we were trying to talk it out later in the evening it became clear to me that the boy has some issues.

The new issues are the school ones, the dyslexia and people thinking he is stupid and getting to grips with the whole secondary school thing, new friends, new rules, new everything.  The old issues are the issues he has with people leaving.  First his dad and then more recently the guy who kind of became their dad.  My Dad died 7 years ago and Tom still struggles with that.  He was also very close to his cousins, two boys on his Dads side who we no longer see as their mother cut contact with us when I found a new partner and ‘moved on’.   These were all the male influences in his life and he is struggling now, it seems, to cope without any.

His Dad and I separated when he was a baby.  Contact was maintained for a while, albeit on a very unpredictable basis but he was a drinker and things were not ideal.  I do not want to get in to the whole thing of it but suffice to say that he was not a pleasant man when he had been drinking and even when he had a new partner (also a drinker) the arguments were too much.  I could no longer allow the kids to be involved with him while this continued.  He has now not seen them since 2011.

In 2010 I met someone else, we had a fairly long relationship and he eventually moved in with us.  All seemed well despite some initial teething problems with each of our children, he had two daughters but for some reason we couldn’t make it work.  He was a good guy.  Dependent, reliable, hard-working, all the things a man should be but for some reason it all fell apart.  He left one day without so much as a word.

I will not speak badly of him as he was not a bad person, but to say I was angry doesn’t quite cover it.  I knew things hadn’t been right for a while but I didn’t think we had got to that.  I especially didn’t think that I would come home from work one day to find he had taken most of his things and he wasn’t coming back.

When I questioned what was happening he just said he was sorry but he wasn’t happy and do you know what? I can deal with that but what I can’t deal with, or struggled to deal with, was the aftermath.  Over the course of a week he came while I was at work and cleared all of his things we never saw him, he never spoke to us and he never once thought about how it would affect the kids.  Not once did he think that it might be worth explaining to them what was happening.

Tom was away on a school trip this particular week and so when he came back I had to explain that S had just left.  That he wasn’t going to see him again.  I thought he liked us he said.  My heart sank.  It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.  Tom had only really known S as a father figure and he was devastated.

I tried to explain this to S but he felt it was better to cut all ties and not to have any contact with the kids after all he was not their biological father.  Tom took a while to accept this and for months after still asked if he could phone him, wanted me to take videos of him at the skate park to send to S and in the end I had to be a bit blunt about it all.

I had to make him understand that he wasn’t going to see S again and that we had to move on.  Easy to say not quite so easy to do, clearly.

Tom is still struggling with the fact that S is not in his life anymore.  They had a rocky road to get to where they were and they were not always the best of friends but as a male role model S was everything a boy would want.  Tom looked up to him and had grown to love and respect him.

He simply does not understand what happened and why he doesn’t want to see him anymore.  He blames himself and thinks it is his fault that we broke up. Of course it wasn’t.

We talked for a long time about everything, school, dads, being responsible for your actions, homework, girls, Elsie, me, family,  you name it we talked about it and I think it helped.  I sure hope so.

I did obviously have to mention the fact that despite him being very emotionally unstable at the moment he did still steal his Christmas present out of the shed and attempt to ride off in to the sunset and for that he will have to be punished.

He is back under lock and key, grounded for the foreseable and until I see a marked improvement in all things Tom related he can forget about getting that bloody scooter for Christmas.  He knows and I know that we can’t go on like this.

It is time for some tough love.  He is being made to communicate more and we have set aside half an hour every night together to talk about stuff.  He is not enjoying it as he would much rather be on his social media but that is how it is for the time being.

He needs to know that despite everything that goes on in his life the one thing that will never change is the fact that I am his Mother.  I will do whatever it takes to ensure that he stays on the straight and narrow and grows up to be a steady, strong and responsible man.  It’s my job.



Just a quickie…

This will hopefully be short and sweet as I just wanted to let you all know that my first date with M 45 from Kent, will also be my last, with him anyway.  I have yet to decide if it will be my last ever.

It was as I expected it to be… nice.  He was pleasant and actually a genuinely funny guy who talked a lot and made me feel very comfortable but I don’t want to feel comfortable. The date lasted three hours and we had a lovely Sunday lunch and it went very quickly, it was very pleasant but I don’t want pleasant either.

What do I want?  Well I don’t really know the answer to that but it is not M 45 from Kent because as pleasant and funny as he was I just did not fancy him.

Why? I don’t know the answer to that either I’m afraid.

Next question.

He was just as I expected him to be.  I had seen photos of him and although I expected him to be slightly broader and not quite so slim he did otherwise look exactly as his photo suggested he would.

This leads me to assume that I was kind of going in to this knowing that I probably wouldn’t fancy him.  So why did I go on the date?  Well if I’m honest it was mainly because I couldn’t stand to continue anymore more bloody texting.

The texting thing is driving me mad.  It is time-consuming and arduous and not for the faint hearted and easily bored, of which I am definitely the latter.

I questioned myself a lot after the date and by the time I got back to my friend’s house to collect the kids I was completely over analysing the whole thing.

I do not want to say out loud that I didn’t feel like he was good enough for me because that is just a rubbish thing to say about anyone and I am really not a snob BUT I did feel like a snob, let’s just say I felt like I could do better.

I feel bad for even thinking it, nevermind writing it down!

You could tell he was a grafter, a manual labourer, he spends most of his working day with blokes just like him and you can tell.  He was full of stories and funny tales which included lots swearing and mimicking.  He reminded me of Lee Evans, you know the way he is very animated when he talks and everything has actions to go with the story.  His arms were flailing up and down a lot and there was a lot of hand signalling, at one point he even mimicked having a wank and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I have seen Lee Evans live and I think he is brilliant but M could give him a run for his money I tell you.

When we left he asked me if I had a good time and I said yes.  It was true, I hadn’t had an awful time, it had been okay and I haven’t laughed like that in ages.  He tried to kiss me but I recoiled, not in horror but because I wasn’t really expecting it and I wasn’t sure I wanted it.

While I was at my friends he text to say that he was home and that he had a great time and he asked me when the second date was going to be.  If I hadn’t been with my very straight and to the point friend I probably would have faffed about for a bit and not committed one way or the other but I had back up and because of this I text him straight back and said: I am going to be honest and say that I didn’t feel any attraction and I really hope that you find what you are looking for and thank you for a really fun date you are a really great guy. Take care.

Then I spent the rest of the evening feeling like a complete shit bag.

He was very gentlemanly about it and wished me the same in return. He said that nice people deserve to be happy and I am a nice person.  My heart melted a little bit then and I felt like even more of a shit bag than before.

My thoughts about him not being entirely good enough for me made me want to point a finger at myself and give me a good talking to!  Stuck up cow.

That’s it I’m done with this dating lark.  I could stand in a room full of 50 men with 49 of them being the salt of the earth and I would pick the one, the only one, that was going to be a complete and utter time waster.

Why?  Because that is what I’m attracted to.  I like the naughty, the devilish and down right dirty.  What I need to like is the reliable, the sensible and the down right decent.

It aint gonna happen!

My resolve to not entertain the dating thing anymore last until 9.50 am this morning when I received a message from C 42 from Kent.

This guy is hot.  We have ‘winked’ at each other.  It was a week or so back now he looked at my profile, I looked at his, liked it… a lot… had another look.  He winked at me so I winked back but he never messaged me.

I waited but nothing.  So I thought fuck it I’m going to message him.  So I did.  I said: You Mr are HOT!  To which he replied: Thanks, you are pretty HOT yourself!  I nearly wet myself.

Then nothing.  I didn’t reply.  Why?  I don’t really know, apart from to say that his profile is all very high-flying, he is one of those that makes it sound like he doesn’t really have time to meet for a coffee, nevermind a dinner date that includes dessert.  Let’s face it I want dessert.

So far he is the only guy I have felt the inclination to actually message so I maybe should have messaged back but anyway it’s too late now.

Oh wait, hold on a minute, he just messaged me… If you think I am now dancing around my kitchen you could well be right.

Last night after the kids were in bed and I was still feeling like a complete shit bag, I went online, yes I know, I said I was giving it up. I lied.

He was online to.  I know this because you can’t bloody breathe on there without someone knowing about it.  Online dating is not for the shy you can’t make a move, look at profile or search for people in your area without a big bloody flashing ‘pop up’ alerting everyone in the vicinity that you are online and desperate.

He looked at my profile again and so I looked at his again, FFS man make a move but he didn’t.

Then to my delight and sheer joy at work this morning while working on the Doctors rotas (always a mind numbing job) he messaged me.  I was just a little bit excited.  I have been putting off reading his message because I am very much enjoying the anticipation of what it might say.  I am sure it will be something very boring but until I read it I can imagine it says all sort of things.

My mind is having a bloody marvellous time. 😉


Sorry but Pft is about all I can muster until I have had more coffee. Sunday morning, again. Where does the week go?

I am only on my second coffee, up early again, why I can’t sleep at the moment is beyond me. I have never had trouble sleeping. To say I am finding it a tad annoying is an understatement.

I am falling asleep quite quickly, no trouble there but I’m just waking up so early. I was sooooo looking forward to a lie in yesterday, I was almost giddy with the thought of it. What time was I awake? A quarter to bloody six. I don’t get up that early on a week day!

This morning I was awake at 6.30 am. I look dreadful, this has been pointed out to me at work this week. I know, it’s the last thing you need isn’t it, usually when you look dreadful, you know you look dreadful, the last thing you need is everyone pointing out the fact that you look dreadful!

Luckily I have skin like a Rhino and I know they mean well, bless them.

Tom’s week has been far worse than mine though. The detention debacle got out of control, culminating in a far from satisfactory phone call from the school, only half admitting that they had got it all wrong. Quelle suprise!

Wednesday, late afternoon at work I received another email to say that Tom had an after school detention, this time for an hour, the following day, Thursday. Fuming, doesn’t quite cover it.

I did not bother to reply and waited until I got home to speak to Tom, who as I suspected was none the wiser. I then fired of an email to the school for more information. I can see a pattern forming here.

I politely but firmly stated that Tom would not be attending an after school detention the following day because it is too short notice and I have no idea what the bloody hell it is for because, quite frankly, your emails are useless!  If he needs/deserves a detention then I will require more information and more notice and perhaps I could be so bold as to suggest; you might like to include some of this information in your emails to save us from going backwards and bloody forwards like a yo-yo?

Anyway to cut a long story reasonably short and to avoid sounding like a broken record it turns out Tom didn’t have another after school detention Thursday, they just weren’t entirely sure he had turned up on Tuesday to the after school detention, that it turns out he wasn’t supposed to be on either.

During our rather confusing conversation on Wednesday, she asked me if Tom attended the after school on Tuesday? Er, who out of the two of us should know the answer to that question? He wasn’t in my care at that point he was in yours? FFS!

Trying very hard to refrain from swearing I confirmed that yes, I had indeed picked him up at 3.45 pm as required in the email and that he came out of school building, covered from head to foot in pen but I naturally assumed that while he had been drawing all over himself he was actually being supervised during this period and whilst it was not an entirely educational 45 minutes it had served it’s purpose, in the fact that he had done his time. What he learned from it is beyond me.

Oh, says the lady on the other end of the phone. Well it looks like there has been a misunderstanding. No shit Sherlock!

After more investigation it turns out that the first after school was indeed for the lunchtime detention (late to English) that he did attend and the second one was for the afterschool Tuesday that he did attend and so in actual fact he had no need to attend either of the aforementioned after school detentions. With me so far? I’m glad someone is.

The school it seems are far from with it at this point. Tom has had his behavioural points revoked and his status has returned to not a naughty kid just a generally confused one.

Later that same day I had another phone call from the school.  That sinking feeling I get when I look at my mobile and see it’s the school is still very much there.

This time it is the SENCO, for those of you not familiar with this term it is the Special Educational Needs Co-ordinator, she informs me that during Math Tom had a small meltdown and now they have discovered that he may have Dyslexia. Oh, what marvellous news!

Will you be phoning me again at any point today, if so I may need to nip to the shop first for some alcohol.

Dyslexia? Really? Would I have noticed that? Should I have noticed that? You mean he can’t read? I would have noticed that wouldn’t I?

Clearly not. No wonder Great Expectations has had us both wanting to hit the bottle.

She explained in a very lovely way that they had noticed he was struggling. Often spending too long trying to read worksheets and struggling to keep up in class. Today when she questioned him in Math he broke down and said he couldn’t read it properly the numbers and letters were all over the page. It didn’t make sense.

In that one moment my heart sank and I felt so sad and a little bit ashamed. How could I not have known?

She told me that they had given Tom a sheet of pink overlay to try on his worksheet and it made him so happy he almost started crying again. At this point I am a crumbled heap of emotion in the corridor at work. I’m almost crying for him. I just wanted to see my boy.

When I saw him later he was so happy. I thought he would be a bit angry and upset but no he was full of the joys of actually being able to see properly, or to read properly at least. He was marvelling at his piece of pink overlay and the amazing difference it was making to his reading.

We had a good long chat and I asked him why he had never said anything. He said he didn’t want everyone to think he was stupid. He also said that he doesn’t want to be treated differently. I laughed out loud at that. I said, you are dyslexic not ‘special’ you will be treated the same as before. I will still be yelling at you on a regular basis because you leave your clothes on the bedroom floor, you annoy your sister at even given opportunity and just because you are just a normal 11-year-old boy. Irritating. I do though, still love you to the moon and back.

Moving forward I have been learning what I can about Dyslexia, it’s amazing what you don’t know about these things and hopefully life as we know it will improve, especially for Tom and especially at school.

You may be thinking that Elsie has left home, she hasn’t. She has just been Elsie. Getting on with things with no real drama. School for Elsie is easy, which to be fair is quite a relief. She is an easy child. I am not counting my chickens as she may well turn in to the teenager from hell at any minute but at the moment that is looking unlikely, sensible little thing that she is, so I am definitely making the most of it.

They are both out today and so I have a date…

I am meeting M 45 from Kent, I think I may have mentioned him previously, we have been texting. We are going for Sunday lunch. I am more looking forward to the roast dinner than the date but you’ve got to keep slogging away or stay single, which to be fair seems like the better option at the moment!

Had a surprise text from T yesterday, remember him; 37, sweet but not my type, lol. You see that is the trouble once someone has your number they have your number for good. He wants to be friends? Why? I don’t know.

He is sweet but has a lot of time on his hands, no kids, no responsibilities, I think he still lives at home, although I’m not sure about that. I don’t have any objection to being friends apart from the fact that it is usually near on impossible to be friends with a bloke that fancies you. I would struggle just the same if the shoe were on the other foot. I have tried being friends with someone I fancy, we ended up sleeping together, end of friendship. It just makes things awkward.

I don’t think I would sleep with T, unless I was drunk. I do not fancy him in that way but sometimes the fact that you don’t fancy someone doesn’t necessarily stop you. Especially if you are feeling lonely, had a few drinks etc etc.

I’m not suggesting that all it takes is a few vodkas and I will drop my drawers, those days are long gone. 😉 However, circumstances can lead you to situations and before you know it you are in to something you are not entirely sure is for the greater good.

He seems like a great guy and he really deserves to find that someone but he isn’t going to if he is spending his free time being friends with me!

There is so much more I wanted to say today but I have run out of time and word count. I don’t want to waffle on for hours and lose you all so instead I will endeavour to try and make myself look half decent for my date.

Wish me luck. 🙂