New year, new me…

… and if you believe that, quite frankly you will believe anything.

I don’t make New Years resolutions.  I have never really fallen for that whole, this year is going to be so much better, shit.

The coming year will be pretty much the same as the one that passes and yes I expect there will be things that change and things that stay the same but the only thing that the New Year reminds me, is that time waits for no man.

Time marches on whether you are ready to march with it or not.

Happy and sad things happen to most people every single year, one year is not much worse or better than the last and the only thing that makes one year more memorable than another is if something truly horrible, or on the flip, something absolutely wonderful happens.

In 2010 my Dad passed away.  It is a year that rings in my ears for lots of reasons but what stands out is that one single thing because it changed our lives forever.   That year will always considered by my family to be one of the worst.   In 2012 my sister married and it was such a wonderful day for so many different reasons, that this year sticks in our minds too.

In 2011 though, I can’t think of a single thing that happened and I’m sure it was a year that had its ups and downs but it was just another year.

We naturally change as people as we go through life.  It’s ups and downs shape us as we grow older and the things that happen to us mould our characters.  We become our life experiences.

Naturally we all hope to evolve in to stronger, hopefully, better people because of the experiences we have had.  We learn from our mistakes (well I try) and as we age we become more appreciative of all the things that surround us.

We still have hopes and dreams, otherwise what would be the point in going forward but we tolerate less, we do not feel a need to please and we speak our minds, we are honest and true to ourselves.  That is surely what we all want each year to bring us.  Not a years gym membership that we will probably only use for two Thursdays in January at best.

Besides if you want to join a gym or give up smoking or give some time to charity, you don’t have to do it on January the 1st, there are 364 other days you could try it too.  The success rate is, according to statistics, marginally higher if you do decide try it on a day other than January the 1st.

Personally, I think the only thing I am going to try to achieve this year, at some point, is to kick my addiction to online dating.  I do feel it has become a bit of an addiction, to be honest.  In a way that I never really saw coming.

I thought I would be able to dip in and out of it, as and when and that it wouldn’t take over my life but I was wrong.  It kind of has taken over my life and so far, not in a very positive way.

Online dating makes you question yourself, a lot.  You over analyse things and it can have a tendency to make you feel in some way lacking, lacking in whatever it is people are looking for.  My friends, some who have done it the past and some who currently do it, all say the same but our quest for love, or something similar, is what drives us to continue on this hazardous path.

Obviously,  I still have my date with T booked in for the 6th of January, I am tenuously holding on to it with both hands and trying not to let go of whatever it is that is keeping us on track at the moment.  Should this date fail or indeed not go ahead as scheduled for whatever reason, this will be my New Year off to a rather pitiful start.

In some ways I am setting myself up for a fall as I know there is every chance that this date will not go ahead, for a variety of reasons.  Why on earth would I choose to start the New Year in this way?

The answer is simple.  Hopes and dreams baby, hopes and dreams.

I hope that T is the one, who will for a while, if not forever, be my sidekick.  I have to hope that, otherwise what is the bloody point?  I have to hope that we will like each other, enough to continue to see each other, enough to see what becomes of it all.  You just have to hope in general.

I should mention that P has been kicked to the kerb.  So all my eggs, so to speak, are now firmly in T’s basket.  Dangerous territory, indeed.

P, unfortunately, got his marching orders this morning after questioning me about who I was ‘online’ talking to until 4.26 am!  I wasn’t in fact talking to anyone, although I was chatting to both P and T, until around 2.30 am, when I finally passed out on the sofa with my phone still in my hand.  I can only assume that my apps were still running and P decided that he would just keep an eye on what time I eventually logged off.  Seriously?

It is way to early for that kind of shit.  We haven’t even met yet.  Yes, we have been speaking for a week or so and we have phoned and video called each other but we have not met and until you do and until you have that conversation, where you at least decide if you want to see other again, I don’t think you can be too demanding of someone.

I certainly would not ask the same of either of them.

It was unreasonable of him to assume that we are exclusive in any way.  As someone who values her independence and doesn’t really like being told what to do, I found that a little bit difficult to deal with and I told him so.

I don’t do insecure very well.  I know that sounds harsh but I don’t.  I am not an ego stroker.  I need a strong and confident person, who will be equal to me, if not a bit stronger willed than I am.  I will not be an easy person to manage otherwise.  I can be strong-willed and rebellious and I need a strong man.

No pressure T.

I knew one of them wouldn’t make in to 2018.  I mean I’m all for feeling positive but it would have been a miracle not to have expected something to happen.  T has only a few hours to get through to at least make in to the New Year, whether or not he is in it for long remains to be seen.

So as I settle down this evening with Elsie and Tom, our drinks and nibbles and a good film to last us until the New Year celebrations start on the TV, I do hope it is a good year.  I hope it’s a good year for us and for you all.

… but there will be none of this new year, new me bollocks. Last year I was fabulous and next year I will be just as fabulous!

Happy New Year! 😉




The bit in the middle…

Er, it’s Friday I think.

I can’t be sure as it’s the bit between Christmas and New Year and no one really knows what day of the week it is or whether they should be working, relaxing or still making merry.

The shops are open again and most things have returned to normal, whatever normal is.  Some people are back to work and some are not.  If you are a man you are generally not, as they do seem to get a lot of time off at Christmas, weirdly.

I say weirdly as it is not a time of year that most men enjoy.  Most of my male friends would rather Christmas came, went and didn’t come back again.  Most do not return to work until after the New Year, which means they are generally lounging around with not much to do and are annoying the shit out of their wives.

Yesterday I met the buddies for a quick coffee in the middle of the day.  As work colleagues we don’t really socialise but we do really miss each other when we have long periods away from work.  Well, I’m not sure they miss me as much as the other way around but then I am the single one, so they have men to contend with.

It was nice to have a coffee and a catch up.  It is always quick and we talk at a hundred miles an hour to get everything in.  There is always so much to talk about, even though, usually we see each other daily but I especially like the laughter we share.  There isn’t a single day that goes by when we do not laugh at or with each other.

Friends are important, almost more important than anything else.

Friends just somehow make things seem not as bad as you may have first thought.  They lighten your life and good friends will always be there for you, no matter how long it has been since you last saw them.  I like to think I am a good friend to my friends.  I may not always be around and I may not always reply instantly to a message but I will always try to make time for you if you need it and sometimes when you don’t.

You do not need to be in anyones pocket for them to know that you love them and that you think of them and that if they need you, you will be there, with bells on and a bottle of wine/vodka.  It is lovely to have a coffee and a catch up but in these days of constant pressure with work and families and day-to-day life it isn’t always easy to get the time.

So in this bit in the middle I hope to catch up with more friends and any that I miss for whatever reason, should know that I would love to have seen you and I hope you are happy and well and that I love you… all.

I feel I should add there, that I am not dying.  Just in case you were wondering.

I must be getting a soft side as I grow up!

Only one week to go now before my date with T.   We have progressed to video calling now in an effort to keep things moving.  Video calling, now there’s an invention.  The only people I have ever video called are; my Niece in Nottingham and my friend in Scotland, both of whom generally do not give a shit about what I look like while we are chatting or that the camera is usually pointing up my nostrils.

I don’t know what is harder, having to constantly text funny, witty, intelligent banter or the need to always have your hair and a full face of make on, just in case T decides he wants to have a face to face with you.  I have never wished a week to go by so bloody quickly, as much as I will be wishing that this one would just fly by.

I need this over with.

P, is also video calling.  It seems it’s a trend.  I like P but the thing with P is that he reminds me of my children’s father and I’m not sure this is a plus point.  They not only look very similar, they also seem very similar in their mannerisms too, I don’t think P has a drink problem though but it is early days.

I’m not sure how I will feel about this when we are face to face (in the flesh I mean not over video), he is growing on me though.  The more we speak the more I like him.  There is something I find quite sexy about him and it will be the sex that attracts me to him, like a moth to a flame.  Whereupon I will probably burn myself and end up adding another scar to my already bruised heart/ego.

P and T have swapped places in my head and not for the right reasons.  I feel like I am stuck in a revolving door, the minute I go to step out on the side where P is, the door moves again and I face the side with T on it, before it moves on yet again… and so it goes on…

As each day changes so do my thoughts on each of them.  I like them both but they are both very different.  Of course, I know that just because we are managing to maintain a healthy text/chat thing, this does not mean that when you are ‘face to face’ you will be enamoured with each other.  It usually means the complete opposite!

I think I am going to suggest that P and I meet this week.  We can’t go on texting and talking the way we do without knowing if this is going to go anywhere.  The only reason I had not pushed to meet is because of  T and lets face it, that is just silly.  I will have to meet them both won’t I?  I might as well get it done.  Or one of them at least.

If I meet P and I do like him, will I still want to meet T?  At the moment I think I will.  Then what happens if I meet them both and like them both?  How will I decide?  I will have to decide wont I?  I can’t see them both, or can I?

In my head I absolutely can see them both, after all it’s my game isn’t it?

In reality, however,  I know it is impossible, who has the time to date one person nevermind two and that’s not to mention the logistics of it, neither of them are exactly round the corner.  I have two kids and a job and a family and a house to look after and sometimes I really do just want to be on my own.  I don’t want things to be complicated.

I am still not sure about how much of this I actually do want.  I like being on my own I have certainly gotten used to it over the years.  I do miss sex and that will never change but is sex a relationship?  You certainly don’t have to be in one to get it but I still believe that sex is better when you are having it with someone you know and like, rather than someone who you just met, four minutes ago, in the pub.  Not saying that isn’t nice but it’s not something you want to do every week, is it?

Although I’m beginning to think that I can’t afford to be too choosy!

This week while updating a friend on ‘the dating debacle’ she admitted to being a little bit envious of all the sex I would be having, the excitement of the dating and all the new things to come, blah blah, because when you have been married forever, it all seems so very exciting.

I quickly pointed out that I hadn’t actually had sex yet and although I wasn’t giving up all hope of it happening soon, I still couldn’t quite convince myself that either T or P would be up to the job.

Neither did I think it would take this long.  I know,  I have only been actively looking for a few months now but I’m not looking for a husband (which I would expect to spend a bit more time on),  I am looking for a bloke who likes me and want to have sex, often.  How hard can it be?

The rough far out ways the smooth on this journey and believe me when I say that no sooner will someone have their feet under my table, so to speak, than I will wish their feet to be firmly planted under someone elses table because you always want what you haven’t got.

So no,  I am not finding it particularly exciting yet…  but I live in hope.

I hope that when the New Year arrives it brings with it a nice sexy bloke, who is just into me, we like each other, have fun and have lots and lots of sex. Amen.

Oh and not forgetting, health wealth and happiness to all of course… Happy New Year!



All I want for Christmas…

Twas the Wednesday after Christmas and all around people were feeling tired, fat and just a little bit deflated.

If your Christmas was anything like mine it has been spent eating, drinking, hardly sleeping and trying not to fall out with anyone.  Today I feel like I haven’t slept for about a month, something not very pleasant, that comes from complete over indulgence, feels like it is burning a whole in my stomach and if I see another sausage roll I think I am going to be sick.

Tom and Elsie have had a great time.  So, it is mission accomplished, after all it is about the kids and although they are not that young anymore they still get super excited.

I didn’t think they were ever going to get to sleep Christmas Eve.  Staying awake to do the Christmas Eve stocking is a killer.  In fact I didn’t, I feel asleep while waiting for them to fall sleep, luckily the inner mum or some other worldly something, woke me up with a start an hour or so later and reminded me that I had yet to be Father Christmas.

Every year at this time I swear and curse those bloody stockings.  Tom and Elsie have had the same stockings since they were babies, they are a bit tatty now and have bells on them.  However, despite the fact that they are becoming a little threadbare and Tom’s has the makings of a hole in the bottom of it, the bells are still working perfectly well.  So as I tip toe around the hallway trying my best to manoeuver the creaky floorboards, I may as well be shouting ‘wake up, wake up’, I can not get those bloody bells to stop ringing.

It doesn’t matter how slowly I move they just jingle!

Every year I say I am going to replace them but they will not have it!

At 6.25 am I heard those jingling bells again as Tom and Elsie appeared in the doorway grinning from ear hole to ear hole.  They apparently had been awake since 5 am but had the good sense (one of the tiny advantages to them being slightly older and marginally wiser), not to wake me up that early.  A tired Mum is a grumpy Mum, Elsie worked this out quite quickly.

I love the fact that are still very excited about Christmas.  It will not always be like this and in a few years time it will not be as exciting for them as the magic slowly fades.  I must make the most of them still being innocent enough to get caught up in all the wonder of it all.  Watching their faces Christmas morning is a joy, they are and always have been very grateful children.  Which I am very proud of.

I am not the sort of Mother who buys lots of things for my children all year round.  I’m kind of a ‘if you need it you can have it but if you don’t it can wait’ Mum, they get occasional treats but not the likes of phones or gadgets, expensive make up or trainers etc.  These things do not come on the list of things you need.

So at Christmas I do go a bit mad.  They can make a list of all the things they want and believe me some of it is ridiculously expensive but it’s a one time only offer and so usually they do get most of the things that they desire.  Obviously still within reason, I mean, I’m not a millionaire.

So Christmas morning they were excited and happy and very pleased with all the things that Santa delivered.  Phew.  Job done.

In my Christmas stocking this year I got a stack full of face cream, a girls DIY manual with a tool box and the ‘Little Miss Shy goes online dating’ book.  So, not a hint of anything remotely relating to my age and marital status there then!!

What I was really hoping for, was a huge hunk of man naked and nicely wrapped up in a glittery red bow but not this year it seems!  You know a bit like him in the photo.  Not much to ask is it?  How good do you have to be to get the things that you really, really want?

As, if I’m totally honest I think it’s a bit late for face cream now.  The damage has already been done.

The books were actually quite amusing and despite my reluctance to admit it, will probably come in quite handy in 2018 when I enter in to another year, single and fast approaching half a century.  Half a fucking century!  If you could see my face.

This morning as I was updating my 2018 diary, another Christmas present, I noticed my birthday is on a Saturday next year.  Oh joy, more pressure to do something exciting.  At least if it was a week day I could just go to work.  I don’t want to be 46.  I know this sounds petulant but I don’t.  I would do almost anything to not be 46.  Literally.  Please, just make it stop.

I want to cry at the thought of being 46.  I don’t know why I find it so horrifying but I do.  I haven’t found any of my previous birthdays horrifying.  I wasn’t worried when I turned 30 or 40 and I didn’t feel like this on any of the birthdays leading to this one but this one is different.  Why it is different I don’t know.

I just feel like my life is slipping away.  Dramatic, I know and I’m not necessarily feeling sorry for myself it’s just that I’m not ready.  I was never quite ready to be an adult and to be fair have been winging it for quite some time now.  I am not ready to get any older, I just want to stay here for a while, I like it here.  I am content here, well apart from the dating debacle but I’m getting the hang of that now.  Oh, that made me laugh out loud.  I like to think I’m getting the hang of it anyway.

Maybe it’s because I am single that I don’t want to get any older?   I certainly don’t think it helps.  If it is hard now to find someone you like, who likes you and wants to actually spend time with you, it will surely only get harder the older you get?

I am still texting with T, P and M, although M is very much on the back burner,  otherwise it seems to be going well.  The texts with M have become very sporadic, I’m not sure if this was just a natural downward spiral as they were a bit boring or if it’s because T and P are much better at it and have kind of consumed all my time.  P especially is very keen and texts often as does T, who also seems very keen but doesn’t text quite as often as P.  I still like them both.  T is just about edging at the moment.

T and I have arranged to meet on the 6th of January.  This is a long way off so I am remaining open-minded about it.  As yet I haven’t arranged anything with P who wants to meet now but now is difficult, as it’s Christmas/New Year and the kids are at home and well, it’s just not as easy as that.  While I don’t want to wait until the 6th to see T it is just the way it will have to be.  He is up North until the New Year with family and seeing his kids in between and so that is that.

M, I don’t think, will make in to the New Year, I am struggling with him a bit.  He doesn’t make me smile or laugh and I forget sometimes that we are even texting.  He messages and I read them and I don’t always know what to say, in fact I don’t think I have replied to the last one.  They are very serious messages and not very light-hearted it is hard to continue a conversation like this, especially when you barely know each other.

I haven’t been online much over the festive period but it seems lots of people have and  there are a couple of new men in my inbox, should T and P turn out to be no hopers.  One in particular I have replied to has caught my eye.  His messages are cute and funny but then aren’t they all to start with.  He doesn’t quite look like chappy in the picture but then I’m saving him for next Christmas now.

…and if I didn’t get him for being good this year, then I will just be naughty and hope that works instead.  At least if it doesn’t I will hopefully have had a bloody good year waiting to find out… 🙂






Be nice…

What a week!

I don’t think anyone knew Christmas was coming.  They all forgot.  Even though it comes at the same time every year and we all, most of us anyway, have the same things to prepare and remember every year, they forgot.

This week at work has been bedlam.  If I was made of less sterner stuff I would be looking for another job right now.  The amount of germs that have been sneezed out, coughed up and breathed all over everyone has been shocking, It’s a wonder we have had any staff.  As it is we were running on pretty much empty.

Skelton staff that to be frank didn’t look much better and we were certainly not feeling the spirit of Christmas.

Worn down by an endless stream of people with runny noses, chesty coughs and the old-fashioned favourite of Diarrhoea and vomiting.  Gone are the days when people who felt unwell stayed in bed untill they felt well again.  Oh no, now they want a cure for their ailment and they want it quick and they especially want it before christmas.

“I don’t want to be ill over christmas” they say, No love nor do I so I would appreciate it if you would take yourself back home and go to bed before you share it around a few more hundred people.

There are some things in this world that are a given and one of them is that at some point, usually when you least want it or have time to deal with you be ill.  A heavy cold or a flu or a sickness bug.  If you are a generally fit and healthy person this will not kill you.  However, I might, if you bloody well give it to me.

In an effort to rekindle our christmas spirit today, the last working day before Christmas, we donned our festive jumpers, tinsel and hats, put the christmas songs on and battled it out.  We were going down fighting.  With smiles firmly in place we waded our way through a years worth of emergency prescriptions (you know the ones people forgot because it’s Christmas), we reassured all the people who need to be reassured that were going to live past Boxing Day, that they would get a telephone call from a Doctor and it would be before the end of the day but we couldn’t unfortunately give an exact time as it was quite busy today (oh yes it’s Christmas isn’t it) and we smashed it.

The other thing I noticed about today was that people forget to be nice at Christmas.   It is after all the season of goodwill.

It has always amused me that people forget one simple thing that could make getting what they want so much easier.  Just be nice!

If you are nice and polite to the person you are speaking to, they will in turn be nice and polite back to you. However, if you are rude and aggressive, we will still be polite (because we have to be) but we will not want to go out of our way to help you with something you have forgotten to do, if you are unnecessarily rude.  Why doesn’t this make sense?

Be nice.  It helps, honestly.

I still have a few things to do myself before Christmas, the least of which is to sort Tom’s bloody stocking out, which as you know is nowhere near as burgeoning as Elsies.  A last minute dash to town tomorrow is filling me with dread.  I don’t want to go.  I don’t want to be anywhere near anyone tomorrow.  I have had my fill of people for at least 24 hours but I will go because I have to and when I am there I will not be rude and snappy to anyone even though currently I feel very rude and snappy.

I need a good nights sleep.

This morning I was awake at 5.30 am.  WTF!

I am texting again.  Serial texting does not make for a good nights sleep, we have been here before.  It keeps you awake too late at night and I don’t know if it is just me but it seems to disturb my sleep.  I wake earlier than usual, much bloody earlier and dont seem to sleep as well.

I enjoy texting but am now wary of texting because of previous experiences.  I don’t want to get too involved by text, meet them and not like them but you know what I forgot… It’s bloody Christmas, so the chances of me getting a date this year are slim to say the least and so now we have to text well in to the New Year just to keep the momentum going,  it is hard work.

I am trying to text three guys at the moment. M, 40 from a bit too close to me,  T, 42 from London Town and P, 43 from Kent.  They all seem nice in their own way and conversation is going well with all of them.  If I had to choose one right now, for a date, it would be T, he is my ‘cup of tea’ looks wise and makes me laugh, or at least he did.  He does seem to be getting a little bit serious as the texting goes on but time will tell, if I make it.

M is harder work of the three and conversation is quite serious with him too, not much LOLing, which after my last blog I suppose I shouldn’t complain about really.  P is probably the most down to earth. He jokes a lot and his text are cute, funny and chatty but he is cocky with it, not sure if that will become annoying

It is hard texting all three and I feel a bit weird about but they literally all arrived in my inbox on the same day, we exchanged a few messages and they all had something I quite liked, so we swapped numbers and now here I am juggling all three of them and trying to decide who to go on a date with first.  Of course, whoever I pick it will be the wrong bloody one.  That goes without saying.

My main concern is that actually I will get bored with all three of them before we even get close to a date.  I am trying to message now while I am writing this blog and I am really finding it quite tiresome.  I am tired though now and so I think it is just because I am not in the mood but unfortunately you can not, not, be in the mood, when you are in the online dating game.  You are expected to be in the mood all the time, day or night whenever your phone pings with a message you should automatically turn on your womanly wiles and let him have it with both barrels, unfortunately mine are misfiring currently, I just want to go to bed.  On my own.

Never thought I’d say that anytime soon.

I am though, nice.  I can’t not be, it’s just not my way.  Besides I am hoping to get at least one date out of all this in the New Year.  I have been very nice this week after all.  I’ve earnt it.







The Office Christmas party…

This weekend I have been mostly feeling unwell.

Friday was the office Christmas party.  I love the christmas party and I always have a very good time, largely due to the amount of wine consumed.

However, wine does not like me and I don’t like it much either.

Ours is a traditional christmas party in that it is a Turkey dinner with crackers and silly hats, a bit of cabaret and dancing into the small hours and it all comes with copious amounts of free wine.  The thing with free wine is that generally it is not the best wine available, usually just the cheapest.  I am not complaining though, as we do not have to pay for our christmas party and so that would be very ungrateful, but the thing about free wine is it might as well be petroleum for all the good it does to your insides.

It usually doesn’t taste very nice and you know that if you drink too much of it you are going to be paying a very high price for it a bit further down the line (something akin to losing a vital organ down the toilet), but that, I’m afraid, doesn’t stop us.  We drink as much free wine as we can get our grubby little hands on and it was plenty, believe me.

It all started very well, the food was actually very nice. Everyone was in good spirits and having a great time, we were all dancing and laughing and enjoying letting our hair down.

We did our secret santa, another of my most favourite things.  I think I may have been an elf in a previous life as nothing makes me feel quite as happy as giving all the presents out from the secret santa.  A lot of effort goes into my secret santa.  I make labels and handwrite them all, identical, in an effort to keep it secret and I get very upset if someone doesn’t use the proper label.  I can’t help it.  I am not usually a very anal person but I am incredibly anal about my secret santa.  I like it to be perfect.

By the time we are giving out the presents, I have had more than my fair share of the free wine and gleefully set about kissing everyone as I give them their presents, dancing around in my santa hat like a complete lunatic.  It is no wonder I do not have man in my life.  Most people think I am insane.

This year for my secret santa, I received one of those colour changing umbrellas, nice.  You can’t go wrong with an umbrella, every girl needs one and a fancy cocktail apron, I thought I might wear that on my next date… 😉

Talking of dates, I was most surprised to wake up Saturday morning to discover I hadn’t messaged anyone while completely intoxicated and offered to meet them for sex in a dustbin bag the following Thursday?  I must have been far too busy throwing all that free wine back up again during the night to be texting! Phew.

As the night wore on, we were dancing outrageously, pretending we were areoplanes and stomping up and down the dance floor like a couple of divas, or so we thought.  In reality we looked what we were, drunk forty somethings who should seriously know better but clearly do not.  Our singing was largely becoming shouting and we were starting to hug everyone and tell them all how much we loved them, even the ones we had never seen before.

At the end of the night, when we had somehow managed to wrangle a lift home from one of our lovely nurses, (we never to seem to have thought about how we are getting home from these events) and I had left the contents of my bag all over her back seat along with the remnants of some poppadom crisps, that we had somehow decided would be a good idea to eat on the way home, while still swigging from half full bottles of wine we had grabbed off the table on the way out, it was a miracle we made it home before emptying the contents of our stomachs!

I hadn’t actually realised I had left the contents of my bag behind until I got indoors and asked myself why I had taken an empty bag with me?

The next morning on Facebook was a post asking who the red lipstick , a tampon and some hand cream belonged to, Er… that would be me then!

I couldn’t muster even the hint of a smile Saturday morning.  I arrived in the bathroom to be sick again at around 6:15 am and slowly becoming more aware of my surroundings could see remnants of last night’s dinner around the plug hole of the sink, lovely.  The toilet looked even worse.  I was clearly not in focus at all, while hurling my free wine into the fairly large size toilet as it seemed I had completely missed my target.

All day Saturday I was feeling absolutely shite.  I couldn’t even take a sip of water without fear of being sick again and could not wait to get back into bed.  Elsie who believes that alcohol is the work of the devil was prone to giving me very disapproving looks all afternoon and rolling her eyes at me.   #whosetheadultnow

It is now Monday and after a very bloody manic day at work and a large, very fatty, double cheese pizza I am starting to feel a bit more human again.  I swear that is my short relationship with wine well and truly over.  I’m a vodka girl through and through.

This evening Elsie has a sleep over at a friends and I have one of Tom’s mates here.  This is a new thing for us.  I don’t know any of Tom’s friends, his secondary ones anyway.  This lad seems pleasant enough, I do not know where he lives or who his parents are and they do not know me.  He was dropped off in our road at a designated place of mutual agreement between both ‘children’ with no adult input whatsoever.  He looks well kept and well nourished and clean, for a boy at least.  However, it does worry me that parents don’t really worry about where their child is?  Do we all just assume that because the children know each other and like each other that all will be well?

Of course he is perfectly safe here.  I know I’m a bit sketchy sometimes but I will look after him. They will have to go to bed at a reasonably sensible time, he will be fed and watered and warm and returned safe and sound to his parents tomorrow lunchtime or at least to the designated drop off point.  I don’t think the parents are actually allowed to see each other in person.  That would just be embarrassing!

Currently they sound like they might be trying to break the floor boards upstairs.  This is filling me with all sorts of joy as I love all this boisterousness.  They are so bloody loud.  They are just two boys and it sounds like there is twelve of them up there.  The conversation is loud enough to be heard across the street but they are NOT shouting, apparently.  I on the other hand beg to differ.

It is hard blogging with all this distraction.

Oh and by the way, did I mention that I haven’t heard anymore from M.   I don’t think this will come as any great surprise to any of you who are following this story.  It certainly didn’t surprise me.

Things move fast in the online dating world though and tonight it has been particularly busy.  Most likely because all the woman of the world have far too much to do at this time of year.  I usually keep myself online while I am writing (another reason why these things take so long) and have struck up a few new conversations this evening so we will see where this takes us, shall we?

I wonder if any will make in to 2018?







Laughing out loud…

I suppose I should start by updating on the ‘Mack’ story.  Trust me, when I say it wont take long, (well I didn’t think it would).

First of all I have to admit to NOT sitting it out, so to speak.  I am not a very patient person and although I try to be, as I think you need a lot of patience to be an online dater, I still struggle, with patience I mean.

So my confession is; that I only managed to wait until around 6.30 pm on the same day, before I succumbed to my impatience and messaged M.

Me:  “Hey! How was your day? Get up to much?”

“My date turned out okay!!  I had a very nice time. xx”

This was a reference to a conversation earlier that morning when we were joking about what we were doing that day.  He said: what you up to, I said: well you wont believe it but I’ve got a hot date today. Well, I hope its going to be hot anyway, he said: Oh, you will have to let me know how it goes LOL … 

M:  Did it turn out to be hot? xx

Me:  There were definitely some hot moments! x

M:  LOL xx

Me:  (in my head not on actual message)  Why the fuck do you keep LOLing at                               everything? LOL!!!!  I didn’t feel the need for an actual reply.

M:  Silence

I heard nothing after the LOL and to be fair what else could I say, except, you can bloody well stick your LOL’s where the sun doesn’t shine buddy.

So after much consideration and conflab with the buddies at work the following day, it was suggested that we leave it there.  Fine!

I couldn’t quite decide if I was annoyed or not to be honest.  For me it is the weirdness of it that I don’t get.  We had an agreement if you like, the deal for our ‘date’ if you can call it that was already laid out, preplanned, almost down to the finest detail.  Neither of us had said that we wanted anything more than what was on offer that day.

It is hard to describe how the events unfolded, without entering into the gory details but we more or less followed to plan to the letter.  We did not though, have full sex.  It was one of those close but no cigar moments.

I wasn’t entirely unhappy about this and neither it seemed was he as he mentioned ‘saving something for next time’  to which I made no comment at the time, once again unsure of the dating/shagging protocol.

My problem now though is the messaging, which started up again on Friday a whole two days after our ‘date’.  Now, I’m no expert on this but I suspect that this is the required amount of time to leave, in order to appear cool and nonchalant about the whole affair.  I’m sure like me, he may have been wondering how or what or if we were going to meet again.  However, so that he could remain very manly about it all, it is always best to appear busy and then suddenly remember to message the girl whose throat you had your tongue down a few days ago and drop her a little text to let her know you haven’t actually forgotten her, at least not yet.  So this is how it went:

Fri Dec 8  6:49 pm

M: Hey you, are you ok?? xx

Me: Yes thanks. You? x

Sat Dec 9  09:10 am

M Yeah, not bad thanks xx

Me:  (sometime later that day, when I had calmed the fuck down!) Well I’m very glad to               hear that!! x

         Do we have to do the small talk all over again now? x

Sun Dec 10  4:21 pm 

M:  The small talk?? LOL xx

I swear to God if he LOL’s at me one more time I am not going to be responsible for my actions.  What is wrong with the man?  Is it really necessary to LOL quite so much?  Why are you LOLing?  Are you LOLing because you think you are funny?  Are you LOLing because you think I’m funny?  Or are you LOLing because you want me to know that you are only LOLing and therefore not being serious at all?  Pray tell me, why all this LOLing?  It is really, seriously, pissing me off now…

Me:  Small, boring, dull, whatever you want to call it? Lol xx (couldn’t resist a LOL there)

         … but if you insist.  Had a good day babes? 😉  x

This started on Friday and over the whole weekend we exchanged a whopping 5 messages.  Call me demanding but I was expecting a bit more than that.

Here is my problem.  On Friday when HE messaged ME, we hadn’t spoken since the date.  That is fine, of course, and I will admit to being a little bit happy about the fact that he had messaged me.  That, I think, is normal.  I naturally assumed that because he had messaged me he wanted to strike up a conversation or maybe he wanted to arrange to meet again, after all if he didn’t want to do either of those things he surely wouldn’t have messaged me, would he?

Is that in any way a rational thought process?

So, I can only assume that he is either a complete idiot, who really thinks he is above entering in to a lengthy conversation that will inevitably lead to him having to reveal one way or the other, what the Fuck is actually going on his head.  Or, he is just trying, in that strange but very typically alpha way, to keep his options open, at least until he decides if it is what he wants or not, while looking around for some greener grass.

Either way I had decided that this was not going to be worth my time.

I really do not have the time for this shit.  I am far too, up to here, with bullshit now thanks all the same.  Be frank or to be frank, do one!

If you have the balls to be open and straight then lets hear it, if you don’t then please go and waste someone elses time.  I do not want to be rude to him and so I have not and will not reply anymore.  Oh wait…

Mon Dec 11  10:31 pm

M: So no talk, or just no small talk? lol xx

OMG is he joking, WTF is he on, SRSLY for real, FFS man, get a grip! LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL !! 

Yesterday while mooching around on Facebook I came across a post called;  11 things that are making people unattractive,  one of things that made it to the top of the list was Bad Grammar and overuse of slang/text speak.  I can’t say I am overly surprised by this.

When you are online dating the first thing you notice after someones profile picture is what and more importantly how they have described themselves, if they have in fact bothered to fill that bit in.  The message someone sends you is an interpretation of how they speak.  Take M for example his constant LOL’s at the end of every sentence is just irritating.  Everyone uses a LOL every now and then but your whole conversation shouldn’t be littered with them, try a different adverb/adjective anything, try nothing, just keep it simple.

Not everything is funny or should be funny.  A conversation should be natural.  You shouldn’t feel like you have to make sure the other person knows you are messing about or not being serious.  The more conversation you have, the easier this should become.   If someone misconstrue’s what you say then feel free to let them know, that is what a conversation is about.  LOLing all the time just makes the other person think you are not or never serious about anything you say.  Not to mention that it is very bloody annoying.

Rant over, I think.

I have not replied to M’s message from last night and nor do I intend to.  I was tempted for a split second but I was on my way to bed and although I wouldn’t have expected him to have LOL’d back again for at least two days, I really couldn’t be bothered to get into anything.

I contemplated replying this morning but couldn’t think of anything nice to say and so thought better of it.  Besides, I had to go and finish my Christmas shopping today as it is my last day off without the kids before Christmas and this had already marred my mood a little, probably best to avoid any contact with people until I had at least returned home.

My Christmas shopping, which didn’t go particularly well, was cut short by a phone call from the school to tell me Elsie was in the medical room.  I was surprised by this and so was the lady who phoned, as Elsie is never ill.  She has a 100% attendance since being in Secondary school and probably way before that, I can’t remember her ever having a day off. Ever!

She has got a stinking cold but there is a lot of it about at the moment and there are not many people who haven’t got something or other.  This morning she was tired as she had been coughing and sneezing like a good un throughout the night.  However, she went off no problem.  Bless them, they  know they practically have to be at death’s door to get a day off school.

Anyway, she had worsened through the morning and was feeling feverish so I curtailed my shopping adventure and dashed off to the school to collect her.  Unbeknown to Elsie she profited quite well from what little I did achieve this morning as I hadn’t got around to Tom’s shops yet.

I struggle with Tom’s stocking fillers, he is that funny old age now, where he is not really interested in clothes, smelly’s or gadgets and neither is he into toys anymore so his stocking is full of things he might find useful like pants, socks, batteries, deodorant, shower gel, I know, I’m stumped.  He, of course, has his main presents and all the other things he has asked for like games for his Xbox and headphones etc but they are not what I call stocking fillers.  A game for his Xbox is on average £40, that is not a stocking filler.

Elsie’s stocking on the other hand is bursting at the seams.  Full to the brim with hair stuff, smelly’s, girly things for her bedroom, stationary (one of her many fascinations) and make up (another fascination), cheapish bits that easily fill a stocking and hopefully will take them more than five minutes to open because that’s the idea of a stocking isn’t.  Lots of little presents that are not expensive that take a long time to get through, they build the excitement for the real presents and for the ‘big guys’ present which is always last, you must have a BIG stocking.

I am failing miserably with Tom’s stocking at the moment and now I have to go back to town to at least try to put something exciting in there.

That thought does not have me laughing out loud!

Return of the mack…

There is a running theme this week and it is vodka.

Seriously, I could not have through it without Vodka and of course my buddies.  Who it has to be said are pretty much ‘open all hours’ for me at the moment.

They listen to my constant droning and moaning, my highs and lows, all my insecurities, my fears and doubts about this guy and that guy and even though I am sure they are almost as fed up with this online dating shit as I am, they do not show it, ever!

They talk me through everything and help me see the bigger picture.  They do not let me get too down about myself, they reassure me that even though I feel like I am losing my mind on a daily basis, they have got my back.  They cajole me and support me and when I want to scream and shout and swear like a banshee, they allow me to do so.

They also have lives of their own and shit to deal with but never have they ever not been there for me.

So this morning when I was getting myself ready for #returnofthemack, it was my buddies and two rather large Vodkas that saw me actually see it through.

I was shitting myself and that my friends is an understatement.

I woke up this morning with a feeling of dread, to be frank, after not a bloody lot of sleep.  My stomach was in knots.

I had, in my wisdom, ordered my grocery shopping to come at 9 am this morning, well it whiles away the time a bit and at the last-minute had added a variety pack of condoms to the list.  It’s better to be safe than sorry after all and I am far too old for both babies and STD’s thank you very much.

I was however, quite amused when the rather attractive black guy who arrived to deliver my shopping, informed me that, yes. I had a substitution.  I will give you three guesses what it was?

Of course, it was the condoms.  It couldn’t have been anything else could it?  Instead of my variety pack of flavoured, pleasure me’s and ultra thins, I ended up with a bog standard pack of extra safe!  No chance that is a sign at all?  FFS.  I’m trying to get a bit of spice in my life here!

So after unloading all the shopping, attractive black driver says to me; “are you happy with your substitutions madam?”  To which I could really only reply, yes.  I was hardly going to say, well I was hoping for a bit more variety as I’ve got someone coming round for a shag in hour, was I?

As the morning went on I was feeling much calmer, after a leisurely shower and some serious de-fluffing, I was pretty much ready.  It wasn’t going to take me long to get dressed, seeing as I wasn’t actually going to be wearing any clothes!

On our sexting adventure the previous Friday I had sent M a picture of this little wet look dress I have.  He liked it a lot and said I should wear it on our first date.  Tanked up on Vodka I readily agreed.  It is miniscule and just about covers my butt cheeks.  It is though, very sexy indeed but it wont take me long to get in, or out of it.

Last night we arranged that he would pick me up at 1 pm.   We would go for a drink somewhere fairly local, just to make sure that we liked each other and  if we did, we would go back to mine for “coffee!”.

This morning when he was messaging me, I still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he wasn’t going to turn up.  It is really quite horrible.  I was completely knotted up with nervous anxiety.

So, at 12.30 pm as I stood looking out the kitchen window, wearing my very small, very revealing little black dress, a pair of lacy hold ups and some very high heels, I was really hoping that he wasn’t going to become a ‘ghost’ and I wasn’t going to end up having to peel myself out of this dress on my own.

My phone pinged, a message from M;  Won’t be long!! xx

It’s 12.40 pm, where the fuck are you?  What do you mean ‘Wont be long’? Are you going to be here at one, or are you going to be late?  Have you left yet?  How long will it take you to get here?

Okay, okay, calm down and think of a suitable reply.  Without swearing, preferably… but I couldn’t.  I couldn’t bring myself to reply.  I couldn’t say, ‘I hope you are coming’ or ‘please don’t be late’ or even ‘get your bloody arse round here right now’ because I didn’t want to appear worried, even though I was quite clearly going out of my mind and starting to feel the need for even more Vodka.

12.58 pm.  Ping.  Another message, “going quiet on me? xx”

No! I’m not going quiet, well okay I am but seriously, could you just put me out of my misery.  I am losing my shit now.

Me;  You should be outside my house now? xx

M;   Should I? lol xx

LOL! Seriously, you are ‘laughing out loud’ are you right now?  Oh good, that makes me so happy.

Then at precisely the moment I thought that he really wasn’t coming.  There he was.  He had been messaging me from across the bloody road!  Oh, I do love a guy with a sense of humour. Bastard!

He came in for a few minutes, gave me a shiny penny (a private joke that will take far too long to explain) and asked to see the dress, (I had the Mack on at this point).  I showed him the dress, he came very close and well, I wont bore you with the details but it was a few more minutes before we left for the pub.

Nothing quite like a good snog to get your heart racing.

In the pub we only managed one drink, we were both very conscious of the fact that my coat wouldn’t quite stay where it was supposed to.  Every time I moved you could see a stocking top or some skin somewhere.  Not that I was flirting intentionally of course, good heavens.  What do you take me for?

We made it back to mine and I have to say I was very pleased with how things turned out.

The “coffee” was bloody delicious!

Now though we are back in no mans land.  Messaging.  Now we have to get through the whole texting shit again.  The sussing each other out without seeming to keen.  It’s sooooo tedious.

I would much rather say something along the lines of;  Hey!  I had a great time today.  I would really like to do that again, fancy coming round Friday?  but apparently it’s not the done thing.

So I’m sitting it out!  Yawn…







Cheap thrills Pt 2…

… So where were we?

Oh yes, texting after too much Vodka.  Never a good idea.  It seems it can get you into a lot of trouble.

I am a fairly confident person, in a social situation I mean.  I can chat easily to people I do not know and integrate in a room full of people.  I am not shy about offering my opinions on things and have something to say about most things.  However, when it comes to flirting I can be a bit shy.

I am a subtle flirt not an overtly sexual one (in the first instance I mean) for example, a chap came to fix the door today on the surgery.  The automatic doors on the front are never usually very automatic and people will keep trying to force them open, so they were broken and have been on and off for a few months now.

The crazy thing with automatic doors, especially ours, is that sometimes they work and sometimes they don’t and there is no rhyme or reason to this, that is just the way it is.

Anyway, our doors work perfectly well now thanks to the chap who came today and while I was attempting to sign my name on his machine thingy with my fingernail, as it has lost its attachable pen, he was saying something jokingly about the new lock, I was only half listening to be honest and as a half-hearted attempt to make amends for not listening to word he said, I put my hand on his arm.  He looked a bit shocked to be honest and as I smiled and leaned in a bit too close I said, as long as your happy, I’m happy.


I might as well have had a sign around my neck saying… “not very young but definitely free and desperately single”

I wasn’t intentionally flirting with him but that I’m afraid, is what I am like.  I’m not a sexual flirt but more a smile, bat your eyes kind of girl, a look and a gesture.  It has always worked for me.

However, the trouble with a look and a gesture is that you have to be standing in front of someone to achieve results.  When you are texting, a look and a gesture will not tell the bloke sitting on his sofa, watching TV, in his pants that you are thinking about him and that you want him to be on your sofa.  He can’t see you smiling at your phone and grinning like an idiot while fiddling with your hair.  He has no idea unless you tell him.

So that is precisely what I did from 12.20 am until 02.10 am on Saturday morning while very heavily under the influence of alcohol.  M, who is 37 and from East Sussex was enjoying it a great deal and to be fair so was I, at the time.

I was a little bit more mortified later on Saturday after trawling back through some of the messages (bloody hell they were saucy) and berating myself very loudly in the bathroom mirror for being such a bloody tart.

The most shocking part of this tale is that I have agreed to meet him Wednesday for “lunch” in a Mackintosh!

I don’t even own a Mackintosh, So today I had to ask to borrow one from a friend, who obviously asked me if I was going to wear anything underneath it?  My life is no longer a secret.  Everyone knows what I am up to and when?   They read my stories and they know what I am like, it is still a little bit weird though.

However, I cannot hide the fact that I am a little, actually make that a lot, excited. I can’t bloody wait.

Now, this is where the cynical in me comes out because lets not forget we have been here before.  So far on my foray in to online dating I have been promised many a date and titillating time with many a good-looking chap and then a couple of days before the date he has disappeared into thin air.

This is apparently called ‘Ghosting’. A guy chat and flirts with you arranges to meet and then disappears off the face of the earth.  It is, so I’ve been told all about the chase, the thrill, getting the girl, knowing you’ve still got it and then once you know you have you can quietly slip away and start to work on the next thrill.

The thrill of the chase.  It’s what we all love but surely you need something at the end of it don’t you?

It’s all very well and good knowing that people fancy you, that they will flirt with you and agree to meet you but the reality is that when you do meet you might not like each other.  Is that why they don’t follow through?

I don’t get it but then I don’t get a lot of things about online dating but we know that already.

So while I am very excited about my pending erotic encounter, I am also a little skeptical about it actually happening.

Anyway, back to Saturday and while I was sitting in the kitchen drinking gargantuan amounts of sweet tea in an effort to shift my hazy hangover I had a message from Manuel.

Manuel:  “Hi, Where are we meeting today?”

Me: Oh, sorry I hadn’t heard from you in two days babe, I had kind of assumed we                      weren’t meeting today? Or words to that effect.

Manuel:  Yes, 2 pm you said. I would still like to see you?

Me:  Well, if you can get a little bit closer to me than Brighton you could probably twist               my arm?

Manuel: OKay, lets meet in the middle, choose a place. 

Really?  Oh, FFS.  I’m hung over, I’m not sure I can manage this today but manage I did and before you know it we had settle on Uckfield as a place in the middle and were meeting at a pub for lunch at the originally agreed time of 2 pm.

I moved my arse very quickly in to the shower, put a face on, jeans and a shirt and fled of to Uckfield, feeling like I would really rather go to bed.

When I saw him (and he was late) I wished I had gone to bed.

Same old story but instantly I knew it was going to be the usual, a nice lunch, probably good company/chat but no attraction for me.  His profile picture was a beach shot and from a distance, so it was very hard to determine what he actually looked like apart from the fact that he was mediterranean and had a good mop of dark hair, which to be fair has been a rare find for me.

In reality he was mediterranean and did have a good mop of dark hair but he looked like he had been hit by a shovel.  I don’t mean to be rude but that is I feel the best way to describe him.  He had no profile.  No shape at all in his face.

The pub was lovely and the food was indeed delicious, the company was okay, despite a few language issues, mostly in the humour department but the thing that did it for me was all the touchy feely stuff.

I am not very tactile.  I do not like public displays of affection, stroking, I hate my hair being touched and people stroking my face, those gentle flicks, I am just not that way. Grab me by the arm and throw me up against a wall and I’m all yours but do not flick your tongue around my ear while stroking my hair it is not normal.

After dinner Manuel (aka Frank, but I prefer Manuel now), wanted to go for a stroll.  Halfway in to the stroll I began to realise why.  He was all over me.  Not in a scary way so I felt threatened or anything but just in an obviously very intent on kissing me and being very touchy feely

At this point I am becoming a little bit unnerved.  I didn’t want to offend him but I think we both had very different ideas about where this was going.  We stopped by a small pond and while I stood cooing over the ducks, who clearly all thought we had come with food, he went for it.  He grabbed my shoulders and started rubbing his nose against mine and moving his lips around my face like I was an ice cream cone.

Please stop! It is annoying and irritating and I don’t like it.

We are all different and we all like different things especially when it comes to foreplay, sex, even kissing and cuddling.  Horses for courses.  Manuel was just not my cup of tea but I will give him ten out of ten for trying and then trying again and then trying once more!

Finally we made it back to the car park and he was still trying to persuade me to kiss him ‘for ten more minutes’, I would struggle with ten seconds, nevermind minutes.  I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

On the drive home I was really, really, really hoping that M would turn out to be so much more my cup of tea on Wednesday.  I was soooooo looking forward to a cheap thrill of my own! #returnofthemack

Please God make it happen… 😉


Cheap thrills Pt 1…

It’s Sunday again.

We have the sickness bug in the house, so it is very quiet this morning.  Tom is curled up in bed after retching the contents of his stomach into the toilet in the wee hours of this morning!

Elsie, who will do almost anything to avoid becoming poorly, including actually moving out for a few days has gone to school today, luckily, as they have dance rehearsals for an upcoming show.   On the drive in she was insisting that Tom is imprisoned in his room all day, not to be fed and watered and if possible could I find something to seal the door so none of the germs can escape?

Yes, of course Elsie, out you get love, enjoy your rehearsals.

I have to admit to feeling slightly queasy myself today but I think that is vodka not bug related.  Although the sound of Tom’s constant hurling is not helping.

So while Tom is sleeping and Elsie is tripping the light fantastic, I will do my best to update you on how my ‘mucking fuddle’ turned out.

The truth is, it wasn’t such a mucking fuddle at all in the end.

At work on Thursday and after speaking with the buddies I decided to cancel D, 41 from Kent.  Why?  You know why, because I really didn’t find him attractive.  I felt bad for agreeing in the first place and worse than that, is the fact that since I had agreed I had just been dreading it actually coming around.

What is the point of that?

So I told D that I had to cancel and that I was very sorry.  He asked if I wanted to rearrange, I said YES.  I know… WTF!  I just couldn’t bring myself to say; “sorry you just don’t do it for me!”  It sounds so shallow.  I need to get over this guilt about my lust for younger men and quick.

I also cancelled my Friday coffee date.  In truth I didn’t fancy him either.  I fancied him even less when he sent a picture of him just out of the shower with a mean and moody look on his face, a face which to be honest wasn’t a particularly handsome one.

The thing I wonder about guys like this is, who else are they bombarding with pictures?

As far as sexy pics go I don’t generally have a problem with them.  I think they can be a real turn on.  If your guy is at work and you want him to know you are thinking about him, a pic of you in some sexy underwear and promise of what is to come, will have him home with a hard on in a heartbeat.  Or at least have him properly fired up by the time he does get home.

What I don’t like about sexy pics is how people are so very free with them.  I have a daughter whose social media account is full of her ‘friends’, not her real friends but her ‘friends’ and ‘friends of friends’, most of whom are already posting quite provocative pictures of themselves online.  They are in their teens, 14 or 15 years old.  Some look younger than that.

However old-fashioned this idea may be, I still think that if you are too frivolous with yourself and your body you will inevitably not get the guy.  You will still be seen as the good time girl, the one who is good fun but not marriage material.  Not that anyone seems to want to get married these days.

Surely if you are looking for some kind of relationship with someone it has to have some basis to it.  It is about sex, that we can not deny and there will always be that basic need, lust if you like, as that is the way we humans are made but you can have all these things and still have a little bit of self-worth and respect too.

I don’t want to date a man who has sent pictures of his cock to hundreds of other women or who has shown his goods on the world-wide web for all and sundry to see.  Yes, I might want to have sex with him and it is a might but I will never want, never mind trust him enough to have a relationship with him, however casual that may be.  I was never very good at sharing!

Now I may come across as a bit of a hypocrite here.  As now I have climbed off my soapbox, I am going to have to admit to meeting Mr Married.

I have no excuse and no reason behind it other than I just needed to know what he was like.  We had reached the point where we couldn’t go anywhere else except meet each other or stop talking.  For me, in that really stupid, easily swayed by conversation and flirting, I knew it wasn’t going to be the latter.   It had to be dealt with.

On Friday I had arranged to go out with some work colleagues and so after dropping the kids at a friends (a last-minute change as Grandma was ill), I arranged to meet him in a car park in town at 5 pm.  I know.  A car park!  Does it get any more exotic than that?

He was exactly how I expected him to be but not as good-looking.  I always think that the married ones will be better looking for some reason, otherwise how else do they seem to have all these affairs.  Are women out there, who just want to be bits on the side?  I just figured that he must have something about him, an air of confidence, an aura, a devilish charm that turned you weak at the knees, helpless to resist but NO, he had none of the above.

He was just your average bloke looking for cheap thrills.  He wasn’t overly good-looking.  He was confident in an almost cocky but not quite way and he had a naughty glint in his eye but that’s just because he wants to fuck me.  I have a naughty glint in my eye when I want to have sex too.

I don’t know what I was expecting but I wasn’t disappointed because it’s not like we were going to be entering in to an exciting, whirlwind adventure of fun together it was just going to be sex, probably at his say so, or so he thought.

We chatted for about twenty minutes and in that time I knew that I didn’t want him.  I didn’t want what he could offer, which to be fair wasn’t much.  I don’t want to be a quick car park fumble.  I am done with those days. 😉

Later, I met my friends in the local pub for a drink.  It was a great night a few too many vodkas and loads of laughs.  There is nothing quite like a night out with friends to make you forget about all the other shit and just enjoy being you for a few hours.

One thing I did realise though, mostly from that evening is that I know women whose husbands have cheated on them.  The devastation that shows quite clearly on their faces when they talk about it, despite the fact that it may have been years ago now and they may or may not have moved on with other partners and remarried is still really quite clear.

Men and women have always had affairs.  Not all women and not all men obviously but there is a long history of infidelity in the human race.  For some it is incredibly difficult to remain faithful for whatever reason, mostly I think because people have tendency to think the grass is always greener over the fence.  It isn’t, not usually anyway and certainly not for the long-term.

However, now it is too bloody easy.  Before, most had affairs after becoming too close to a work colleague or being too friendly with a neighbour. Now you just pop your self on a website and you can meet anyone, anytime, anywhere.  It seems this is now considered quite normal.  There are hundreds of people all in relationships or married but all looking for ‘that little bit of excitement’.

It was painful to hear my friends talking about how they felt, especially knowing that I had just met a married man in a car park, while his wife was at home, probably looking after his children and probably thinking that he was out working hard and not sitting in a car park with some blonde woman, who should sodding well know better!

Lesson learnt.

There was just one more lesson I needed to learn… and that is, after you have been out on a Friday night and had too many vodkas, do not strike up a conversation with the guy you really do fancy and not expect it to get a little bit too naughty…

… to be continued 🙂