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 🙂