What the hell IS it with me!?

This guy rings me from NYC, the moment he gets in from Geneva, and I go all goey at hearing his poetic, raspy, arrogant American voice.

Yet this is the guy who
-fucked me for the first time when I was so drunk I threw up a bottle of wine all over his toilet seat
-"entertained" some other woman on his boat
-wrestled a condom out of my hand when I tried to put it on him
-tried fucking me up the arse more times than I care to remember (unsuccessfully I might add) to the point that I was scared he might "just do it"
-dissed and dismissed my friends
-didn't take me to the Playboy party
-wants to have business relations with a woman a good friend describes as a deceitful cunt
-drinks Absinth for breakfast
-makes empty promises ("I won't smoke around you", "I won't try (fucking you up the arse) again", "I'll make lunch"...)
-dropped two phones into the harbour in one week

Yet he also asked me to come to New York, picked me up and twirled me around whilst we were dancing, fed me and stroked me, carressed my ego, more than matched me in energy and crazyness, entertained and entwined me with tales of his charmed life and offered me the world.

Maybe I am just attracted to red flags, like a bull!?

Or I am attracted to bullshit, like a pathetic fly!?

Or am I attracted to flying, high and off my head like a piece of fluff!?

...when I am all bunged up and sore-throated from the awful weather in London (or perhaps from washing my hair and letting it air-dry to go to the shops like I do in France),
...when I am too tired to have a shower and put on different clothes just to take them off again to go to sleep in a few hours (or NOW),
...when I can still smell a faint trace of my lover's juices on me,
...when my nighty is the most comfortable thing I have worn in nearly 2 weeks,
...when I have everything I need right here in my bed (and in my fridge)!?!

Just received an email from the Colonel, apparently he was lonely on his boat without me and that "porn food" woman, so he has invited a mutual acquaintance to stay with him and they may do some work together in future.

No further apologies about the awkward situation I caught him in, or for treating my friends with such a stinkingly dismissive attitude.

He thinks he's an aristocrat. In New York. He wants me to come visit and says he loves me but I know he loves himself above all others and I am now trying to get over the whole episode without too much of an emotional scab.

Maybe remembering the fab dirty sex may help?
We did it on the deck of his boat, suspended above the water in the catamaran's net, caught in the glare of passing boats and early sun rays.
I tried to get him to move less and pulled the duvet around us so we wouldn't get caught and arrested for indecent exposure at a popular film festival.
The next morning I found my knickers under the lounge table where he'd flung them in through the window.
(I did a sniff test to see if they were really mine )

His arrogant, deep voice made me wet, especially combined with his sparkling eyes, rough strong hands and probing tongue.
He was tall and maybe a bit overweight, but I loved his weight on top of me.
He cut a dashing figure in his tux and his sharp wit made me laugh.
In shorts and polo shirt he indeed looked like a mad school teacher however, as Daddy friend pointed out. He hated him, and I don't blame him.

He had this thing for running his hands across my body in public, which drove me mad.
I mean, how disrespectful is that!? You wear your most expensive evening dress and the guy you are with runs his fingers across your nipples or crotch, making you feel cheap and embarrassed, yet masochistically horny as well.
I guess I am just not as much of an exhibitionist as people think I am.

My recipe for a fast-food style holiday romance:

Day One:
Meet guy at a lavish party, dance the night away. Steal last bottle of free booze, hide in his buddy's trousers, then swig from bottle and share around until it's empty.
Dance with said guy whilst being filmed by his friend.
Feel fabulous. Exchange numbers. Taxi home with a new girl friend who has nowhere to stay.

Day Two:
Guy calls lots, but be unavailable.
Get talked into coming to a lavish private villa party, take flatmate and a 20-yr old male model for safety and entertainment.
Bribe random guy with car to take you to villa, in the absence of taxis.
Arrive at villa, tell guy the model's your brother. Only talk another language with the model so the Guy doesn't pick up on your flirting.
Borrow host's wife's swimsuit and swim with the Guy and 4 other boys and a bowl of cherries in the lit and heated pool.

Flirt like a champion.

Smoke weed with the Model and a Johnny Depp lookalike, eat cherries.
Quote from the Guy: "Come back to my boat, I invite you to spend the night with me. I have 5 bedrooms so if you chose to be a lady you have the choice, and if you chose to be a slut you know where I am".

Laugh ass off and tell JD lookalike and the Model of his offer.

Sneak into apartment whilst the Guy waits outside in a taxi. Take overnight stuff and bottle of Veuve Cliquot and let Guy take you to his yacht.
Watch the sun come up from the deck of the boat cuddled up under his duvet whilst drinking Absinth.
Chose to be a lady.

Day 3:
Let the Guy buy you breakfast in the local market. Act like a sickly-sweet couple all the way.
End up at Chopard party, dance like maniacs, eat lots of free desserts, throw grapes at people's mouths and drink a whole bottle of wine until nearly too sick to walk.
Get taken in by Guy's compliments.
Impromptu pole dance halfway up a lamppost in your most expensive dress.
Creep into bed on yacht and have him join you.
Get sick from all the wine and throw up.
Let him fuck you without a condom- too drunk to care. Don't agree to anal sex.
Wake up to his morning breath and stunning green eyes. Naked, soiled sheets, hung over. More sex. Cheer up!

Day 4:
Let him take you to dinner with an eccentric billionaire and his stunning friend who you suddenly fancy much more than the Guy.
End up in Pierre Cardin's villa.
Dance, have champagne, cocktails and some other random concoctions.
Flirt with mixed-raced Dutch boy until Guy shoos him away.

Have sex in Pierre Cardin's bathroom (one of them)- bent over with your dress lifted above your arse and the Guy fucking you until he comes. Dribble semen all over the toilet seat.
Laugh your ass off imagining some girl on "Trisha" saying: "I got pregnant in Pierre Cardin's villa but never had sex!"
Go back to own apartment for a change.

Day 5:
Amnesia.

Day 6:
Playboy party which he didn't invite me to- arse.
Too tired to care.

Day 7:
He's dissed all your friends and repeatedly tried to fuck you up the arse without your consent.
Go on sailing trip with him and a bunch of others and flirt with Guitar man and Aussi.
Still blissed out but a bit fed up with the Guy.
Try to blag D&G party, hang out with 5 other boys, inherit their bottle of Vodka and end up trading it for pot at a beach party. Dance til 5am in the sand.

Day 8:
Wake up in his bed after 2 hours of sleep, still wearing contacts and makeup.
Race back to apartment to check out.
Return to boat a few hours later and find him with "porn food" woman who has a 90-year old billionaire boyfriend.

He says nothing happened but his Russian friend told me otherwise. Who knows, who cares...
Ignore his phone calls for 3 hours, return to boat and wrangle your suitcase out of his hand.
Shout at him: "I have had this in my life, I don't need this in my life, I don't need YOU in my life, FUCK OFF!"
Escape with your thankfully-still-dry suitcase down the pier. Find you are being chased by the Guy and run.
More drama, hugs, a kiss, apologies, accusations ("all in your head") and further blabla.
Finally wrestle free and let Daddy friend take you for expensive lunch and moan about your bad taste in men.

Endure Daddy's jibes about "the Colonel" (according to him, the Guy looks like a cross between Tom Hanks and the KFC's Colonel Saunders...).

Get really drunk and return to England, drinking the Veuve Cliquot in a French airport on the way.

Don't stew and serve chilled.

Text the Colonel's sexy friend in Paris.

just showing off!

Sorry Alec, I meant to leave those comments open! Duh!

Lovely weekend!

Essex boy took me flying on Saturday, what fun!
Unfortunately the sky was overcast and the weather hazy, so we had almost no visibility and landed after 3 rounds above the airfield.

He's nice and fun, but I can't see anything developing apart from companionship. Ah well, you win some you lose some.

He kept texting someone all day which I found a bit rude (he wouldn't say who it was) and Canada called me, but I kept it brief and told Essex boy who it was and vice versa.

We talked more about his daughter, I stroked his fluffy cat (not an euphemism! ), we had a pub lunch and then it was soon time for me to return to London.

I tidied up like I was on fire, the flat was a mess and Dolphinboy was coming to stay, I spent ages scratching Flatmate's hair off the carpet and putting my clothes away, then I had a shower just after Dolphin text me his train was delayed- what a relief!

Dance called me as I was slathering on body lotion, he wanted to know what I was up to.
I kept the conversation brief as I was naked with lots to do, so I told him about Dolphin coming to stay and that I'd be busy on Sunday too. Let him do the worrying for once!

A little later, the door bell rang and it was Dolphinboy.
I was chopping sweet potatoes and making salad, and ran downstairs to let him in.
I had nearly forgotten the gorgeous colour of his eyes, and I was really pleased to see him!

After all September was a long time ago.

I poured him some fizz and we chatted whilst I prepared the salad and mussles- he wanted to know why Samantha and I were no longer on speaking terms. Talk about breaking the ice quickly! Thank goodness I am much more emotionally stable, so I rapidly recounted the story and then stopped myself and changed the subject. He'd just been dumped by a 21-year-old (the age gap!) who is now happily trying to be "mates", and he seemed much more domestically inclined than a few months ago.

After dinner we went to see a show which was absolutely amazing, followed by dancing in one of my regular haunts.
He kept plying me with alcohol and generally making me feel wonderful. I took him to the VIP upstairs and did a little private dance for him- well I had the perfect excuse after all those drinks!

It got a little bit more intimate, with me draped across him on the sofa, and him looking deeply into my eyes.

3 things I am a little ashamed of:
-I asked a tall blonde guy (I think I spotted him the other night with my friends) for his number but he wouldn't give it to me. His mate told me he was seeing someone. His loss!
-I had a drag on Dolphin's cigarette, urgh!
-I peed into my shoe.
This deserves a little further explanation, sorry: After shaving my bush, for some reason the pee doesn't quite know how to escape, so it squirts along my leg and down into my stilettos if I am "hovering" above the loo seat. Gross, I know. Maybe this goes some way to explaining why girls with Brazilians have smelly shoes!?

Anyway, we got the night bus home and I entered into a totally random conversation with a girl about our cervixes. I said (loud enough for her to hear):"isn't it strange that other people have seen my cervix more often than myself?" She agreed, and we laughed, whilst Dolphin looked a bit mortified. After all he sees his penis daily I assume!

I admit it, some of our chats were a bit off the wall. Walking to the club after the show, buoyed up by the experience and the can of beer he'd bought me, I told him: "I don't do boyfriends, I don't believe in them" He: "so you only do husbands?" Me: "no, I've never had one of those, but in the meantime I just do lovers, friends and toyboys. I don't see the point of boyfriends".

Back at mine, we eventually got undressed following a bit of cuddling and chatting and reading Cosmo.
He held me and kissed me, and I got very very excited at the prospect of getting to feel him inside me after all that build-up since last summer.
And I wasn't disappointed! We laughed about his nipple hair (about 10cm long!), stroked and kissed and scratched each other's skin, he sucked my nipples and stripped off my top and skirt...
I had taken off my knickers in the bathroom after a quick wash, and he called me "naughty" when he realised, assuming I had been "without" all night.
I let my hands wander down to his crotch and finally took his penis in my hands. What a nice surprise, he even tasted wonderful...

I licked and sucked him whilst looking up into his sparkly blue eyes, then he went down on me for a bit and it felt wonderful. He really knows what he is doing!

I couldn't wait for him to enter me, so I experienced with putting a vanilla-flavoured condom on him with my lips. It worked straight away and we had a real giggle about it. Next thing I knew, he had rolled me over and was above me, pushing inside me. I gasped and then just enjoyed it. His penis is a lot thicker around the middle, a bit like a sweet potato, so it felt rather tight. But good!
I wanted him to bang me hard, but he was almost a bit too gentle. Still, I wasn't complaining.

He came, I didn't but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

The next day we had a shower together. I said "day" not morning, because by the time we emerged from bed it was midday!
We soaped each other up and I slid down onto my knees and sucked his cock. I rubbed my slithery body all down his front, then took him between my breasts and finally took him into my mouth.
I sucked and licked, then swallowed and swallowed and swallowed whilst his cream hit the back of my throat, and I played with his balls and bum. I choked a little bit because there was just too much cum, so some of the sperm trickled down his stomach and was washed away by the shower. I rinsed my mouth and we laughed, then he returned the favour until the shower curtain came down.

We went back to bed and continued stroking and playing with eachother, but he was too exhausted for a repeat performance...

Also my flatmate had come home, making me feel a bit self-conscious about noises and so on- she has never heard me have sex before!

We got up eventually and walked to a nice local restaurant where he bought me lunch. I tried to pay half, honest! He is just so sweet and generous, I really had a fantastic time and I began to miss him the moment we walked into the tube station.

At lunch I actually had a bit of a crying fit, I asked his advice about my messy life, how I come across to guys and so on, and the lack of sleep and thinking about Cashmere got me all emotional. Dolphin wiped away my tears and listened patiently.

What a guy!
I took him to some antiques shops and he got me a bright scarlet jacket which I'd tried on. Oooohhh!

Now the plan is that I'll go see him on the South Coast soon...

I signed myself up to the HPV vaccination study.

For those that don't know, I had an unpleasant outbreak of genital warts for about a year- those are caused by HPV, the human papilloma virus. 4 in 5 adults are infected with HPV at some stage in their lives, but two strains (16 and 18, which aren't related to genital warts) cause cervical cancer.

If you've had warts on your hands as a child you can transfer them to your genitals, or you can have an outbreak if your immune system is weakened after you caught the virus during skin-to-skin contact.

In most people it lays dormant, but I had a few lesions around the time of my stressful breakup with Nice Ex, and I have a slight suspicion that my brief affair with Posh boy might have been behind it- although we only did "it" unprotected once, for about 5 seconds, in a swimming pool- so much for the germ-killing properties of chlorine!
Still, if he had them on his balls I might still have caught the virus.
Unless I got it from my warty fingers as a 3-year-old, or from my first boyfriend at 18, or my second one at 21...
You see, it is totally impossible to tell and the only thing you can do about it these days is to keep your smear test appointments to avoid cancerous cell changes which come from a different stain anyway.
They even say that if you have had visible warts you are less likely tp be affected by the strains which cause the cancer, which is a relief but more of a stigma.

Anyway, this whole episode sensitised me to the issue, so when I spotted the ad for volunteers I got in touch to see if I may be eligible.
I was, and apart from a slightly numb feeling in my arm and spending around an hour with the forms in the company of 2 very sweet nurses (not in THAT sense, perv! ) I have not had any adverse effects today, and may be doing my bit in the fight against the big C!

Having successfully cashed my chips in the casino, I went to the park to enjoy the sunshine.
Actually, the casino bit was funny- they knew exactly what chips were missing and came down with my 40 quid.
I wonder if there is some CCTV footage of me sneaking the four chips craftily into my pocket whilst Gem guy is consumed by gambling frenzy!?

In the park, I lay down under a tree but as I seemed to become an immediate target for birds practising their shitting skills (one on my jacket, the other on my book, urgh!), I eventually moved more towards the flower bed.
It was lovely in the sunshine, but the bugs trying to
eat me got too irritating, so I got up to try and find a bench instead.

As I walked past a tall black guy stretched out in the grass wearing sunglasses, he hollered at me (hollered? well it somehow seems like an appropriate word... ).
Thinking he was after the time, I checked my watch, but he just went: "Have you got a minute?". I asked: "Why, what's the matter?" He goes: "just come over here, I want to ask you something", beckoning me with his finger. I said: "No, I'm not interested, sorry" and walked off with a slightly irritated smile.

After walking a further few metres I suddenly realised that another guy who had been sitting under the tree close by had now got up and was following me.
He was Italian or something and went: "Hello Beauty!". I ignored him, then I turned when I realised he was speaking to me.
He wasn't even bad-looking, but seemed so desperate and smarmy, it turned me right off.
His approach reminded me of the type of guys who used to come on to me ten years ago, who attach themselves like a limpet until you make polite small-talk with them. Maybe he couldn't tell my age because of my huge sunglasses, who knows!? He was maybe 23 at the most.
I told him I was going home and didn't have time, he is following me like he's attached by an invisible baby-lead, going: "I just want to ask you something, what, aren't you talking to me, don't you have a minute...", until I stop ignoring him and tell him he is wasting his time.
Finally he lets me walk off, murmuring "you are very sexy" to my disappearing behind. I shout: "Thanks!" and sit down on a bench next to the nerdiest-looking guy with my book- finally, some peace!

A tall, posh-looking white-haired guy dressed in pale linen walks past and eyes me up. Well I could never resist looking at people to catch their eye!

Him, I might have talked to- mainly because I was sitting down and actually wouldn't have minded a chat with someone a bit less blatant than the first two guys.

I mean, what are they thinking? That I'll stop, walk over and chat about my marital status, plans for the week and sexual preferences? (nope, they'd have to come to blog.co.uk for that! )
That I'll fall madly in lust with them and let them drag me under the rose bushes for a quick roll in the hay?

Seriously...

...but this old codger just won't stop ringing me!

I stood him up this morning, but I text him that I wasn't coming because I needed to prepare for an interview. I just thought it would be too awkward to turn him down face to face, especially as he might have expected to close the deal at the hotel or something. Help!

He rang about 8 times yesterday, even though I'd asked him not to phone before 3pm whilst I was at work.

Hope he gets the message soon.

He said he never checks his texts, which is odd as I sent him this joke the other day:

Man to Woman:
"will you sleep with me for a tenner?" Her: "ten pounds, what do you think I am?" Him: "Oh I think we have just established that, now we are just haggling over the price!"

He called me straight after which I took as a sign he'd received the text and has a sense of humour. I may have been wrong on both counts...

Argh, there he goes again!

Camden boy and I had smoothies in the sunshine yesterday, now he text me saying I should just tell Gem guy to eff off, but easier said than done!

why oh why do I find it so hard to say NO!?
I arranged to meet old Gem guy tomorrow morning for coffee (?!), I hope he won't expect anything else.
If he were only more respectful and keener on talking, I would enjoy spending time with him, alas he is pushy and sleazy and I think we are both wasting our time.

I think what I'll do is as follows: I will see if he really can pull any strings for me, so he'll have an incentive, and I will have an actual reason to go to bed with him if he does manage to get me a new job. Deal!?
I doubt it somehow as that's not how it works, but I am willing to take the risk.

Essex boy has invited me flying on Saturday, but I am busy unfortunately- I plan to move my appointment though so I can still go, it sounds like a laugh!
How funny, that after that malarky with Flyboy, I managed to meet yet another (professional) pilot...

Had a long chat with Dolphinboy yesterday, and we spontaneously decided to spend this weekend together- he is coming to London from the South Coast to see me and I am really looking forward to it.
I could do with his generous company and an orgasm or two!

After all I am so sexually frustrated that I had yet ANOTHER dream about shagging a gay guy! Would you believe it!? Maybe I feel more confident competing with men than with women, how odd.
In my dream, this guy's boyfriend was asleep in the bed, and I went to get something from the wardrobe. He came up behind me and entered me, thrusting deeply without hesitation. I think the boyfriend woke up and watched us, but somehow we managed to make it look more "innocent" than it really was... I woke up desperate to come.

Dance boy came round last night and I cooked for us, we had chicken, asparagus, courgette and a nice mixed salad with carrot, chick peas, avocado, tomato and hummous.
He brought the wine, but it wasn't as nice as the food!D
Then we cuddled up to watch "Lost"- I enjoyed being close to him, but he is still somehow physically restrained which frustrates me. I like a guy to be quite affectionate, as in, stroking my hair or whatever whilst we are getting cosy and watching TV.

We ended up having a nice long chat, mainly about where we saw this going and whatever and I was quite straight about not seeing the point of going "exclusive" as long as I wasn't sure about someone, but we both agreed we liked spending time together. He also thought that sleeping together might change things, which is something I was concerned about. This didn't stop him getting me all horny though, the pussy teaser!
He started off by biting my arm, as I was still not kissing him as long as his coldsore isn't healed properly.
Biting sounds strange, but it felt amazing. He could tell I liked him being this rough and a bit dominating.

I smiled and said: "this hurts, but it makes me feel funny, I like it..." He asked: "what, horny?", I replied: "um, yes..." "Well you women like to feel overpowered", making me struggle and smile more.
Grabbing my wrists, he said "I saw a documentary about women's top ten fantasies, guess what came tops?"
I think we all know the answer...

He went home around 2am, which may go some way to explaining why I am so tired today! No sex though, as I told him if I'd let him stay over we'd have to "do stuff". We both agreed to maybe wait until he doesn't fancy other women, which may never happen- maybe he is just too honest. I asked him to be more sensitive to my feelings as I don't exactly rub his nose in who I fancy either.

I have no desire to sleep with anyone I don't love right now.

I am afraid I will fall in love or get attached to someone as soon as we sleep together, only to get disappointed again.

So I suppose I could experiment with (Mr Guinea Pig) Gem guy, but urgh, maybe not.

I text Cashmere about my indecent proposal experience, no reply yet.

Essex boy rang earlier but I didn't know what to say to him, so I told him I needed a wee and rang off.
I think he has invested far too much emotion in me already.
I mean I do love kids, but I'd prefer my own and also I don't fancy living abroad for the sake of someone's offspring, so what chance can there be for a future...so best not to waste too much time and energy on it.

Had a really horny dream last night about sleeping with a gay guy, no idea either why it had to be a gay guy. Maybe to prove to myself how irresistably horny and desirable I am, what do you say Mr Freud?
He entered me from behind as I lay in bed without knickers on, he fucked my pussy as I laid on his stomach and our fingers stroked my clit. He dirty-talked me: I will fuck you everywhere, your pussy, your arse, your mouth- I nearly came right then. I think it was that hetero-curious guy from my friend's party.
The disturbing thing was, my mum was also asleep in the (really big) bed, as were a few other people, and I didn't want to wake them up, so our thrusts had to be fairly subtle which increased the naughtyness of it all.
It goes without saying that in my dreams I don't practise safer sex either, and have never caught anything...
I woke up with my pussy wet and creamy, and went to the loo. I think it's the female equivalent of a morning boner!
-------------------

Now how do I turn those casino chips into money without looking stupid?

I have officially left the tag of "cheap date" behind.

Gem guy took me to a casino where he was sitting in a small private area all by himself, and he was really touchy-feely right away. Ah right, the man doesn't waste much time I thought, but also I felt slightly overwhelmed.
He moved to kiss me on both cheeks and couldn't keep his hands to himself.
Within 5 minutes he'd ordered us some pink champagne and tried to shove his tongue down my throat.
He asked for a "friendly" kiss, then held my head in a vice-like grip and parted my lips with his tongue- argh!

If the guy is under 70 I will eat my entire outfit!

Next he made me an offer which I can only desribe as an indecent proposal- and he didn't even know the film.

I mean, I do think everyone has a price and every girl has a dream of being treated like Pretty Woman, but then again this guy was no Richard Gere.
Also I think Julia/Vivian got more foreplay.

He claimed he was 60, which he then upped to 65 when I told him my parents were 60 and didn't have this much trouble getting off the sofa (or something along those lines).
I asked him which year he was born, he said during the war, and I could hear the little wheels whirring in his head as he engaged his rusty internal calcualtor. I mean, if you don't recall your year of birth at the drop of a hat, there's something fishy going on!

The chauffeur who took me home later suggested I should have asked whether he was born in WW1 or 2, which made me laugh out loud.

I was actually thinking of volunteering for Age Concern, but my charity does have some limits after all...

Especially if the guy can afford to blow more money in a few minutes than I have in my bank account!

So anyway, he literally suggested we become lovers and that it would be worth my while, but he didn't name a figure. I suppose this is tricky, as in a way I am not so easily bought.
I mean I am reasonably happy with my life, I don't need much money to live on and my flat is too small to buy more luxury items, and where on earth would I wear expensive jewellry, if my "fake" gems have seen me through more glam parties than some people have had hot dinners!

The only thing I want that I don't have is my own place, and I don't think the pleasure of my naked company would persuade him to splash out that much.

Still, what an interesting night!

In a way I have no idea and no excuse as to why I stayed after he came out with all this stuff, I guess I just enjoyed the attention and his compliments and I was curious where the night might lead.

He is such a sweet old guy on one level, on the other hand a really manipulative devil, but I appreciated his honesty although I would have liked to stick to "normal" chat for a bit before launching into the heavy-duty stuff.

"He don't waste no time", as the chauffeur said.

Next thing I knew, he is pressing me to order food (I wasn't hungry after a humongous salad at home, duh!) and we had some more champagne and he held my hand and tried stroking my thigh and nearly shoved his fingers down my cleavage, asking if I liked my boobs stroked.
"Um yes, I am a female", I replied, in a mixture of naive virgin and seductress.
Next he wanted to know if I fancied women. I really don't mind talking about all this stuff, but he was being a bit too intimate physically which I kept telling him put me off.

Still, I guess he wanted to know where he stood. Not a patient person by anyone's standards, so much is clear.
He wanted to be "alone with me and make love with me", he did have some funny old-fashioned ways of expressing himself and we communicated in a mixture of English and German.
Anyway, I think he is a bit hard of hearing.

He tried pressing me for an answer about my decision of whether or not to start a "non-platonic" affair with him, but I told him I needed time to think (yeah right) and why didn't he show me the club?

We went upstairs to the casino and he changed £2500 into chips at the Blackjack table. I never knew anyone to carry this much cash around with them, no wonder he gets a car to drive him everywhere!

He promised me 10% of his winnings, and asked for a kiss on the cheek after each win. Whatever, I am sure the staff thought I was a hooker anyway.
At first we were ahead after a few lightning-quick rounds of blackjack, my brain was still trying to catch up as he lost another £200, and another, then won some, and so on.
After a while we were about a grand ahead, then we sat at the roulette table. Big mistake. He said it was "dangerous" and I could see why: he spread his chips all over the table and usually lost more than he won. I was a bit more calculated with my betting, and tended to win. Still, as we were playing together my winnings were his and so on, and as I didn't take great risks my wins tended to be small anyway- here each chip was worth £10 and he usually put around 20 of them on the table.

After a while some fit young guys joined our table, their chips were a different colour (I had wondered how they'd tell them all apart), but Gem guy was in a gambling frenzy.
I managed to slip 4 chips into my pocket, for safe-keeping and I am glad I did, because eventually he lost it all. When I told him to stop putting so many chips into one round and then suggested we leave before it was all gone, he ignored me. So it was all his own fault anyway.

We got back downstairs, but not without him trying to snog me again in the lift. Sometimes I wonder why I have the patient of a saint in a situation such as this, but it was all too funny to get really worried about it.

He regretted losing all this money, I just thought he'd been crazy to change all this dosh into chips in the first place, as you lose the sense of how much you are gambling for. If I think that for each of those small blue coins I have to work an hour in a usually really dull job!

"You should have stopped me", he tried to reproach me, but I was having none of it. "I tried", I replied, "what did you want me to do, boss you about?".

We laughed about it and he ordered a car to take us home.
He also got me 3 boxes of chocolates. Now THAT's the way to a girl's heart, if not her pants.

He got out first to see a friend at a hotel, I had a fun chat with the driver on my way home. Turns out the guy's card was genuine after all, but this hasn't made me lose my sense of perspective.

I told Gem guy that if I wanted to do "that type" of work I could just join an agency and do it properly.

Curious to see if he'll up the stakes, so far he's only told me he'd give me "rewards", take me travelling and introduce me to people.
Still, it doesn't make me want to throw all my clothes off and kiss his old garlicky mouth!

The Hormone Hostage knows that there are days in the month when all a
man has to do is open his mouth and he takes his very life into his own
hands!

This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's licence in
the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, or significant other!!

DANGEROUS: What's for dinner?

SAFER: Can I help you with dinner?

SAFEST: Where would you like to go for dinner?

ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: Are you wearing that?

SAFER: Gee, you look good in brown.

SAFEST: WOW! Look at you!

ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: What are you so worked up about?

SAFER: What did I do wrong?

SAFEST: Here's fifty quid

ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: Should you be eating that?

SAFER: You know, there are a lot of apples left.

SAFEST: Can I get you a glass of wine with that?

ULTRASAFE: Here, have some chocolate.

DANGEROUS: What did you do all day?

SAFER: I hope you didn't overdo it today.

SAFEST: I've always loved you in that robe!

ULTRASAFE: Here, have some more chocolate.

13 Things PMS Stands For:

1. Pass My Shotgun

2. Psychotic Mood Shift

3. Perpetual Munching spree

4. Puffy Mid-Section

5. People Make me Sick

6. Provide Me with Sweets

7. Pardon My Sobbing

8. Pimples May Surface

9. Pass My jogging pants

10. Pissy Mood Syndrome

11. Plainly; Men Suck

12. Pack My Stuff........

And my favorite one... ...........

13. Potential Murder Suspect

Pass this onto all of your hormonal friends and those who might need a
good laugh! Or men who need a warning! And remember: Money talks...but
chocolate sings.

I had arranged to meet Essex boy in the park on Sunday. He is a new contestant in my search for "the One I can bear to forsake all others for".

A few weeks of web chat had warmed me to him sufficiently to want to meet up in real life, and he looked reasonably attractive in his picture. His texts with "princess" and "xxx" had also made me laugh and he had a nice voice, so I was looking forward to meeting face to face.

I was slightly disappointed by his looks- superficial me!
In a weird way he reminded me of Dope boy, although he is taller and his personality couldn't be more different.

He actually splashed out on a brand-new pair of rollerblades (not the cheapest ones either) instead of just hiring some, but he did really well for a first-timer!
Demanding on a first date- who, me!?

We had a lovely day although the conversation didn't always flow. He is really different from people I usually mix with in London- really outdoorsy and interesting with lots of crazy skills and a penchant for adrenaline sports, yet rather straight down the line.

We were lucky enough to witness the finale of the "Sultan's Elephant" Performance, then walked to Covent Garden to get something to eat.
On the way there he asked me who the guy was I had mentioned in one of our chats, the one I was thinking about although I knew I shouldn't. This was really odd. I had just thought of Cashmere- I miss him and I wondered what he was up to.
So I guess Essex boy might have some telepathic talents on top of being able to perform every extreme sports known to man (and woman)!

I didn't want to talk about it really, so I just mentioned that I liked someone who'd gone away and that I have to be careful not to get "in too deep too soon" to avoid disappointment.

Next I asked about his relationship history. He seemed reluctant to talk about it at first, but I noticed he'd spent a lot of time in New Zealand and wanted to know how long he'd been single.

Thank God for my poker face and the fact we were walking side by side at the time, as I managed to hide my surprise at his next revelation reasonably well, for he just came out with "I have a daughter". First I thought he was joking, but it turns out she is the subject of a fierce legal battle between him and her mum, who he'd had a weird-sounding falling-out with.
She is only a year old and he's seen her only once, so now he is going over there to visit her through a contact centre.

Red flags: Baggage alert! Moving-abroad-alert! Odd communication-breakdowns-alert!

Our conversation shifted slightly as I came to terms with this sad story, and I expressed my sympathy and tried to find our more about the circumstances of their breakup. The poor guy is still looking for closure and to be honest the whole thing sounded slightly off, like it all didn't quite add up.
I mean, why cut all contact with the father of your baby if one minute you are still in a happy relationship, yet the next you can't cope with the fact he's going back to England until right before the birth?
Weird.

We had Italian food and I asked to see a picture of his little girl. He had one on his phone of her at a few hours old, really cute!

I walked him to the tube and we embraced. I think he tried to snog me, but I didn't let him! After all, I am really not sure about all this yet.
He lives out of town and although he's a nice guy I am not sure we are suited, at least not as long as I am still getting over Cashmere...

Still, I am tempted to get to know him better. He has invited me to Essex to go mountainbiking, and we may see a concert together sometime.

I rang Canadaboy and our new girlfriend- they were about to go to a sushi place after also watching the elephant performance, and I joined them for some jasmine tea.
It was nice to see them and get their perspective on Essex boy. He text me twice (how nice it was to meet me and so on, I replied that I also enjoyed our time together) and then rang me, but I didn't take his call. Talk about infatuation!

I am just scared to get hurt again and dropped, to invest my time and emotions for nothing.
In the meantime I will keep everyone at arm's length...

It seems like most guys I meet are over-enthusiastic right away up to a certain point (sex?), then lose interest and try to push me away.
So now I am wary of all the promises and passion at the beginning of a new relationship or whatever you want to call it.

I mean, how can a guy possibly mean it when they say: "I'll take you there-and-there, we'll do such-and-such, everything will be wonderful..."
Yeah right.

Just keep repeating ad absurdum until I drop my knickers.

P.S. I am meeting the old Diamond geezer tonight... at a casino!
Maybe I should start by just saying "no" to everything...

On Friday, Dance joined me in the park after a few texts back and forward that he wanted to dissolve the awkwardness between us by being honest with me.
However his confession never happened since my broken-hearted flatmate showed up and we all had dinner together.

Things felt comfortable enough between us for Flatmate and I to join Dance for a Salsa party on a boat on the Thames, which turned out to be great fun.

On the other hand, his tightness managed to wind me up again.
He'd initially offered to buy me lunch (which I didn't take him up on because I had to work) so I expected him to foot my dinner bill.
It came to £32.50 or something in total, and he put £20 down. Flatmate thus had to pay more, although he'd had a more expensive dish. How rude!
I paid her entry into the club to make up for it, but it didn't exactly entice me to him any further.
Because of his cold sore I haven't kissed him for a week or so, looks like things are going downhill-

Actually I don't remember if I even wrote about the reason I was upset with him in the first place!?
Basically on Thursday he rang a female friend in front of me to arrange a party invite for Saturday, I just thought it was totally out of order and not very sensitive of him.

This diary looks to become very boring on the sex front unless Cashmere or someone else I actually want to sleep with comes into the picture!

I spent over £100 on a dress in French boy's shop on Saturday.
So- as I got 50% off, did I save money or did I spend money I wouldn't normally have spent?
That eternal feminine dilemma, isn't it. Did I save £100 or not? By buying a bargain, are we savvy or stupid?

Anyway, he also bought me lunch (or rather dessert, as I'd eaten already) and snogged me between drags on his cigarette (urgh).
As I was trying on the dresses, he knocked onto the changing room door, then entered and started kissing me immediately, deeply and passionately. I wore no underwear to get the optimum effect of the dress, and I think he felt that when he put his hand on my bum.
I could feel him getting hard but I pushed him off before things got more "interesting". After all although the changing room was huge, he was at work and there was no way I would have bought that dress if it had a dodgy stain on it!

Also in the sober light of day I didn't fancy him as much as I had in the club. His suit was very nice but he also wore glasses, and as I said before I have never really been into bald/shaven-headed men!

Ah well, it was worth the dress and a little afternoon thrill.

I walked back to Piccadilly in the rain when I spotted a young guy sitting on a rucksack and talking into his mobile, crying.
He was obviously Antipodean and looked upset and lost, not like a homeless person out for a quick buck but more like a traveller down on his luck.
His green irises stood out from the bloodshot whites of his eyes and he was soaking from the rain.
I walked past and to the cashpoint, but couldn't get the boy out of my head, so I turned back.
Without interrupting his phone call I made the international gesture of "let's have a coffee" at him and pointed at the nearby coffee place.

I bought a tea for me and a hot chocolate for him (so much for coffee), wondering if he'd take me up on my offer.
A little while later, he, his rucksack and two huge orange plastic bags dripping with rain water joined me at my table, much to the amusement of the event stewards in the road who had seen my swift pick-up maneuver.

He sat down, already much cheered up by the prospect of a dry place to sit, a hot drink and my company , and explained he'd just talked to his mum in South Africa who was about to arrange some money to be sent to him.
It turned out he was robbed at knifepoint the night before, losing 200, his passport, new PSP and mobile, his house keys and a few papers.
I felt really sorry for him and was glad I had made him feel better by showing that someone cared. He was only 18, younger than my little brother.
We stayed and chatted in the cafe for a bit, he told me of his ambition to become a yachtsman and I mentioned Dolphinboy who did that training too.

Then that huge mechanical elephant went past the window with the Sultan's parade (a street performance project which gripped London for 3 days), and we enjoyed the spectacle together before I went home.

In a weird way although I felt really sorry for him I was glad he was really in trouble and I was able to help, rather than him being a con artist keen on ripping people off. You just never know. Anyway, he never asked for anything and all he got out of me was a drink and a sympathetic ear!

What a night!
Canada was the only one of my friends who I could convince to come out on a Wednesday night, although Yacht girl also seemed tempted for about 20 seconds before she confessed she was too tired and likely to just stick to the pub.

Canada got stuck in traffic, so after rehashing my confusion about the Dance and B snogging issue outside the tube station with Neighbour over the phone (she thought he was well out of order and I shouldn’t have invited him in. I told her I didn’t have much of a choice, soaked as he was, and that he left me sexually frustrated anyway), I made my own way to the club.

I found the guy who’d invited me and grabbed some free cocktails from the bar before joining them at their table. I struck up an interesting conversation with a girl and some polo boys, and was already really enjoying myself by the time Canada finally loped in.
Those drinks did their trick and my mood got better and better, when I spotted a French-looking guy at the bar as Canada and I queued for more free alcohol. I asked him: “Are you French?” and he was surprised that I knew. He said usually people think he’s Brazilian!
He was tall, bald, well-built with a tight white T-shirt showing off his body to its best advantage, and he had cute dimples and a really faint French accent.

I just love hunky and chunky guys who are muscly but don’t look like gym bunnies, fit but not skinny…
Canada joined in the conversation for a bit, then he returned to the girl at the table and French boy and I kept chatting. He showered me with compliments, yet seemed really genuine and intelligent despite the superficial surroundings. Trust me to prefer the cute but penniless sales assistant to all the arrogant moneyed pony-owners in the room!

I wore a white dress which he loved and he invited me over to his shop to get a 50% discount sometime. Lovely!

I disappeared for a bit to join Canada and our new girlie friend for a chat, then the music started really pumping and I dragged them onto the dance floor with me. I had lost count of the free cocktails, and since apart from us no one seemed aware of their existence, they never ran out. Somebody ordered a Magnum bottle of Champagne which was triumphantly paraded around the club with sparklers sparkling and people going “oooh” and “aah”, Canada couldn’t get over at how wanky the whole thing was.

French boy found us madly gyrating on the dance floor, and started kissing my neck with his soft lips.
He moved on to my mouth and I felt his whole tongue sliding into my mouth like a horny snail. Not a sexy image, but damned exciting nonetheless!
It almost felt like a thick, mucus-coated cock and he tasted delicious, sucking and biting my lips with just the right pressure. I was convinced my neck would be covered in love bites later, but I am surprised to find it is actually its creamy-coloured usual self.
The club was now rammed, and French boy gripped me tightly, lifted first my leg up and then both my knees onto his hips, letting me bounce above his torso to the beat of the music. We got a lot of stares from the posh crowd, but we were past caring.
Great atmosphere though, I must say!

More snogging followed and then he pushed my hand towards his cock.
We were in the middle of the dance floor.
I had barely felt it but I got really embarrassed- I didn’t want to be caught rubbing a stranger’s crotch in a crowd of people so I pulled my hand away and made a shocked face at him.
He tried to reassure me by saying it was so full that no-one would notice, but I still didn’t feel comfortable with it.
Soon after, we left. French boy was trying to convince me to take him home with me, but since he wasn’t working the next day but I am, I told him no.

He didn’t turn into a pest and accepted my phone number and a few more deep kisses instead.
Canada and that new girl walked to the tube with me and I got a train home, result!

The oddest feature in that club were two side-by side toilets in one of the lady’s cubicles. I mean, the kneeling toilet didn’t take off, so why would this? I suppose if you were really drunk…