Has anyone seen "Flushed Away"? Just HOW sexy is Hugh Jackman's voice as Roddy St James from Kensington!?
You can do it to me anytime, Rat Boy!!!
:D

(oooh the small pleasures...)

I am seeing Mr Red tonight, God knows why, maybe cos he was available.
I am planning to introduce him to "my world", which may finally convince him that we are NOT suited.

A screening followed by an arts exhibit in a posh club, then more expensive drinks at another 5* venue (I put us on all the lists), and this time it's HIS round.
Passive aggressive? Moi?

Wednesday, I have an invitation to Jacuzzy boy's 'humble abode', for some dinner and TLC.
I am looking forward to the food and his Sky Movies, but hope that TLC stands for talking, laughing and champagne rather than cuddly stuff...
Not ready for that, and he's from a different culture which could get complicated.

Pointless?

I feel sad and deflated.

WHY do I just attract the slightly obsessive short men who don't pay for my dinner and follow me home uninvited (Mr Red), instead of tall, funny, multilingual and handsome work colleagues (Tall Boy) or cute-if-underconfident guys like Romeo?

I saw him the other night at a mutual friend's birthday. Turns out he is so skint he has to WALK into Soho from home (for an hour), and although we got on well and talked about what (didn't) happen in the summer he turned me down flat when I invited him back to mine for a pizza.
MEN!
There is even a bus going to where I live which doesn't necessary require a ticket...
Still, a night with me obviously didn't appeal.

I saw him again at work last night and tried to keep my cool as well as my distance, but drinking always makes me feel blue when I don't need it so maybe I should have stopped after the first glass of wine.

I even gave him a travel card I found on the floor, now I gotta check in the mirror if there is a tattoo on my forehead that says: mug.
Maybe that's his idea of revenge after what happened in the summer: following a steamy make-out session in the park he had suggested coming back to mine whilst I insisted I walk him to the tube. Glad I didn't let him stay now, because I'd only have felt worse when he'd let it fizzle out if I had actually slept with him.

After speaking to him the other night I can understand better why he has lost all his confidence. Turns out he was seeing a married woman and got caught by her husband. This lady then had to chose between a penniless actor (him) and the affluent hubby, and picked the hubby and their lifestyle over the rampant sex life love she had with Romeo.

Whatever. I guess it will take him time to get over that one, but he'd better hurry up otherwise he will stop being cute and end up a bitter old bachelor.

Had an odd experience over the weekend.

I had invited Mr Red (the "tight" one) out for drinks/networking with some friends and colleagues of mine, and despite exchanging some messages beforehand about how we both thought we were just getting a "friendship" vibe, alcohol and atmosphere led to us flirting a bit.

Needless to say, the alcohol was bought by my generous friend and yours truly whilst Mr Red didn't offer me ONE drink- although he got stuck into the chips and wine like everyone else...

At one point I was sitting next to him on the sofa in the club, and he told me (in a slightly nerdy way) how beautiful he thought I looked. I am never one to turn down a compliment, and it was nice to see him, so I smiled and thanked him.

Later on, he said: "I have been fighting the urge to kiss you all night", to which I replied: "Why?" with a naughty grin. He went: "Because you look so beautiful", and I flirted back: "No, I meant why have you been fighting the urge?"...

Ok, so that was the general gist of it. He looked at me with big horny puppy dog eyes, and I revelled in his attention and the free booze that kept coming.

Then we decided to leave and he walked me to the tube.
Then he decided to wait for my train with me.
Then he asked: "So, do you want to come with me?". I declined, as this seemed so far from being on the cards, it was funny. I mean, I hadn't even kissed the guy and just wanted my own bed, on my own- but thank you.
Four trains went south and still he was hanging about waiting for my tube to show up. I thought I was being clear that I was heading north and expected him to scramble off to South London, but the man was persistent.
In King's Cross he finally kissed me.
It was a nice kiss, if not particularly romantic in the weekend late-night rush hour under glaring tube lights, and I just didn't feel it. Whatever IT may be, the kiss seemed wasted on me.

I jumped on my train, and just then the tannoy went: "the last southbound --line has now departed".
"Oops", I thought, "he's gonna have a 'fun' night on the buses ahead"!

Outside my front door, my phone started vibrating.
It was him.
I was prepared to hear him wish me a good night and maybe moan about the temperature at the night bus stop, but he said: "I got on the next train behind you, I am now at your station. Can I come up to use the loo and for a glass of water?"

I was really surprised, and REALLY not sure this was a good idea, at all.
By him, for having followed me, and by me for contemplating letting him in.

For Chrissakes, he wasn't even that drunk!

I ummed and ahhd for a bit, making it clear I wasn't impressed by this genious idea of his- damn, the last time I followed a boy home I was 16!

He rocked up at my door and I led him upstairs. It was late, I was tired, hadn't tidied up, and I was slightly concerned at what he might attempt to do.

Thankfully, my flat mate was in and asleep which made me feel more protected, he went to the bathroom and I poured us some water.
I made sure I put the most un-romantic kitchen light on, and the atmosphere was well and truly gone by the time we sipped our water and made a bit of small-talk.

Odd how we often cover really depressing subjects, such as my cousin's miscarriage, his brother's conception trouble and his dad's affair...

Anyway, he finally smelled the coffee and left for his long trek home.

What the hell did he expect after I had told him at the station that I'd rather feel guilty for sending him home than like a slapper for letting him stay!

the heck you can't comment on your foreign friends' blogs without having to log in ALL OVER AGAIN!

I found Cashmere's blog. Well, it wasn't hard, seeing that it's connected to his homepage.
I am now SO annoyed.
I don't even know why!

Basically, after he got back from his business travels he never got in touch with me- and then I came across his profile again on the dating web site we'd met through. These things are so cruel. Even if you like someone and have spent some good quality time with them, most sites will tell you when that person last logged on. BIG source of insecurity!
Doesn't he like me?
Is he dating/messenging other people?
Or is he just checking up on ME?

Headfuck doesn't begin to describe it.

Now he's back, putting himself out there, logging on every single day and obviously meeting girls.
So, I did what any sensible (?) woman would have done in my place, and set about creating an "alternative" profile for him.

I was nothing but honest- and not one of my keyboard's blows went below his virtual belt.

But within 2 or three days, I was discovered and the mock profile as well as my own suspended from the site, followed by a threatening email pointing me to a site with an article about a "web dating hacker" who had received a prison sentence.
Mind you, he had put nudie pictures of his ex and other nasties into his smear campaign.

They suggested I had (possibly- well, it could have been a work colleague of mine...) breached their terms and conditions, whereupon I replied that they might also view it as a breach of their terms if people just use others for sex and then ignore them...

I didn't admit to any wrongdoing however, but now I keep checking over my shoulder whether the men in white coats are approaching yet.

Just to clarify:
I started with his desire to pick up yet another woman only to leave her hanging, described his ("my") unbelievable arrogance,
his inability to pick me up from hospital after my general anesthetic,
the lack of communication after he had obviously decided not to see me again- all as a warning message to other lonely hearts about to walk into his trap.
I may be psycho, but I am fair...

Once, I met a policeman.
I didn't know he was a policeman, only that it was late and I had missed my tube home after a photo session with my gay best friend in Kilburn, and was now stuck waiting for the night bus in King's Cross the wrong side of midnight on a Monday morning.
I was so frustrated, I had tears of rage in my eyes.

The guy at the bus stop asked me: "Are you alright?" or something, and we got chatting.
Actually, I must have been really difficult to talk to at first, I was that annoyed.
He then offered to drive me home to the arse end of the Northern Line after we picked up his car in Finchley.
I really appreciated that.
Also by now I knew he was a policeman. (not a good reason to get in the car with a stranger, I know...)
At first, he asked me: "So, what do you think I do?" I thought of three options: doctor, lawyer or newsagent. All wrong (well, predjudices usually are): he worked for the London Met.

In any case, I gave him my number and a few days later he asked me out to an Alexander O'Neill concert in St Albans, where he lived.
He was totally not my type, but I thought: why not, thinking I might enjoy the music and his company.

He picked me up at home and we drove to his house where he put on MTV on the 1998 version of the plasma flat screen tv and prepared a lovely home-cooked meal.

I needed the loo and discovered that his toilet didn't have a door yet- not very comfortable, but he stayed downstairs.
Then we drove to the concert.
The music and atmosphere were great but I now knew I didn't fancy him at all (although he was such a nice guy).
For starters, he was in his thirties and I was barely out of my teens.
Then he pulled that thing where he said he was too tired to drive, and would I stay at his house?
He had a spare bedroom and all...
I began to feel very uncomfortable and said no, I preferred waking up in my own bed (and not miles away in St Albans).
He had promised me some music tapes, so he used that as an excuse to drive us back to his house.

I refused to get out of the car- no way was I spending the night with a strange policeman in a house without a toilet door!

He went inside to rummage about for the tapes, but couldn't find them- gotcha!

Then, he reluctantly drove me home.
I never saw him again.

Some examples:
a) Mr Red asked me out for dinner and picked the restaurant. As the bill came, I offered to pay half but was shocked to discover he took me up on it. I know he doesn't make much money, but shouldn't the guy pay at a first date, especially as he decided where to take me?
I had to put it on my card as I didn't carry much cash...

b) I met him at the cinema. Because he was late, I bought the tickets.
His cost £5.75. Before we went in, he gave me a fiver (without looking at the ticket) and also bought me a drink.
Maybe I am just overly sensible (or greedy?) but I felt that buying me a drink should be separate from paying for his ticket. Basically, he shouldn't feel smug (?) for getting me a drink, if I am also subsidising his ticket.

c) I put a tip down in a restaurant (we split the bill), and instead of matching me, he took part of the change so the total tip was only £2.

d) At the theatre, I gave him £15 for a £13 ticket, asking if he had any change. He gave me the fiver back and told me to keep it, I thanked him and we both smiled. We were standing by the bar about to order drinks, so when she told us it was around £6, I handed her my fiver, expecting him to pay for his wine independently. Instead, he got out a pound something and then held his hand out for the 20p change. So why was I buying him a drink? I don't think he even noticed.
Or maybe he thinks I am just out to use him, who knows.

Needless to say, this doesn't make dating him any more fun. I hated the show we saw (it made me so depressed I wanted to cry), and hanging out at the bar afterwards with nothing to drink didn't make me feel any better.
I wish it were cheaper getting to know someone, but just hanging out at each others' houses wouldn't feel right yet (although it would be free!).

On the other hand, when Jacuzzi boy picked me up for the cinema last night, for a film I had chosen and he paid for (he told me to put my money away), we were both happy with that!

Also, Mr Red made me feel like I had to bite my tongue all night as not to interrupt him. Exhausting!

Tall Boy is off to Spain for the weekend, and I wonder if he has a girlfriend there. I will have to wait for the right moment to ask him as I don't want to come across as too presumptuous or anything...
I don't mind paying my own way when I go out with him, because it seems more clear-cut. We each paid for our own theatre ticket and then took turns getting drinks. After all, we are "just friends" and I haven't known him long. Next time we go out it will be my treat, as he just did me a massive favour!

Tonight I am out with the XX (Ex-friend Samantha's ex bf) to pursue one of our hobbies- this should be fun! I can't wait to hear his opinion on my dating adventures, and to advise him on his.

This week was a bit mad on the dating front. I say "dating", as this doesn't imply any physical contact beyond a peck on the cheek.

Nr1- MONDAY: Mr Red and I went for a lovely cinema date (we laughed our heads off!), followed by an invitation to a home-cooked dinner at his.
I had been careful not to pick heels again as he is about my height (I felt unconfortable towering over him after our last dinner date), and we set off down the road to his place.
His flat was lovely and spacious, his lodger was out and Mr Red took me to the kitchen where he poured me some wine and started cooking. We talked about our families, about the odd differences between men and women's way of thinking (he'd just read "Men are from Mars..."), and the importance of making "I feel" statements to your partner instead of "you always" (or whatever) statements, which sound like an accusation and don't take the individual's own responsibility for their feelings into account.

We enjoyed our meal and the conversation, but the more sozzled I get, the more I talk. I got an email from him shortly after, basically saying how annoyed he gets when I interrupt him. I felt terrible. So bad in fact, that when my mum rang, I burst out in tears and couldn't even bring myself to read that blasted email again.
It may not sound like a big deal, but I was totally devastated thinking that whilst I had a great time chatting with him, he constantly felt like he was struggling to get his point across without me noticing. I felt like an insensitive lump and immediately thought: "That's why everyone hates me".

This is probably untrue, but I have had close friends tell me the same thing, although I believe not everyone is bothered by it or otherwise they are able to dominate a conversation themselves when they want to.
I just wished he'd told me straight away, jokingly (as in: "shut up, I wasn't finished yet") instead of writing me a big long thing about it.

Anyway, as there doesn't seem any romance on the cards (although it would be nice, based on the way we seem to get on so well and have tons in common), I suppose I will get over it and so should he.

We have already arranged to meet again and he's been calling me whilst I was suspiciously quiet all week (mainly due to going out with other people).

Nr 2- TUESDAY:I met Jacuzzi Boy for a drink. He was the gent who drove me home when I was so drunk I puked on his car, not the one who fingered me to orgasm in the hot tub.
However, this boy HAD seen me get off with the lesbian, so I had no idea what he expected.
I suppose my advantage was that we'd had a conversation before I was too plastered to string a sentence together. He is a good-looking Asian lad from a wealthy family, and although not my usual type, I felt I owed him a drink for looking after me and cleaning my puke off his nice car!

We had a really nice time, bought tons of 241 cocktails (which he insisted paying for, so I guess my plan didn't quite work ) and then went back to his flat to eat.
"I can't keep drinking if I don't eat", I told him, and he replied that he'd made tons of curry at home which he couldn't possibly finish all by himself- so, curious to see the flat he'd been talking about all night I agreed to try his cuisine.
I wasn't disappointed- man was this a nice meal!
"I used to be a spoilt brat", he told me, "ordering the domestics about and expect everything to be picked up after me, but I grew up".
Judging by the tidyness of the place he may still employ a cleaner, but the food was truly delicious and he seemed really proud of his achievements (apparently his mum had laughed down the phone at him when he told her he'd learned how to cook!).

We had some more wine, watched MTV and I ate until I nearly burst. I enjoyed his company and fortunately he didn't expect me to be sleazy, insted he kept a respectful distance and walked me to my bike when I got tired.
A bit odd, considering that last time I saw him I had my finger up a woman's fanny and now there I was (fully clothed and dry) at his sophisticated flat, having a civilised meal! tbc...?

Nr 3- WEDNESDAY:
A theatre "date" with the boy from work. I shall call him Tall Boy, as I am planning to delete his job title from my blog. He's been reading Abby Lee's book and it's only a matter of time until he stumbles across her blog and possibly one or two of my comments... So, better not to risk offending him!

The date was really lovely, I had so not expected to meet anybody nice through work (after all I am an internet dating minx and tend to pick up guys at jacuzzi parties... ), but as soon as I saw him for the first time there was a spark in the air and butterflies in my stomach.

All day we flirted back and forth via email, and we met in the theatre bar that night.
Nothing much to report really, only it DID feel like a date, not just work mates on a night out.
Lovely peck on the cheek as he arrived and when we said goodbye, plus we had a really good laugh.

The play was good, if a bit dark. "Typical", I remarked at the end, "a guy opens up emotionally, then he feels stupid and undignified and leaves the woman, never to be heard from again".
I felt that this is exactly what had happened with Cashmere (unless he, too, felt I blabbered on without listening to him, but I doubt it), and various other guys, come to think of it.
"The woman, meanwhile, would be happy to love the man, warts and emotional scars and all, but as soon as he has shown a vulnerable side he either turns nasty or disappears in a puff of smoke".
"Sometimes, it is nice to be vulnerable", Tall Boy interrupted me.
I looked at him and he gave me a smile. Nice! Time will tell I guess...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnV9m2ypn2I
LOL!

Just showing off...

I have to say, I never fancied girls- you know, some people have a "crush on a teacher" or whatever when they are growing up, but I never did.
Actually, come to think of it, I did have a rather pretty and very friendly primary school teacher, but you know what I mean.
Then, the night at the lap dancing place happened.
A few years prior, when I had shared a bed with my friend and she asked me to kiss her, the whole experience was just odd and not particularly sexy- but having a gorgeous, naked girl with perfect breasts gyrating on my lap changed my perspective slightly.
Her nipple touched my lip, she smelled nice, liked me, kissed me, and I was hooked.
My pussy slicked up and I tried catching that sexy nipple with my mouth again, all the while watched by the guy who was 'sharing the dance' with me.
Then, that girl in the jacuzzi last weekend. How did I go from kissing her to pushing my hand into her cunt?
Last night I had a surprising, erotic dream in which a tall, gorgeous blonde woman with short hair (not spiky, more like a short bob as worn by that new woman on "What not to wear"- hang on, I think it WAS her!!!), a lithe body and large breasts came close to my face, exposed her breasts, kissed me passionately, and mounted me, her bare breasts in my face. I could tell she had implants (how, in a dream, I have no idea. Funnily enough I also speak rather more fluent French than I do in reality and do other amazing things, all while asleep...).
I think at that point I woke up and had an early morning wank.
What a start to the day!

... for this girl to find herself in a rooftop jacuzzi, being fondled by two men whilst fingering another girl?
To be honest, I can't remember...
Which doesn't stop me from feeling a curious mix of mortal embarrassment and wicked excitement from the memory of my finger up that woman's pussy.

By the way, we are talking a full-blown party here, with people dancing, drinking and mingling innocently around us, whilst I had two people's hands in my crotch and my fist around a guy's penis.

Honestly, I don't know what possessed me. The evening had started inconspicuously enough at a pub, but as soon as I mixed myself that vodka-and-orange tumbler back at my host's house and joined the tame-looking people in the hot tub, clad in my corset and knickers (no bra, you see), things started getting out of hand.

A guy pulled me towards him and started kissing me without as much as introducing himself. He seemed really turned on, whilst I was trying to maintain my composure and a conversation with two gay guys.
The man had a shaved head (which I LOATHE), and at first I didn't kiss him back- but I also didn't stop him kissing my neck and stroking me under the water. Thank God for bubbles!

Next, I spotted one object of my attraction that night (the other one was married...) across the roof terrace, and despite calling him by the wrong name all night (I only hope/guess that he thought when I called him "Hugh", he interpreted that as a breathy "...you!") he came close enough so I could grab his arm.
Holding a drink in his right hand, his left arm got submerged in the hot tub up to his shoulder, soaking his expensive shirt- which he soon took off, together with his trousers, to join us in the jaccuzzi.
I remember another girl in there briefly, but I think she climbed out as soon as someone touched her in the water, who knows...
Next thing, I was kissing "Hugh", and getting rather horny myself. With the music, the alcohol, the warm water, half-naked bodies and random stroking hands, the laughter and wet, droopy cigarettes, standing up and dancing, then being pulled back into the pool, the atmosphere was surreal and dream-like.
Suddenly, Hugh's hand entered my knickers and his finger pushed inside me. He started an urgent, pulsing rhythm that turned me on more than if he'd just concentrated on my clit, then he began pushing a finger into my anus too, which was rather more uncomfortable.
I touched him too and we kissed, oblivious to the people around us.
Shaved head guy was still in the proximity, watching, touching me (I felt between my legs and there were TWO hands from different angles playing around there!) and probably playing with himself in the water.
Hugh's penis wasn't fully hard, but he seemed to get a lot of pleasure from making me absolutely squirm with lust on his lap.
I was so turned on I couldn't speak. "No, don't, please, no, please, don't" I kept repeating, but meaning the opposite and close to coming.
"Why not?" he asked, a naughty glint in his eye.
I got the distinct impression he was trying to maneuver me so he could enter me in the water, asking me if I was ready and directing his dick towards my arse.
I couldn't think straight. The alcohol, the lust and the warm water had turned my brain to mush.
Suddenly, an Asian guy I had got on with really well in the bar, and a petite brunette girl joined the mass of bodies in the water, so we went back to polite, flirty conversation.
Unexpectedly, the girl started kissing me. Her kisses grew more urgent as she pushed her body against me, but she tasted like an ashtray.
I got turned on despite the awful taste, her lips were soft and probing and her crotch dround into me.
I can't quite remember if she took my hand and placend it there, or if I grew bold and touched her, but suddenly my hand was inside her knickers, carressing her muff.
She had a nice, slim body but felt strangely flabby- I have no idea how old she was, but she certainly wasn't as firm as I am (but then again, I am probably about 4 dress sizws bigger than her), which put me off slightly.
Women's bodies are just so different to men's! Where I am used to finding a hard, pulsing cock, there was soft wetness, hair, flab, a hole... I poked one finger into her pussy and she moaned into my ear whilst her body ground against me, her hand clasping mine against her, urgently.
Goodness, it must have looked so obvious what we were doing!

"Hugh" kept suggesting he walk me home (which was just slightly impossible from West London), so I accepted a lift from the poor Asian guy who I doubt got any action at all.

I regretted that night with the hangover from hell for the entire next day...

Images kept flashing back into my head, of me and that girl. Who was she? Was she a lesbian? She certainly insisted that I would be the only person she kissed, and I only wish she were a non-smoker.
I touched her half out of curiosity, half because she expected me to, and I didn't know how to politely refuse.

Would I have had full, unprotected sex with a stranger in a hot tub, surrounded by other people who were having a rather more civilized time?
A scary thought.