Ok, time for a new list.

Apparently, they can smell something about me or they wouldn't all be so keen. Suddenly, I am literally inundated with attention- which makes not worrying whether Jumper Boy will call me or not (actually: NOT, since he doesn't have my number- only email address...) somewhat easier.

Boy 1: The little DJ. Following our date last week (the day after I met up with Hockey boy (the hot lips guy)) he seems to have developed an overwhelming passion for me and my Amazonian body. He plied me with champagne (after I prompted him, but still... after all this was the guy who had asked me which brand and year were my favourites and had suggested a '79 Dom Perignon after a chat with his sommelier- yes, really!!! Instead, we had some random bubbly from the little Italian place he took me to) and boasted about his rich dad, but I think he suffers from the same delusions the Bastard did- hey, look at me, I am flash with the cash but should actually be sticking to an Aldi budget...
In any case, he is being extremely attentive and caring, calling all the time and being a true sweetheart. It can't hurt to have another friend I guess...

Boy 2: Rugby Boy. Yes, he's back after a year. I don't know why, but he suddenly text me and decided he wanted to take me to a musical in the new year. Has he forgotten how tall I am and that I don't like his drinking? Is he feeling lonely in his 4 bedroom house with the Karaoke room and Snooker table in the conservatory? Does he need a companion to take out in his little motor again? In any case, I love the theatre...!

Boy 3: Train Boy. I haven't written anything about him as our meeting was so brief, to make a long story short I noticed this handsome god on the train and it turns out he shares my native language and is a professor at a prestigious university. He has invited me to visit and I suddenly received an email from him after weeks of silence. I thought he had an SOH-lobotomy and was ignoring me for my biting wit (or cynical ribbing), but it turns out he was "just busy" or in his words: "fucked". Nice.

Boy 4: Magazine Boy. He was featured in a women's magazine, and I met one of his mates (also featured in the article) by coincidence at my night job, the day after I wrote to the mag asking to meet him. The mate agreed to pass on my email and apparently Mag Boy is now intrigued and wants to meet up. Cool!

Boy 5: Tonight's date. We have been chatting for hours every day. I love his writing. I am curious and excited about meeting him- bring it on!

Boy 6: The Masseur. I haven't met him yet and he seems crazy. Like: "sneak off for a late lunch at 4pm". Sorry, I got other issues right now...

Boy 7: Hockey Boy. Today at one point, I got simultaneous MSN windows from him, the masseur and tonight's date- on top of trying to work this was just manic. He has the oddest opinions on current affairs (ie. none- despite working in the shipping (oil) industry, he had never heard of Ken Saro-Wiwa. Not a good sign!) I have to say this for him though, he can kiss...!

Boy 8: Tall Boy. He turned me down for lunch today, then followed me out anyway. I'm getting mixed signals and not sure what they mean. Go confuse someone else!

Boy 9: Jumper Boy. A repeat performance would be nice but I better not hold my breath. Although he doesn't like girls to be "like turtles in bed" (ie. on their backs with their limbs spread out meekly) I am not sure if he prefers them like predatory minxes with access to secret sex rooms either...

I thought this might get your attention- rather than the usual cryptic headings I tend to write.

I met him at my evening job, and as soon as he walked in I was endeared by his posh accent and huge wooly jumper.

I pointed him to the mulled wine and we ended up having a really nice chat, mainly consisting of me teasing him about his jumper. Apparently, they are all the rage at trendy ski resorts this year- however misplaced they might look in a smart place in the City!

I kept seeing him around and followed him with my eyes, but he didn't appear to have a very good time.
One time I stopped him as he walked past a colleague and me, and asked him to compare our blinging rings to see if he could spot the real diamonds. He could, and they weren't mine!

In any case, he was leaving just as I finished my shift and I caught him on the stairs- to say goodbye or to change his mind about calling it a night.

He was easily swayed, and we left together, wondering where to go and what to do that would be fun.
I got the cab driver to take us to Tower 42, but alas they are closed on the weekends- otherwise they would be dead anyway, I am sure.

In the end, we/ I chose the next best option, as I had no intention to being whisked to Fulham or equally far-away places next to the surface of the moon.

We ended up in the club with the little "naughty room", setting of my naughty night with Samantha and the 2 male models...
[for those of you who joined my ranks after that memorable night: we were enticed into a small, secret room with a red couch/bed, pole and naughty pictures on the wall- not bigger than a large closet. There, the 2 guys (one black, one white) proceeded into undressing and teasing us, until Samantha was having sex with both of them (even cheese dick boy) in all her openings whilst I got locked out of the room for being a bit too prudish]

In any case, Jumper boy and I suckled our massive champagne cocktails and had a very civilised conversation. He was amazed and surprised about where I had taken him, and spotted the saucy art on the walls. The images depict transvestites in fetish outfits giving each other oral sex, women in huge skirts getting spanked, and so on.

Surprising really what you can find in ordinary London clubs if you only care to look!

Suddenly he kissed me, and I was glad. Imagine if I had picked up a guy, taken him to a "sex room" and all he was interested in was my eloquent conversation!

He was a nice kisser, though not quite as great as Hockey Boy from the other night (Hot Lips). As we lay back on the red velvet couch, kissing more and more passionately I got the giggles and asked him if he even remembered my name.
He stopped and switched on his brain. "Um...", he went. "Told you!" I laughed. "So what's mine?" he asked me. "Jumper Boy (his real name)" I replied, gleefully. Of course I was right.
"Does it begin with an S?" he probed. "Yes..." I confirmed. "Oh: Sienna!" he replied, and because he had got it right he got more kisses.

Making out in the secret room felt naughty and exciting. The music was pumping and we could hear people's shouted conversations, laughter and clinking glasses, yet we had absolute privacy. On the one hand, someone could have walked in at any minute, on the other hand no-one did.
The door didn't lock, but the other clubbers probably thought it was the entrance to a broom cupboard or to a staff only area.

Things got more heated and passionate. His hand slid under the waistband of my jeans to carress my bum, and I could feel my pussy flooding with the excitement.
I put my arms around his body and slightly scratched his skin, I pulled his hair and sucked his lips, whilst he pinned me to the red velvet.

He is not a skinny guy, rather tall with a spreading tummy, but his passion turned me on and he has a handsome face.

I really wanted his hand on me, and after a while he pushed his fingers into my knickers and discovered how wet I was. His cock was pressing in to me and he started trying to take my trousers off. I panicked a bit. Was he trying to fuck me in the club? Did he have a condom?

He undid his trousers and I bent my head over his cock. Thankfully it smelled ok and I proceeded to suck him, intrigued by his large head and length.

He pushed me backwards again and yanked my trousers down until they were around my ankles. You gotta remember that the door was right behind him, so I was effectively displaying myself to anyone who would have walked in at that moment.

He tried to enter me again, but I pushed his head down and asked him to lick me. He didn't have much patience but it felt nice and made me want him more.

"You got a condom?" I asked and he fumbled around in his designer wallet until he came up with a small packet which he handed to me.

I opened it but I could tell he was losing heart (and hard-on) by the second, so I fumbled it on as quickly as I could. he turned me around to face the mirror on the back wall, then entered me from behind.
He really seemed to like that position and his cock felt amazing inside me. I had waited for this since September, so I was extremely turned on and excited!

He bucked into me and I felt his balls slap my thighs, but it was over quicker than I would have liked- much quicker!

He pulled his trousers back up, mumbling about his white arse being on display to anyone who might have walked in, but I could have happily stayed there for half an hour having him fuck me from behind without a care in the world. Funny how you forget about potential embarrassment when you are having fun!

Later on, I reasoned with him: "Why would anyone walk into a room like that? If the club has a sex room, I am sure they know better than to just barge in- but there might have been a discreet camera somewhere. Or maybe it was a 2-way mirror?"

We stuck the used condom into the empty cocktail glass. I only hope that no-one came in after us who was thirsty!

I stuck the empty condom packet behind one of the paintings, and we walked out of the room and back into the club.

"I can't believe I had sex in a club, I never thought I would do that" he kept saying in an excited voice.

I sat down at a corner table (the one with the curtain where I had blown that black male model the year before when the Bastard was away in France with his Bitch) and Jumper boy went to get more cocktails.

I chose this opportunity to fleece the silky lining of his Aquascutum overcoat. After all I had just had sex with a man I knew nothing about, so I was entitled to be a bit nosy!

I discovered some sort of medical kit, a Razr phone and two Mars bars.
Until I found the Mars bars I thought he might have some sort of allergy (one of the tools looked like Cashmere's epi pen), but then I knew he was a diabetic. What a diabetic was doing eating mince pies and drinking sugary cocktails and mulled wine, I did not know but I just hoped he wouldn't go into some sort of diabetic coma.

After all, Nice Boy's epilepsy (the one who spent months dating me and buying me drinks and dinner after I split up with the Bastard, without getting anything in return- poor sod!) had turned me off dating him.
[When we met he had been covered in bruises he said were from playing football (what, with his head?) but I later discovered that he has nightly fits and smashes his head into the bed posts etc...]

In any case, his choice of cocktails were dire and we decided to leave. I was still desperate to come, so we ended up getting a taxi back to his place in Kensington.

He warned me before we walked in- it was an absolute tip! Apparently he is doing it up and in the absence of a bathroom he does everything in the kitchen sink- shaving, washing up, brushing his teeth, filling the kettle, washing...
He also has two of the most adorable cats I have ever seen. I started to feel a bit sentimental about the Bastard's cat...

I sat down on the sofa which was strewn with dirty pants etc, and he played with the cats and made us bacon sandwiches. At this point he explained about his diabetis and I agreed that I was hungry too. It was 3am and I hadn't had dinner apart from mince pies and a couple of Nachos.

We went to bed a little while later- he was great to talk to and we had fun getting to know one another, but that wasn't what I was there for...

He has a lot of antique furniture which he bought at auction or inherited, but it was all covered by absolute junk and standing on the most un-hoovered carpets I have ever seen. The cats were jumping around on everything and it was a relief when he turned off the lights and lit some candles.

We had sex in all my favourite positions: missionary, me on top, and doggy-style. I came with a vengeance, making as much noise as I could because I was too drunk to care about his neighbours.

There was a bit of an issue with the condom again. Apparently he really doesn't like them, which makes me wonder.
1) I gotta be really careful because I stopped taking the pill
2) If he doesn't use condoms with other girls he has slept with, I don't want to know what he might have picked up!
3) No idea what he would think of me if I let him fuck me without a rubber- blurgh!

I have to admit though, there is always a moment where you think: fuck it, I can't be bothered, it's his problem as much as mine and I will just have a check-up next month... but that would be stupid, right!? So I insisted he put that thing onto his thing which became slightly limper at the sight.

You can just tell if a guy is used to getting it without wrapping it, and it does make me wonder...

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby. Until 6am when the cats started having a fight on my back.

I got up to take my contacts out, and snuggled back into Jumper boy's arms.
Sweet!

The next morning, he was the perfect gent. I sat on the sofa wearing one of his shirts (and nothing else) whilst he made us some Earl Grey and threw things for the cats to chase to entertain me.
He lay down on the sofa next to me, put his leg over my legs and I stroked his ankle whilst we laughed and chatted.

Around 12pm we left the messy flat to get something to eat and he treated me to a very nice breakfast.

Annoyingly, I had another mulled wine party to go to that afternoon, so we said goodbye at the tube station.

It felt like more than just a one-night stand. I enjoyed joking around with him and he also told me some serious stuff about his family, we walked arm in arm and he kissed me...

Then again, I may just be kidding myself again.

...or at least not as hideous as I thought I did.
Cute Tall Boy is in the office and all I have done all morning is bawl my eyes out over this terrible housing/money crisis I am having.
Funny how December brings out the Scrooge in so many people...!

In any case, I think it is more attractive than puking, which I did all day last time Tall Boy was in my office (thanks to a Tesco's curry, thanks you bastards!).

He never even offered to help me get home last time, that may be
a) because he has no idea of how gentlemen behave or
b) because I reeked of vomit.

?

I met up with a new guy I had only seen a very unflattering picture of last night, and was pleasantly surprised.

He was nice although conversation didn't always flow completely effortlessly, due to not much shared background/interests/experiences, but as the night wore on we got on better and better (or drunker and drunker?).

Also the conversation steered towards strip clubs- his experience of Stringfellow's, mine of the Rhino, and we found we had a rather similar outlook on them. I also found myself getting excited talking about it. The memories of that hot girl's nipple in my mouth kept flooding back, and my nether regions had a similar sensation.

We left the bar after a few cocktails and some food, and he steered me into another one on our way to the station/taxi.

He ordered us the loveliest rose' I have had all month and I noticed how he inched closer and kept touching me almost by accident.

He put his hand on my back, his fingers touched mine, and his head came closer as we talked and laughed, and then he kissed me all of a sudden.

What a kiss!
I have to say, I wasn't all that attracted to his face although he seemed to have a nice body and handsome features, but the kissing was amazing.

We both commented on it. He sucked and bit my lips and tongue just right, kissed me like I have to be kissed. He called it "effortless". I dread to think how bad some girls must be at kissing if he finds it so fantastic how I kiss...

I could hardly stop and felt enormously turned on. We must have looked so cheesy in that bar, him kissing me tenderly in all sorts of places (hand, neck...), followed by mad snogging!

We shared a taxi to mine, where I got off to go home and he caught a bus back into town (he lives on the other side of the river).

When we kissed goodbye, he pushed me backwards against a wall and pressed himself close to me, so close I could feel a definite hardness between his legs as I pushed myself into him.

I got into my flat and just had to feel how wet my pussy was. I even surprised myself! Then I found it must have been my fertile day, as the slickness could be pulled far apart between my fingers.

Very surprising, as I've only "forgotten" to take my pill for a few days. It must have been all the thoughts and online chats with Music boy in LA.

I am glad I didn't get carried away and slept with the new boy though, if an accident had happened there would have been no excuses apart from pure lust and stupidity.

He text me, clearly still quite excited and I told him that my dirty mind was working overtime...

Then- it was past midnight- a text from the DJ. Could he call me, as he was so drunk. I replied: "You are obviously not that drunk, or you wouldn't have asked".
He rang me and we chatted about our crazy fathers and other random stuff for about 3o minutes.

It will be fun meeting him tonight!

Ok, time for something more fun- my funniest and best suggestions on where and how to have sex (tried and tested by yours truly):

1) If you or your man have a narrow kitchen, try suspending yourself between the work tops, then wrap your legs around him. Preferably you will both be naked or you will wear a short skirt sans underwear, he a pair of easily unzipped trousers. Beware of pervy neighbours!

2) If you have access to a catamaran, lie on the netting in the front, suspended above the waves. Works best if you put a blanket underneath, or your bum will look like a net roast. You are also less likely to drop condom wrappers or small items of jewellry into the harbour.
Beware of fellow yachtsmen with binoculars!

3) Get your lover to fuck you right at the edge of the bed: your lower half is on the mattress, attached to him, and you put your hand onto the floor for support of your upper body. He has all the control, you might get numb arms, but oh what a thrill!

4) Get a separee at a club, with a curtain that pulls around it.
Seat him on the red velvet corner sofa, sit on his lap. Kiss him and have him fondle your bum. Go down on him. Rinse mouth with champagne, get him to reciprocate. Beware of pervy security guards checking the cctv!

5) Ask your cute colleague for some computer help. Inch yourself closer to his stubbly face at your screen. Feel the electricity surge between you. Angle your head, kiss him and suck his lips. Feel his excitement. Cup his erection. Let him ravish you on your boss's desk.
Ok, this last one hasn't been tested yet...

Infuriatingly, canoe boy pulled out of our date last night- if you can call not ringing someone to arrange the details "pulling out".

I assume he lost his paddle and is now firmly lodged up shit creek, or down in some sewer for all I care.

I mean, how rude!

He was by far the most enthusiastic (or perhaps that should be "insincere"), since he peppered his bubbly sentences with multiple exclamation marks, x's and other unnecessary superficial ornaments.

We had a chat on the phone, he sent an email complimenting me on my voice and the arrangement had been to finalise details later, then- a big nasty nothing although I'd put both of us down for Chinawhite's Christmas do.

As far as I care he can choke on a mince pie. Talk about time wasters!

Instead, I shall meet up with Speedboat boy (he sent a slightly gormless-looking pic of himself on a mate's speedboat) tonight and drink obscenely large expensive cocktails as my revenge for Tall Boy's and canoe boy's respective disinterest.

Cheers!

> A Game of "Hard to get". With full instruction leaflet.

> Stockings (Agent Provocateur)

> The film the Colonel shot of me in Cannes (fat chance)

> A set of blinkers (Man-proof)

> A box of tissues (Mansized)

> Something in a Tiffanys box (not by Sharon Osbourne)

> A version of 'the Sims' where they get naked to have sex, not just stand opposite each other going: "Woo Hoo".

> A discreet murder weapon to use on people listening to loud music and smoking on the bus.

> A job with half the hours and twice the pay.

> A shag.

Answers on a (Christmas) postcard please.

Funnily enough, I actually have a date tonight (I think).

Fed up with timewasters, I placed a personal ad, asking for exactly what type of man I was looking for, and the responses ranged from the absurd and unsuitable (I just want to meet woman, any woman, or at least person looking like woman, soon, write me, I is genuine, dont delay ladies come an gettit...) to some rather intriguing and more relevant replies.

So now I am communicating with
a DJ
a yacht broker
a financial analyst
a book editor and
a Chech actor/model who all seem interesting enough to waste my time and emotional resources on.

The DJ, the yacht broker and the analyst all have preliminary dates with me over the next few days, so I will see who impresses me the most in the flesh!

I realised last night that this would be my second single Christmas after breaking up with the Bastard.
This thought hit me and a huge sob started shaking me violently and very surprisingly.

I made a pledge to myself that I would never take anyone home to my family again unless they presented me with an obscenely expensive gem first, making their intentions clear and saving me further embarrassment in front of my folks, but alas there isn't even anyone to warm my bed at night.

This is the same bed that saw me and BBP writhing around in our own sweat, contorting into all sorts of positions and reaching orgasm after orgasm, his dreads in my face, the only words being spoken concerned the tightness of my pussy and the rightness of various caresses.

I also miss rolling over and hugging the Nice Ex.

I miss the warm, musty feeling of the huge duvet in the Bastard's bed, his head on my chest whilst he slept and I read my book, the cat resting on my feet.

I miss the annoying birds, the early morning light which crept across Cashmere's huge white bed, and I miss looking across at his tangle of blonde curls and catching his star-blue eyes' first glimpse of the day and of me.

I miss being able to just ring someone up, because they care how I am.

I miss sharing the excitement of good news and the frustration of disappointments with someone (geteiltes Leid ist halbes Leid, geteilte Freude ist doppelte Freude).

I am crying as I type this.
Pathetic.

... I will have to blog more. She has 300 posts to my 277, so I got a long way to go.
Here is the first of many more!

I have the suspicion that the only reason I am attracted to certain people is that they are the "best" of a selection of guys present, and nothing else.
So, no fate or destiny, just pure fluke and natural selection and pickyness.

Evidence:
MR RED- the most "suitable" candidate I communicated with through the online dating, I liked him when we met (despite his dodgy photograph) and I just stuck with it until he appeared to be a bit strange.

JACUZZI BOY- the only guy willing to give me a ride home, drunk and wet from the hot tub as I was. 'Nuff said.

THE CYCLIST/NIGHT JOB BOY (The one who kept licking his fingers and wiping his eyes)- the best of a mediocre lot. Ker-ching.

ROMEO- The only cute one in a roomful of desperate singles over 35. Must be fate.

TALL BOY- the only guy under 50 to frequent my office. Bingo.

1) Eat. This will make your endorphins rise, causing a temporary respite from feeling down, and it will also make you fat, causing you to become obsessed with your weight, not silly men.

2) Read sexy books. Then wank. At least you know how to get yourself off!

3) Put a random ad on the internet, then proceed to flirt via MSN whilst your object of desire is sitting opposite you, minding his own business. Feel fabulous and assured that he doesn't know what he's missing.

4) DON'T invite him out to lunch for the second time in a row. Although you had a lovely time yesterday, things seem to have gone weird and his refusal may offend. If he wants to have lunch with you, let him do the asking.

5) Casually mention that the Indian Prince has renewed his offer of inviting you to far-off shores. That should teach him!

6) Go home early and watch DVDs. You deserve an early night and may look more attractive tomorrow as a result, maybe causing him to change his mind.

I think.
No real news to report.

I have my heart, mind and body set on Tall Boy but no idea if I stand a chance.

Went to Jacuzzi Boy's place for "dinner and TLC", the dinner was nice (but late) and the TLC was predictable, ok and confusing.

I got the wine (cheap but drinkable), he picked me up (late but he'd warned me about the delay), we chatted (animatedly, he's interesting and intelligent), he cooked (I tried not to distract him too much by chatting because I was starving to no avail), we had the food and far too much wine, then he walked round the table and kissed me.

He implied (asked, begged) for me to stay but I refused, instead bracing the London weather and police force (after all he was intoxicated) getting him to drive me home.

Yawn.

Here's the thing: why should I invest my time, emotions and body in a relationship I am not sure will go anywhere?

Especially when I am still reeling from my experiences with the Aristocrat (talk of marriage, trips and children, then he disappeared like the bubbles from a glass of champagne) and Cashmere (endless nights at his house, being dazzled by his cooking skills and intellect, meet the parents, then off around the globe without as much as two emails in 6 months)...

yeah I know all this is ages ago but I have a long memory (too long perhaps).

Even Blondie (my 21-year old redneck holiday fling) finding someone else and posting her picture on his msn profile bothers me a bit...

Music Boy making endless unkept promises about a repeat performance at a 5* hotel, then leaving me with an empty bed and wet knickers makes me want to scream with frustration.

But I know I can't just get involved with anyone physically without emotions playing a part too, as my passionate but short affair with Black Brad Pitt (BBP) proved (dynamite between the sheets, tumbleweed between the ears), leading to more unnecessary upset.

Especially with someone from a different culture and religion- Jacuzzi Boy would NOT be a prime candidate for a fuck-buddy affair and he can't even tell his parents if he has a girlfriend at the age of 39!

The book I am reading at present has conjured up thoughts of Posh Boy (him of the Gucci shoe stretchers, Ralph Lauren towels and genital warts), and I find myself missing his arrogance, smell and toffy accent as well as his emotional clumsyness and misplaced generosity of buying me odd gifts and letting me take £50 notes off him before he burnt them over a candle.

Why do I keep meeting and getting involved with weirdos like that when most people manage to find decent boyfriends without even looking?