Poetry and Pornography

Give me something to remember you by, Mr TV Director

2011-09-21T22:04:00.002+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

My intuition does not fail me often.

Hearing from Mr TV Director warms my heart temporarily - precisely until I am reminded how aloof, selfish and lazy he can be.

Here is how the text conversation goes:

Beautiful but Grumpy: Hey, you were in my dream few days ago so just checking if you’re alright.

Mr TV Director: Oh? Did something awful happen?? I am fine. And in Nigeria for a couple of weeks.

BbG: Nothing really. Just that in my dream I saw you coming back home after a voice cords operation. Let me know when you’re back and if you fancy a drink.

............. Two weeks later............

Mr TV Director: Hi. I’m back. Away again tomorrow for a week, but just to Bristol. Free this evening though.

BbG: I’ve got meetings till 9.30 tonight.

Mr TV Director: Is after that too late? Otherwise one evening next week maybe.

BbG: Well, 9.30 is not too late for a drink but too late for anything else.

Mr TV Director: Well it would be a shame to have anything else ruled out, even if one can’t presume...

BbG: I agree J next week then?

Mr TV Director: Ok!

BbG: Please remind me next week in case I forget...

Mr TV Director: In case you forget!? :O

BbG: Yeah! J

Mr TV Director: OK!

............A week later.............

Mr TV Director: Hello.

BbG: Hello J

Mr TV Director: It’s this week!

BbG: Oh, yes. Of course. Totally forgotten! So when are you free?

Mr TV Director: Any evening. I think. You forget too bloody easily!

BbG: Hopefully this time you will give me something to remember. I can do Friday. Actually i need both something to remember and something to write about. Can you do that?

Mr TV Director: To write about?? Not sure about Thur or Friday but an evening after work?

BbG: I can only do Friday this week. During the week doesn’t work for me at the moment. Well, see how your plans develop and let me know. Have a nice week! X

Mr TV Director: Ohh. I can’t do fri. L

I sense I might have scared him off with the ‘something to remember' line. On the plus side... I’m relieved that I don’t feel the need to see him. My obsession with Mr TV Director is officially over.

We can be friends now. Or lovers. Or both.

Past Perfect

2011-09-11T19:42:00.009+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

I sense a come-back theme in the air. People from the past are making their way back into my life.

Vera for example, a holiday 4-some playmate, with whom I lost touch a year ago, turns up unexpectedly at my firm’s event.
I see her standing at the conference room’s door, minutes before I am to deliver a presentation. Our eyes meet. I take a deep breath and walk slowly towards her. I take her by the arm and discreetly lead her aside.

‘What are you doing here?’ I whisper.

‘I was going to ask you the same question’ she answers looking confused but happy to see me.

Vera explains quietly that she’s got through the graduate recruiting programme, having finished a demanding Masters at Imperial. She’s only just noticed my name on the event’s invitation.

I realise I’m still holding her by the arm. I let go.

She looks slender. Her golden hair is even longer now, making her look attractive in a grown-up sort of way. There is a wave of new confidence in her mannerism. It suits her.

‘Catch up afterwards?’ she asks meekly and touches my hand.

I glance at her face to guess if she’s just being friendly. I will need to tell her about Adam-the-Boss, and most importantly, that I’ve stopped experimenting with women.
‘Sure Vera. But now wish me luck’ I smile and make my way to the podium.

Last night's dream

2011-09-04T04:23:00.004+01:00

Nothing matters anymore. Everything has lost meaning.

I'm back from a party. The oven clock shows 4am. I sip red wine in the kitchen and think about my life again. Somehow, it means even less than it meant in the morning.

In the morning I felt nothing anyway.

I remember last night’s dreams:

I see myself flying a small airplane with my ex-boyfriend. In circles. Repeating the journey over and over again.

My mother tells me off, a front of everyone, until I finally rebel and ask her to shut up.

Adam-the-Boss reveals I need to wait ten months…

I want to pull your knickers to one side

2011-08-29T21:17:00.006+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

Beautiful but Grumpy: Dear Boss. Miss Secretary is going away for a week. She will still have a pen ready if notes are to be taken.

The Boss: You’re always going away. I dread to think what will be added to that sex blog of yours ;)

BbG: Actually, I need someone to post when I’m away.

The Boss: OK but I refuse to load up any jpegs. Where are you going?

BbG: I’m off to Gdansk to spend some time at seaside. You won’t understand since you spend all your time that way.

The Boss: Well have a lovely time. In.. in.. where? Gdansk? I do wish you’d stop making things up.

BbG: ha, ha. Not making things up J

The Boss: I want to pull your knickers to one side and taste you. Then I want to kiss your mouth.

BbG: I want that too. And while you are kissing me I want to push my hips until I feel you hard and pulsating.

The Boss: Oooh.. now you’re talking.

BbG: Adam…

The Boss: I want to finger fuck you until you cum over my hand.

BbG: I would come instantly

The Boss: I just want to slowly push two fingers inside you, making you shudder as I play with you.

BbG: you’ve just made me cum. It was hard to keep quiet.

The Boss: Mmm… I like that. Now you just need your neck caressing and kissed and you’d have a nice night’s sleep J

…..

The next morning…

BbG: Fell asleep showered with affection. Thank you. Have a lovely Friday J

The Boss: I’ve just woken up and I’m imagining you playing with yourself. Now I’m the one turn on.

BbG: Imagine that I’m really close, that you can feel my warmth.

The Boss: Waaay ahead of you ;)

BbG: Congratulations ;)

A single man

2011-08-23T22:55:00.006+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

Single, mature men are lost in the delicate web of modern relationships.

I met Reece over a year ago at a mask ball. For a stock market trader he proved to be an imaginative and sensitive lover. We were in touch. Nothing else.

And again, Reece’s text arrives when I am in France.

Reece: Hi M, Reece here. Are you around later? No idea how things will pan out as have to meet some friends at some posh gathering but I may be able to sneak off later.

The weather in Chamonix is sunny and warm. I notice Alpine flowers in the grass and think about what I really want from life, from men and from myself. And finally I feel ready to tell him what I think about his casual way of asking me ‘out’.

Beautiful but Grumpy: No, I’m not around. Have you maybe mistaken me for a whore?

Reece: Haha, that’s a good response! I was thinking more along the lines of something to eat, but, erm, there you go

……

The next morning…

Reece: And how is the hooker feeling this morning? Used and abused?

BbG: Definitely used – in Chamonix, climbed Mt Blanc (with a fractured leg), flying back tonight. And how was the posh gathering?

Reece: Posh gathering was predictably poor…fractured leg up mt blanc sounds painful

BbG: But it’s an achievement! Well, next time take a whore to entertain you.

Reece: Maybe I should! I’ll check your rates next time and see if I can afford it

I pick up my crutches from the bench and furiously start walking until I feel exhausted.
I collapse on the hotel bed.
The leg is aching.
But not as much as my heart.

Haribo and masturbation

2011-08-17T13:09:00.009+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

London was a chaos last week. Anarchy on the streets. Theft, fire, and violence.

It brings to mind the old question: “ How would you spend your last minutes knowing the world is ending?” People often answer ‘having sex’. Really, I ask? How easy would it be to find someone to have sex with, right there, on the spot.

For me, this idea evokes even stronger desire to get together with my comedian lover, Adam-the-Boss. So I try to sense if he’s still busy with work, or if we could soon merge in wild love-making:

Beautiful but Grumpy: It’s so hard to work from home. How do you do it??

The Boss: Haribo and masturbation x

BbG: Perfect title for a song. I’m on Nutella. Not so easy to masturbate with a broken leg tho. X

The Boss: Broken leg? God, how did you do that? My turn to business travel now – off to LA! X

BbG: How long for, you lucky thing? I’ve never been (take me with you!) Nothing serious – broken fibula (looking sexy on crutches). Hit by a rolling stone on the way to Mt Blanc but made it to the top! X

The Boss: ouch. Sounds painful. Rest up and heal. X

BbG: Thanks. Have fun in LA (don’t forget your sunblock) x

I stare at my broken leg resting comfortably on the bed frame.

Do I really look sexy on crutches? Why did I need to tell him about the leg? He is so busy, and the trip to LA must be for a film pitch. Last thing he needs is to be troubled by the outcomes of my risky sports adventures. I add another pillow to support my sore ankle.

God, what if he actually becomes famous? He probably would have even less time for me… It would be great to see him succeed though. He’s so talented and hard working. I lay in bed, with my miserable broken leg, imagining all the fun that fame could bring.

A (not so) Divine Comedy

2011-08-15T00:48:00.012+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

“But already my desire and my will
were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed,
by the Love which moves the sun and the other stars”

- The Divine Comedy, Dante Alighieri

OK, OK, I’m not in love. Yet.

So, I’ve spent two nights with my comedian, Adam-the-Boss (it felt great being in his arms). Each time, Adam brought up an "important subject", right at the start, as if he had a list of objectives to achieve from the meeting. First, that he has a very busy job (writing comedy for BBC, directing, producing and also performing) and seeing each other will be a challenge. He wanted me to understand that. Second, he suggested we should choose the best method of communication. We decided (I decided) that texts are best because phone calls make me sad (a phonecall gives an illusion of closeness - hearing someone’s voice and the rythm of their breath. But when you open your eyes it hits you that you are in fact miles apart). It made Adam laugh but he agreed with me on texts.

Beautiful but Grumpy: Hey, how’ve you been? I finally got my present – a book of Blake’s poems J

The Boss: hey miss. I am at a festival this wknd. Maybe drink next Friday?

On Thursday I text to confirm if it’s still on, as we both have been very busy:

BbG: what time is the ‘conference’ tomorrow? Drinks at mine or outside? X

The Boss: hey miss. Real sorry but I can’t make it tomorrow. Feeling a bit wiped out at the moment and I’ve got an early start Saturday. Sorry. Again. X

I throw the phone against a pillow. It bounces to the floor.

After few minutes, I can only manage to say:

BbG: wish you’ve told me earlier.

I fall asleep, swearing solemnly to bring this to the end tomorrow.

A reply wakes me up at 6am (early morning texts are reserved for very special exchanges between us).

The Boss: I’m really sorry Maria. I keep getting last minute work changes and I’m all over the place with things. I don’t mean to mess you around L

I sigh and go back to sleep for another hour. But I can’t. There is so much I wanted to tell him – that it was my birthday soon, that I was going away the next day to try to climb the highest mountain of the western Europe, and that I was scared like hell.

Finally, I text him from work, at midday.

BbG: Get a grip J I’ve started a new project this week and flying to Geneva tomorrow – maybe it’s for the best. Good luck with getting the work done!

Somehow, unintentionally (or not) I make it sound like I suggest a 'break up'. I feel lighter.

The Boss: OK cool, I don’t want to upset my secretary. Have fun in Geneva. I’ve just found out there’s a chance I may have to work in New York for a while. Wtf?? x

Great, so not only he can’t meet me, but he also might be working away for a while. What’s this leading to?

BbG: Really? Sounds cool. What’s the role?

The Boss: Would be a comedy thing that I’d write. Early days but we’ll see. Maybe I’ll get to fly around as much as you seem too! X

BbG: Believe me, business travel is no fun. Geneva will be. Wish me happy birthday J

The Boss: Is it your birthday today?

BbG: No, on Wednesday. I should be reaching Mt Blanc by then. Scary!

The Boss: Holly hell. You’re a proper action woman. Enormous luck for that and a very happy birthday for Wednesday. I’ll have to get a gift – and not a book of Blake’s poems J

BbG: I like gifts!!! Thanks. Whoever sleeps in my tent will need luck – no washing for 5 days… I hope you’ll be productive (and efficient) J x

On Wednesday morning “Happy Birthday!x” text arrives. He remembered. I smile, and press the phone against my cheek. It feels warm.

Condoms, presents and Beyonce at Glastonbury

2011-08-07T20:25:00.014+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

I'm temporarily renting a room in the historical part of London, and my new lover Adam (aka the Boss, a comedian) has met my Landlady. She is a retired actress. She still sings and plays banjo.

Adam-the-Boss texts me the day after staying overnight at mine:

The Boss: Hi Miss Secretary. Now you have pointed out that sunspot it stares me in the face when I look in a mirror. Shall I wear a mask? X

Beautiful but Grumpy: A diving bell… My Landlady has just sat me down for a talk on contraceptives. It’s all your fault!

The Boss: What??? What did she say? That’s funny. You’ve got a substitute mum/grandma.

BbG: More of a grandma. She suggested using some gels on top of condoms. You cannot imagine how hard it was to keep a straight face.

The Boss: oh.. my.. God. She must have heard us and presumed you were in pain! Either that or she owns shares in gel company and she wants you to invest :)

BbG: :) I suspect she’d heard us. What if she offers me her own gel?

The Boss: What if her husband offers me his condoms?

BbG: He clearly does not use any – 3 children with fellow band members…

The Boss: I’d get an extra lock on my door if I were you.

BbG: Well, funny you must say that – yesterday 3 of us sung together (Landlady played banjo). Today he bought me a present…

The Boss: What did he give you? Was it a discount off another one of his paintings? A cloth hat?

BbG: Well, he told me he’d bought a book for me but he hasn’t given it to me yet. I think he forgot. And I’m too shy to ask!

The Boss: Oh yes, the old ‘Oh, I forgot to give you your book’ knock on your bedroom door at midnight. Don’t answer in that sexy shirt/knicker combo!

BbG: You liked it? In that case I’ll only answer the door wearing leather jacket and lots of eye make up to put him off. How are you?

The Boss: I’m good, thanks. Watching Beyonce at Glastonbury.

BbG: I’m surprised you haven’t made it there to see her in person.

The Boss: I would only distract her. She’d forget her words.

BbG: :) I like her. She’s a good dancer.

The Boss: Yeah, she’s pretty awesome. She must do a hot waltz.

BbG: Just imagine that foxtrot that you could impress her with.

The Boss: Her hair would get in my face to much. I’d have to decline.

BbG: :) good

It will be interesting having Adam-the-Boss coming over again and my Landlady poking around. Last time he was at mine she said, before heading to bed “Well, I assume I will see you at breakfast then”. “If you don’t get kicked out” she added quietly, and ostentatiously turned towards the large staircase, that led to her opulently decorated bedroom.

Spread your legs, or Miss Secretary meets her Boss

2011-07-22T18:06:00.021+01:00

And it happened.

I throw myself on the bed. Adam squeezes my bum.

‘Aaah’ he whispers and stares at it for a while.

Then he quickly takes my silk panties off and begins to kiss me between legs.

‘Spread your legs’ I hear him say. I spread them wide open and lose myself in pleasure.

‘You’ve got a nice body’ I complement my new lover while touching his muscular legs.

‘I eat crisps’ he replies.

‘Don’t make me laugh - I can’t be aggressive’ I giggle and greedily kiss his neck.

I lay in Adam’s arms under a dim light. Silence. He gently caresses my back.

‘You’ve found an imperfection?’ I ask quietly.

‘No’ he whispers, now caressing my neck ‘it’s ALL perfect’ he adds with slightly trembling voice. I beam with pleasure and hold on to him tighter.

‘Why don’t we see each other more often?’ I drop surprising both of us.
‘What?’ he asks and lifts himself off the pillow. ‘I didn’t want a relationship. My career has finally picked up and I just didn’t want a responsibility. But then again, you are independent and have a busy job...’ I freeze. ‘And I DO want to keep seeing my secretary. I do...’ he adds enthusiastically and tries to hug me while I'm involuntary pulling away. Adam tries to hold me back.
‘Ah, it’s all ruined now...’ I hear him say from behind my shoulder.

I switch off the light.

We lay in silent darkness. Suddenly I hear Adam drawing a deep breath. He slowly turns me towards him, cuddles me, caresses my chin and then gently cups my face in his palms. I feel warmth of his body when he kisses me, for what seems like, a very long time.

The next day my new lover leaves in the afternoon, just in time to pick up his sister, who's coming from France. We kiss goodbye, standing at the wide open enterence door.
He looks back and smiles. I wave.

A text comes later:
Adam: I forgot to say I met your Malaysian housemate on the kitchen stairs this morning. I think he thought I was a burglar.

Notes

2011-07-16T17:56:00.008+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

I've had my date with a comedian called Adam (aka the Boss) and I am dying to tell you all about it. But in the meantime I will share a last-minute conversation we had a day before our date:

Beautiful but Grumpy: Hello Boss. Here are the details of your conference: Address. Dress code: smart casual. What food do you fancy? There is so much choice here (no 7 courses please - I want you in my bed asap). Your Secretary x

The Boss: Miss Secretary. Thank you for the information - very efficient as usual! I have a small request in that I have to dine with my agent at 6.30, so rather than a meal could we go for drinks? I can be with you for 8.30. x

BbG: 8.30 is fine (although I thought I was your agent) x

The Boss: Agent is work only. Secretary is my very helpful assistant who I allow to get personal with. Actually, Miss Secretary I have some notes for you. Do you have a pen?

BbG: Yes my Boss...

The Boss: OK good. Notes are as follows...

The Boss: I want to fuck your mouth, your pussy, and your ass. End of notes.

The beginning

2011-07-01T18:40:00.010+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

Sometimes we just can't imagine how honesty can change the reality.

The Boss: Oh miss! My sister is coming to Brighton at the weekend and I have to meet her early Saturday morning. Can we postpone our Friday conference for another time? Sorry!x

I lay on my bed and think of what to reply. I should tell him to go to hell but my heart sinks. It meant so much to finally see him again.

Beautiful but Grumpy: Oh, I was really looking forward to seeing you. You’ll need to make it up to me big time!
The Boss: I know, sorry – family an all that. I will definitely make it up to you. I will save up all my energy so I will be like a sex dynamo!
BbG: Oh and what should I do with this freshly waxed Brazilian? Keep in on ice?
The Boss: Oh man... (heart skips beat).. actually, ice cubes + my mouth + your Brazilian would be something to write about.

BbG: Didn’t know you were good at maths... Ok, I forgive you this time. Have a great weekend x

15 min later...

The Boss: Stop Press! My sister got her stupid times wrong (she’s coming to Brighton via France, you see). She won’t be here till Saturday eve so your boss can still make Friday after all. Is that Brazillian still smooth?
BbG: I can’t make it this Friday – I’ve jumped out of the window, you see.
The Boss: Ok, but you must still be alive in order to send this text. All I need is a pulse and I can do the rest.
BbG: What if I had no nose? Would you still go ahead?
The Boss: You’ve got a dimmer on your light switch haven’t you?
BbG: You animal! What if I was making very strange noise (as a result of this accident, of course)?The Boss: I’d probably be breathing heavier.
BbG: What if I only had a head and the rest would be a machine [an unattractive machine (and no nose)...]?
The Boss: A double whisky and coke and i’m good to go.
BbG: You bustard!
The Boss: I think it’s romantic.
BbG: Sorry, have I spelled ‘bustard’ right?
The Boss: yeah, that’s the way Queen says it.
BbG: So you think it’s romantic to shag a human vegetable?
The Boss: I’d bring a rose.
BbG: And a nose!
The Boss: Miss secretary is getting very sarcastic. I think she needs a good dressing down. Even if she is just wires.
BbG: Ok, I admit, it’s romantic...
The Boss: There, that’s better.
BbG: Don’t patronise me!
The Boss: I tell you what, miss secretary, I’ve a good mind to stick my hand up your skirt for that sort of remark.
BbG: Luckily I’m wearing a polka dot skirt right now...laying on my bed...
The Boss: Well then I’d stick my hand up that polka dot skirt, pull your knickers to one side and roughly finger you to teach you a lesson.
BbG: And then I would roughly hand-job you (because I know you don’t like it).
The Boss: Ouch!
BbG: That wouldn’t make me stop. Oh no.
The Boss: I’d be the one jumping out of the window.
BbG: And we would live happily ever after.
The Boss: The End.
BbG: Not a beginning?
The Boss: We’re only just beginning. Why do I have a desire to stand you up and tongue you from behind? explain that.
BbG: Was there a song like this?
The Boss: Oh yeah. I think it was Kylie and Jason?
BbG: And look what happened to them.
The Boss: They had some good times though. And Kylie used to like having a hand up her skirt so I heard.
BbG: I’ll take it as a good omen.

The return of The Boss

2011-06-29T17:33:00.005+01:00

Do may remember this really lovely comedian called Adam? We met few months ago at a costume party and had this little sexy Boss-Secretary game going on... I couldn't wait any longer for his move and as I was walking around London I came across something strangely funny. Not thinking twice I've sent him the pic with the following message:

Beautiful but Grumpy: Hey, guess what this might be...

The Boss: An antique sex toy?

BbG: It’s called Boutique Bug Hotel. I think the address can be found in the phonebook... Hope you are well and work is good?

The Boss: Yes, I’m good thanks. Drowning in things to do. How’s miss secretary?

BbG: Up to the neck with work. Miss secretary has moved to WC1 and is enjoying dancing Irish step. Has Boss tried it?

The Boss: My legs are too long for Irish step. I would take somebody’s eye out. WC1 though? Nice! Is that your own place?

BbG: But at least you would look good in the costume. My own? Not yet. How are your housemates?

The Boss: they are all crazy. I can’t wait to get my own place! How is your blog? Maybe I should give you something to write about J

BbG: You could try J bear in mind my readers have high expectations!

The Boss: You have a very demanding audience. Still, i’m always up for a challenge.

BbG: Yeap, blogging is a tough business. I’ll leave it to you to come up with an idea if you like a challenge.

The Boss: Ok, but I’m still not going to let you pull my hair.

BbG: But it comes out so well on paper! People love it. Same for cupping face in hands. We’ve got to have it.

The Boss: Ha! Well you can add those bits in the text! How about I make you stand against a wall, strip you and stick my tongue in you from behind? Recon they’d go for that?

BbG: This is my corporate phone. My (real) boss has just read it...

The Boss: Ah...

BbG: Joking! I like the idea.

So, it looks like there will be a date after all. I can’t wait...

BbGx

Breaking the 'rules'

2011-06-27T17:20:00.005+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

It’s been a while since my last post but I hope it was worth waiting for!

I’ve given up on on-line dating all together in favour of more active ways of meeting men. I want to shape my own destiny. Take it in my own hands. Feel the life running through my veins.

For you, my readers, I took every opportunity to test all kind of ways of meeting men, communicating and dating, often breaking ‘the rules’, which has led to some intriguing adventures. I have used on-line dating, Gumtree, guitar lessons, classes, other bloggers, and friends’ flatmates to experiment.

Now I’m moving into another territory – breaking up with conventions of communication. I won’t simply wait for men to notice me, to approach me, to ask me out. I will (gracefully) make myself noticed, initiate conversation, make a contact to get a man I desire. I will be honest in the way I feel and will give men clear signs. Honesty can be very refreshing.

There is something about meeting people on the street that is perceived as not a ‘serious’ way of gaining the potential partner. I can’t say it was totally conscious decision to examine this approach, but I have tested it recently. More about it in the next post...

Go out there and have fun with dating!

BbG x

The sweetest part of me

2011-05-19T22:43:00.006+01:00

I have done it again. I masturbated at work. Not at my desk. In the toilet's cubicle. I did it in the afternoon.
Toilets in my new office are beautiful - sandy stone and wooden doors. Soundproof (I hope).
The cubicle is so spacious I can comfortably stretch my legs on a door.
Today was a busy day - I was preparing a sale proposal for our biggest client. There was pressure. Power point slides required pedantic attention. The side effect - naughty thoughts.
Sitting on the closed toilet bowl, leaning back, with my skirt up at my waist and closed eyes. Nothing matters. I think about Adam. I imagine him in my kitchen, lifting me and placing gently on the counter, kissing my neck greedily, and moving down towards that sweet part of me that by now is very moist.

Noise brings me back - I look around and notice a gold button spinning on the floor. It must have sprung off my skirt while I was tensing my pelvis. I swear loudly and immidiately laugh at my luck. The mood is ruined.

Best dating advice

2011-05-07T20:06:00.006+01:00

Here is what I've found being the best dating advice. It comes from a relationships related forum.

LET ME SHARE WHAT I HAVE LEARNED OVER THE YEARS.

MY STEP DAD (WHO WAS A DETECTIVE FIRST GRADE) SAT ME DOWN A FEW MONTHS AGO AND TOLD ME THIS:
WHEN A MAN CARES FOR YOU HE WILL MOVE MOUNTAINS, CANCEL PLANS AND FALL ALL OVER YOU. THE LINE (I AM NOT READY, AS WE HAVE ALL HEARD 100 TIMES IS A BUNCH OF CRAP) MEN ARE AVOIDERS, THEY ARE NOT LIKE US WOMEN WITH ALL THE FEELINGS AND COMMUNICATION STUFF.

HE TOLD ME TO LET A MAN ASK YOU THINGS HE WANTS TO KNOW, JUST DON'T VOLUNTEE INFORMATION, BE VAGUE BUT NICE. LET HIM GET THE INFORMATION HE WANTS FROM YOU. THE REASON BEING IS MEN FEEL AS THEY HAVE ACOMPLISHED SOMETHING WHEN THEY ASK YOU A QUESTION AND YOU ANSWER IT. WHEN WE TELL THEM WITHOUT THEM ASKING, ITS TOO EASY AND ALSO, THEY MAY NOT BE READY TO HEAR WHAT WE HAVE TO SAY BECAUSE THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT US YET.

A MAN WHO IS ALL OVER YOU IMMEDIATELY HAS SOMETHING TO HIDE, A MAN WHO IS TOO QUIET OR STANDOFISH HAS PROBLEMS ALSO.

NEVER ASK A MAN OUT OR ASK TO SEE HIM, IF HE REALLY LIKES YOU AND WANTS TO SEE YOU, HE WILL MENTION IT BEFORE THE DATE IS OVER.. ONE THING MOM TOLD ME ABOUT MEN IS THEY HAVE PATTERNS. IF THEY CONTINUE THE SAME PATTERN ALL IS WELL BUT... IF YOU SEE A SMALL CHANGE, BEWARE, KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN AND GET READY TO RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, YOUR GETTING DUMPED, OR THE PULL AWAY ROUTINE IS ON IT'S WAY. THIS MEANS MORE THAN 1 MISSED PHONE CALL, A CANCELLATION OF A DATE.

I HAVE BEEN THROUGH IT ALL, BUT I RECENTLY GOT SMART AND REALIZED ANYONE WHO DUMPS ME WILL WIND UP WITH A HUGE LOSS, THIS GOES FOR YOU ALSO. I MET A MAN A FEW MONTHS AGO. I GOT VERY LUCKY, HE IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND MY SOULMATE. I LISTENED (FOR ONCE) TO WHAT MY STEPDAD TOLD ME AND NOT ONLY DID IT WORK, BUT I FOUND A COMMITED, LOVING WONDERFUL MAN. UNFORTUNATELY, MY STEP DAD PASSED AWAY IN JANUARY AND I WON'T BE GETTING HIS WORDS OF WISDOM BUT I WANTED TO PASS THEM ALONG TO YOU AND GIVE YOU SOME LUCK HERE. HE TAUGHT ME SO MUCH ABOUT MEN..

BE STRONG AND MOVE ON IF YOU THINK YOUR HEART IS BEING PLAYED WITH, REMEMBER IT IS THEIR LOSS.....

What do you think?

Sexy Secretary on ice

2011-05-03T20:30:00.007+01:00

I can’t wait any longer and the next evening I text my new ‘employer’:

BbG: Hey, how is my favourite boss? x

(a reply comes instantly)

Adam: Hey dancing queen. Yes, I’m good thanks, just buried in work and crazy deadlines at the moment. We should definitely dance again soon. This week is a bit tricky but the dancefloor is beckoning.x

(Wow, he calls me a dancing queen. Sweet. Or maybe he’s been sarcastic – I was rather shit at dancing MC Hammer…I think for a moment about what to say – normally I would have been offended by such a brush off but I sense he must be busy - I’ve googled his and his mate’s first names, plus a word ‘comedy’, and found they sketches on BBC’s website. Funny stuff.)

BbG: That will be great – I love dancing! Work hard and secure some free time for me :)

Adam: OK, just no writing about me on your blog :)

(I laugh but then panic - I could swear I hadn't mentioned the blog at the party.)

BbG: Did I tell you about the blog?? I must have missed important information – I stopped writing it few months ago, when I stopped dating. What else did I blab out?

Adam: I’m only joking. You told my friend about it. I thought it was funny. There was no blabbing. Why have you ‘stopped dating’?

(Ha. I must have been drunk. I was drunk.)

BbG: Oh, ok. Why did you think it was funny? Dating on line is like a Russian roulette. And men there are weird. Have you tried?

Adam: Oh I see, online dating. I did once years ago and didn’t like it. I prefer to be attracted to people in real life rather then computer pics. We’ll have to discuss over a drink (and a dance!) x

BbG: Sure. I’m looking forward to that x

So that’s how I got put on ice. Never mind – (dating) life goes on…

Sexy Secretary is born

2011-04-17T22:06:00.010+01:00

I wake up with a massive hangover. Have few mugs of coffee with Ella, and more or less, spend the rest of the day in t-shit and panties, discussing how good the party was. I knew my sexy comedian Adam would get in touch but I’m (pleasantly) surprised to see his text arriving so soon. I read it with a burning face, then show it to Ella as if it was a prize that I‘ve just won.

ADAM: Miss Secretary. My make-up won’t come off completely. I look a bit like a clown. What do you suggest? X Your Boss

‘It’s sort of symbolic and psychological…’ Ella starts a monologue looking somewhere at the ceiling for inspiration while stirring boiling pasta. ‘I like it’ she concludes ‘He’s trying to be deep’. ‘Bullshit’ I think gazing at her in silence waiting for ‘ I'm only joking’, but no, she is actually serious. Oh dear, never mind. I reply to Adam:

BbG: Dear Boss. This does sound awful... Did you try the make-up remover I’ve left in your bathroom? Your devoted Secretary

ADAM: Thank you, Miss. Excellent work as always. Your hard work needs to be rewarded. What would you like?

I read out Adam’s sexy reply to Ella. She smiles shaking her head and throws advice ‘This is the time to say – “I want you to take me from behind and it better be somewhere in the public. That’s how I like it”.

Yes, that's surely what I would like to say but I’ve just met this guy! So I chose to show him my playful and romantic side and text back:

BbG: Thank you my Boss. Trip to Paris would be lovely x

ADAM: Tickets in the post. X :)

BbG: Wonderful. You are the best boss ever! Is there anything else I can do for you?

ADAM: Your boss has to retire to bed and could use a rub down to help him relax. I know it’s not in your job description but I could always change the contract.

BbG: With pleasure (and aromatherapy oils)...

ADAM: Purrrrrfect. I shall of course return the favour. All you have to do is just undress and slide under the covers with me.

(Oh no - I will try to hold on to my clothes on as long as possible…)

BbG: Emmm, do I really need to undress? I could take off my jacket and heals, I guess... I’m warming up my hands.

ADAM: I wouldn’t want your work clothes to get creased. Also, I think you’ll like the way my smooth hands will feel against your skin, so I think it’s best for you to strip down to your underwear. In fact, that’s an order.

(The last part has me in stitches and I think it’s daring (and very, very sexy), but I’m not into having a ‘sexting’ session before meeting him again).

BbG: ha, ha! Maybe a slow dance first with my arms around your neck?

ADAM: Sure. Hey, that felt nice yesterday. You felt good in my arms, pressed against me.

(Oh, that’s such a sweet thing to say…)

BbG: Mmmm, yes, it felt nice. And your hands are so soft.

ADAM: Soft but firm, and it felt good moving them over your body and pulling you in so I could kiss you.

BbG: Yes, firm. I liked the way you touched me and kissed my lips and my neck...

................

(The next morning I wake up to the following text:)

ADAM: I do apologise. My texting got cut short due to a technical error (I dropped the phone). Have a nice Monday x

BbG: J I forgive you! X

(I’m sure I will have a great Monday – I can’t stop smiling.)

Drunk and happy (part II)

2011-04-12T23:06:00.007+01:00

They stand way too close for comfort and swiftly ask ‘What’s your name?’

‘Maria’I say calmly. ‘Where do you live?’ the guy wearing eye liner pretends to interrogate me. Trying to hold back laughter I act offended ‘Are you a stalker?’

He bursts out laughing shaking his head. ‘I live around here’ I admit finally and smile.

They introduce themselves: Adam and Tommy. They write comedy sketches for TV. None of which I’ve ever heard of.

Adam… nice, romantic eyes (bit too much mascara for my taste), handsome manly face, broad shoulders, fitted black shirt; cute, shy smile. I stare at his face far too long. I realise that only when his friend looks at us both amused.

The dance floor gets flooded with jolly party guests and the music is loud. ‘Let’s spend time together here’ Adam says lightly. ‘Fine, but who’s the boss?’ I ask playfully. ‘I am. And you are my secretary’ he pretends to be serious.

Pushed by the crowd I lean on Adam’s arm. I feel his warmth when he whispers to my ear ‘What is it that you want?’ I look at him surprised only to be met by his confident and encouraging gaze. Suddenly it’s clear ‘Freedom, filled with love and affection’ I answer. Adam smiles throwing his head back. ‘You can have it all’ I hear and with closed eyes, I start dancing, involuntarily, being pulled by, what I can only describe as, euphoria…

When I open my eyes, surrounded by masses of people moving rhythmically in partial darkness, I see Adam’s face near mine. I sense his smell – musky and clean. His lips are cold, his tongue pushing deep. I embrace his neck with both hands and push my hips forward. Mixture of adrenaline and calming pleasure surges through me. I lean back gently pulling in his head until our lips are apart.

Adam takes my hand in his and leads through the crowd. I feel drunk and happy. Strong moonlight floods the floor through the window that leads to the garden. Suddenly Tommy appears. He exchanges few words with Adam. They must leave, taxi is waiting; tomorrow is a big day.

Adam pulls me gently to the side, hugs me and whispers ‘I will see you again, right?’ I nod and hear the sound of a broken glass. I look around and see that I've pushed a glass that stood on a radiator. ‘Hope it’s not a symbol of our relationship’ Adam murmurs.

I see them at the door, with a red-haired, elegant woman. Adam turns in my direction once more – he looks serious, even sad, and lifts his hand, intending to wave. I try to smile.

Ela comes over, ‘You like him’, she stands close to me looking at the door. Our shoulders are touching. ‘Yes’I say softly, and for the first time in a long time, I mean it.

Drunk and happy (Part I)

2011-04-05T23:22:00.009+01:00

Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi

I am your little bear

Why don’t you reap my fur

Tomorrow, or better now!

I want to be your teddy, somehow.

This Saturday I swap a ‘second choice’ entertainment (drinks with ex-colleague, who doesn’t hide the fact he wants to get me into bed) for a top birthday party of someone I’ve never met. Yes, Ela’s friend’s is throwing a ‘80' Lace&Leather’ themed birthday bash.

In a taxi, dressed in 60’ short lace dress that belongs to Ela (and to Ela’s mother before that), and wearing the highest heals imaginable (I can't walk, only stand in them), I’m adding red lipstick and try to check the result in the mirror.

‘Bernadetta writes she feels like a foreigner in her own house’ – Ela gloomily reads out a text message – ‘apparently there are lots of English people there’ – she comments 'How odd'. 'Hello, we are in England' I comment in my thoughts and remember that Ula and her Italian friends always hung out in the same group, forgetting they don't live in Italy any more.

‘You look good Ula’ I reassure her about her choice of clothes – a lace bra with a semi-open jacket (without a blouse), and leggings made of fake leather.

‘I’m definitely ovulating today' – states Ula thoughtfully, gazing through the car’s window.

We stop the taxi in front of a licence shop to get drinks. With head stuck in a fridge I quietly comment on my own choice ‘No, not Rose… Only slats drink rose at house parties’. Ula giggles and I pick a bottle of red.

At the party now. I pass through the first room full of frightened-looking, unattractive Italians, who also happen to be massively shorter than me (now measuring 6’1 at least).

The next, equally small area has a group of dressed up gays dancing around a handbag.

We decide to inspect downstairs – it feels like an office party. Actually, more like a henhouse.

Calculating the odds of finding interesting people to talk to / have fun with, I decide to hit the ‘dance floor’ upstairs.I walk straight to the group of gays and smile. Everyone smiles back politely; a tall, blond girl shows me a large Russian prison-style tattoo on her upper arm. I pretend to admire it ‘Oh, that’s... great’.
’It’s not real’ the girl informs me looking at me gravely.

Alcohol takes its effect; I start dancing as if my life depended on it. ‘You’re poison!’ yells speaker. I encourage people to air guitar and practically form a band! At this point I notice a guy wearing a lot of eye make up, staring, and then smiling at me. I’m too busy, with a routine of arm loops I started throwing, to return a smile but suddenly I am blushing. I now try to stop myself from blushing.

The next song is a bad one - MC Hammer – how do you dance that?? With determination and with bended knees! I develop new moves by keep opening and closing my legs. Satisfied with the outcome I look up and see two guys looking at me amused while pointing fingers and laughing. I get crossed and recognise one of them being the good-looking one with mascara on; thoroughly embarrassed I plan to run away and hide, but now see them both coming over. Oh, great!

To be continued…

The return of the shoes… and WDW

2010-07-07T22:02:00.000+01:00

You may remember that I’ve had my shoes kept ransom by another blogger named WontDieWondering. Here is what happened later, after we kept silent for a week:

Wont Die Wondering: Hi. Hope you ready and packed for your mum’s wedding. Please send your postal address and will get the shoes back been another tough week – cheers
Beautiful but Grumpy: Hi. Yes, all packed and ready. Don’t worry about the shoes. No need to post them, just drop them off at the reception when you can. Thanks
WDW: The thought of dropping off shoes in a plastic bag is less than appealing…
BbG: When did you become fashion conscious?
WDW: When I met you – was picturing the conversation with security… I have plastic bag for the bbg lady….. how goes work?
BbG: What are we doing here texting each other – we’ve said goodbye!!!
WDW: you said goodbye… is that what you want?
BbG: Of course not. But you didn’t leave me any other option.
WDW: How did you work that out?
BbG: I computed it – I said what it was I wanted from you, you said what you wanted from me. It didn’t match.
WDW: Sometimes unmatched is really cool…like starsky and hutch (i am sure there better examples)
BbG: It’s a film! Anything can happen in the film…
WDW: Just like life unless you try to match things…..
BbG: I agree… but am still unclear as to what you actually want/expect from me. If it’s not dating then what is it? A pen friend??
WDW: Dating is so formalised it was good as friend with benefits which may have developed into something more serious….

So, I allowed him to bring my shoes back the following Sunday.
He came looking tanned, healthy and incredibly handsome. To my relief, the shoes looked untouched.
After he introduced himself to my new flatmate Helen, we all enjoyed sharing a late lunch (only mildly disturbed by WDW trying to grab my knee under the table, and placing his naked feet on top of mine).
For the rest of the afternoon we hung around in my bedroom (without Helen…), where among other things, we talked about our issue with communication (WDW complained that I never called him on the phone. Which is true.)

Occasionally I tried to convince him to let me slip a banana in his arse, and he in turn tried to stick his big toe in my mouth.
I’ve got a feeling we will meet again...

A broken heart. Literally.

2010-07-04T22:35:00.000+01:00

It is Friday, 3pm. I’m at work, browsing guitars on internet when e-mail from Jay, my boss, arrives:
Boss: what are you doing now? quick glass? Arrgh, he must have noticed I’m on internet. Shit.
BbG: Glass??
Boss: G&T ?
BbG: Now?
Boss: YEP, MANAGEMENT PRIVILEGE, JUST A QUICK ONE IN THE FINE LINE, LETS GO, OFFSITE MEETING ABOUT SEMI-ANNUAL OBJECTIVES

So I pick up my handbag and tell the team I’m off to a meeting.

Cool air conditioning welcomes us. The place is not as busy as usual, probably because of the time of the day. There are mostly older men in elegant suits scattered around, chatting quietly in small groups. A TV screen is discreetly positioned on one of the walls. Football is on – it’s South Africa v. Mexico. I think about WontDieWondering and I’m wondering if he’s watching the game. Probably not. Most of the normal people are working.

At the bar, Boss asks me what I would like to drink, but before I have a chance to even open my mouth he gives his order to the barman – a bottle of champagne. I try to protest and come up with excuses that we can’t possibly finish it, and that I still have work to do. But he states shortly that I shouldn’t worry about anything. Ok, he’s the boss so I try to relax, but insist on staying at the bar instead of being squashed at too smug looking sofas.

My boss faces me with a grin ‘Cheers to the top performer! You did really well in the last 6 months’ and raises his glass. I can feel my face beaming with pride and excitement ‘Oh really? Thanks Jay. And thanks for all the opportunities I’ve been given’. I take a sip of ice cold and sharp tasting champagne, and laugh at his bad jokes. Today they don’t sound that bad actually.

‘It’s time to start reaping synergies from the merger’ says Boss turning serious and fixing his glare somewhere above and beyond my head. ‘I want my management team to work closely with each other to achieve that. You and Matthew will need to collaborate’ he breaks for a large sip of champagne.

‘Of course. You can count on me. It’s all forgotten from my perspective’. I try to stress the last sentence with a strong (and slightly exaggerated) hand movement for added effect.

‘Well, there is one thing I need to tell you’ Boss looks down and polishes invisible stain on his gold cufflink ‘Matthew had a heart monitor installed this morning. He’s been experiencing severe pains recently’. I can’t hide my shock but my boss continues, looking straight into my eyes, ‘He tried to blame it on you but I wouldn’t have it, plus I don’t want HR being involved. So please be careful around him. Literally. His monitor will beep if his heart is on edge.’

I feel a sharp, single twinge at my forehead. How could this turn so wrong?

I look around as if in search of help, then sigh loudly and think that this at last explains a glimpse of satisfaction on Matthew’s face this morning, when he passed me with his chin raised unnaturally high.

Are you a Gypsy?

2010-06-30T20:41:00.000+01:00

I have been gagging to say ‘Yes’ to some interesting and intriguing opportunities recently. The state of affairs with Reece, the live cattle futures trader, has been developing nicely until I’ve received the following:
Reece: What’s your e-mail?
I contemplated setting up one without my real surname, but in the end couldn’t be bothered and having my fingers crossed for Reece not to turn up to be a stalker or a psycho, I give him my e-mail address containing my full name.
So I’m expecting an e-mail but instead a text message arrives the next day:
Reece: Quick question, are you of romany extraction?

That definitely got my interest – the guy knows how to ask ‘socially awkward questions’ – I laugh out loud!

Beautiful but Grumpy: Not that I’m aware of. Should I interrogate my mother?

Reece: Hehe, cue the thumbscrews, dripping water and truth serum…
Well, I’m following a vision actually.

BbG: Oh yeah? Share…

Few days later he writes to me:

Hey,
I had a wee vision that I encounter someone with a large amount of Romany blood by the end of the summer, the other details went fuzzy. As Romanys are really from Central Europe, I thought on the off chance that it could have been you. I think she was a psychic and it has some bearing on that, though, so not sure how it fits into life in general as yet.

It’s my kinky luck to meet ~~total nutheads~~ unusual men.

Past tense

2010-06-28T20:32:00.001+01:00

So my first lover, Wlodek S, has got in touch last week, after all these years. Here is the string of mails that followed:
Beautiful but Grumpy: Hi. Good to hear from you but... where are your long hair??I’m very well, thanks. Since that summer after my A levels I have moved to London and being living here all this time. I don’t think my mother has ever forgiven you for my ‘B’ from literature :-) Well, at least I managed an ‘A’ from biology ;-) Do you still live in the same town?

Wlodek S: Don’t look at hair - look at the heart :-) It’s funny, I also live in London. 10 years now. How small is this world :-) Maybe we have passed each other on the street few times...
Looking at your photos – you haven’t changed much.I can see you’ve attracted a local lad ;-)
The warmest greetings for you M.
BbG: If you hang around Brick Lane or at races of one-eyed dogs, then I’m sure we have met at some point during those 10 years! Oh, the ‘lad’ is an ex boyfriend – I should really delete these pics but I like them - taken from sailing holidays in Turkey. Great fun. And you – there must be a ‘reason’ for you to stay in London for so long...
Wlodek S: Well, I’ve been married for 4 years. Why asking? ;-) Your sailing pics are hot :-) especially the one in bikini ;-)
BbG: Thanks :-) Oh, I’m asking because on all of your pics you are caressing some fish, so just wanted to check if you haven’t developed an unusual attraction... :-)
Wlodek S: Ha, ha. I kind of developed an obsession with fishing
BbG: Obsessions are good – they make you feel alive. You look professional :-)
Wlodek S: I wish – to do it professionally i would need rich sponsors :-) My job is down to earth – i’m a store manager. I’ve tried few things but they bored me.
BbG: Oh yeah? What have you tried? I’m asking because I’m fascinated by different things that people try (I’m thinking of making a film but that’s a totally different story).
Wlodek S: I started with washing dishes in a restaurant :-), then I was a gardener, then a chef... If you need extras for your film let me know - I’ll be happy to help :-)

Aah, isn’t he lovely? Yes, but also very married...

Wlodek S.

2010-06-21T21:05:00.002+01:00

Another day, another experience.
Just as I’ve made a decision to leave dating for little while and just enjoy the summer, I’m contacted on the Polish version of Facebook (Nasza Klasa)… by the guy I lost virginity with! –Wlodek…

He was the hottest boy in town, in southern Poland where I grew up, and with his long dark hair he kind of resembled the Last Mohican, or the guy from the ‘Virgins suicides’ (whichever is cuter). I never really understood why he had any interest in me (a tall, skinny nerd) while, being sensitive, caring and very hot, he could have had anyone! I will spare you the details of the actual 'initiation', but I will tell you that even though our romance didn’t last long, I have never forgotten that summer...

So, he may be gay by now… who knows.

I plan to reply and mention few highlights of my life (when I think of some) and then will ask where the hell he’s been all these years!

Ransom

2010-06-16T18:36:00.000+01:00

You may be wondering what is happening with me and WDW (a blogger I've dated recently). Well, it was fun, until WDW defaulted on 2 dates in a row! To miss one date is a sin, but two… unforgivable mistake.

Hence you've (hopefully) read all about me moving on, and getting into dating a live cattle futures trader. Yes, I know it sounds weird but I'm sure he will turn out just lovely.

Anyway, when WDW found out about my plans of dating another, he confronted me by text:

Wont Die Wondering: Dating a futures trader?
Beautiful but Grumpy: Almost
WDW: What's almost?
BbG: Almost means that something has been accomplished but not fully
WDW: Haha you are very amusing….enjoyed the yes man book?
BbG: not finished yet. Will post it back when I'm done.
WDW: Post it back? Not planning to see me to give it back?
BbG: no
WDW: Fine, but I am not sure I will ever get your shoes in the mailbox….
(I left a pair of cute high heels at his place few weeks ago)
BbG: Keep them for the next slave.
WDW: You were never a slave and pretty sure they would never fit into your shoe….
BbG: Well then you just need to search. Next time try specific websites
WDW: Well I would like to see you again to return the shoes at the very least – don’t care about the book, won’t read it again…
…..

WDW: Do you want your shoes back?

At which point I must have fallen asleep so not sure if I'll ever get my shoes back…

Hi. How are the cows?

2010-06-15T22:09:00.000+01:00

Right. So I’ve been flirting with Reece, a futures trader. And as planned, I'm stepping away from geeky talk to something more meaningful…

Beautiful but Grumpy: Hey. How are the cows? x
(forgot to mention that Reece also runs a farm...)
Reece: Hey sweetie, cows are happy just now after some rain to make the grass grow; am embarking on an energy project next week, should be fun
BbG: Energy project sounds great and I’ll keep my fingers crossed for the rain for you. Been to any good bars recently?
Reece: only one; it was few days ago and I ran into this interesting girl who turned my head
BbG: Ha, ha. Sounds like it was special. Might be worth asking her out some time (to see if she really is that interesting or if it was the rum…)
Reece: Nah…it was the rum
BbG: At least you know exactly what works for you and it sounds reliable. You’re lucky!
Reece: hehe
BbG :-)
Reece: Don’t know when we can hook up but we should
BbG: Maybe when it’s raining so you would feel something is working while you are having fun!
Reece: Ok, cool. Shouldn’t have long to wait in the uk then…

I've checked the weather report and it looks sunny all the way to the weekend... My luck.

Being a geek at heart…

2010-06-13T20:42:00.000+01:00

Here is a recent example of just how hopeless I can be with men:

I meet Reece in a bar in the City. He takes my number after we chat for quite a while.

Text comes in the next few days:

Reece: Good fun the other evening. Feeling really special today; working in this condition is just so much fun!
Beautiful but Grumpy: Yes, it was fun. What are you working on?
Reece: Working on the long term cycles of the live cattle futures market just now. Would much rather be doing energy work
BbG: Are you using your own software for that?
Reece: Yes, plus some other wee gizmos that we haven’t programmed yet

The end

How to fall out of love

2010-06-08T22:30:00.000+01:00

So it's been about a month since my first office romance has ended. But it only ended for me, as it became apparent from Matthew's e-mails, which contain various emotional massages – ranging from anger and arrogance to the kindest and sweetest little notes.

And in addition, I am to spend an entire management meeting seating opposite him. I recognise his aftershave immediately and I swear, if I close my eyes I will feel like being in bed with him again, that's how strong it is (although we never actually slept with each other!). He's changed – contact lenses instead of glasses, serious and thoughtful expression on his face (not that he looked like an imbecile before). I know exactly why I fancied him – that deep voice! People naturally turn to him when hear him speak.

But I also know very well why he wasn't for me – he is controlling, and under all this apparent manliness he is quite insecure and lost.

The meeting is being scheduled by our senior manager, Jay - we are to decide on the mid year grading of the whole department. This is not one of the boring meetings I often attend, where people try to monopolise the time to only solve their issues or in turn can't make simple decisions! Today the pressure is on identifying certain number of people as 'underperformers', to fit in the curve of the organisation as a whole. Not easy, but needs to be done.

It's 5 of us here, and just like '12 Angry Men', no one wants to be here today.

My boss, for instance - he's e-mailed this morning warning that he will be in later than usual. It transpires his brother has been sectioned again. I notice tiny traces of blood on his otherwise immaculate white shirt. Yes, he's got a 10 year younger sibling, who is bio-polar, and has been in and out of hospitals for past 8 years. As much as I sometimes hate my boss, I do admire his heroic affords to 'save' his brother.

Then there is Neal, who hasn't slept since 4am as his 6 months old daughter kept him awake, but his dreamy grin tells us all how much he enjoys fatherhood.

''I don't believe she is capable of that Neal - she looks like an angel'' I complement Neal's child, who was brought to the office last week to say 'Hello'. At which point Matthew gives me a certain look – the look of 'you see, you could have had one just like that (if not better) if you stayed with me'.

And there is Rick – a bold, ex equities trader – who clearly has no desire to be here, as his long awaited holiday in Mallorca, with mates, starts tomorrow.

Contrary to my predictions, the meeting runs smoothly, and we agree to downgrade 2 out of 13 people. Not bad. And as its lunchtime and a sunny day, they all head to the pub next door for a pint. Except me – don't want to create opportunities for mingling with Matthew.

As usual, my boss only returns to the office to pick up his jacket, and to thank me for staying behind with the team. Of course, not a problem – a pleasure in fact, I assure him, and suggest gently he should rest after the traumatic events of the previous night. Once I have his attention I ask if he's eaten anything today.

He looks at me with a curiosity and a different level of seriousness I haven’t seen in him before, then he quickly composes himself, laughs it off with ''Eating is cheating!'' and waves me good bye.

The next morning, to my surprise, I receive a text. It’s from my boss, Jay:

''Hi. Went for a drink with Matthew last night and he was very upset. He told me you were a couple until a month ago? He is confused and I think he just wants to be friends with you as he misses your friendship. Just though I would let you know''.

Oh, great. He told him! Idiot.

I don’t need to think much about a reply:

''Morning Jay! Thanks for letting me know but I don't think I can be friends with him at the moment. I am purely thinking about work and how it would be affected. Hope you are OK.''

My boss texts back: ''I totally understand about you and Matthew. He was crying!.....I really like your intense personality! x''

What does that mean? Is he still drunk or is he…hitting on me?

How NOT to pull women

2010-06-03T21:55:00.000+01:00

Last sunny Sunday I drop by a pub in Clapham Common for a drink with Rosa (who interestingly is my X's brother's ex, which makes our friendship even more special).

The place has a great decked garden and is packed with media type, young and good looking, including Richard and Judy's male offspring, who sits at our table and like everyone else here, wears trendy 80' sunglasses and is downing shots.

As it is getting loud and busy, Rosa and I choose to stand up. And as our conversation moves towards girly subjects – mainly complaining about a dry skin around the lips, which commonly occurs in the summer and is, in Rosa's opinion, a sign of dehydration - two handsome guys pass us slowly with visible amusement on their faces. I'm smiling too realising they've heard our dilemma.

They then linger near us and greet the host of the gathering, Rosa's friend Kate. One of them, blond with a messy but very sexy hair, wearing sunglasses (of course!) and some rock&roll t-shirt, faces me (while Kate introduces Rosa to his friend) and asks with husky voice and a grin:
“How is your skin? Still dry?”
“Oh, it's not me – it's my friend” I answer and just can't believe I lie about something that could easily be verified – I actually have some flaky skin around my lower lip.

And wanting to swiftly change the subject I inquire:
“Can you play a guitar?”

“No” he answers.

“Have you got a dog?” I am on the roll now…

“No” he comes again. “That's rather interesting series of questions” he adds.

But I lose interest and take Rosa's offer to get drinks from the bar. He only manages to whisper, “Nice to meet you” to my back.

Shortly after that I leave the party behind, trying not to be late to the dinner that Won't die Wondering is preparing, but I can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier.

I suddenly realise that I might have become desensitized. Yes, not much impresses me any more when it comes to being chatted up. I feel I've seen it all since being on the 'dating scene' for almost a year.

Or was this guy just not good enough?

Romance on court, mysterious wounds and poked eyes

2010-06-01T20:28:00.000+01:00

Looks like I have a new admirer in the office. Nick, a very promising manager, who has gone jogging with me few times when the weather was so glorious. He is now also a member of my netball team so all in all, he is trying to get closer, I believe.

After previous week's netball injuries, including my own mysterious one - imitating a deep knife slash to the calf, as if I took a part in a violent gang fight - I get another chance to taste some quality netball. And Nick is here too.

I am not expecting miracles, knowing we are against last season's winners. And when I hear our guys calling one of the opponents 'magnificent' or 'a flying monkey' I seriously start to doubt our chances. Nevertheless, our 'centre', Luke, doesn't loose faith, quite the opposite, he now resembles an Arab horse that is about to enter a race – steaming with energy!

OK, we are in. The first quarter seemed like it only lasted a minute. I now know what guys meant earlier when referring to the rival as 'a flying monkey' – this guy is bouncy – he is very little, but he compensates with 4 foot jumps, that happen right in my face, as he is a wing defence to my wing attack. The first jig freaks me out, to say the least.

It doesn't look good, and by 6-0 in their favour, we are fully aware of what this 'magnificent Jeff' is capable of. At one point he drops the ball in while standing backwards! (But having glimpse of Nick’s legs in tight shorts keeps me in a fantastic mood regardless.)

By 12-3 we are drained in sweat, and all look at each other with resignation, seeing the opponents changing players frequently - bringing fresh pairs of legs and capable hands. They even have someone, who’s sole aim of existence on the side of the pitch, is to scream ‘GO MONKEYS, GO!!!!!!!’ In contrast, we have only one player to change, and some of us haven’t played since high school, or come from a country that has totally different netball rules (don’t ask…).

It must have been 14-4 by then - our two players Luke and Paul (who have just entered the court with a power of bulls who’ve been waiting for the turn with a matador) crush into each other, and then bounce off violently, leaving Luke flat on the ground with his hands and legs spread, lying still after hitting his head on the ground. Everyone gathers around him in silence, while the referee pushes through, shouting, 'Don't touch him!’ After a short examination he is allowed to slowly leave the court, but his 'career' is over, just for tonight.

Somehow, united by the tragedy, we come back fully mobilised; with freshly injected energy and Paul with Jamie now in goal circle, Lucy works her magic to make goals happen. We are on the roll. And by 15-10 we are practically running the show - passing the ball and laughing out loud, realising we are actually doing all right against last year's winners!

And then it happens. A loud cry. Everyone freezes - it's Nick, bended in half, holding his left eye with both palms. We run towards him worried to death. 'It's my eye' he utters with unnaturally high pitched voice. 'What happened?' inquires referee. 'I think she poked me' Nick indicates towards a short, pretty brunette, who is now trying to look as innocent as she possibly can.

Sophie soberly takes his hands off the eye, and while inspecting it asks with seriousness worth Vietnam War, 'Can you play half blind?’

And so Nick returns to the game. By the end of the forth quarter it's 22-11, but we still can't stop laughing from the events of the evening, and totally don't mind loosing the match knowing that everyone, including the winning team, will remember it.

But I will remember something else – I will remember seeing Nick leaving the court in the company of his ‘attacker’ and heading towards the pub, where he no doubt will quickly forgive her all 'the physical abuse'. How romantic! Aghh. I pick up my stuff and decide to walk all the way home.

Netball, Fur Coat and Masturbating at work

2010-05-25T21:19:00.000+01:00

Wont Die Wondering: How was the netball last night? Just found out am not going to work in Nottingham…
Beautiful but Grumpy: Netball was good but have small injury - some big Aussie bloke landed on me, well, on my leg… Shame about Nottingham – I’ve already imagined visiting you in a hotel wearing only a fur coat…
WDW: Mixed leagues? You can wear a fur coat for me anytime.
BbG: You will need to buy me one ;-)
WDW: Hmm many things I would rather buy you …. ;p
BbG: Oh yeah? ;-) Have you dreamt about me yet?
WDW: I don’t dream or remember them… have thought about you
BbG: Go on lover – tell me…
WDW: Would rather show you.
BbG: Any time. What’s the plan for Sunday?
WDW: Decided not to take you to the rugby. Its more a Saturday drinking and mates type thing, wouldn't want to subject you to such a barbaric event...can do a picnic in the park where one day I will put you on the bench and…..
BbG: You've made me blush.
WDW: Does that sound appealing?
BbG: Very….
WDW: Need a bathroom break? ;p
BbG: Yes….
WDW: Let me know how it goes slave…

I get up from my desk and immediately become self-concious by imagining that everyone knows where I‘m going, and what I’m planning to do. But strong desire washes that feeling away very quickly. In the office bathroom, before going into cubicle, I decide to wash my hands first. That makes me smile, and I promise myself, in the future, to watch out for women who wash hands BEFORE going to the toilet.

In the cubicle now, I sit down and position myself by lifting my tanned legs and pressing them against the door. I like the way they look on the wooden background. It helps to wear a skirt, I'm thinking, while lowering my black lace panties. All relaxed, playing and enjoying it... I then notice in the mirror-like paper holder, my breasts, bouncing in the rhythm of my hand. That turns me on even more. I muffle a moan.

Beaming and satisfied, I slip my panties back on - just in time for another boring meeting.

The First Night

2010-05-18T23:59:00.000+01:00

I've had a riveting first date with WDW, and the second date is set for this week. But in between, we craved to meet at night… Like vampires. Not for a date. Not with a purpose. But purely to savour being together, at night.

Friday 8.20pm, my place

A ring to the door. He's early and I'm still brushing my teeth. We said 8.30pm. I open the door and he stands there, with a travel bag on one shoulder, glowing with curiosity. He passes me, brushing my lips with a soft kiss. I feel his excitement transferring onto me.

I watch him walking boldly into the kitchen, opening the freezer and starting loading it with strawberry ice cream. He then begins to open cupboards 'Are you looking for something specific or is it an inspection?' I say, and giggle at seeing him all so comfortable in my kitchen. 'Wine glasses for us. I brought wine' he replies smiling.

What was supposed to be a quick meal, takes me ages to prepare. Probably because I don't focus. We talk. Or rather I talk and he listens. From time to time he gets up, from the comfortable corner of the sofa, to give me a hug or a kiss or just to look at me closely, when I lay out my story.

We eat fish, drink white wine. And he seems ready to open up.

He shares with me a heartbreaking picture of Johannesburg. I don't believe him when he says empathy is not his strong point. I look at him and try to figure out who he is.

He admits having a tendency to view the world through a black and white prism, probably because he has seen so much pain.

'It's not that simple. It's not just black and white - there are many shades of grey'… I interrupt with passion. He gets up and gives me a long kiss. Long enough for me to forget about world poverty tonight.

'Has anyone ever told you the way you eat ice-cream is highly seductive?...' he looks at me intensely until I blush. We kiss and undress, while clumsily making our way towards the bedroom.

'Have you ever done it in the cupboard'? he asks, smiling invitingly.
……

'Jeez, your long hair is everywhere. I've just found some in my underpants!' he complains in bed.
'They don't normally fall out like that' I lie.
'Can I fart?' he asks trying to sound innocent. 'No!', I reply firmly, and soon fall asleep blissfully exhausted, with my face in his chest.

A second date

2010-05-13T23:16:00.000+01:00

Won'tDieWondering is fast.
In fact, so fast that he's already managed to:

- invite me to Johannesburg
- ask me to join him in a triathlon
- suggest having sex
- propose having anal sex
- demand I admit we are in relationship
- ask to be considered being a guest of honour at my Mother's wedding

But he's not fast enough to secure a second date!

The First Day

2010-05-11T23:56:00.000+01:00

Here is what happened on my first date with another blogger Won'tDieWondering:

8.15pm Music Bar Hall, Shoreditch - East London

I walk in and see a guy at the bar, staring at me with a shy smile – short, oriental guy. Please, please let it not be him. I circle around him slowly; he doesn't turn, it can't be him. I’m relieved. I walk around in the dark (I'm blinded as walked from sunny street into a dim large bar), not knowing what I'm actually looking for but not regretting going without exchanging photos. Funny state to be in – you are looking for something specific but at the same time, having no idea what it is. Just like looking for love, I guess. I almost bump into someone, who turns around and says my name.

So… he is good looking. I smile to myself, but somehow feel slightly disappointed. Disappointed because he didn't turn up to be unattractive!

I watch him – all chatty and confident; talks passionately about South Africa and gently leans over the table to show me his bright, blue eyes. ''Yes, they are blue'' I confirm, (positively) surprised by his bluntness.

He asks what I did earlier. I say I've been to the gym and that I like sport. He asks what sport I do. I pause to think (inside I’m laughing as I somehow can't think of ANY) and say “Competitive sports”. He doesn't seem to be impressed with my answer so I try again ''Tennis. I find it very sexy''. “I find you very sexy too” he says instantly. I chuckle realising he didn't hear me properly. He looks at me baffled. I clarify what it is I meant, and add with a delay “Actually, I do find you very sexy”. We smile, staring at each other’s eyes for a while. “When you smile like this you look like Matt Damon” I tell him. He blushes, and admits he’s been told before.

Then the smell of fish hits me. I look around to suggest it’s definitely not me. He asks if I’m hungry. I am, and we agree to grab pizza from the place nearby.

Waiting for traffic lights to change, I evaluate pros and cons - can’t stop smiling remembering when he offered to vote LibDems “for both of us”. On the other hand, he seems a little geeky. I turn my head right to check if it’s safe to cross, and get my lips stuck on another pair of lips! What the f…Oh, and soon feel his tongue melting inside my mouth. “I wanted to do it all night” he whispers. I instantly forget about the cons, and let myself enjoy the rest of the evening.

In the taxi on the way home, feeling happy and very lucky, I receive a text “Thanks for tonight. You would make a good slave”.

Love letter

2010-05-09T23:37:00.000+01:00

I've had a (love) letter... from another blogger!

When I broke the news to my work-friend Linda, (who also blogs) her reaction was ''Great! Who is it? Not that Fishy guy?!''

''No, not Fishy'' I reassured her and laughed.

Here is the 'love letter':

''Hello BBg,
I have taken the liberty of sending you this email as I enjoy your blog and would enjoy some banter - this is none other than Won'tDieWondering here.

How is the year panning out for you? I am currently loving going out with my mates and rebuilding my life (not that its broken, just completely changed)

Anyways, this is obviously just a short note to drop the ball in your court. I like how you think and some of the things you have posted.

Cheers,
WDW''

Whoever would want to date me after reading my blog must be completely mad!

Well, I'll never know if I don’t give it a chance, and meet the guy.
You think I’m doing the right thing?

A salty taste of revenge

2010-05-08T00:27:00.000+01:00

For those of you who are new to my blog, let me run you through recent events in my life - some weeks ago, my friend Ella has agreed to date a guy she knew I liked, Andy. In the end, they only met for one drink and their mutual interest died. But my bruised ego was still very much alive and demanding revenge!

It wasn't enough to say 'NO' to Andy, who dared to ask me out later on. No, I needed something stronger, something memorable.

Luckily for me, it somehow arranged itself…

Ella rents out a spare bedroom, and this time, a guy from Sydney, John, took the room. Ella liked him, cooked for him, occasionally watched films with him, and… ended up in bed with him. But she was still claiming being cool with it – no feelings involved.

I got to meet John on the night that Ella, Andy and I came from the club back to her place. There I witnessed her disappearance into John's bedroom.

The next time I meet Ella's lover is on one Thursday's night, when after a great evening in The East Room, I come to crash at hers:

We walk into the hall, taking coats off, giggling and already planning to have some honey vodka, that Ella keeps in the freezer. John emerges from his bedroom wearing some sport gear (why do men do that - wearing football shirt when not playing football?) and he joins the party. John and I hit it off, laughing a lot, and giving each other fitness tips. And we drink vodka in shots. Three of us then move into a more intimate conversational territory - love, patriotism, truth, theology, sex and canarries. We are warmed by the vodka, feeling nostalgic and… sexy.

I pop the question with a curious smile ''So… are we going to sleep, or shall we three have fun?'' Ella looks into my eyes to check if I'm not joking, but I confidently look back, first into her eyes and then John's, while taking his hand. I lead him through the hall, having Ella following, and asking with an excited smile ''Whose room you prefer''?

We settle for John's bed…

A few days later e-mail from Ella arrives:

''I've asked John to move out. He's not happy about it but I can't forget how neglected I felt that night when I was constantly on the end edge of the bed and you two were going for it. I'm not blaming you of course, just want John out.
Let's have coffee soon xxx''

How to end a romance

2010-05-04T20:16:00.000+01:00

To add to, what has already become a work-romance disaster, I’ve ended up looking like a female chauvinist.

I just want to end the misery of this bleeding-to-death-romance so I meet Matthew for a drink after work to talk things over. Last week I finally revealed I didn’t want to meet his mother, because it was all too committing.

Now in the pub, surrounded by couples that sit too close for comfort, Matthew breaks silence ‘’I don’t want to get hurt… Maybe it’s best to just stay friends’’.

I’m there listening, looking through the pub’s window on brunches of a blossoming tree, gently waving on this sunny day. How unusual to find a fruit tree in the heart of the city.

I sigh and feel my irritation rising, ‘’Can’t you try to enjoy the experience; just being, being together, without always trying to reach some outcome. It can be refreshing’’, I add.

But Matthew is not getting it.

The next day he’s texting from his best mate’s wedding that we’ve supposed to go to together:

Matthew: Hi. How was work today? I couldn’t help but hear Jason’s [our temperamental boss] outburst yesterday, are you ok?

What I would like to reply is: of course I’m ok – it’s Friday night and I’m having a good time. And you should be doing the same!

What I actually reply is: Hi. Thanks. Yeah there was a bit of a situation but I managed to play it cool (I think). Are you at the wedding?

Matthew: Yeah I think you did play it cool, he really showed himself up with that one. Yes at wedding but could do with getting out of here. Have purposefully not had a drink in case I decide to.

BbG: You are joking! Not having a drink at wedding? Not enjoying it?

Matthew: No not joking. Not really enjoying it plus hardly know anyone either and realise how stupid and insensitive I have been this week and that you should be here with me :-(

Ahh, that’s daring to admit it, but not really what I want to hear, considering I want this to be over if we can’t see each other on my, non-commitment terms…

BbG: You did what you thought was best for you. I’ve started to think that you were right. If you can’t have a casual sexual relations than best to be just friends.

Matthew: Well there is that part but it seemed more than casual to me because I really feel for you and realised how much I enjoy your company and that it was a really good thing. I know you were not looking for anything because of where you were before and I shouldn’t have assumed otherwise. I suppose it comes down to if all you’ll ever want is casual or whether you just want casual because of being in long relationship previously. Have felt awful since speaking on Tuesday and have missed you.

Oh God, he’s not making it easy for me – I’ve got to say something I know he won’t settle for…

BbG: In truth I’m only interested in sex now. Please don’t judge me.

I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but it is the truth, it makes me feel good, totally relaxed and in control of my (single but not alone) life.

Matthew: Not going to judge you at all, everyone wants that at times. I just thought there might have been more there as I felt a chemistry and it certainly didn’t just feel like that was the only reason we were seeing each other. Well I suppose at least I know now :-(

I can’t afford to keep reassuring him – it drains me out.

No more reassurance. He’s got to deal with it. I'm not replying and instead, promissing myself never to mix work and pleasure again.

Toothbrush

2010-04-29T21:09:00.000+01:00

Beautiful but Grumpy: wearing just a mask

TV Director: wearing an open white shirt + mask

In large, lush bed. The only light comes from the muted, fuzzy TV screen.
You see me on my fours. TV Director behind me.
Both highly excited, and have been pleasing each other for the majority of the evening.

Now, he is slowly slotting the handle of my pink toothbrush into my arse. I arch my back in delight and give out a little moan. He then passionately sticks initially one, and then second finger, inside me. I groan faster and faster, while he touches the remote, taking pictures of our moist, glowing bodies.

The sweet ain’t sweet without the bitter

2010-04-24T14:02:00.000+01:00

My last post ended with ‘How long can a hungry woman wait?’ Not long, I can tell you now. Until yesterday actually.

Matthew might be the king of ‘starters’ but he is playing a game - he is trying to seduce me into a relationship, just like a woman would do, with withholding sex.

Now everything makes sense – the invitation to his best friend’s wedding, meeting his sister and best friends in his local pub. When he asked me to meet his Mother, alarm bells went on.

From the beginning I kept reminding I didn’t want a relationship. I always paid for myself, sometimes even treated him to a dinner. Maybe I gave a wrong impression and there has been some sort of role reversing here?

Yesterday I left work with Matthew, and headed to mine for a quiet evening, which I was hoping would be filled with heavy petting. I offered to cook him dinner and make a dessert, as usual.

But instead my petting-buddy sits me down, and corners me to agree to meet his Mother next weekend, then joyfully jumps in the shower. I’m on the sofa, with a cocktail in my hand, tasting good quality vodka from the latest trip to Poland, and realising what the hell I’m doing. I’m practically agreeing to be in a relationship.

Matthew is now back in the room, giving me big, juicy kiss.

‘I can’t meet your mother’ I say quietly.

He sits down and swiftly replies ‘We can postpone it, if that’s what you want’.

I look up and sigh ‘No, what I’m trying to say is… I don’t want a relationship’.

Silence. I’m surprised there is no more convincing, trying to keep the game alive.

‘I wouldn’t want to mislead anyone, especially you. Honesty is important to me.We can keep things as they are – just without the whole family introductions’ I add.

He seems relieved that I’m not totally breaking up, and perks up offering to help me with the starter (!). I serve deliciously smelling dinner, we chat about work, I keep offering more potatoes or salad. He accepts. And another portion. And one more. I was hoping to make a potato salad tomorrow… so not giving any more helpings. But as I clear the dishes, Matthew gets up from the table and springs to the pot, now finger picking potatoes as if they were peanuts, and downs them hastily.

Is he trying to kill himself with overdose of spuds??

I panic, but soon start feeling sorry for him, and wish I could give him a hug. Instead I just stand there.

‘I better go. Need to think things over’ he mutters.

I nod, and watch Matthew walking out without turning back.

Later, I fall asleep swallowing tears.

The King of Erotica

2010-04-20T21:02:00.000+01:00

I have now found myself in a perverse liaison. Matthew, my work colleague that I have been casually seeing for 10 weeks, is not showing any signs that we may, anytime soon, be having sex.

This is a new sexual perversity. In times when sex is available like fresh bagels, not having sex is kinky and seedy. We do of course have ‘starters’, but never manage to consume a main course. Don’t take me wrong, Matthew is the king of starters – that is probably why I’m still hanging around, wanting more.

But how long can a hungry woman wait?...

British Summer Time

2010-03-29T23:13:00.000+01:00

A change to British Summer Time kills me. Every time. I don’t understand why we keep doing this; there is no scientific reason behind it anyway.

So what’s new?

Ex has moved out. A guy from IT moved in. He’s only renting a room from me for few months. Very professional, likes his gym – actually he looks like Buzz Lightyear, when you think of it. I've become obsessed with guessing when he wanks. I’m 94% sure he did earlier this evening. He came back from a weekend in Yorkshire, saying he is having an early night, as he needed to get up at 3am. And off he went, into the wanking world. The annoying thing is that I will never know if I was right. Well, unless I ask him, but that would be spoiling the game.

Anyway, apart from that, not much is happening. Work, work, work. Some of it for a charity too - am now officially qualified to talk to people who are contemplating suicide (I thought this would be a useful skill to bring to my management role, at work).

Situation with Mr TV Director – no change – I’m still trying not to give into evil… but I’m hanging on a very thin string, and if it breaks I’ll fall straight to hell, and into his open arms.

Not much dating to report. I’m contemplating dating someone from work, out of convenience, and because it is new, to me.

Oh, and am happy to be back… Watch this space.

Mr TV Director, My Saviour

2010-03-01T22:17:00.000Z

Have you ever had a dream that came true?

THE DREAM

Last night I dreamt that I was taken hostage. In a small cell, attached to a huge room, were my ragged bed and a toilet seat. I woke up, from what seemed a rest after a night in transit. Through a slightly opened door I saw three women crouching, surrounded by a group of men, who were sitting, scattered on the floor. Without hesitation I run towards the women, untied their hands and shouted ‘Run’. I knew I would have to fight to make our escape possible. There was blood; all possible styles of fighting were exhausted. I was doing alright. In the end however, numbers worked against me – dirty men held me down. I was breathing heavily.

The most senior of kidnapers appeared above my face. He kneeled down and whispered slowly:
“We were negotiating your release with your Saviour, Mr TV Director. But you’ve just blew it”.

THE REALITY

It’s lunchtime. At my office. I’m having a Japanese soup at the desk, slurping hot ramen, when text arrives:

Mr TV Director: Where do you work M.?

It’s him! Last night’s dream flushes through my head…

Beautiful but Grumpy: Do you mean location or the company?

Mr TV Director: Both

He’s breaking the rules we had set up when we met: never to talk about work.
But I’m weak.
I give him what he wants, and follow with:

BbG: Why?

Mr TV Director: Just wondering.
Wandering what if I was to find myself nearby.
Wandering if entertaining you at work somehow might be worthy of your time.

I like his poetic tone.
BbG: I thought it was flowers – was just about to say I didn’t like carnations.

Mr TV Director: :-)

BbG: Well. Are you in the area?

I’m apprehensively awaiting reply, and feeling out of breath discreetly loosen up my bra.

Mr TV Director: No. But I could be. If not now, another time.

He’s such a tease!

BbG: With my 1000 meetings a day I doubt it being possible. But still, you could try to hang around outside the building. I’m sure I would feel your presence (I guess you’re not working).

Mr TV Director: Start working again next week. Kings Cross.

BbG: Oh, what is it? I saw your hurricane program and liked it. Good music.

Mr TV Director: You have?? Teaching journalists how to film stuff.

BbG: Why don’t you teach me how to make a film?

Mr TV Director: Ok. We could go into the porn business together. A female director would be a good selling point.

Here we go again…
Is he really capable of saving me, as the dream predicted? And what is he to save me from?

I spend the rest of the day imagining his head between my legs.

The phone beeps, disturbing my vision. It’s a text message:

Andy: Want to do lunch on Saturday? Islington.
We’ve got lots to catch up on.

The rules

2010-02-21T23:02:00.000Z

As I’m continuing my search for The ONE, I decide to try and apply some rules to get healthier results. Blogs are a great source, and I have come across some invaluable advice!

The common recommendation is to put together a list of qualities of the desired man. It is all to illuminate what I am looking for.

After an afternoon of attempting to evoke the great (and not so great) guys I have dated, I am focusing on their skills, virtues and characteristics I've admired.

The following ‘catalogue’ emerged (not in any particular order):

• Kind + happy to talk politics in bed (on Saturday morning)

• Well mannered + Respectful towards others

• Cute + Warm

• Good at maths

• Confident (but relaxed)

• Funny + A bit crazy

• Entertaining (but knows when to say little)

• Aware about self and others

• Generous (including feelings)

• Has self-control (no addictions, except maybe coffee so we can match on that)

• Well wishing to others

• Creative + fast thinking (and acting)

• Wants to change the world

• Resourceful

• Problem solver

• Optimistic

• Non-materialistic (ideally socialist)

• Emotionally available

• Brave

It made my friend Matt laugh, that I stated ‘brave’ as the last quality – he would need to be brave to face those expectations!

Do you have a list or follow rules?

Sperm and rabbits

2010-02-15T20:35:00.000Z

The real reason, for ending relationship with my X, is not enjoying the taste of his sperm anymore.

How I came to this conclusion, I'm not totally certain. It must have been gradual. I don't even remember when I started to avoid having him finishing in my mouth. I began pretending being disturbed by something; sudden noise from the fridge or radiator, neighbour's heavy step. I don't think he suspected anything.

Apparently mangos are beneficial in producing excellent taste of sperm. And I hope women were used to test this hypothesis. Not rabbits.

Other foods include cinnamon, pineapple and celery.

In Psychology Today I read that urologists generally say that men can't modify the taste of semen. But the same article gives following advice to women:

''Women need not fear injury from the force of ejaculation. Having a man come in your mouth feels like biting down on a cherry tomato''.

Would you agree?

A quick guide to ... how to get your man back

2010-02-08T19:37:00.000Z

Life is short.

No time to be wasted in fear of rejection.

One cold late evening, repeating this mantra maniacally, I make a decision to win Andy back.

Or at least to give it a try.

To call or to text?

Lying in bed burning (regardless of the white storm outside), with only a small bedside light on, I decide on text - to test the water.

‘Hi Andy.

Happy New Year.

Hope the new job is working out well for you.

All the best. M.’

If this doesn’t work, I have no Plan B, but my feminine intuition tells me that the text is neutral enough; not demanding nor needy. No pressure applied - focussed totally on him.

A day later I receive a reply, and smile to myself with (deserved) satisfaction.

‘Happy New Year.

Hope you enjoyed NYE.

Will catch up with you and Ella soon. Andy.’

Will catch up soon! Wow, that so lovely...

But, hold on, is he suggesting meeting with me AND Ella? What’s that supposed to mean? I panic silently, biting small bit of hardened skin, on the side of my index finger.

There must be something I could do to HINT he should meet me ALONE. There is only one option that would GUARANTEE us to meet without my dear friend and it would sound like this:

‘Ella is dead.

Would you like to meet for coffee or perhaps a glass of wine next week?’

It would be hard to believe, but I’m sure things like this happen all the time; young (well, in her early thirties) but suddenly not with us anymore. A terrible loss.

Accidents also happen… I reassure myself.

All I need now is to ask Ella for permission. That’s just plain politeness. I plan to drop it in subtly, at the dinner we are having tomorrow.

7.10pm Sunday, pub on Columbia Road in East London

Sitting with Ella at the bar; facing the entrance and playing with my desert. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything - our conversation has died (!); I’m staring at my plate, patiently picking raisons from my cheesecake. Not a fan of raisons. I now start piling them up methodically on one side of the plate.

It’s Sunday evening so the place is not as busy as usual; soft candle light sets the mood for what I’m about to drop. I am ready to ask if Ella would kindly consider pretending to be dead. For love. And my future children.

Looking straight up from the plate, I come eye to eye with a handsome face, gazing from behind Ella’s shoulder. God, it’s Alex Turner, AND he’s looking directly at me! (my friend was right – this place is a hidden celebrity hang out).

I try gently kicking Ella’s ankle to let her know I have an attention of the leader of Arctic Monkeys. She frowns, looks at me with annoyance, and asks ‘You alright?’ The signer casually glances at my plate, at what now resembles rabbit droppings, and then walks away. I turn to Ella utterly flushed, and passionately describe the magical incident (minus the plate moment), but in reply, she lets out one of her hyena laughs, and tells me to look behind.

And there it is – Today’s Specials - on the black board, just behind my head. I sigh and follow the musician, with a look of a wounded gazelle, to the table, where Alexa Chang awaits him with a striking long neck, and astoundingly glorious smile.

‘I need to ask you a favour Ella’, I start gloomily, trying to use temporarily gained sympathy ‘Andy texted me with New Year wishes, and…’

‘I know’ she interrupts, ‘He mentioned it when he called to ask me out to dinner this Friday’ she continues with pretended sheepishness, ‘I wanted to ask if you were OK with it first, before I committed to anything’.

My fork drops loudly, destroying the neat heap of raison dung. I stare hopelessly at the golden couple of Alexes, shamelessly smooching away, and pretending to be just ordinary people, hanging around East End.

A dream

2010-01-30T13:57:00.000Z

I somehow feel this is relevant to dating, and dare to post it.

I dreamt last night that I was in a small, elegant perfume shop with marble floors, walking down carpeted spiral steps, seeing few people on the way and receiving inquisitive glances. I looked down and noticed no clothing on me, but clean, freshly waxed (Brazilian style) bikini line. In search of attire I followed steps to the basement. There, I found few women, with kind and intelligent faces, surrounded by tiny and fluffy, hopping rabbits.

How to REALLY lose a guy in 24 hours

2010-01-20T19:30:00.000Z

The next morning I woke up wearing nothing more than Andy’s soft purple jumper.

His arms around me, as if we’ve been married for 15 years. I remembered we even said ‘good night’ before falling asleep. Lovely. What was going to be next? ‘I want to move in with you’?

I stretched my arm to get a cup with water, which was on my side of the bed; and as I was swallowing a sip I heard Andy through his yawn:

'I am aristocracy’

I almost chocked! ‘Oh, it must be hard to carry such a burden’, I managed to spill, to which, I think he said ‘yes’. Scouser aristocrat – surely that’s a contradiction. I decided to let this one stay unquestioned – my head felt like made of lead. What did I drink? Oh, rum. Yeah.

‘Why so far away from me?’ said Andy with his sexy accent. He turned me around and brought me to lie on his arm, holding me tenderly with one hand around my waist.

I enjoyed it. He was cuddly and warm. Just like a man should be.

We chatted and laughed a lot, occasionally engaging in a long, sexy look in the eyes.

‘They like each other’ Andy pointed out towards our feet, which were embracing on their own accord.

I blushed, but he just held out his palm to mine (which, as always, was in the air making gestures). It felt as our hands were magnetic – touching released such bliss.

I would have loved to stay like this until eternity, but Christmas shopping was calling. Andy offered to take me for a coffee and to walk me to the station, but I finally settled for giving him my mobile number.

On the way home I couldn’t believe how great it all felt. But then I panicked about what could be next. Am I ready for it?

The next day, when I was on the phone with my Mother (who was listing the tenth of the twelve (!) dishes she was preparing for Christmas Eve), I had a call waiting from Andy. My heart jumped, I told my Mum I would call her later, but I just kept staring at the phone’s screen showing ‘Andy’… and I froze.

1 Missed call.

I thought about this many times and still I’m not totally sure why I didn’t answer. Maybe I was scared. That he might have been THE ONE.

The following day I came to my senses and got myself to text Andy:

‘Hey. You’ve called. Sorry, I was on the other line. How’s your weekend been? M.’

What a ridiculous thing to say 26 hours later! There is no hope for me.

‘A very sound weekend.

Am working on the Independent now.

You’re lucky I’m texting: I’m having to run many lines here.

Hope you’re well.’

The reply didn’t sound either warm or hopeful (but what did I expect?) – I better leave it before it turns even worse – I decided, trying to stir my thoughts towards something cheerful. Oh, like the recent phone call from my gynaecologist. I would swear he was flirting with me with his line ‘I’ve heard Bupa doesn’t let me see you’. Did he have a ring on his finger? I couldn’t remember, but will make sure to check, when I see him next, in two weeks time…

How to lose a guy in 24 hours ( part 2)

2010-01-12T21:17:00.000Z

I can't seem to bring myself to write about the part when I 'lost' that guy Andy. So I wonder if someone would like to speculate on what had happened the next morning.....

How to lose a guy in 24 hours

2009-12-29T23:41:00.000Z

Now, that I’m through with Ben, (the English teacher, remember?) because of his un-manly pasta-from-scratch-making ambition, and me being (apparently) not Buddhist- friendly, I am having a go at meeting men in a more traditional way. I go to a bar in Dalston.

It is great to be around real people again! Unlike having to stare at their profiles on internet, and coldly picking men that suit the fantasy of a relationship, this is a Russian roulette.

So, I’m here with my best friend Ella, who is great to go out with because we are truly compatible – she is a real opposite of me – decent, shy, non-ambitious, un-confrontational, funny yet quiet. Although occasionally we kind of swap – that’s the beauty of being non one dimensional women.

We drink cocktails because we think that beer smells, and it’s therefore not great if you are anticipating chatting to men.

The place is not yet packed; we are invited by the barman (which is quite unusual) to join a table with 3 other guys. I mumble ‘hi, thanks for letting us share, bla, bla’. They look delighted. Whatever, we exchange glances with Ella. We try to play it cool, even thought both of us have been way too busy to go out to ANY bar, for months.

The music is pretty good, the atmosphere very relaxed. It’s not glamorous at all, but it is cool and sexy. We decided to have a full on fun tonight, and agreed to bring men with us, back to Ella’s flat in Hackney. We even said, we would settle for one (and share) if worse came to worst…

Suddenly two guys from the other side of the table appear in front of us, and without asking, or even introducing themselves, say casually:

‘Hi. Are you Swedish?’

Simultaneously I say ‘Yes, we are’ and Ella ‘no, we are Polish’. Oh, God. She’s always like this: sweet and painfully honest. It is supposedly being just a start of playful conversation. Thankfully, they have not heard Ella’s reply (or pretended not to) and I continue with:

‘Yes, we are. You could tell by the size of our feet?’

We both are very tall, and that implies rather big feet. Guys look surprised and laugh out loud, inspecting our feet. The ice is broken, and we are now chatting in pairs. The shorter, dark-haired Chris talks to me about his media company and how he managed to once fire the other gay, Andy. I look at Andy, I like him – he’s tall, charming and very funny. I doubt he could ever deserve to be fired, and instinctively dislike Chris.

Ella reminds me that we’ve got to be in the other bar (‘Passing Clouds’) before 10pm, to get in for under £10. Andy doesn’t want to let us go, and holds us around shoulders, makes up rap music and we dance to it. We are all singing by now, and laugh at the lyrics we make up. And when I’m so close to Andy, I'm surprised at how good and natural it feels. Was that an attempt to kiss me? I wonder, when he brings himself even closer to me. The music changes, Ella turns away but Andy is still holding his arm around my neck. I quickly decide that it’s not the right thing to do – I move away. Andy says:

‘Did you know that the best place to find out a real smell of someone is at the back of their neck?’

He bowed his head to prove it. I touch his neck and inhale – I like his faint aroma of aftershave, mixed with some lemony smell, and maybe cigarettes. We stare at each other eyes, embarrassed.

Now in Passing Clouds. The bar is packed. There is a supposedly well-known SKA performer on the stage. Ella takes me upstairs, where the other bar is quiter, with a DJ and few sofas placed around. Hippy and sexy.

By the time we order drinks Andy and his mates are here. Wow, he is keen! We all sit down on sofas, Andy squeezes my hand secretly, while chatting to me and Ella. It is still unclear who he actually likes – me or Ella? They often go out for cigarette together, and giggle on the way back. But then now and again he suggests to Ella to go dancing. He then brings himself really close, and asks me questions about the kind of men I like.

I say I am not interested in relationships (although with him I probably wouldn’t mind to have a baby!). He tells me he is a journalist from Liverpool, but lives in north London, and works for the Sun paper, which I laugh at. He then dares to take a picture of me, (in front of Ella), saying I have beautiful eyes and that I look like a kitten... I must be drunk.

Few more drinks later Andy’s friends decide to leave. The music is now really loud. Andy brings the inevitable question (to both of us) - would we like to go to his place? Ella shouts that I’m staying in hers tonight, and that he is welcome to stay at hers too. He agrees and soon we take a taxi back to Ella’s, which Andy generously offers to pay for. Nice guy, I think.

Now in Ella’s flat, everything seems to go really quickly – Ella’s flatmate comes back from a party, and as they have a ‘history’, Ella whispers to me that she is going to spend a night in his room. I’m confused because there is only one room left,with one bed… and Andy is already there under the duvet! I close the door and I’m not brave enough to undress with the light on – he is a stranger after all, plus I have just come out of a long term relationship, and have no idea what to do in these kind of situations. Sensing my hesitation Andy jokes ‘c’mon, do a striptease’. I say ‘you wish’, switching off the light and undressing clumsily. ‘I have no pyjamas’ I state out laud and Andy offers me his purple cashmere jumper. I leave my panties on, naturally.

I slip under the cover; cold but with racing heart. He gently pulls me nearer whispering ‘come here’. We kiss. First time tonight. I don’t fight it.
I think I would have fainted if I wasn’t already lying down.

‘I need to tell you something’ says Andy suddenly. It wasn’t a whisper and for that reason it made me anxious. What is it that he needs to tell me at THIS moment?

‘I kissed Ella…When we were outside having a cigarette.’

I freeze, but I’m also surprised by how unaffected I am by this news. I think about something to say. I try to guess WHY he is telling me this now.

‘What would you like me to do? Go and get her from the other room?? We could swap? Or…’ I say slowly while making dramatic gestures. I realise he can’t see me.

‘No.’ he mutters. I could swear he lowers his eyes and blushes. It’s too dark to be sure.

‘Or... You are confessing, right?’ I dryly start a question, but the ending turns into a statement.

Without answering he sighs, turns towards me and kisses me softly. And I let him. We breathe faster, in the same rhythm. My hands are playing in his lush hair. He brings me on top of him, kisses me and tenderly pulls off his purple jumper from my, now hot, back.
…

To be continued

Serious Porn

2009-12-22T22:04:00.000Z

I’m going back to 505, if it’s a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive,
In my imagination you’re waiting, lying on your side,
With your hands between your thighs

Stop and wait a sec,
Oh when you look at me like that my darling,
What did you expect,
I’ll probably still adore you with your hands around my neck,
Or I did last time I checked

But I crumble completely when you cry,
It seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with goodbye
I’m always just about to go and spoil the surprise
Take my hands off of your eyes too soon

I’m listening to this tune when I get a text from Mr TV Director:

Mr TV Director: Ever thought of starring in a film?
Beautiful but Grumpy: Have you?
Mr TV Director: Ha. I have thought about it.
BbG: And?
Mr TV Director: And didn't go through with it.
BbG: What kind of thing? Porn?
Mr TV Director: Yes
BbG: Ha, ha. You look too serious for porn!
Mr TV Director: Serious porn.
BbG: I could try to film you with the Malaysian (woman/man)
Mr TV Director: Try? You have a camera?
BbG: No, but you must have access, no? Hmm. You got me really excited here. I could write a script (with your help).
Mr TV Director: : ) no access actually! Well, maybe…But I know a director in the business
BbG: But would you let him be involved with you being a main character??
Mr TV Director: Maybe. He makes stuff for the web. But I don't want to be recognised.
BbG: That's another challenge we would need to discuss ;-) who would you like to be a leading female?
Mr TV Director: If you're happy to be filmed, he would be delighted! Er…Fern Cotton.
BbG: She looks like a bird.
Mr TV Director: Yes. I like her! What kind of woman do you like??
BbG: I like BOTH women starring in Mulholland drive.
Mr TV Director: Ok, I've seen them. Classically beautiful!
BbG: You like?
Mr TV Director: But of course! Can you get them?
BbG: Can you get Fern?
Mr TV Director: Er… I'll look for her on facebook.

I'm tempted! I must admit...

And my New Year resolution is to.... learn how to masturbate in a shower and/or toilet. Because tomorrow I'm going to Aberdeen for Christmas (on the coach for 12 hours!) - my flight has been cancelled...

Happy Christmas everyone! xxx

The Master and Margarita

2009-12-20T13:33:00.000Z

Mr TV Director has proposed to me!

Well, he proposed to become a couple on Gumtree. One needs to start somewhere, I suppose.

We are to advertise for a girl to have fun with. I have just started to investigate the site (which to me, used to be synonymous with exchange of bike parts or used baby pushers) but I'm now looking at the alternative face of Gumtree. There is a whole part on Friends and Dating (just after Pets), with Casual Relationships, Desperately Seeking and Missed Connections sections. I can imagine what Casual Relationships ads would offer, but I’m rather intrigued by the other two romantic sounding sections. I start with Missed Connections and come across this lovely note:

Pretty Female Weds Approx. 11.30PM Stratford Station Central Line To Leytonstone

Hi, you were a young female waiting with your friends on the platform at Stratford for a central line train. I was standing on the platform just a few feet away from you. I think you are a nurse and perhaps you had been out for the evening together with your friends. You were the youngest of your group and I thought you was kinda cute. You were wearing a very small pretty gold heart necklace.

I held the door open and stopped it from closing on one of your friends. How I regret I let you go like that…

Or this one, which shows how lonely people can be in London:

The woman on the crowded Piccadilly tube Friday 5.40pm

We got talking on the platform when the trains were overcrowded and we couldn't get on two trains in a row. We chatted about the Christmas holidays, and I said how unusually friendly you were. I got off at Knightsbridge. You were heading to Gloucester Road. I know you said you're married but I'd love to just be friends with you. I felt a real human connection with you.

Now, back to Casual Relationships and find this intriguing:

Are you a submissive, bisexual or bicurious female? Would you like to be controlled together with another like minded girl? The two of you playing in bed while your master is watching and giving directions.
I make the rules: The two of you kissing, licking and fingering each other. Your aim will be to make the other girl cum first.
The one that wins will have the full attention of the master and the other girl.
The one that loses (i.e., the one that had an orgasm without permission) has to be punished e.g., spanked, covered by hot wax, or stand naked at the corner watching the other girl pleasing the master and learning from her.
This is just one of the games and tasks you will have to complete for your master. If you find this intriguing, reply with your details. As long as my advert is online there will be an available position for you!
Me: 28 years old, good looking, tall, athletic, intelligent guy.
You: 20 to 30 years old, bi-sexual or bi-curious, submissive, open minded girl.

Hmm, I still haven’t found a girl for us. But I now have open eyes.

The second burst

2009-12-16T19:30:00.000Z

Brick Lane, last Sunday 6pm

It's a second date with Ben (the English teacher). I come out of Aldgate East station and give Ben a call. It's ringing but there is no answer.

I glance at the entrance to the Whitechapel art gallery, where I went yesterday with Gunter, the German artist. The exhibition we saw is still with me - French artist Sophie Calle, sends her lover's break up letter to 107 women to analyse it. The women were chosen for their professions and skills – head hunter, tarot reader, psychiatrist, ballet dancer, and a cook, among many others. Some women sung it, some danced it, and some slept with the letter. Overall, the guy was proclaimed a manipulating seducer, and a self-centred asshole. The female police detective even recommended 'Avoid at all cost'. Admittedly, the letter itself was a beautiful piece of work.

This exhibition brought back memories of the text message Mr TV Director sent me six weeks ago 'I have always been honest with you. I am not seeing anyone else. But I don't want a relationship. I never wanted anything serious. It is probably best if we don't see each other.' I burst in to tears when I read it. His text was a reply to inevitable questions. We couldn't meet up because he was working on a documentary, day and night, for a month…I then started to suspect he was seeing someone else and finally, at the peak of my obsession I texted him 'Dan. Be honest with me. If you are not planning to see me and have met someone else, then tell me so… And I can move on'.

I start walking and look for a quiet bar on Brick Lane. It is freezing, but it doesn't stop Indian restaurants' waiters from standing outside and trying to snatch clients. They are even louder tonight, animated and friendly, to keep warm perhaps.

My mobile rings, it's Ben, he is ahead of me, but is willing to come back to meet me half way. He sounds sweet and affectionate.

We kiss on cheeks at 'hello'. I try to catch his scent. Nothing. We walk in silence for a while. 'This is the one' says Ben pointing at the bar he finds suitable. We walk in, order mojitos and take it to the snug looking sofa, where we sit down, facing each other.

Ben seems melancholic tonight. He asks me about my future plans (again) and questions the little amount of information I revealed about myself on my on-line dating profile. Is he doubtful if I am ready for relationship? Well, I might not be ready, I suspect. Now I stop caring about what he thinks. I like him, but I just want to be myself, and wish he stopped asking about things, I have no answers to.

Now it's my turn to explore if he is right for me! He mentions his father is a doctor. I ask lightly if he is a gynaecologist, and soon feel ready to confess to my fantasies about doctors, dentists and gynaecologists. Ben looks at me with a mixture of surprise and delight, and… gets into a role play. He actually pretends to be a doctor for me! He is good. We look at each other and smile. I turn my head away to hide that I blush, but instantly my face is being pooled up and I feel Ben's warm lips on mine, then his tongue inside my mouth. He is gentle yet he holds me tight. I can smell him now. I breathe in a faint aroma of aftershave. He strokes my chin and cheek, keeps kissing my lips. I search for his hand, stroke inside of his palm, he grips my hand and I push my fingernails inside his, while biting his lip. He gently pulls away, but is still holding me close. We stay like this for the rest of the evening, while whispering memories of our childhoods and past loves.

I could not sleep that night – it must have been the sugar in mojitos.

Non-Linear Relationships

2009-12-14T18:30:00.000Z

Mr TV Director is 10 years older than me.

He dislikes: eating out, cinema, concerts or sport.
He likes: making successful documentaries about war in Iraq, me visiting him at his flat in Notting Hill.

We still haven't seen each other since we have disagreed on 'fundamentals' two months ago.
But I have received an interesting proposition…

Beautiful but Grumpy: Amuse me – what else do you like if not blow jobs?
Mr TV Director: Anal play, both ways. Watching a woman play with herself. Any woman watching me, even if I don't fancy her.
A pause from me here...
Mr TV Director: So I like the idea of three because of all the watching and being watched.
BbG: So have you found the 3rd party for us yet?
Mr TV Director: Er… Not yet.
BbG: I might be able to get a couple soon.
Mr TV Director: Hmm. You could advertise us as a couple on gumtree.
BbG: Ha, ha. With photos?
Mr TV Director: Not allowed. But people reply with pics and then expect to be sent some.
BbG: You could try but I doubt people would believe us to be a couple.
Mr TV Director: More response to a woman! But I could do it from us both. But then you'd have to give me pics to send on.
BbG: Don't even start that trick with the pics! Ha, ha.
Mr TV Director: Yes. That is another thing that I like. But if not, you will need to send some on yourself.
BbG: You like taking pictures or just receiving?
Mr TV Director: Both good.
BbG: Nice. Are you not interested in what I like?
Mr TV Director: Oh. Do tell.
BbG: I can tell you that I don't like fingers inside me.
Mr TV Director: Oh? Oh!! What DO you like?
BbG: You will find out when you get us a girl.
A pause here - he's not replying.
BbG: …I like being touched the way you did at the Florence and the Machine gig.
Mr TV Director: Hmm. In public too.
BbG: And I like dinner tables. Don't you?
Mr TV Director: Oh yes. During a dinner party. Women only.
BbG: Kitchen tables are my favourite… I would love to be served instead of a desert… Bon appetit.
Mr TV Director: Mmmm, you taste lovely… And as I lick you I have two fingers inside you and one up your virgin bum. Mmm. You must taste me too before we leave the table. Feed on me…

Poetry

2009-12-12T23:38:00.000Z

To live up to the title of this blog, here is some poetry...

TWICKENHAM GARDEN

BLASTED with sighs, and surrounded with tears,

Hither I come to seek the spring,

And at mine eyes, and at mine ears,

Receive such balms as else cure every thing.

But O ! self-traitor, I do bring

The spider Love, which transubstantiates all,

And can convert manna to gall ;

And that this place may thoroughly be thought

True paradise, I have the serpent brought.

'Twere wholesomer for me that winter did

Benight the glory of this place,

And that a grave frost did forbid

These trees to laugh and mock me to my face ;

But that I may not this disgrace

Endure, nor yet leave loving, Love, let me

Some senseless piece of this place be ;

Make me a mandrake, so I may grow here,

Or a stone fountain weeping out my year.

Hither with crystal phials, lovers, come,

And take my tears, which are love's wine,

And try your mistress' tears at home,

For all are false, that taste not just like mine.

Alas ! hearts do not in eyes shine,

Nor can you more judge women's thoughts by tears,

Than by her shadow what she wears.

O perverse sex, where none is true but she,

Who's therefore true, because her truth kills me.

by John Donne

X and Y

2009-12-09T19:25:00.000Z

I still wonder why my X brought his date to the Gypsy Moth, where I was enjoying my first date with Ben, last night. It happened by chance, a very small one, considering the number of pubs in London.

I meet Ben in Greenwich, where he lives.

Ben looks lovely – he is tall, blond/ginger, and has a big, warm smile. He tells me about the year he spent in Paris while we walk towards the river, passing huge, shiny Christmas tree. The feel of romance is in the air. We talk about our ideas of social justice and charity work we both do. (I wonder if he will try to kiss me tonight). We both love London, it turns out. Ben was born here.

In the pub now. I check out his great body, and his lovely, small bum from the cosy corner sit, while he is queuing at the bar getting my gin and tonic.

He tells me how much he loves teaching English, the play he saw with his students last night, and his passion for Buddhism.
I try to steer the conversation towards his sexual interests but he is not responding (I keep wondering if he would be up for a 3-some or a visit to Killing Kittens).
In turn, he asks if I was thinking about having children and tells me how much he is missing his ex-girlfriend's dog.
I can't help but imagine us watching a play in National Theatre, while discretely touching each other…
I glance at his handsome face and suddenly realise that he reminds me of someone… Brad Pitt! He even behaves like Brad Pitt – a little doped…
But I DON'T LIKE BRAD PITT! I never liked him. I especially detest the way he talks, his boyish 'charm', and that infantile expression on his face. No!!!

This is then that I notice X and his date, scanning the pub for free seats. I'm so shocked I involuntary tell Ben that my X is here! He stiffens up and politely asks if I wish to hide behind him. I frantically explain that we are best friends, so there is no need to hide, but I also foolishly manage to reveal that we still live together…

We decide to leave, and I already sense that Ben isn't impressed.

He walks me to the station, and I can't stop thinking, that if we were never to see each other again, I would be gutted to have missed the chance of finally seeing ginger pubic hair…

More dirty talk

2009-12-07T23:25:00.000Z

The veteran of on-line dating, Mr TV Director, is still demanding to meet me. He is trying to find ‘us’ a girl to have fun with, even though he is ‘not into that kind of thing and only doing it to fulfil your fantasy’.

We have only met twice before, but once ended up in bed.

Mr TV Director: Ha, haven’t heard from Kat. But then it has been a long time. I do know someone else… Older (forties), bit bigger than you, pretty Malaysian. Hmm. I didn’t want to see her again, but with you…
Beautiful but Grumpy: Old Malaysian woman… She might be a man! No!
Mr TV Director: I can tell you, she is NOT a man. She’s sex crazed and all woman!
BbG: I’m not convinced you would be able to tell, taking in account how desperate you are.
Mr TV Director: Yes, you have a point.
Oh, you’re being so difficult.
BbG: Some things can be negotiated, other, like fantasies and dreams, shouldn’t.

…….

BbG: Your name is Dan. Do you like it?
Mr TV Director: I prefer my own, but whatever fulfils your fantasy!
BbG: You may be appearing in one of my blog posts. How has your day been?
Mr TV Director: Boring, boring day. I’ve spent most of it trying to find a woman for you. Yours?
BbG: Who would have thought YOU would have a problem with that. Mine’s been good, thanks.
Mr TV Director: Why so good? I’m jealous.
BbG: You’ve got to start a blog! Bloggers can be amusing and refreshing. That’s not what I’ve been doing all day of course!
Mr TV Director: No, you’ve been gathering material?? Are you finished for today?
My plans for this evening have fallen through. But I would go out if there was a good offer.
Are you not out tonight then?
BbG: I might be going out to the local cinema later.
Mr TV Director: Adult cinema? Shame I have no porn to entice you over with.
BbG: No? I’m shocked.
Mr TV Director: Not that into it. Unless watching with someone.
I’m into real life women!
BbG: Shame you are not into REAL women, I might have been interested then.
Mr TV Director: I’ve failed to find you a woman today. If you don’t go to the cinema, we can go for a drink and try to pick one up. And if we fail, we can come back here and watch youporn.
BbG: I can’t. I’m on my period.
Mr TV Director: Well you can watch me and the lucky woman!
BbG: Intriguing but what if I find it so exciting that I won’t be able to resist but join?
Mr TV Director: You can play with yourself and take me in your mouth while I go down on her. Everybody’s happy.
BbG: That’s quite a lot of work you’ve invested just to get a blow job!
Mr TV Director: Actually I’m not a big fun of blow jobs!
BbG: Your face was telling a different story last time we met.
Mr TV Director: It’s all relative!
BbG: Ha! Thank you.

That evening I chose to go to the local cinema…

The return of Mr TV Director

2009-12-05T20:07:00.000Z

Dan [Mr Tv Director] scarred my soul forever. In the next life, even if I come back as a gazelle, he will be able to recognise me by the scar he's left on my soul.

After not seeing each other for the whole two months, yesterday we got in touch again. It’s probably a mistake. The last time we met was rather disastrous. Our expectations were mismatched. He purely wanted sex (so he kept saying but was giving mixed signals), and I wanted... love.

Nothing has changed, except maybe that I might need to lower my expectations if I wanted to be seeing him.

We are both on Guardian Soulmates and exchange e-mails about latest dating results:

Mr TV Director: The date was, er, interesting. Polish! Barbara. I liked her. I didn't really fancy her, but the strange thing is, I would have slept with her because she had such a remarkable body! Slim legs and small bum, podgy waist, big boobs and big fat face! She got bigger as she went up.

I certainly don't want a relationship with her, but she has aroused my curiosity. She's bisexual and was asking me if I knew any women I could introduce her to!

If the three of us were to meet, wouldn't that be fun?

Beautiful but Grumpy: Sounds good. Was she actually sexy?
Mr TV Director: Not as sexy as you, but yes! I might be able to point you towards some pics.
BbG: Is she good in bed? Confident, imaginative, etc…
Mr TV Director: I guess so but I haven't slept with her!
BbG: You might need to sleep with her first to test her. Otherwise we might have got together, start the fun...and realise she is useless!
Mr TV Director: Ha! If you were with me it's bound to be fun anyway, even if she just watches!
BbG: Is she at least a good kisser? She might not like to watch. Did you ask her?
Mr TV Director: We only had a tiny kiss! It was mostly chat! And no, I didn't ask her that, but I wouldn't be surprised.
The whole idea has me too turned on! I’m sitting here rock hard. Perhaps if you were to drop by, I could give you something to write about.
BbG: Desperation doesn’t taste good.
Mr TV Director: Ha! I’m sure I taste ok…
BbG: I wouldn’t mind if Barbara was a prostitute and there was a bottle of champaign.
Mr TV Director: I can offer you a can of Guinness?
BbG: What about the whore?
Mr TV Director: And just where am I going to get her? We could go for a browse in the pub…
BbG: You are a director! You should be able to get ANYTHING.
Mr TV Director: I suppose I could ask my other Polish friend, Katarina!
BbG: Does she sell her body?
Mr TV Director: Does money HAVE to be involved??
BbG: Mmm. I just want someone professional.
Mr TV Director: I have never slept with Kat, she might not even reply, but she is VERY experienced!
BbG: When is this orgy planned for?
Mr TV Director: I don’t know! Shall I text Kat?? You might not fancy her but she is sexy.
BbG: Sexy is good. But I can’t tonight. I have a dance class. Ask her when she wants it.
Mr TV Director: Ok, I’ll ask! God knows what she’ll say. And if the dance gets your endorphins going… I’m staying in tonight.

X

2009-12-02T18:11:00.000Z

Last night I caught my X on masturbating. Yes, we still live together. Because I cook really well, that's what he says.

My student neighbours decided to have an xbox karaoke session at 1.30am. I woke up and dragged myself out of bed to tell X to either go and speak to them (which I was sure he wouldn't do as he's not a confrontational type whatsoever) or in the old fashion way, bang on the ceiling (we still divide household responsibilities, and 'disturbances' fall under his umbrella, although he's never actually resolved any).

We haven't yet got into habit of knocking on each other's doors, so I just walked into his room, where I found him in compromising position. To try to minimise the embarrassment I still managed to ask him to deal with the neighbours, but had to make it short, and run to my bedroom to have a laugh!

Funnily enough, he spent all evening looking through Plenty of Fish … I had a glance over his shoulder, and noticed that girls there use much more daring pictures than 'ladies' on Soulmates. Hmm.

Dating
This week I have an invite to the East End gallery from Gunter, South African artist, and I'm exchanging e-mails with a very cute and tall (hurray) teacher, Ben from Greenwich. I will see how these will develop and possibly agree to dates with both, not at the same time of course. Although that could be a lot of fun.

Spooky James [Mr Monkey Media] has been e-mailing me since our last meeting, and surely the next mail will include a date invitation, but I still haven't decided if I should see him again because of the bear toy, anal sex stories, etc.

La dolce vita!

Oh and i'm a great kisser [Mr I_like_swans123]

2009-11-28T22:37:00.000Z

As voted positively by fellow Bloggers (or rather a Blogger/Follower) I promised to give I_like_swans123 a chance, but I had a glance at his profile again and found this:

Why should you get to know I_like_swans123?

You can tell a lot about someone by what they like and dislike in others. Well I like goodness, humour, warmth, knowing, intelligence, a wild spirit, and a naughty side. What I don’t like is ugliness ( inner), fear, anger, lack of careful thought, and no emotional intelligence.

Why me? Because I am loving, sexy, sweet, warm, intelligent and very funny. I am passionate and emotional and thrive on intimacy. I am fairly balanced but always working on myself and I'm very funny.

I can be very serious, but my general attitude to life is optimistic and positive. I love being silly for laughs but crave deep intense conversation too. I am ambitious but will always have time for the right person and a loving relationship. Oh and i'm a great kisser.
If any of this resinates with you give me a call, if not good luck in your search.

He describes his ideal match thus:

You are a whole human being, with weaknesses and strengths, undamaged but not unaffected.

You are not afraid of intimacy and open and honest conversation and you are looking for the same in me. You are willing to put hard work into the relationship and solve problems to develop friendship and love.

You are cool, outgoing and have a sense of humor. You are reflective and intellectual and open to constant challenging of your map of the world. You seek spiritual growth (of the non-religious sort) and you believe in consciousness at a higher level. You know yourself and your emotions. Allthough these abilities require some degree of self-absorbtion, I am by no means interested in egocentric people. You dont clean your car on Sundays and you love animals..

Shall we have another voting session please?

A man with a past [Mr Monkey Media]

2009-11-27T22:12:00.000Z

If I was treating this date as a test, James would fail in ethics and I would get unsatisfactory in carefreeness.

7.45pm Leicester Square (3 days ago)

I'm nervously looking around for any free access to Odeon Leicester Square, where preparations to the film premiere are taking place. No one is allowed near the building. How am I going to meet James here? I wonder.

His profile mentioned he thrives on challenge. Could he possibly have set me one tonight? Is it an experiment?

My mind is quickly scanning all the information I have about him. He is much older than me at 41, born in London but lived in Hamburg for past 5 years, where he has left his long term partner, and a child. He owns a media company and expresses interest in women who are 'a little carefree and wish to grow and communicate'. James uses a pseudonym of David Lynch, which brought us together, as I'm a big fan of the director. Then the mail with his poem followed. I enjoy poetry but this one somehow failed to engage me.

It's already 7.55pm, I text James to say that it will be difficult to meet. He texts back suggesting meeting in All Bar One next to it. But All Bar One is next to Odeon West End and not Leicester Square! We meet at the bar. I'm not impressed with his mistake, which I'm not prepared to hide, and instead of '’Hello'’ say '’I hate you'’. He laughs and asks what I want to drink.

He looks good for his age and he knows he is attractive. We talk about David Lynch for a while. I can't quite place James's accent. He says its south London, Croydon. He may well sound like a gangster, if it wasn't for 'big' words plunged occasionally. He drinks fast; talks a lot, mainly about himself.

His media company turns out to be a magazine specialising in boat design. Hmmm. Here is where the name dropping starts. James met Abramovich.

‘’I couldn’t believe how vulnerable he came across. Like a lost child. I just didn't want to sell him anything. I think he respected me for that’’.

James now goes out for cigarette every 10 minutes. He is excited and tells me he feels he can trust me. '’That's easy because I'm a good person and it shows. Can I trust you though?'’ I ask. He smiles and suddenly becomes serious '’No. I can't even trust myself. There is a lot of darkness in me'’. I then remember his profile’s response to the question 'Do you take drugs' being 'Not anymore'. I wonder if that is true.

One thing is on my mind now – how can I escape? James, sensing it, asks if I feel that there is 'more than what we see' and if I believed in signs. Without waiting for my reply he swiftly takes out something from his pocket. It's a small toy – Grey Bear carrying an even smaller, white rabbit in its arms. '’I've found it on the underground, on my way to meet you’', he says looking into my eyes. I exhale and slowly pronounce '’I am not prepared to be that bear’'. He mumbles something and goes out for a cigarette, leaving me with the bear staring from the table.

Finally he’s back and seeing the bear still on the counter, snatches the toy. There is an awkward moment of silence.

'’Some call me delusional'’ he reveals without looking at me. I can now agree with that but out of pity say

'’They might call you that, but in the end, it will be you who might succeed in something great, because you had a vision’'. He loves it and feels encouraged to tell me more.

He begins a monologue about having sex with his German ex-girlfriend after their break up and how he introduced her to anal sex. '’I made her do it with me all the time, knowing I was going back to England soon, as if to fill myself up’'. I feel sick.

'’Let's go’', I say, ‘'I need to be early at work tomorrow’'.

We are approaching Piccadilly line, going opposite directions, when James whispers '’I want you to have this bear’'. '’You found it, you keep it'’ I say quickly. He kisses me on the cheek and jumps on the train without looking back.

81.5% of Mr I_like_swans123

2009-11-26T21:25:00.000Z

Being in a playful mood, I replied to Mr I_like_swans123 last night...

BBG: Well, we are only 81.5 % match Mac! Do you think it's enough?

Mr I_like_swans123: Mmmm interesting question. When I did my degree and masters 81.5% would have got me a first, so yes enough. If i got a wage rise of 81.5% i'd be very happy, so again enough. If i made you laugh 81.5% of the time, you would indeed think it was enough. And imagine if we were really happy together 81.5% of the time. I think you know where i'm going with this one. So take an 81.5% chance and contact me.......

What about your wig?? I feel like asking...

I wish I had voting buttons here to let fellow bloggers/Followers decide what I could do next... That would be fun!

Did he lie about his height? [Mr Cameraman]

2009-11-25T20:26:00.000Z

My Guardian Soulmates profile attracts attention.

Some stats… I am being viewed 40 to 60 times per week, and I'm gaining (on average) 1.5 Fan a day ('Fan' means someone, who declares full interest in you, and usually follows with an e-mail).

Well, Mr Cameraman is one of my Fans.

His e-mails are uncomfortably long with constant references to what he had for dinner, and how sleepy he is feeling after eating it… followed by xx. Does it mean that he only feels like snogging after eating, because he doesn't put xx anywhere else in the text?

Well, Mr Cameraman is half Italian and rather handsome, so I've decided to give it a go.

The Date – last Tuesday, 7.30pm

I chose for us to meet in café 1001 on Brick Lane. Upstairs is usually quiet and dim.

We pick bottled Budweiser.

Just before we sat down I noticed that Mr Camaraman was significantly shorter than me. Did he lie about his height? I wondered. I did specifically state in my 'ideal man' spec that I liked my men taller than 5f9. Is that too much to ask?

The small talk wasn't going well. It resembled holding an annual objectives review.

I then offered to get another drink but he whispered, ''Let me surprise you'', with the look of someone who was going to bring me a young, live bear, or a butterfly cupped in his hands. But no, Mr Cameraman came back with two bottles of Corona.

I have no idea why I agreed to move to another, quieter bar. I think I wanted to hide the fact it wasn't a great date.

We finally find something we have in common – chocolate! This seems to bring us closer temporarily. We are sitting on the sofa when I say ''I can see you are trying for a kiss, but I just don't kiss on the first date'', I lied. Mr Cameraman looks at me as if I burped. He quickly composes himself ''You don't have it written on your forehead, you know''.

He then says I was more beautiful than on my profile photo and that he was bullied at school. It did not make me change my mind about kissing.

On the way to the Liverpool Street station I instinctively reached for his hand (being veteran of long term relationships). That was a mistake, but I didn't have guts to take it back. He is now trying again for a kiss. I pretended not to notice and run towards the entrance of the station, waving.

Mr Cameraman texted me the next day, asking for another date and offering leftovers of chocolates he brought for me from shooting Terry's advert. I'm tempted…but quickly remembered the height issue, and decided to stick to my one and only requirement.

Mr I_like_swans123

2009-11-23T20:38:00.000Z

So many date offers - so little time...

It certainly makes it easier to decide whom to date when you come across a guy who calls himself I_like_swans123 (I find it hard to believe that he couldn't register this name without adding numbers...)

His profile photo shows that he might be wearing a wig... but he is definitely wearing an 80's shell suit.

Here is what he wrote to me today, bless:

Hey there, I’ve noticed you’ve not added me to your favourites which is regretable but maybe understandable. You may well have already met someone, or you don’t think im a good match. You may be waiting to see what I do next, which to be fair is an attractive woman’s prerogative, and an option I favour, or you might be to contact me, another one I really like. infact there are a number of options. What would be nice though, and certainly in the spirit of Soulmates, is to tell me where you are at. Cheers Mac

4-some, outside, filmed or I want to be loved [Mr TV Director]

2009-11-19T22:28:00.000Z

In normal circumstances, you would consider a man, who sends you 48 text messages in few hours, to be possessed. But when Mr TV Director did exactly that on Saturday afternoon (the weekend he was leaving for Cuba, remember?) I considered it perfectly alright, taking in the account he was going away for three weeks for work, and obviously he wanted to be remembered! Especially, that we were yet to meet on his return…

The texting plot being that Mr TV Director desperately tries to convince me to forward him my rude photos.

Mr TV Director: Oh good, you have one of those mobile phone devices. That means you can take your own revealing pics to text me. Dan

Beautiful but Grumpy: Oh no, not the rude-picture-beggar again! I'm just about to play some tennis…but then I will be all sweaty and that might inspire me to photograph myself, who knows… But under one condition – write a poem for me!

Mr TV Director: Oh perfect, yes, I like sweaty! Maria Maria have some heart, er, send me a pic as quick as a tick.

BBG: Try harder.

Mr TV Director: Maria, Maria, get your knickers off. Down with the bourgeoisie, oi oi oi. Maria, Maria, get your knickers off. Come and be Volga with me.

BBG: Mmm, don't give up your day job... I know, dedicate your Cuba film to me!

Mr TV Director: Ok it's a deal. The program is dedicated to you.

BBG: Wow, thanks! But you wouldn't be able to tell if I've sent you a photo of my arm but lied that it was my sexy thigh…

Mr TV Director: No, you're right. That would be interesting to put to the test. I would look out for a glimpse of breast, or of knickers.

BBG: I will make sure I leave some underarm hair for your excitement.

Mr TV Director: Oh you're mean. You should have a shave for me. A trim, at least.
And how are you going to disguise your breasts?

BBG: They are small (but firm). I would stand far away so you wouldn't be able to actually see them…

Mr TV Director: Small and firm sounds perfect. (Although naturally I'm large and firm myself…) Who wants big floppy breasts?

BBG: Hmmm. Are you married? You are sexy and intelligent – you must be. Or have you been with a guy before?

Mr TV Director: Married? No, no.
I've stripped off and been watched by a guy. I had a fantasy about showing myself off like that. Exhibitionist I suppose. But not into contact with a guy.

BBG: It's great to have fantasies fulfilled. I had mine come true recently…

Mr TV Director: What were they?

BBG: 4-some, outside, filmed.

Mr TV Director: Oh, cool. Wish I could see it! I'd like to film too. And be filmed, maybe. I've been offered work in porn but didn't do it.

BBG: It wasn't porn as such – my girlfriend shot it on a small photo-camera. It was this summer, on my b/day, in north of Spain. Guys kissed too, which was fun.
You sure you wouldn't want to do that kind of thing involving men too?

Mr TV Director: I don't like the taste and smell of men. Why? Would you like to watch? I've been with a couple but no contact with the guy. And I've had guys watch, touch and taste me. I only like the watching.

Oh no! He was turning into this character from 'Little children', the pervy guy, who you hoped was actually a nice person and just misunderstood by society, but once you gave him trust, he turns out to be a very sick man…

Mr TV Director: Women are just more sexy!

Ah, there is hope! Just to second check I asked…

BBG: Are you sure? Don't you have an ideal when it comes to guys?

Mr TV Director: There was some good-looking mythical young guy. But I think he has a small cock!

Or maybe not…

BBG: Oh, small one would be good to go into my arse – do you have his number because I need him to take my bum-virginity!

Ufff, I was getting angry (and provocative).

Mr TV Director: I'm a virgin in that respect too. Because of women like you who can't take it! Shame. So we want a young Apollo who can fuck us both up the arse in turn! Then you can both suck me together. Hmm.

I've got to stop this - I tell myself - he prefers men!

BBG: This conversation is becoming monotonous.. I better go back to the dinner party.

I cooled off a little and because I actually liked him, I decided to tell him what it was that I wanted.

BBG: The issue is that I want to be loved. And I want everyone (and everything) to be secondary.

Mr TV Director: I know. Of course. I'm just in the mood for enjoying the everything else at the moment.

I wish I knew then, that he really meant that last sentence and I really meant my last note too.

There were few more texts, containing mixture of poetry and pornography, exchanged that evening.

…..

The next morning…

Mr TV Director: Bye Maria! Look forward to catching up soon! x

BBG: According to your text messages you slept with me last night. So... how was it?
Was I any good? :-)

Mr TV Director: Oh Maria, you were great!

Send me your naughty pics [Mr TV Director]

2009-11-18T22:29:00.000Z

I started to disturb Mr TV Director one Thursday afternoon, when I found out I didn't get the job I really wanted, because I spoke Russian instead of Portuguese. I thought, right, I might have not got that job but at least I might get some flirting, if I'm lucky. Besides, Mr TV Director actually asked to be distracted.

Beautiful but Grumpy: Hi! Ready to disturb a little… What am I disturbing at, anyway?

Mr TV Director: You bad, bad woman! I'm trying to work! Next you'll be sending me naughty pics!

BBG: I can see you are trying your luck! I'm sure you have plenty in your existing collection - just cut out heads and change for Paris Hilton, puppies and kittens. What are you working on?

Mr TV Director: That's quite a good idea, but it's just not the same. I'm going away for work at the weekend, so just getting ready for that. But I'm feeling lazy. You?

BBG: Searching for guitars on internet... Are you going anywhere interesting and warm?

Mr TV Director: Both. Cuba. Guitars? Not men?

BBG: I have you, don't I? Hoping to meet Buena Vista Social Club?

Mr TV Director: Oh yes, me. I'm yours. All yours.And no, not more of that bloody social club! Climate change and hurricanes. x

BBG: Are you scientist?

Mr TV Director: Why? Because I want to study your body? No, TV Director.

BBG: I like your surname..

Mr TV Director: I find yours... disturbing.

BBG: I'm sorry...

Mr TV Director: That's OK. But it has left me feeling rather shaken. Hopefully you'll make up for it in other ways...

BBG: At the moment I can only disturb you more.. unless you want me to stop?

Mr TV Director: The more disturbing the better. Shock me, you're on a roll. I'm a glutton for punishment.

BBG: I don't think I can go beyond teenage shoplifting but that was something you've already guessed..

Mr TV Director: I'm sure other vices have developed since then. I have a bagload. Laziness, aloofness, selfishness, abstinence, and the usual sexual perversions.

BBG: In Germany these would be ideal to put on your CV!

Mr TV Director: So I presume England has drawn you because it suits your own vices. Hmm.

BBG: Yes? What do YOU think?

Mr TV Director: Hmm. The one vice that I recommend you cultivating is a perverse interest in older men that you come across on the internet, particularly those who live in Notting Hill with pleasant surnames. This can be viewed as a very British vice, as it can lead to nothing but misery and yet is to be embraced with good humour and a stiff upper lip.

BBG: This must be it - I have only recently developed a 'taste' for older men, but I haven't had a chance to 'consume' any… Have you just woken up?

Mr TV Director: Just woken up? No no. Hard at work. Well, at work.
Come, explore. Taste me. Consume.

BBG: Ok.... I might just do that. Might need to meet you in a public place first to see if you haven't got any visible psychotic conditions :-)

Mr TV Director: Thankfully, my psychotic conditions aren't visible. I'm going away this weekend for a few weeks, for work. So plenty of time to consider a location. Send me another pic or two to see me on my way. Oh go on. x

Strangers, or not anymore? By that point I was so turned on that I could tell that my face was burning, eyes were glassy, and my thighs were so hot I had to un-do them from being crossed. I heard my boss’s voice from behind. He was looking at my face suspiciously. Oh Scheisse! I managed to press a button making the naughty conversation disappear... leaving my computer screen showing the newest Gibson acoustic.

A day in the life of TV Director

2009-11-18T17:50:00.000Z

I was hunted down by a veteran of on-line dating, MR TV DIRECTOR, as soon as I put my foot (naked one with blood-red toe nails) in the door of Guardian Soulmates portal:

Mr TV Director: Well, I certainly am taller than you. And I saw it on telly this weekend that really height is all a woman is looking for in a man - something to do with picking berries and fighting tigers - so surely worth a go...

His pictures were hidden and profile read: ' Tall, lovely male looking for someone dead sexy, who used to shoplift as teenager. Neither drippy nor dippy. Mod not hippy'. Intriguing, I thought.

Beautiful but Grumpy: Tall and a socialist.. you certainly tick all the boxes! Do you have a photo to top this ideal up? :-)

Mr TV Director: Oh, and I have so many other wonderful attributes too. (I'll let you know once I've had a think.) You can see me already, Maria dear. Just click on that thing that says private pics.

BBG: Why do you think its Maria and not Anna? Doesn't Anna go with teenage shoplifting more?

Mr TV Director: Does it? Do you think? Neither sound dippy or drippy. But, to me, Anna is the innocent side of you. And so it's Maria whom I address. Bad, bad Maria... Dan x

BBG: he, he. Have a really good day Dan- the-part-time-psychotherapist.. A/M

Mr TV Director: I'll try. And you too. I'm working but would love to be distracted. (private e-mail and mobile number added). Dan x

BBG: I'll see what I can do..

Ha, I thought, a real man! Sexy and intelligent. What a treat after a waterfall of mails like this one, from CHIRPYCHAPPY:

Please have a look at my profile and let me know what you think.
If you don't, well it will be another lonely night with a bottle of whisky and a packet of pork scratchings.

How to escape Facebook stalker

2009-11-14T18:20:00.000Z

Joining an on-line dating site was my reaction to being e-stalked on Facebook. I simply quitted Facebook one Bank Holiday Monday, and few hours later, after trying to live my life in pre-internet fashion, I realised I couldn't do it, and that I still needed an addiction. Yes, I know I could have just blocked the stalker, but taking in account his intelligence and perseverance, and my growing boredom with social sites, something fresh and exciting needed to be injected into my London life.

That was two weeks ago...

Now, I have my profile on Guardian Soulmates. As soon as I added a photo of a real close up of my face, (my best friend Cristina took it on a recent trip to Barcelona, when after a previous night's new experience of 'three-some', I looked seriously at the camera with a mixture of deep self-awareness and longing for more (of that kind of sexual experiences)), I received an e-mail from a man who called himself Matisse241. His profile said he was 55 years old, although on his photo Matisse was still in his early forties! I was confused. Fear of being cheated was now high. The e-mail read 'BEAUTIFUL FACE'. I looked at his profile again and noticed more pictures, this time these were pencil drawings of naked women, rather large naked women. Oh dear. Few e-mails later and Matisse241 invited me to a life drawing class... as a model.

Ha, I always wanted to follow my Uncle’s footsteps and work in a circus… It looks as my dream might just some true!