Never Blog when you're drunk...

Because its likely that you'll talk bollocks*...

Ah well, I'll just blame it on the bourbon I've been necking all evening...

So, some thoughts today:

1) I saw this group of school kids - teenagers hanging out together, your typical set of 15-16 year olds, 5 girls, 1 guy and I remembered how all girls have that one guy. The one thats different to the rest (he doesn't make fun of us), how he's sensitive and kind and trustworthy and how we like him being in our gang. And of course none of us wanted to fuck him; he was our friend.

Looking at this group today got me thinking. I watched the young man, saw his eyes outline the bodies of the nubile young girl friends and I imagined how he must desire them. To be so close to young women who are similarly hormonally challenged and not to be able to become sexually intimate with them must be so frustrating. Whilst the girls are swooning about the bastard boys in their senior year at school, and losing their virginity to some undeserving prat who convinces them that they love them, this young man is frantically beating his meat every night thinking about those same girls, yearning after them, wanting to cross that line with them, but never daring to. Because he is a nice guy. I wish I had been perceptive enough back then to realise that the nice ones are the ones to fuck - because they won't fuck you over. And I felt sad watching this group of young people, because I saw the same stupid pattern being renacted over again.

2) This amazingly cute guy stared at me and smiled. He had steel-grey eyes that pierced through me sending a shiver right into my body and straight between my legs. He had stopped his car at the traffic light and kept looking at me, smiling. I was coy: twirling my hair, biting my lip, smiling back at him. But you know what stopped me from walking over to his car and talking to him? His car. Not because it was some old banger, the opposite: it was a new Porsche Boxter convertible. And I thought "tosser". Plus, I didn't want him to think that the reason I was interested in him was because of his car (I'm a socialist for fucks sake, penis-extension capitalistic materialism turns me right off), so I looked away and when the lights turned green he zoomed off. An anti-chick magnet (in my case anyway) if I ever saw one...

3) I am still in love with SP. Please don't all shout at me at once. At least I am admitting it. I know its fucking stupid and that he is an asshole/alcoholic/fool/peniley challenged/selfish bastard/wanker but I can't help how I (still) feel. Things are not clear with him; it seems like there is still a possibility that things will develop further between us and that he has feelings for me too. Its difficult for me to walk away when we're in a kind of 'no mans land' of ambiguity; where we are so intimate and close and yet we're not 'in' something.

But when I am drunk like now, its all very easy. I just wanna say

"Fuck you SP you cock sucking wanker. You're just like all the other pricks who messed me about: if you say you're gonna call me, call me! If you aren't man enough to deal with this woman, then you can fuck off. I don't want to be with a childish boy who doesn't know what he wants. You're 37 for fucks sake - grow the fuck up! I'm not wasting any more time on a sad lonely man who's on a mission to self destruct. You can do that alone. Goodbye SP and don't ever contact me again."

And I am almost tempted to call him now and say it. But then I think of how he looks at me and smiles rubbing his nose against mine; how he holds onto me when we walk down the street and stops me walking into cars when we cross the road; how he softly strokes my hair when we lie together; how he slowly twirls his fingers into mine when we talk; how when he phones me, he says

"Hi honey, its me"

like its the most natural thing in the world and I should know who "me" is; how when he makes me cum, he says

"Oh god yeah, I love it"

and then continues to make me cum again. And again. And again. And I think of how much I miss him when I don't see him and I yearn to be with him: the minutes away from him seem like hours; the hours, days. And I know that I can't walk away from this - yet. Not while I still feel there is some hope. I know this can't go on - not knowing - but I can't end it now. For all my positing about being an independent woman, you would think that I would be strong enough to shut this door behind me - and know that I have made the right choice. But I don't know where that woman is right now - I hope I find her soon.

*Disclaimer:
I have the right to deny/delete/disagree with anything I have said here tonight. I am the author of this blog and I am pissed (thats drunk to my American readers). The fact that I can even type is an achievement. So cut me some slack, ok?