It’s all a question of attitude. I was thinking to myself that I don’t recall ever feeling this on heat before. Not constantly. Of course it’s not at the same level all the time, but it’s there. Which had me wondering what it was that’s changed in me…. And then it clicked. I feel good. Not mooning over a guy, in a crappy relationship, or generally down on myself. I am totes amaze. I don’t recall ever having felt this confident before. I feel gorgeous, attractive, and sexy. I want to lose a bit more weight but I am not hung up on it. The male attention I am getting helps, but it is about more than hat, it is deeper than that. I am sure of myself deep within; I know who I am and what I want. And I am proactively seeking it. I no longer care about what anyone else thinks. I want to be a good person and wouldn’t seek to hurt anyone intentionally, but I am done seeking approval, whether from my peers, men, or my father. Screw it. That confidence, and certainty within self, is a bloody strong aphrodisiac.
A different day, a different guy. And if the last few weeks have been anything to go by, more than one in a day. It’s not like I’m fucking them. And even if I were, it’s my body, my life, my choice. As much as picking one would be great, I’m actually enjoying this uncertainty and feeling desired. I no longer care that I’m not meeting them ‘organically’ (apart from McShy), it’s just fun being chased. I’m having some incredible conversations, learning about other cultures and experiences, and – most importantly – discovering a hell of a lot about myself. But what’s incredible, is I have rediscovered good men in the world. I had lost my faith, fuck me had it been eviscerated. But a few of the male species have helped me to realise they aren’t ALL cunts. Granted there are plenty that are, but it’s good to give some of them a chance. And the ones I don’t like, I block. Or highlight that my overprotective big brother is a burly cop, and the problem disappears. And right now I can’t be bothered to analyse the fact that a woman shouldn’t have to hide behind a male, but right now, it’s a useful deterrent. I can’t be bothered to miss any particular one, because there is a reason it doesn’t work out. Whether that is incompatibility, irreconcilable expectations or shitty timing, for whatever reason, it’s not right so what’s the point in wasting my time missing it? How am I doing myself any favours? At this particular moment in time, I don’t have any crushing feeling in my chest for any man. It near killed me when Armadillo told me that he didn’t feel the crushing for me any longer, but it’s his loss. Or perhaps not….. Maybe he had a lucky escape too. Maybe he was the final piece of the healing process. I don’t miss James Pond too much because I have given myself a verbal reprimand and pulled my virtual socks up – I can’t pine for a guy I don’t know that well who is away for another 5 and a half months! If it were in reverse, I highly doubt he’d wait for me. So screw the longing, I’m concentrating on me. If it so happens that I’m single when he returns, there is a possible possibility of something, but what’s to say we’ll even be communicating then?
I really would love a passionate make-out session on the sofa with McShy though. Due to parents and kids we’ve had to cancel 2 dates this week. There’s also been 2 instances of me respectfully asserting myself in terms of what I expect regarding open communication, and us not getting pelvic until we’re more ‘together’. Except I have no idea if and how that’s even possible given how little we have seen of each other of late. So I broke my rule about not getting involved with a colleague – but as it didn’t happen until his final week at work I’m not chastising myself. I actually miss it a bit, the chats, the giggles, the kissing in the stairwell…. But for the sake of both our careers it’s good he’s gone. Though the sulky teen in me misses getting kisses every day. It’s been 11 days and counting. But…. He’s been pretty damn great when I have stated what I want. So many people don’t know what they want, and/or are scared to vocalise, so apparently I’m a refreshing change in that I will say what I want. Except when it comes to the kinky shit I want him to do to me. I’m actually a little embarrassed by it, and can’t bring myself to write it. Which for me is pretty huge! But if I cannot say it, how can it become reality? Or do I tell him when he’s drunk?!
For some reason my libido seems to be tied to my energy levels. When I’ve had jack all sleep, and spent ages on trains, I cannot make my mind behave and the images get raunchier and kinkier. Maybe it’s the motion of the trains…..? I seriously need to get laid. And I have turned down 2 options for sex this week. One of which was explicit, and the other was more an intimation (from McShy), but I knew would happen were we to give ourselves the option. McCaribbean Army Officer actually tried to arrange a booty call. Cheeky fucker! I told him I didn’t do fuck buddies or pre-arranged sex, and he seemed quite surprised. Given that nothing happened on our first – and only – date except a good night hug, I’m really rather shocked at his gumption. And he’s too short for me. My time is precious – and I know what I want. So today I cannot be bothered, and tomorrow I will get back on it. If I feel like it. If I don’t, I won’t. Simples. I can’t even be bothered to tell McShy he has competition. Because he doesn’t really, and I hate game-playing. I’m just enjoying seeing where it goes…. But I need to actually see him sometime soon, or I may just back off. I’m being adult about it, but dear god – I need some physicality soon or I am going to implode! Roger is shite now, I need a real human attached to the end of the cock. Right now, I want a week on a secluded beach with James Pond, 48 hours in a dungeon with McShy, and a few days in a snowy Swedish log cabin with as Mr Re-entry. Which perhaps isn’t the best option, so I’ll simply call him J. Though given his language skills, I may have to call him McLinguist. Actually yes I like that. McLinguist…..
I surmise that I could witter about men, women, relationships, sex and sociology for a long time. And actually, having a record of my emotions has not only enabled me to look back at how far I have come, but to identify trends (more business jargon) and provided a great outlet for my under-utilised intellect. After all, a girl can’t survive on Russian grammar alone. And it’s turned out to be quite a fun hobby. But I cant be arsed with men today, so I’m not bothering. Trotzdem, punkt.
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