The day I believed

Sometimes things just fall into place. I was thinking that – with all the Halloween ghost stories abounding in the blogosphere – I might just tell you a story, and then I decided I’d post something else this evening. A few minutes later, I was leaving a comment on Sher’s blog, and the word verification box was staring me in the face… it was asking my to type “ouiaj”. All things considered, I don’t think that’s a message I can really ignore… do you? So, the story then… and trust me, every word is true.

Thinking back, it feels like it was another life. So many years ago, another person occupying this body of mine. Still, it was me, and Gill, my partner at the time, was kneeling on the floor by my side. With us, and forming a circle on the floor, were about half a dozen of our friends, and in the middle of that human circle was a ouija board. The house, part of an old Victorian terrace adjacent to Hadley Wood, was dark and quiet, and although it wasn’t All Hallows Eve it was winter, and it was approaching midnight. The wind was rattling the old sash windows and causing the flames from the few candles in the room to dance, and the shadows moved as if they actually had some kind of life of their own. It was perfect, and we were scared.

To begin with, we just sat there waiting, and willing the glass to move. The questions were basic, just requiring a yes or no answer, and looking round I could see the concentration on my friend’s faces. We must have sat there for over an hour, and we were fast beginning to think that nerves and flickering candles alone weren’t going to be enough to forge that link to the spirit world we were all quietly yearning for.

The air, when it hit us, was like a cold breath that filled the room. Phil, who’s house we were in, said “Fuck it. The door must have opened downstairs.” Looking pale, even in the candlelight, he walked out the room, full of bravado, only to reappear a minute later with a puzzled look on his face, “Strange”, he mumbled, and sat down again. And so we started again. “Is there anybody there?”…

We watched with a mixture of fright and disbelief as the glass moved under our fingers. “Yes”, it spelt. We all looked at each other for even the slightest sign that the glass had been pushed by one of us, but it was evident that we were all just as shocked as each other. “Do you have a message for somebody here?” Again, the glass moved under the lightest of fingers. “Yes”, was the answer.

“Who is your message for?”, Phil asked, his voice now noticeably shaking as he spoke. Slowly, very slowly, the glass moved to the letters that spelt my name. I looked at Gill, and she stared back at me, eyes wide, disbelieving. I could feel the hair on my neck standing on end, and I looked around the circle, feeling all eyes burning into me. “What is your message?”, Phil asked, looking at me as he spoke.

We waited what seemed like an eternity, but thinking back it was probably no more than ten or fifteen seconds. But – as we were beginning to think it must have been somebody pushing the glass after all, it began to move again. And it spelt something that was utterly meaningless to me.

“Barry hex ill”.

I looked at Gill again. “What? 'Barry hex ill'... who the hell's Barry??” I looked at her hoping for some kind of revelation, but she shrugged her shoulders. “No idea”, she said. And after that, despite Phil, and then Val (his wife) repeatedly asking questions – asking for some kind of explanation – the glass never moved again.

We packed the ouija board away after a while, and all went downstairs. The lights went on, the drinks started flowing, and the truth is that we thought no more about it. It was as if the spell we’d been under just moments before was completely broken. And the next morning, when the phone woke me up a lot earlier than I’d have chosen, I could barely remember what we’d been feeling in that dark, cold room the night before. It was Mum, and I knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Mum, calm down and tell me what’s going on. What is it?” I asked her, trying the best I could to emerge from the deep sleep I’d been in seconds earlier. I waited for her to speak.

“I’ve got some bad news. I’m sorry to wake you up with it, but I thought you’d want to know.” I felt my stomach churn as I asked her again what was going on.

“It’s Uncle Barry. He had a stroke last night, around midnight… a bad one. And they don’t know if he’s going to pull through.”

Let me assure you that this story is true, down to the smallest detail. I’ve never forgotten the chill I felt at those words, or the look on Gill’s face when I put the receiver down and told her what Mum had said to me. And since then, I’ve never quite been able to say that I don’t believe…

The weekend

Saturday started off with the biggest game of the season for Tottenham - home to local rivals, Arsenal. Unbearable tension, and a first half of the most sublime football we've seen from our boys for more years that I care to remember. We dominated the first half and went in for the beak a goal up. Unfortunately we squandered the lead in the second half and the game ended 1-1, leaving us all feeling kind of deflated but still pleased that we more than matched one of the best sides in Europe.

Big things expected of the Spurs this season, and lots of reasons to be excited.

I got back from the game late afternoon, and after doing a bit of tydying up I shaved and had a shower. What's become the usual Saturday evening was slightly different this weekend, as I'd told GG that I was going to go to her place and stay there overnight instaed, to try to break the pattern that we'd seemed to have fallen into in previous weeks. We went out for dinner (a little Persian restaurant... good food and but not expensive) shortly after I arrived, but I knew as soon as she came to the door that something was wrong. Nothing tangible, just the way she held herself and the odd half glance, and as we walked down the edgware Road she didn't give me her hand as she normally does.

She said at first that I was imagining things, but it soon transpired that she'd been dwelling on a feeling she had that I was keeping a distance between us and - with the things that had been on my own mind too - it seemed like a good opportunity to clear the air. We finished eating and headed back home, where we ended up having a really long talk about pretty much everything. And it was tough.

There came a point when I could quite easily just have stood up, put my shoes on and left. I was angry at one or two things she said to me, but they were really based on a misinterpretation of something that had been taken completely out of context. And in my heart I realised that if I left at that moment I wouldn't see her again... I know myself well enough by now. So instead, we just worked through the issues, hers and mine, until we both felt comfortable. Afterwards, we had sex and it was the closest, and most intimate, of any beween us. It was strange, because not long before that neither of us had any intention of that happening... in fact, we had every intention of it not happening. But it seemed to be what we needed, because afterwards the tension had completely dissipated. (And it was "normal"... no games, no endurance test, just a really hearty fuck.)

Sunday morning we both woke up early, and we just lay and talked for an hour or two and then had some breakfast. There had been a party in a neighbours apartment that went on until the early hours. I guess everyone there ended up pretty pissed, because at some point during the night, or the early hours of the morning, some halfwit decided to go outside and pour a tin of wood stain over my pride and joy. Err, thanks.

It doesn't seem to want to come off very easily, but I think it will with a few hours work although it's set hard. It looks like it needs some soaking and deft work with a finger nail, but it's a complete pain and I'm trying not to scratch the paintwork - it's a special finish and can't be patched. GG wanted to do it for me there and then, but - tempting though the idea was - I thought a couple of hours back in bed would be better for her. Bless.

So, I guess that there's been some progress this weekend. I have a suspicion it won't necessarily be an easy ride, but I've never gone for easy. I may give it a try one day, though :-)

Kissing

I don't think I'm going to go for my usual kind of post today. Instead, something for those who really understand the importance of the kiss...

The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender.
-Emil Ludwig-

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
-Ingrid Bergman-

Da mi bassia mille, deinde centum, dein mille altera. (Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then a thousand more.)
-Catullus-

This kiss, the first real one of my life, seemed more intimate than anything I'd ever experienced.
-Joseph Cotton-

The universe hangs on a kiss, exists in the hold of a kiss.
-Zalman Shneor-

A kiss is like a veil falling from my face, like the sun's radiance as it peers between two clouds. A kiss from your lips is the essence of my life.
-WDKY-

A day for thinking

Today was a historic one in the small but perfectly formed world of WDKY, because at around 10.30am, laughably still BST, I bought a company – my first one, ever. It cost me all of £150, and of 100 shares just one has been issued. To me. Oh, and it’s currently worth… well, nothing. Later, my accountant called me and asked me what I expected my turnover to be in year one. I thought of a number I liked, added a bit more, and told him.

This evening, I dropped my daughter off at a Halloween sleepover, and her friend's father (who I don’t know very well, but he's going to give me some saxophone lessons after the New Year) was chatting to me at the door. “What do you do, WDKY?” he asked at one point. Of course, he didn’t call me WDKY, but you get the gist. “Errr, I’m just setting up a small management consultancy. We start trading on 1st January” I replied, with just the “errr” for hesitation. Fuck me, it’s really happening.

Oh yes, in between these two events, Dick emailed me (I was working from home today) to ask me what rate I was going to charge him for consultancy in January. I used the earlier tactic (thought of a number I liked, added a bit more, and told him) but I did offer him a discount. All in all, I think it was a good day...

I wanted to just say a word or two about my earlier post. The situation with GG is one that I’m going to think about a bit before I do anything drastic, or final. I said before that we do have a connection, and there’s lots that’s really special about her. I emailed her earlier this evening, and I said something about the week that seems to have been lost with everything going on for both of us, just a sentence or two. This was her reply, in her faltering but kind of endearing English …

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl…and she had these two boxes, one made of the most shiny glass, another one made of an exquisite black velvet…In the first one she would pile all the beautiful hours, up to the seconds, and as she would put the lid on, they would glow through the glass and she would never be tired of looking at them…in the black one she would hide the other hours and the days she didn’t like, the ones who had made her cry,….and one day she decided she would open that box and see what happened, would those hours come back again?

And the most amazing thing happen, all those dark weeks, days, moments, still intertwined with dry tears and meaningless words, just free themselves from the box and flew up to the sky, with the wind, higher and higher towards the sun. And, when they reached the sun they just melted with it, in it, and became incandescent and iridescent…and when it rains, now and again, and the drops fall on your face, you might swallow one tiny drop and a taste of salt will invade your mouth…now and again…"

Maybe you see why this isn’t easy. I post my thoughts on here because it can help to bring things into focus a little bit, and I’ll get there in the end. But I’ve made enough mistakes in my life to be getting on with. I just want to be sure first.

Have a very happy Halloween, everyone.

What I want

Chemistry. It might be hard to describe just what it is that we mean, but we sure as hell know it when we feel it. But let’s not kid ourselves that it’s some spiritual Nirvana that we want, because it’s about something much more tangible than that. It’s about something physical. And before anyone say’s “Hang on a minute, WDKY…” think about it for a while. If we meet someone platonically, and we really get on, we say afterwards that we… what? We really got on? It’s only if there’s some expectation or hope of sexual potential that we talk, or think, in terms of chemistry. When we get home from a date and say to the first person that will listen, “God, you should have felt the chemistry”, we’re talking about sexual attraction.

So it stands to reason that sexual compatibility is a pretty vital component of this elusive chemistry. And that kind of compatibility requires understanding, and empathy, and a desire to get inside the head of the person you’re with so that you can really – really – get on their wavelength. So that you can know what it is that they want, and give it to them. I had an email yesterday about this whole issue, and it was written in a way that I'm beginning to regard as normal for this particular person now… beautiful prose and profound meaning. And what it said really made sense.

“…Sometimes I think it’s because sex comes from different places for some people. For some it's simply an act of pleasure, one body trying to please the other. But for others it's about pleasure of the heart, the soul, a whole different kind of desire…”

That resonates with me. It isn’t about being in love, or about “making love”, but it is about something that’s more than a fuck. Yes, at times all we want to do when we see our partner is rip the clothes from our bodies and have each other where we stand, with no thought other than to quench that burning, immediate desire. But at other times, we - okay, I - need, or want to transcend that. I want it to be more than a fuck. That’s when it can be something memorable (and something much more than just physical)… when every cell of two people’s beings are merged, when every breath is a breath for both of you. That, for me, is sex.

I said I was going to write a post about kissing, because I love to kiss and it’s become something of an issue. And with kissing, sometimes it can just be about that immediate desire I mentioned, but for the most part I like it to be slow, and sensual. Soft lips, tongues gently exploring, whilst the whole time the passion is building, the kiss is becoming more eager, until it reaches a crescendo… it can be such an intimate experience. I was going to write about the fact that the only kisses I get are hard, and aggressive, and without any real feel for the sensuality of the act itself. Without any feel for the moment. But actually, it’s about more than kissing. It’s about chemistry. That’s what I want, and I’m coming to the conclusion that it just isn’t what I have at the moment.

A quick edit: This post is just me thinking aloud, which as you might have noticed is what I enjoy doing on here. Whatever GG and I have between us, sex has been slightly problematic - from my perspective at least - from day one. It may seem like I think a lot (especially for a bloke) but actually I believe in thinking, and in actions I'm pretty decisive. (Some have said ruthless, but I beg to differ!!) When I'm clear about what I want to do, I will do it.

HNT 5

I have a suspicion that - if I'm not careful - I'm soon going to run out of body parts. Anyway, here's today's HNT offering... hopefully just enough to suggest that I'm not necessarily ahsamed to strip off in the right company. I think I'll have to play with my digital camera over the next week, but I should state that although it's been requested that my arse make a cameo appearance I'm not making any promises.

Happy HNT!




PS Okay already. It's my arse next week!

Where's my Zen?

So many things on my mind at the moment. I don’t know if I’m going to write them all down… let’s see where this one goes.

The easy bit’s The Meeting. Dick and the HR Director were waiting for me this afternoon when I walked in the boardroom, and they had obviously been planning their approach. The approach, it turned out, was an offer of three months pay, two of which I was to work from 1^st November until the end of the year. Wankers!! I raised them masterfully with nine months from 1^st January plus full pay until the end of this year, which I’d work, and they looked at me with their poker faces as if I wouldn’t know what they were thinking. It’s all a game, of course. But I’ve met much better players… Dick’s just a dick, and was well out of his depth on this occasion, which was no surprise.

We jockeyed a bit for position and then I decided I was going to have to play hardball, which seemed to work. Because after I made it clear that I was less than impressed, and then told them that it might be easier to deal through my lawyer (followed by a grin at Dick), we finally agreed on six months lump sum payable in January, which was just what I wanted. Oh, and then for a laugh I told them I also wanted to keep the colour printer they set me up with at home, and they agreed to that too. And it looks like I also have a few grand’s worth of work between January and April from them, which is… helpful. Very helpful – I can eat!

So… did I say that was the easy bit? I think my intention was to talk about GG. Me and GG, that is, because there’s something nagging at the back of my mind. Actually, that’s not true… it was nagging before last weekend, but now its more of a clamour. I’m going to have to resolve it in my mind before I write about it, I think, but it involves… well, kissing. And kissing’s one of the most important things (when you’re a man who loves kissing). More on that another time, but all’s not well and I wouldn’t go making any assumptions just because I got a haircut and a blow job on Sunday.

Anyway, I was just on the phone to Mum earlier this evening. She’s been living on her own since dad died about six years ago. What an amazing woman… so self-sufficient now, but when they were together Dad did everything, and I mean everything, for her. I never thought she’d be able to cope on her own, and I certainly didn’t think she’d be such a revelation, even though she still cries most days. I wanted to tell her how proud I am of her, for some reason. Maybe because I couldn't remember if I'd told her before… If I hadn't, I should have done. Anyway, now I've made sure that she knows.

We were chatting about my younger brother. The one who doesn’t read this blog, but even so, I’m not going to talk about him on here. Well, save to say “Grow up, for fuck sake.” We share a birthday, but couldn’t be less alike if we were from different planets. Such a strange thing…

I think I’ll stop now, because it’s been a long day and my empty bed is calling me. Maybe a late night movie, and then a nice run before breakfast when I get up. Got to keep in shape for HNT…

Edit: I will clarify the whole kissing thing, but I only allow myself to post once per day or it'll become too distracting (yeah... like it's not already). The next one's HNT so it's kissing on Friday!

Its getting closer

Well, it was a bit of a day on the “new start” front yesterday.

First of all, I had a long meeting with my "personal relationship manager" at the bank. His name’s Dave (really), and he’s 6’7” and looks like a bouncer. We’re quite good mates nowadays, and he was reminding me of the first time we met. It was in my old office down in NML’s neck of the woods, and he was telling me what I should do to the bloke my wife (as in ex-wife) was shagging. And he was horrified that I was planning to let her have all our money… mind you, in retrospect I’m horrified too. Oh well, you can’t take it with you…

Anyway, I’d put together a project plan for the next couple of months, and he seemed genuinely interested in what I was intending to do between now and the launch. We chatted about the new business generally, and he ended up almost as excited as I am. So I left feeling pretty good about things.

Then, later in the afternoon, I appointed my accountant and instructed him to get all the work done to get the new company set up, register if for VAT, and deal with all the legal stuff involved with structure and object clauses. (Don’t ask what they are, it’s too boring to write about.) He’s a friend of an ex (she was more of a lover than a girlfriend... body to die for, and a hugely talented exponent of the bj, as well as being lovely to spend time with), and she recommended him to me over the weekend. Well, he seems like a really nice guy, so I’m pleased about that too.

Aside from that, I seemed to spend most of yesterday messing about on the computer, which meant that I did fuck all in terms of work for my present employers. The trouble is, I’m still intrigued by this blogging phenomenon, and quite enjoy browsing new blogs and (especially) exchanging the odd email (some of them very odd) with people who I've struck up a bit of a friendship with.

This leads me to today, because at 3 o'clock this afternoon I’ve got a meeting with both the Group HR Director and Dick, to finally agree the terms of my severance package. It’s a tough one to get right, because I have to play hardball to get what I want, but maintain a good enough relationship that I can come back and do some consultancy for them. The important thing is that I don’t use this opportunity to tell Dick what a complete dick he is. It’s always tempting when I have him in my line of sight, beacuse he's done his best to make my life a misery for the last couple of years. Wanker.

Crispy duck for one

I'm in recovery. Well, I feel a little drained (exhausted actually) although I must admit the weekend was pretty good. And slightly different this time...

GG came over on Saturday evening, and was armed with yet another really nice bottle of red which was soon all but polished off as we chatted about this and that. I must tell you that the girl can't hold her drink at all, and after less than a glass was beginning to look and sound slightly pissed (its hysterical). She'd been insisting that we do "the usual" when we'd spoken on the phone - despite the email that I posted a few days back - but I put my foot down and booked a table in a really nice Chinese restaurant in what's not much more than a village around the corner. We got there around 9.30 and had a fantastic meal, even though GG had insisted on only ordering crispy duck as she wasn't hungry. She then proceeded to eat most of mine, but I saw it coming and ordered plenty for both of us as a contingency. I'm no fool.

We were home soon after we finished eating, and with some music, a few candles and the inevitable spliff we were pretty quickly picking up where we left off last week. And the sex is getting... well, its getting better each time. Much better, to be honest. There was the usual intensity about it, but also much more real intimacy, and it was noticeable enough that we kind of mentioned it later. But sex for GG is still something that takes some getting used to. She seems to have a need to cum almost continuously, and has a sexual appetite that I've never seen in anyone else before. And trust me... I'm no virgin.

By the time we actually went upstairs, it was around 2.30 in the morning, and we were both tired from not sleeping enough last week. I put some music on quietly, and we talked for an hour or so, and eventually just drifted off. But enough was said to indicate that neither of us see this thing we have as something to be taken lightly. I'm beginning to think we both need to tread carefully, because it's more than sex. If I wasn't sure about that before, I think its fair to say that I am now.

Sunday morning was bright and sunny, and I went for a hard run to shake off the tiredness and slight hangover from the night before. Before I went, though, I decided that I had to reveal a little more of my past to GG. Because it's probably fair to say that my past is a little... complex. She just looked at me, smiled, and stroked my face. And then, when I got back from my run, she cut my hair, ran me a bath and then, as I lay back in a world of my own, took my cock in her mouth and gave me a little something to last me until next weekend.

Random thoughts 8

It's Saturday afternoon, and I thought I'd sit down for a minute and write my Sunday morning post (so I lied, because by now its actually Sunday morning. "If you're reading this letter..." etc etc). Anyone who's been reading this blog for a while will know why... and as I need to conserve energy this is just going to be a bit of a light-hearted ramble. Hope that's okay.

So far (winks mischievously) only one reader here knows me in real life, but if you asked her she'd tell you that I'm a compulsive cleaner. Saturday (particularly because GG stays over on Saturday nights) is a big cleaning day in the WDKY household, and since I bought my iPod I tend to wander from room to room plugged in to music whilst the kids do their own thing. Yesterday, I spent the whole time listening to Toward the Within, by Dead Can Dance and I'm going to unashamedly plug it again. If you haven't heard it and fancy something new on your shelf, just buy it. Honestly.

I was browsing some blogs too, and found something that really is so funny that you have to watch it. Have a look at these guys - apparently they're available for weddings and barmitzvahs. ROFL!! Oh, and credit goes to Ashbloemstraat for a great link and what looks like a very good blog. I was going to leave a comment but it's one of those sites that require you to register first. No time for that kind of thing, not when there's cleaning to do.

Talking of blogs, I've modified my template a little bit, and I prefer it now. Caz (her credit's at the bottom of the sidebar, and I think she produces just the best templates around) has helped me modify the blog title so it acts as a link back to the homepage from anywhere on the site. The standard blogger templates do that, and it's pretty useful. I've also moved across to Blogroll, and if anyone is still putting links to other blogs in their template manually - what a difference!! Just needs a little tweaking to get it looking right. Highly recommended. Oh yes, and there should be a box at the bottom of the sidebar now that you can use to subscribe to updates. (I know...)

Well, later today we're going to go into town to pick out some new glasses for GG. Very domesticated, eh? No doubt I'll be getting a good seeing-to first, but who's complaining. Hope you're all enjoying the weekend...

PS I've just been watching that bloody Extreme Makeover: Home Edition... it's lucky I don't wear mascara.

Re-evaluation

I went to watch my son play football after school yesterday. He's only 8 but he's very good, and when I'm there it seems to spur him on... he scored 2 goals while I watched, and they were both crackers. It occurred to me after a few minutes that I was the only parent watching the kids play. Like last week, and the week before. And no doubt like next week.

I remember a conversation I had with my divisional director shortly after I started with the company a couple of years ago. I was late for a meeting, and he decided to make an issue of it, even though he knew the shit I was going through at the time with my marriage break-up. And even though he insisted on a start time of 8.30 when it would have made no difference at all had it been 10.30 instead.

"This really isn't good enough, you know", he said to me. "Its the second time its happened and I'm not prepared to tolerate it."

"Dick, I'm sorry if its caused you a problem, but you know my circustances... I've just moved, we're all unsettled, and I really need to be able to have the kids with me sometimes during the week. Its important to them at the moment. And I can't drop them off before 8.30 because the school gates are shut. If we could just make these meetings half an hour later on the odd days I have to do the school run..."

He looked at me with complete fucking incomprehension, and said - wait for it - "Don't bring your personal problems into work."

I won't bore you with the whole conversation, but I told him it wasn't negotiable and offered my resignation there and then. He didn't accept it, but that meeting marked the end of my career, effectively, with the organisation I'm about to leave.

This attitude in corporates isn't that unusual, though, and it begs the question - how fucked up have we become? What on earth has happened to our values, when the emotional wellbeing of vulnerable children is less important than the start time of a meeting that wasn't even necessary? Or when whole generations of kids are growing up out of sight of their parents, because their parents are too scared to ask for a couple of hours to watch a football match, or to go see a school play?

Someone once said "Progress might have been alright once, but it's gone on too long". I think its time for a major re-evalution. And that's just what I'm going to do, now my life's my own again.

Random thoughts 7

I can’t believe it’s so close to the weekend again… this week’s just flown by. And before you know it, it’ll be Christmas… I mean for fuck sake, it only seems like yesterday we were on our summer holiday and I was sitting by the pool with the kids, and getting falling-over drunk at the bar every night with the Scottish sisters at the hotel (who ended up shaving my head… long story).

I’ve actually been really busy, and spent the afternoon with “the potential £500m client” yesterday, which was quite productive. They’re pretty high profile so it’s a bit dangerous to say who they are (Google being Google) but working with them would be fantastic. Not that I will of course, as I’ll be long gone. So, today I’m going to have a look around the office building where I want to base myself from January. It’s quite nice, as you can see from the pictures, and Camilla, the manageress, is going to give me a guided tour. She sounded really cute on the phone, so I must resist the urge to flirt and try to portray a totally professional image. Once I’m in there I can flirt to my heart’s content, of course, although I honestly intend trying to behave myself.

Update: The offices are fantastic - for less that £100 per month I get full reception, call handling and mail forwarding services, plus access to all the meeting rooms, restaurant, gym (they call this the "virtual office")... and I can take actual office space there whenever I want to. This is great, because I can get all my stationery, brochures and business cards printed up now. How cool is that?

Oh, and Camilla is really cute!

I suddenly realised as I was writing this post that I also have to write a business plan between now and Monday night, as I’m seeing my bank manager on Tuesday morning and I have a feeling I’m going to need him. Mind you, I spoke to another friend today (he runs his own consulting business too) and it looks like he’ll want me to help deliver some training modules that he’s got scheduled throughout the year. That’s three promises of work now, and I’m hoping they’ll all come good by the time I start out. My new web site's nearly finished and everything seems to be coming along nicely. I think I’m beginning to enjoy myself. I must be stark raving mad.

Anyway, I was playing online last night, and came across this… the most totally amazing stat counter of all time. It's not cheap, but my god, is it cool or what? Those stats will be the death of me, honestly.

PS There. An entire post without talking about sex, or raisins. I knew I could do it. And that's it, because I'm completely knackered tonight/this morning and I'm going to put my feet up and watch some TV before bed!

HNT 4

Well, I was asked by a couple of people to post a shot of my eyes, and then Cat (who had the pleasure of choosing following last week's tattoo competition) also listed them as one of her choices(!). So here they are, in all their... errmm, blueness. And if anyone can guess what age I was when I lost my virginity, they can choose next week's anatomical part to be revealed.

I'm not sure that telling you that I was in a tent in Wales is much of a clue...


Oh, and these eyes belong to the very beautiful... well, you work it out!!!

(You lot are useless... its Sher!)

Happy HNT!

Keywords

Some recent highlights of how people have got here, just because...

Are you going to kill me? (quite possibly)

Women are emotionally retarded (I'll take the 5th on that one)

How to kill yourself (errrmmm...)

1960 erotic photos (I wish)

Raisins are good for you (I bet that was Weetabix)

God doesn't close a door that he doesn't open a window (and jumps?)

Repeating the same personal mistakes (clearly, I'm the expert)

Intensity (yes please)

Make's apartment (yeah - I get it)

Comment Alert

I've had a slight problem with the comments function today, so if you're having trouble leaving one try clearing your cache and deleting cookies. Hopefully, it should be okay after that, otherwise it seems to need a reboot. I'll quite understand if it's too much hassle.

Edit: I've just re-loaded the entire template, minus some tweaks, so it might be okay now...

The woman behind the pseudonym.

I've posted quite a lot regarding my feelings about GG lately. Sometimes, when I think to myself that it might not be quite what I want at present, she calls or emails and I realise why I'm prepared to make more of an effort than I seem to have done with many of the other women that I've known over the last year or two.

I've decided to post an email that I received yesterday, to try and give you a feeling for what I mean. You'll have to excuse her English as its not her first language.

Some more wonderful hours spent with you last weekend... Tell me, where do they go all those beautiful hours?

Was working until late yesterday again but the project is now finished. I will have a few days free now and I hope to be soon back to "normal" sleep patterns and be able to get on with other matters.

As I told you, I am also thinking in going to Galicia in a few days, have my half term next week and no work, so it seems the ideal timing and it is something I can't delay for longer anyway. I'll tell you about dates as soon as I'll book my ticket.

That will mean we will "miss" one (or 2) of "our weekends" but at times it may feel like we are slipping into a "habit" and we wouldn't like to happen. Would we?

I'll have a few flexible days ahead anyway so just let me know if you'd like (and have time) to go to an exhibition or need any photos taken.

By the way I love the Nirvana CD you recorded for me... I am listening to it right now. I hope you are well and you are dealing with your stress in a positive way. You know how it is... you have to believe in you... my darling...

GGxxx

Later, just before I decided to post this on my blog, she wrote to me again.

Darling,

There is one more thing I'd like to tell you... and that is that I truly appreciate your current situation, the motions you are going through and the stress you are dealing with.

You may get the impression at times that I take it light-heartedly but I really don't. One thing I do know is that I trust you. You are bright, tenacious and daring and I am in no doubt that you are going to be alright...

It is purely about believing, if we believe we can make things happening, they will happen and you will...I just know!

I don't want to add any stress in you life nor do I have any desire of "hassling" you. Perhaps the reason of my spaced notes, messages and calls but I'd like you to know that, whatever the nature of our relationship is, or will be, if at any time, you need a shoulder to rest on (or cry on) or just a friend to talk to, I'll always be there for you.

GGxxx

So, this is just the merest glimpse of the woman I refer to as GG, and she's some woman. And it seems like our thoughts aren't so dissimilar after all. Tomorrow, I think it's time for another aimless ramble on here. I'm sure you must all be quite bored with this now.

Hang on... tomorrow is HNT!!!

A new template.

(Thanks, Caz!)

Hope you like it... there are one or two problems with punctuation, but I'll try to sort them out later today. Bear with me. Or bare with me...

Update: Caz, you're a star. Problem resolved for future posts!

GG and me.

After the furore that poor GG seems to have stirred up (unwittingly, of course) I think it's time that I at least attempted to address some of the issues that have been raised. Part of the problem is that I've allowed sex (I'm completely hacked off with those bloody asterisks so you're getting the uncensored version in future) to dominate the posts I've written. I could have tried to avoid that happening, but I allowed it to for good reason. So now I'm going to try to shed a little more light on this rather unusual dynamic that is "GG and me".

It's been suggested that our relationship is lacking in intimacy. Strangely, I'd say that the opposite is true, in that it's one of the more intimate relationships I've been in for a long time. When we're together, it's incredibly comfortable, and whilst we talk a lot there are also a lot of silences that simply don't need filling. With anything. We seem to understand each other perfectly, and think and feel the same way about pretty much everything of any importance. And no, come Sunday afternoon I don't feel like I want to have my space to myself, and I don't feel like I want to shepherd her towards the door as soon as possible. She feels "right" when she's in my space.

Conversely (and this is really fascinating me at the moment) I don't feel that same intimacy when we have sex. Yes, it's very uninhibited (I could give you details but I really think that some things are best left to the imagination) and sometimes completely... I don't know... abandoned. But whilst there seem to be very few things that are off the agenda, there just seems to be something dispassionate about it. And you know what? If I put this to GG, she'd be horrified. And I think it's because this is the only sex she knows. It's as if sex is just a mechanical process for her to achieve as many orgasms as she can in a given time frame. The more I think about this, the more I think that sex is the focus for a whole load of issues - maybe from when she was younger, maybe just the consequence of her relationship history. I don't have the answers at the moment.

But so far as GG's obsession with all things physical is concerned, I'm going to be completely honest. The truth is, I want more from the time I spend with her than a constant erection. I don't want to feel like I'm some kind of human dildo, and the initial joyful surprise at the prospect of spending every second we're together fucking like rabbits is beginning to change. It's starting to lose its novelty. Now, there's a problem here, because I know myself very well... too well, I sometimes think. And if I get it in my head that there's something about this relationship that isn't "working", the likelihood is that at some stage I'm just going to walk away from it. There are lots of reasons for me responding like this, but central to it is the strangely calm and balanced place I've managed to find for myself at this stage of my life. Mentally, I mean, or maybe spiritually (or both). And I don't want this put at risk.

What does all this mean? I'm fucked if I know at the moment. I said a long time ago that it might be something that turns out to be really important, but it might not. I guess that still applies, but I think that something's going to have to change soon if we're going to achieve anything really meaningful. In the meantime, all I can do is leave you with a comment that GG made as we lay, exhausted, on the rug in the early hours of Sunday morning.

"You know, I really don't think this could get any better. Even with Viagra."

You've got to laugh...

Stoned, drunk and naked.

Yes, I know. Sunday's been and gone (as has Saturday night) and that means a post about GG is due. Okay then. I'd hate to disappoint, so here we go...

The pattern appears to have been set. A train ride from her apartment in Marylebone over to the north London/Hertfordshire border, where I pick her up from the station. Then dinner, lots of wine, and a spliff or two, followed by sex - usually starting off by the fire in the lounge and ultimately ending up in bed. This week was no different, and GG was armed with an assortment of the most gorgeous sushi, courtesy of Selfridges food hall, when she arrived. The wine was mine, a really nice Rioja in honour of her Spanishness.

We ate on the floor, and the first bottle seemed to disappear without either of us noticing. I opened another, and as we chatted after eating GG nonchalantly started to undo the buttons on the dress she was wearing. I didn't even realise she was doing it, until I looked up at her at one point and saw her breast exposed, and then it amused me to watch her subtly making herself "ready". Soon our clothes had been completely removed and before long she was pushing me back onto the sofa where she sat astride me until she came.

We lay in front of the fire for a while, and she made a joke about the fact that we're always "stoned, drunk and naked"... come to think of it, she has a point - we are. At one point, she was looking at me quite intensely, and I felt it was time for me to make something clear. "GG, its important that you understand something", I said. She asked me what it was.

"I'm not looking for a traditional, full-on relationship at the moment... my independence is really important to me. I just thought you should know that, because I don't know that I can make any commitment other than to enjoying the moment. And I really have no idea if that's going to change." She looked at me for a moment, and then smiled. "Be quiet and fuck me again", she said...

I could talk about the sex some more, because its beginning to fascinate me. But suffice it to say that, some time around 4am, I had to tell her that I couldn't go on. I needed to sleep, and I was beginning to loose feeling in the vital places. Unsurprisingly, I got up late on Sunday morning, and GG came downstairs an hour or so after me. We had breakfast and pottered about for a few hours, and just talked about this and that... it seemed kind of peaceful. Comfortable. Around the time she was due to go, she simply walked over to where I was sitting on the sofa, removed my jeans, boxers and socks, and fucked me again without saying a word. And then asked me to take her to the station…

Some of the comments leading up to this post have been interesting, and yes - I will post something more about how it is when GG's around and try to clarify what it is that I feel. I seem to have written, again, about sex, as if sex is all that there is. That's not really true, but GG summed it up from her point of view when we were having breakfast. We were talking about her journey over the evening before, when the trains had been delayed and she'd consequently turned up later than she'd meant to. "I was really pissed off", she said. "It cost me half an hour of fucking".

Onward and... upward?

It's Sunday morning, and if you've been reading this blog for any length of time you'll know that means one thing. GG's around (no doubt in bed as we "speak"). So, this one was written before I went to football on Saturday, so that I could just activate the auto-post that I developed for just this kind of situation. (In other words, at some stage I've walked past the laptop and hit the publish button. Actually, some kind of programmed publishing would be great, wouldn't it... you could write, say, 14 posts before going on holiday and then just have them drop into your blog, one by one!).

Anyway, as the next little snapshot of my life will no doubt contain some explicit sexual content (GG again), I'll just ramble for a minute about work, and what's been going on since I last wrote about my impending doom. Errr, I mean my impending self-employment.

Last week I had a meeting with "Dick" (actually, that's really his name), the guy I report into at the moment, and we agreed that I'd stay with the company until 31st December. That gives me a little more time to get myself organised, so I’m pleased. Now we have to agree the details of my severance package, and at the moment we're three months apart in our negotiations (over here, severance payments are tax free, so that makes a difference of 4/5 months security of income). I imagine we'll meet somewhere in the middle so I should walk away with enough cash to keep food on the children's plates for a while. In the meantime, I'm going to be very nice to Dick indeed.

He also said he wants me to work with them as a consultant on the project that I've been writing about (the one we just got on the shortlist for) and then on other projects as and when they need me, so I guess that's going to be my first job as WDKY Consultancy. A friend who runs a business in Lancashire also has work for me post-December, so things are already looking a bit brighter. Oh, and I spent a bit of time last week on some set-up stuff for the new company and got lots done, including:

1. Meeting with the directors of our old parent company and agreeing a deal to acquire the name, logo, IP, web pages, and all the other stuff that I need. And I don't have to pay them until I hit a net profit figure we've agreed between us. If I do it won't be a problem.

2. Amending all the pages of the old website to bring them up to date. I'm just waiting for a price for implementing the changes, web & email hosting, and reprinting stationery, business cards, report covers & brochures. Hopefully that's going to be sorted in a few days.

3. Finding a brilliant serviced office building a couple of miles from me and a minutes walk from the train station. They also offer "virtual offices" for start-ups, which is just stuff like call and mail forwarding, meeting rooms as and when required, etc etc - it's perfect, and I've got a meeting there on Tuesday to agree the details.

4. Buying a Sage accounting application on eBay, and for £10 (its over £500 retail)!! It'll do all my invoicing, VAT and other tax accounting, year-end reconciliations, P&L, balance sheet, blah blah blah. That's a big headache out the way.

I've got loads that still needs doing, but it feels like its all coming together now, so the excitement is just starting to outweigh the apprehension. And on that note, I'm going to go back upstairs to bed. Wish me luck :-)

PS Talking of eBay, that iPod refund hit my Paypal account this morning. How completely weird is that?

An ongoing project.

Right. I've basked for long enough in the glory of my blog's review, and in reading the comments from all you guys out there who seem to enjoy stopping by every now and again. I suppose it's true that I'm completely open about what I think and feel with regard to the things that I write about but, at the same time, it seems to me that the scales have become unbalanced. So now I'll try to balance them up again, just so there are no misunderstandings.

If you asked my friends about me they'd probably tell you that I've "lived a full life". It's no doubt true, in that I'm a little more worldly than I might have chosen to be at my tender age (did you see what they said about my age in the review, by the way? Bloody cheek!) The phrase amuses me with its ambiguity, but I'll give you my own take on what it means. Or rather, on what I want it to mean...

The person I am now is not the person I was 10 years ago, or even 10 months ago. I find myself changing, constantly evolving, and the one hope I have is that I learn from my mistakes as I go along. I know I'll keep making mistakes, like we all do, but I don't want to keep repeating the same ones because that's not being human; its being stupid. And whilst I'd like to say that any mistakes I've made in the past have only affected me, that wouldn't be true either. But I try to live my life according to a set of values that feel comfortable to me, and I suppose that's really what growing up is all about. I can only do my best and, for me, doing my best means understanding the impact my actions have on other people. If only I had that understanding when I was younger...

Tomorrow's Saturday, and of course that can only mean one thing... GG! I think I'm beginning to get used to living celibately during the week and then condensing 7 days of sh*gging into each Saturday night and Sunday morning. I need to have another conversation with her tomorrow, though, along the lines that there's a big, wide world out there, beyond the confines of my bedroom. Well, and the rug on the lounge floor too, to be fair. The woman is completely obsessed with s*x, and it's funny how that can begin not to be quite enough after a little while. We’ll see what happens.

Wow!

This has certainly put a smile on my otherwise-worried face...

The tattoo.

It must have been about 6 or 7 years ago, I suppose. I know that I was having a personal struggle of some kind, trying to relate the person I thought I was with the guy who left the house every morning in a dark suit, to go sit behind an office desk. And somehow it seemed important that I did something to give people just a slight warning that they shouldn't assume that they knew me. Does that sound strange?

Anyway, I'd had one or two conversations with S, my ex, and she'd made it clear that many things were possible but a tattoo was not one of them. Naturally (grin), it then just became a matter of time, and sure enough one sunny Saturday morning, I "just popped out" to the shops with S's parting words ringing in my ears. "Don’t you dare come back with a tattoo."

I'll cut to the chase. I'd been in the chair for about 20 minutes, and the pain was just beginning to become strangely pleasurable. The girl who did the peircings in the studio had been leaning against the wall watching, and I saw a glint of amusement in her eye as she spoke.

"You haven’t taken a breath for about 5 minutes. Do you think it hurts?"

"Well" I said, "considering I don't know whether to faint or throw up at the moment, I'd say yes. It f*cking hurts."

She laughed and walked towards me, and without a word threw one tanned, sinewy leg over my chest so that she was standing over me, but facing my feet. A sort of reverse cowgirl, had she decided to undo my jeans and just sink slowly onto my shaft (oh, hang on, that’s a different story... ROFL) Instead though, and with her bottom inches from my face, she lifted up her very short skirt to reveal a gloriously naked, and perfectly proportioned pair of cheeks for my inspection.

Except that those beautiful cheeks weren't quite naked, because each one was completely covered in one large tattoo, a kind of jungle scene of long grasses and trees, revealing just a glimpse of the multitude of wild animals peering at me from their rather special vantage point.

After what seemed like minutes, but was really seconds, she swung her leg back over me, making sure that her thigh brushed my face as she did so. Then, she leaned down and pushed her face close to mine, staring straight into my eyes.

"Now that f*cking hurt", she said, grinning.

Post script: I should probably add that I got back home after a couple of hours, blood running down my arm from underneath the crudely applied plaster. S met me at the door, looked at my arm, looked at me, and promptly burst out crying. She didn't speak to me for three days.

HNT 3.

This is my arm, my right one. On it is a tattoo, and I can tell you that it hurt like f*ck. I have a story about that, but I'll save it for another time... but what I want to know is what the character in the middle actually means. A clue... it's Japanese. And whoever guesses correctly will have the choice of the next part of my anatomy to be exposed, as long as it's not my dick, which is sacred.

As a brief aside, I've always liked the fact the real me is often cloaked by an appearance of conformity... I tread a path through the mainstream of life to earn my crust, but I'm really quite different when you get to know me.



Happy HNT.

Oh, and my next post will be the tattoo story. Stay tuned.

Change.

Well, yesterday was certainly a funny old day. Not one that went precisely how I would have predicted but evidence, for sure, that just when you think you’ve got everything sussed you realise that you haven't. And you never will.

I had to get up at sparrow fart for a meeting just outside Ealing, and I was shattered as I hadn't slept particularly well. And for those of you who know London in anything like an intimate way, you won't be surprised that the North Circular Road first thing in the morning was a car park. I allowed myself two hours for a journey that would take 30 minutes had I been able to start off outside of the rush hour, and I just got there in time.

That aside, the meeting went really well, and I left in an excellent mood. I was half way home when I got a call on my mobile, although it was one that I'd been waiting for. You may remember that I had to deliver a presentation while suffering from a serious bout of man-flu the other day (as it happens, I think it really was flu, as I ended up in bed for 2 days). Well, the call was to confirm that we'd got through to the final stage of the tender process – 62 companies had been whittled down to 5, and we were one of them. Now, this is a big job… the contract value is around £500 million! So it's fair to say I was pleased.

The rest of the afternoon I was taking calls from colleagues and I admit I was feeling pretty good about life in general. Then, earlier this evening, I had another call, but this time it was one that I wasn't expecting. And I found out that the process that I initiated – to agree a voluntary redundancy package so that I can escape what's fast becoming the living hell of my present job – is going to go ahead, and it's going to be soon. It looks like I have about 3 weeks left as a salaried employee. After that, it'll be down to me to bring in my own work, and income, as a self-employed consultant again, but this time without a partner, and without any financial backing. The upside? I can live my life how I want to, put everything into my work because it's about me and what I believe, and who knows - I might even end up with a quality of life that's not going to happen any other way.

I've been thinking about this all evening. I hate what I've been doing, and I'm not prepared to compromise my principles every day I go to work any longer. I just can't. But at the same time – and this is something I don’t really like to admit – I'm a little scared. Not just for me, but for the children as well, because they rely on me. But I'm going to give this a f*cking good go, because it feels like a second chance and I think I can make it work. No - I will make it work.

I'll just keep repeating that last sentence to myself...

Random thoughts 6.

Okay, I'm not sure where I'm going with this one, but firstly I want to mention what is fast becoming a required read for me and, I reckon, a lot of others too. Always beautifully written, its a biting reality that provides some very personal insights into the woman behind the blog. Yes, I'm talking about you, Networkchic. Take a bow. Or a curtsey, although I'm sure no-one does that any more, do they? Anyway, I love it. So, thanks.

I was kind of surprised that my last post provoked the response that it did, as I hadn't realised myself that certain things I'm feeling at the moment had surfaced through a slight change in tone in what I'd written. I'm not entirely sure how I want to articulate it just yet, so I'm going to think about the whole situation for a day or two. I'm very careful these days in trying to ensure I don't end up making a mistake. Despite being constantly told off by Zooz about it, I don't always realise how women respond to me (I was told I was "erotic" by GG on Sunday, whatever that means) and it's best, I think, to tread carefully.

I may have mentioned somewhere or other that I got ripped off buying an iPod on eBay a while ago - I paid about £200 and got a photocopied image instead of the real thing, and because ebay and Paypal are up each other's *rses I got nowhere with the dispute I filed. Well, out of the blue - and about 2 months after the event - I received an email yesterday from the turd-brain who took my money, saying he's refunding it in full. How f*cking weird is that? (I've asked him what gives, actually, and I'll let you know!)

And as you may have figured, I keep finding myself messing around with my blog template when I'm bored... changing certain colours, altering the width of the post section, trying to load photos into the header (and failing miserably), and changing that bloody avatar! Well, the image that's up there now is the one I'm going to stick with (okay, Sirreene?) and if anyone recognises me its just too bad! (Well, it would be - very bad indeed - but I don't think it's going to happen. Famous last words.) Anyway, if you think it looks like crap, or the design needs something extra, tell me. Otherwise I'm going to leave well alone now. I think.

Right, enough of this rambling. I'll just finish with a bit of a celebration of what we, on this anthill, refer to as the Bush & Blair lovefest. Love them or hate them, you've got to admit that they make a cute couple.

The "problem" with GG.

Well, I suppose I should write a word or two about "the weekend", then (anything to boost my traffic, I hear you say). So I will. Let me think where to begin…

I got a text from GG at about 7.30 in the evening, asking me to confirm what time I was going to be at the station to pick her up. It interested me that it wasn't signed off with the usual "xxx", and nor was her response to my reply. I think she was being cautious after I'd given her something of a telling off when we last spoke, but what it said to me was that I'd also given her something to think about. Really think about. And that was good.

We got back here close to 9 o'clock, and I was bloody starving. GG had insisted on bringing food and a bottle of wine, and I've got to tell you she was spot on with both – some great stuff to eat from her local deli (lamb shank on a bed of wild rice, salad, stuffed vine leaves) and a gorgeous bottle of Italian red. I would tell you what it was, but it's in the bin and I don't want to go fishing around for it.

We finished dinner, opened another bottle of wine, and I rolled a spliff. It was one of those nights when one amazing piece of music just merged into the next... DCD, Gotan Project, Jeff Buckley... mmmm. Delicious. And then, when the tension just started to feel like you could cut it with a knife, we f*cked. And I don’t mean we followed some scripted, predetermined scenario that GG had devised to satisfy her need for control. I mean we f*cked. And, for those of you who may be interested, that's what we did for the next 4 hours, stopping only occasionally to gather some strength and finish off the wine (and, I'll admit, to smoke just one more small one). And I have to say that, even by my own high standards, I was magnificent (ROFL)!

We woke late-ish on Sunday morning (well, GG woke me up doing a wee in the en-suite) and we chatted for a while. I decided to tease her a bit as retribution for her previous silliness, and then I got up and went for a hard, fast run. But after I got back I showered and climbed into bed again. I think we got up around lunch time in the end, so I suppose you could say that the problem, such as it was, has been well and truly resolved. Or put to bed.

Looks like I didn’t need that telephone number from Tube Girl in the end, then...

An iPod moment.

Sorry, but I can't post an update on the weekend with GG just yet. Well, I could, and GG could contribute as she's here at the moment. But I think I'll just go with this instead and save that for tomorrow. (No, by the way, I haven't been sitting writing while GG's in bed. I wrote this yesterday afternoon when I was bored!)

So, an iPod moment from my tube journey into the City a couple of days ago. The carriage was full but we were sitting opposite each other - she was very cute, with long dark hair (tied back in a pony tail) and big brown eyes, and she was plugged in to her music, smiling. I was feeling horny and plugged in to mine. We were both holding our earphones into our ears as we tried to drown out the noise from our neighbours (and mine also smelt of garlic - I could have thrown up!) and as I caught her eye I smiled at her. She smiled back, eyes sparkling.

I was aware that she was walking behind me as I climbed the stairs at Bank station to the daylight above, and at the top I stopped and lit a cigarrette as I got my bearings. She walked up to me and fumbled for something in her bag. "Hi", I said. "Shame it's not possible to send your music to someone else's earphones, isn't it? I wanted to play you a track."

She made a joke in response, and looked at me, beaming. And we chatted for a couple of minutes, just flirting really but enjoying ourselves in the process. She was lovely, but I had ten minutes before I had to go to a meeting and didn't rise to the bait. We smiled and said goodbye, and went off in opposite directions. But before she turned and walked away she gave me a long stare, as if she was waiting for something more. I wonder if, come the end of the weekend, I'll regret not acting on my instincts and, at least, getting a telephone number? Call it contingency planning!

It's a funny thing, the tube. I hate using it, and generally choose to drive whenever possible when I go into town. But as soon as I get on a train, my sexuality rears its head. Not literally, or at least not always... but I find the whole experience gets my mind working overtime. I've had lots of sponaneous encounters, but never one from a journey on the tube.

I think it's going to happen... it's just a matter of when. I might just start leaving the car at home.

The talk with GG.

Well, with GG now back from Genoa we've had a chance to talk on the phone to catch up with stuff generally and to make plans for the weekend. It was all going well. Like any other conversation really, except that she was a bit emotional as we haven’t seen each other for a while and had wanted me to go away with her. And then it happened.

"I have some plans for Saturday", she said.

"Do you? What sort of plans?"

"Just some more games…"

"Ah… some more games. I think we might have to talk about this, babe."

Talk we did. Trying to deal with this when things are still delicate because of the "newness" of it all isn't easy, and we seemed to just go round in circles. In the end I had no choice. "GG, you’re not listening to me, and I really think you should. So I’m going to say it again..."

So... I explained that I don't necessarily want to have decisions made for me s*xually. That the times for these "games" is later, when the s*x is more comfortable, more natural... when we understand each other's bodies a little better. We talked these things through, and GG cried for a minute or two. Mostly, I think, because she thought I might be saying I didn't want her. But possibly because I was telling her that I won’t accept her tendency, or maybe her need, to control.

In the end, I think we were okay. But it was a difficult call, and time will tell. And, I guess, I need to understand the issues that are lying beneath the surface, although that's something that will require some patience on my part, and at this moment my patience is limited. I'm close to saying "f*ck it". Tomorrow - today now - is going to be something of a test, for both of us. It's going to be about a lot of things, but not about games – they can wait.

What women want?

I thought I'd start by revealing something about myself that not many people know (and I guess still won't). Something personal and, maybe, just the hint of a window into my soul. I don't necessarily think this is a good idea, but I like to live on the edge. I need the rush.

Okay... I cry when I watch "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition". There you have it. Every time I sit down to watch, I say to myself "Don’t be a fool; it's just television; act like a man, you big wuss." And every time I cry. This isn't the only thing that leads me to believe that I'm something of a sentimentalist, but it's the only thing I'm sharing with you today. And, of course, I'd like to think that this kind of honesty will in some way make me a better person.

Well, as I was thinking about this (and I was actually prompted further by one of the articles I was considering writing for Baggage Reclaim) my mind started to wander, and I found myself dwelling on the perceived wisdom that "nice guys always come last". Do they? And what is a "nice guy" anyway? Do women always gravitate towards the Alpha male, or is he outdated? A Neanderthal in today's gender-blurred, egalitarian society?

Now I have no absolute understanding of how other people see me either as a person or as a man, because I really don't go around asking them that kind of question (tempting though it might be, I'm sure I wouldn't like the answers). But when I look at myself, I think (I hope?) that I see someone who's emotionally available, communicative, able to express both thoughts and feelings, and able to understand – and empathise with – the female perspective. But at the same time, believe me when I say that there's nothing blurred about my gender. I'm no pushover, either. I have a steely resolve, and am only ever crossed once. A lot of people find me both intense and, at the same time, a little scary.

So where am I going with this? Well, I suppose I'm saying that if a guy is all the things women say that they want, but without the mistaken assumption that it has to go hand on hand with some kind of emasculation – in other words, while still behaving like a man – I reckon he's half way to cracking it. To surviving in the noughties, and not necessarily doing so in splendid isolation.

Oh, and it also helps if he's a good f*ck.

HNT 2

Bloody hell... it's come round again. Okay, after last week's exposure I've decided to tone it down a bit today, and just give a small, but still tantalising, glimpse of...

"The Man That Is - WDKY".

More of this prime piece of English beef will be on display at the same time next week.

You might have noticed a glimpse of that lovely flat panel I mentioned the other day too :-)

F*ck duties and taxes

You might remember that, a while ago, I was rather pleased to report that I'd bought a blogging t-shirt from Google (I can't link the post, but it's in the September archive under "Blogging With Pride"). Yesterday, those really nice - and, you have to say, thoughtful - guys from Customer Services sent me the following email:

Thanks very much for your order! We appreciate the opportunity to serve you.

The first thing we wish to caution you about is the high relative expense of shipping promotional products internationally. Often times freight, customs and duties can add up to a total that is significantly higher than the cost of the products you wish to purchase.

We apologize to you in advance for the shock you will receive when you review the shipping and handling quote. Please be aware that these charges are not a profit center for us and are due to the various duties and taxes charged by countries around the globe.

The total shipping charges listed below includes any duties and/or taxes or customs fees that your country charges for imports. With those words of caution, please see our freight estimate, below, for your review:

GO0126 L 1 $10.95 BLOGGER RINGNECKED T

Net Amount of Your Order: $10.95
Shipping Charges: $56.17
Total Amount Due: $67.12

I politely advised them that they should carefully insert the t-shirt into the orifice ususally reserved for poshing during trips to NYC. F*ck duties and taxes, therefore, is my message of the day.

Breakfast Update: 63 naffing raisins removed this morning!

Intensity.

S and I been seeing each other for about a week. Well, I guess that's not strictly true, because we'd been friends for probably a year or so, friends in that strangely close way that can sometimes become the most important thing in your life. But suddenly everything had changed… a glance, a word, something had ignited the spark and - after a night where the wine had flowed and we were still talking as the dawn chorus began - we'd slept together. I'm not sure why it happened when it did but the attraction had been there from the start, from the first time I'd looked into her huge green eyes and they'd looked straight back at me as if to say 'You think you can handle me?' The first time we slept together was like an explosion, and a few days later it had happened again.

So, here I was, early evening and trying to get to grips with a new tune on my saxophone, but distracted by thoughts of the s*x that we'd shared. We'd been like animals the last time, f*cking on the stairs because we couldn't wait to get to her bedroom, clothes strewn on the floor around us. And now, I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing, couldn't quite get the notes I wanted. And, to make matters worse, the doorbell to my apartment was ringing when I really didn't want to see anyone.

I put the sax on its stand and walked to the intercom by the front door. But when I picked up the receiver and said 'Hello? Hello?' there was no answer. I stood by the open door for a while, listening for footsteps on the stairs, but heard nothing. 'F*ck it', I said to myself, as I went back inside. I knew I wasn't going to play anymore, so I put on some music, lit a cigarette and stared out of the window, irritated at the interruption.

I'm not sure how long I'd been standing there when I heard the knock on my door (long enough to finish my cigarette, though), but in some strange way I’d been expecting to hear it. Even so, as I walked to the door again, I had no idea who it was. And when I opened it, and S walked past me into the hall, my heart started pounding so hard I thought it was going to push it's way through my rib cage and out of my chest. Long dark hair, olive skin, full lips and those f*cking eyes... and her smell, the electricity around her, all attacking my senses at once and making my head spin. I just stared at her.

She said nothing but just stared back, pupils dilated. Then she walked up to me and, with one hand, pushed me hard against the wall. With the other, she roughly pulled my belt from my jeans and then, very deliberately, undid the buttons and pulled them open, exposing the growing bulge beneath my shorts. Then, looking straight into my eyes, she took my c*ck in her hand and started rubbing gently, all the time pinning me against the wall. I started to speak, but she placed her hand firmly over my mouth and then sank to her knees, taking me in her soft, warm mouth and sucking me until I was completely erect.

I don’t know if it was the way her hand and mouth were working in unison, or just the circumstances of our encounter, but I came quickly, and forcefully. She swallowed every drop as if it was nectar, and then slowly stood up and kissed me deeply. It was as if she wanted me to taste myself on her tongue, and after that kiss – without having said a word, and without looking back – she opened the door and walked back down the stairs, leaving me standing there, eyes still half-closed and c*ck exposed to anyone who might walk past. And I didn't care, because all I could think about was the intensisty of my desire, and all I could hear was the beating of my heart.

That still makes my heart beat faster. Because this was the woman I married, the woman I spent 10 years of my life with, and the mother of my children.

And it was my ex-wife, for those of you who thought I was a philandering git!!!

The Choral Society.

Neigh… Second post of the day (tsk, better do some work), but this cracked me up. Oh, and in addition to any comments you might leave, feel free to leave a message on the board down below too...

Breakfast, Dubya and GG.

Right. I feel the need to get something off my chest, and it concerns my breakfast cereal, Alpen (original, as opposed to no added sugar, if you were wondering). For the third box running, I'm finding that the proportion of raisins to other ingredients is simply far too high… yesterday, I had to manually remove 42 – yes, I said 42 – raisins from my cereal bowl before adding milk. It's beginning to really f*ck me off, so if anyone from Weetabix is reading this, will you please do something about it. Now. Because if you don't, I’m switching to Harvest Crunch with Real Strawberries without further notice. And that's not made by Weetabix!

Oh yes, I wanted to congratulate Claire (she’s very nice, and very talented) on her outstanding discovery of Dubya’s Hotmail Inbox which kind of explains why he took so long getting his Presidential Arse down to the Katrina disaster area. I mean, he seems to have a lot on his plate. (And yes, I know. The link does something weird if you leave it for too long.)

Okay, so getting back to the subject of GG... she's been over in Genoa for her friend's wedding (the one that I didn’t go to) but we’ve been texting every day. I have a bit of a confession to make actually, because as I was driving round the motorway this morning I came over a bit... well... errr, 'wussy'. And I called her. And it gets worse, because when we'd spoken I had a feeling that was almost like (I can't believe I'm saying this) relief. I’ve been missing her.

Now, I've been thinking about this whole business with C. On the upside, sex is unf*ckingbelievable; she's astonishingly beautiful; she has a body that needs to be seen to be believed; and I really, really like her. But on the downside, she's a bit... intangible (I know, but I don't have another way to say it); she's always off somewhere or other reporting on dance or extreme sports; and there's a kind of lack of synchronicity about our lives.

Before I wrote this post GG sent me a text, saying she was going to bed, and that she missed me. She also said something rather sweet in Spanish, and I decided that I was NOT going to screw this up. There and then. Maybe it'll turn out to be something important, maybe it won't. But for once my decisions are going to be made by an organ above my belt.

I think I can carry it off.

Early morning edit: God, I so need sex!

Making your mark.

I'm sitting here having a shot of tequila (note to self: not much left now, must get some more), one last Camel Light, and wondering how the weekends go by so quickly... it'll soon be getting-up time and I so don’t fancy working tomorrow (today now, unfortunately). And I don't feel very tired, so instead of filling my mind with things to send me off to sleep (fluffy pictures and sounds of whale noises) I've been playing with Firefox extensions, prompted by J's comment about 'Stumble Upon' - which I'd never heard of before. It's already made me laugh actually, with just my second Stumble. I mean, when was the last time you asked yourself The Question? You know the one... Is there a God? (Now you know the answer. No offence intended to believers, of course...)

Lack of sleep is beginning to really get on my nerves, to say nothing of it being responsible for my slightly hagard, vaguely skeletal (but still ruggedly handsome) appearance of late. I have a suspicion that some of my insomnia is being caused by the fact that I hate working in a corporate environment, which just happens to be the precise environment that I've been working in for the last couple of years. So I’ve decided that I need to effect change, and I’ve kind of started the ball rolling albeit in a subtle and completely risk-free way. By asking the powers that be to make me redundant. And to do it as soon as possible! And if all goes according to plan, I'll be re-launching my old management consultancy within the next month or so, and building on my reputation of being an iconoclastic, opinionated but surprisingly loveable maverick.

There's a serious side to all this, of course. I think it's important in life to be as true to yourself as possible, and at the moment there's just not enough integrity in what I'm doing for the bulk of my day, 5 days a week. I feel like I'm treading water, and I want to be challenged. But I also want to make my own rules instead if operating within the constraints of somebody else's. I really don’t know what's wrong with me... maybe I really am an iconoclastic, opinionated but surprisingly loveable maverick.

That would be cool.

Random thoughts 5.

Sunday. Crikey, the week's gone quickly, although I did spend half of it in bed which is probably why. This morning, though, the sun’s shining and I'm going to go for a run. Me, iPod and DCD.

I was chatting to Zooz yesterday (she of the reference, how embarrassing was that? And can we leave it there, please?) and she said I really am duty bound to keep posting daily because it means we don't have to speak!! When I first started this blog, about three weeks ago, I really didn't think I'd be motivated enough to do it, but now I'm finding that it just seems to happen of its own accord. And when I get a comment from Technorati themselves, just at the merest mention of their name, it does have the effect of spurring me on a bit. I mean, how impressive is that? Thanks Dave! (Now, I wonder who'll respond if I just mention, in passing, that I've switched to Mozilla as I resent the fact that Microsoft are taking over the world?)

Right, to the dilemma. I did speak to C last night. We weren't on the phone for all that long – maybe an hour or so – but during that time GG sent three texts to my mobile. This after the previous text was some time during Saturday morning. Okay, as an agnostic-cum-atheist I’m not suggesting that this was any kind if divine intervention, but it was certainly ironic. It was as if I was being told not to f*ck this up. To think carefully.

I did think carefully, actually, and C and I have decided to meet for a drink one day next week. I'm going to see how it 'feels' before I make any snap decisions, but if the chemistry is still there I'll have to deal with the situation one way or another, but deal with it decisively. I won't allow myself to screw either of them around. ('Repeat after me...') Anyway, I know what'll happen if I do… I'll end up sitting here with neither of them. That's how these things work, isn’t it?

I'm really not sleeping well at the moment. For some reason my brain won't seem to shut down until that period just before dawn when sleep-panic begins to set in. I mentioned in a post a while ago that I generally live in an environment of calm (or harmony, as GG put it) and, invariably, when this happens to me it's because something has been knocked out of kilter. I while ago, I was going to look into the possibility of booking into a Buddhist retreat out in the wilds of Hertfordshire somewhere, but for some reason I put it on the back burner. I think I'll do something a bit more proactive about it.

Decisions, decisions...

Before I start a bit of a story today, I just want to mention a couple of blog-related things before I forget. Firstly, thanks to LNIDOE for two things… linking me to her blog (very nice) and – more importantly, some might say – helping to spread the word about Half Nekkid Thursday to the UK. She’s promised a bit of flesh herself next week, so I’m returning the favour by mentioning her blog here. Secondly, and on the subject of linking, am I right in saying that Technorati only shows links to blogs that are also registered (with Technorati)? That’s a bit naughty, and a bit irritating. If anyone has linked me and I haven’t returned the favour, drop me an email and I’ll sort it out pronto. I’m good like that.

Okay, on to the story. About three months ago, I got an email from “C”, who I’d noticed had a rather cute profile online but whom I hadn’t attempted to contact. We exchanged a few emails and then spoke on the phone, and we got on so well that we decided it would be madness not to meet up for a drink. So, to cut a long story short it was agreed that I’d pick her up one evening and we’d go out. It was a Sunday evening, quite early, and she was at her nieces birthday party, so she asked if I’d mind stopping by over there first. (Yes, I know, that's what I told her too… but when people get to know me it’s pretty apparent that I’m not a psycho, and I seem to engender trust quite easily for some reason. And I knew I was safe!)

When I arrived, it was hysterical. The door was opened by C’s sister, who looks just like her. But she looked slightly different to C herself (remember, I’d only seen a couple of photos at this stage) and as I stood there I had no idea whether I was looking at my date or not. We just stared at each other for about ten seconds, and then I looked into the hall and saw C grinning mischievously from the stairs. She was obviously having a bit of a laugh about it all, but I didn’t mind because she was absolutely gorgeous. Long curly brown hair, the most beautiful face and smile, and a body to die for. (I found out later that she was very well known on the European body-building circuit and had come second a few years earlier in some major championships.)

I hung around for a while, thinking that these people were lovely, all of them. Feeling really comfortable, for some reason. And then we went out, and had the best night… first of all to see some contemporary ballet she was writing about (I’m serious – it was cool), and then something to eat on Upper Street, lots of wine, and good, easy, flowing conversation. Around 11.30 I said to her “Look, this has been really, really nice. But I’m thinking I’d better get you home to Whitechapel. It’s getting late, and I have to get back afterwards too.” She looked at me for a moment.

“I don’t want to go home”, she said. And just kept looking at me. I asked her if she wanted to come back with me, and she said yes. Before long we were walking back to my car, and the kiss en route was exquisite. I don’t know how else to describe it. When we got home, I ran her a bath (she asked me to) and we had a night of s*x (and I mean a night) that was just about as perfect as it gets. I can’t really explain, but it felt like we’d been together for ever and yet we’d just met. It was the strangest thing.

We stayed in touch after that, but C is hard to pin down and I certainly wasn't going to push it. So lots of emails and texts, daily, but I just had the impression that she wanted to keep some distance. I respected that, and responded as I thought she wanted me to. Then she went to Spain to write an article about Flamenco, and she asked if I could pick her up from the airport when she got back and bring her back to mine so we could carry on where we left off. I was delighted to agree, and was really looking forward to seeing her. But this is where we went a bit off track. I met someone while she was away and decided I would probably want to see her again. And I didn’t get the impression that C wanted to be anything more than casual, so I felt no real obligation in any way, other than to be straight with her. So I called her and told her I didn’t think I should see her when she got back, at least not for the night we’d planned in any event.

Her response completely astonished me. She had to ask to call me back (which she did about ten minutes later) and it transpired that she’d been physically sick when I told her. She was genuinely beside herself. But she’d given me no signals whatsoever that she felt that way. If she had, I wouldn’t even have thought about seeing anyone else.

So… to cut what’s already turning into a mega-post a bit shorter, C said that she couldn’t face staying in touch as friends because of the way that she already felt. And I was also more upset than I'm comfortable admitting, but just lately we’ve been communicating again. The odd text, and the odd email. And – despite having met GG – there’s something about C that I still find rather... hmmm, I don't know. I'll just say "lovely". I can’t explain what it is… I just like her so much. And now, I’ve woken up to a text that say’s she’s going to ring later today. I’m not sure what she’s going to say to me, but I know I want to speak to her. And another thing I know is that I won’t play any games, which seems to mean I could have some tough decisions to make soon. And, this time, I don't want to make a mistake. I'm going to think very carefully and then go with my intuition.

I think I need another coffee. Oh, and since writing the above - and thanks to the generosity of another blogger - I now have Gmail. Who cares if Google's taking over the world - how cool is that?