Wallow.

So I think I left it at the end of Monday after finally managing to drag myself out of C’s bed. Monday night I came home and showered (again) and had some sleeping tablets – fought them for as long as possible and then collapsed in bed and slept like the dead for 8 hours.

I believe it was Tuesday evening that I went out to a friend’s place for boardgames and dinner. Dinner was so yummy. And the boardgames surprisingly fun. Can’t remember what it was called but it was fun! Then the friend of my friend who was also over for board games left and we had a smoke and then we’re making out and I’m pressed against the wall and there are hands in my pants and it’s good but my brain is just not cooperating at all. Stupid brain. Rebound sex is exactly what I need right now! But apparently not. So I make my apologies and leave, feeling very much the cock tease and get some lovely pxt’s on the way home that just have me further cursing my brain for interrupting.

It was probably sometime around 2pm when I dragged myself out of bed on Wednesday. Pretty sure I went around to P’s place and we did some nangs. Not sure how I have never come across nangs before but hippy crack certainly lives up to it’s name. So good. Ah, then P had to go to work and V and I went and got some pot and I invited another person over to join us in our stonedness. Silly Madam – inviting the cute boy you want to do wicked things to to come over and get stoned is not very social. We watched Tank Girl and giggled and I had my head scritched and it was lovely but I was not going to put the moves on this poor mostly ‘nilla boy whilst stoned. Lol. Shall have to lure him over some time under the premise of teaching him something…

Thursday… Hmm… Ah. Right. Hmm. I arrived home sometime in the early afternoon I think… And the dogs were gone. Dropped my stuff inside and was heading out to look for them when the vet calls and they’ve been dropped off there. Go and pick them up and get chewed out by the vet nurse because Iggy is so skinny. I know he is, woman. We’ve tried god damn everything to make him put weight on, give me a fucking break. Iggy was also all scraped up and they thought he had been hit by a car. So I got home and called Monkey. (Had managed not to message him at all (despite desperately wanting to a couple of times) since leaving on the Sunday. But figured I’d be cut if our positions were reversed and he didn’t call me about Crumbs.)  And then freaked out that I had invited him over and rolled myself a very strong joint and proceeded to smoke it very quickly and promptly green. So I’m laying on the bed, hardly able to move when Monkey arrives about an hour later. He went and fixed the fence as best he could (need a new one is really the only proper solution) and then sat on the bed next to me and we talked about everything and what was going on. And sort of reached a point where we’ve decided he won’t be moving back in. His moving seems to have been good for us both. But we’ll give dating a go. Which is probably a good thing given we never really dated to start with – had our 21st together and then he just kinda moved in! So we decided we’d go out for dinner in town and chat about things some more. On the way into town I hit a kangaroo. (Monkey was following me in his car) The poor thing wasn’t going to have been ok but sort of mercifully a massive ute came around the corner just after I had hit her and cleaned her up. Not pleasant but WTF was I going to do with a distressed, badly injured fully grown kangaroo? However, milliseconds before this ute hit the mother a joey jumped clear of her pouch and Monkey ran and grabbed her while I tried to call someone to find out where to take this joey. We wrapped it in my coat and after several frantic phone calls managed to get in touch with someone we could take it to. Monkey stuck her in the footwell of his car wrapped in my coat and off we went. Turns out it’s a girl joey and quite healthy and she’s now named after me and the rescue people have my number and have promised to keep me posted about how she does ^_^

Not quite the reconciliation date evening I had planned but we eventually made it out to Grill’d for burgers (omg soooo good!!) and then bought cold rock and I managed to coerce Monkey into coming back to spend the night with me to “talk more” AKA get stoned. So we drove back here and had 3 joints between us and didn’t manage to get even a little bit stoned which was really odd given it was the same pot V and I had shared and that I had greened on earlier. Thinking Monkey must have been too stingy with it! Lol.

So instead of getting stoned – we fucked. And it was brilliant. Just the right amount of hurt/hate mixed in. And it was nice to have someone to snuggle in my bed afterwards as well. Slept really poorly though.

Then I guess it was Friday morning. Monkey left early for work and it was really really hard to see him go. It seems every time I’m alone recently I freak out that no one will ever want to be in a relationship with me because I’m just too much hard work and there isn’t enough pay off. Hurrah for raging insecurities :/

Managed to drag myself out to P’s for her farewell gathering later in the afternoon after picking up some goodies to make the night more exciting. Got there, had some drinks and a couple of pills, put some dye in my hair and then was a tad drunk and high and super efficiently helping her pack up to leave me Got a bit teary when she went to have a shower to wash her dye out that she was leaving. Sent some text messages that I shouldn’t have. Ah well.

Then a friend of P’s arrived and a trio I had invited to come out with us as well. Bouncing off the walls by this stage, was told at one point I was like a puppy – super excited, talking a million miles an hour and then announcing I had to go and pee! Lol.

Got ready in between bites and having my tits played with and sucked on (who’s complaining?!). And we headed out to the pub first. Had a drink or two there and some smokes and then headed into the city for some dancing!! Called C after we had arrived in the city to invite him out with us. He answered the phone singing which was hot and gorgeous and said he might be out later. Onwards and upwards to the dubstep club – seemed a bit shit to start with, had a drink and some of the goodies and then had to dance. Was standing right in front of one of the speakers. Dancing like a trash bag and loving it. Think at one point I sent C a message saying he should come dance with us because I was the music… Interesting…

Not sure how long we were there for. Danced my little butt off and luuuuuuuurved every second of it. Then some more goodies and off to the gay club.

Did a lot of hanging around out the front of the club and smoking and general trashbaggery. Inside for some dancing and back outside for more smokes.

Can’t remember what point it was but I was inside dancing with a friend we ran into that I hadn’t seen in ages and had some girl making eyes at me so I grinned at her. I was grinning at everybody and couldn’t help it. And then I’m dancing with this girl and it’s ok but I’d rather be dancing on my own, shaking up a storm but then I was fending some drunk old indian dude off her as well and then one of the trio I had invited was leaving which I was going to use as a very apt excuse to get away from the lovely girl I didn’t really want to be dancing with; as flattered as I was that this gorgeous girl wanted to dance with me. But then she’s grabbed my hand and we’re headed outside and we’re having a smoke and chatting and then we’re in a taxi on the way back to her place…. And all I have on me is my phone which is about to die as my money and ID are in a friend’s pockets…. Hmmmm….

Make it back to this chick’s place where she finds her door locked so I help her climb over her back fence… So dodgey. And then we’re having sex. It certainly wasn’t the best oral I’ve ever had but it wasn’t terrible. But all I wanted to do was go back to the club and enjoy the bass and shake my butt some more. So I faked an orgasm and then gave her 3 or 4 in return before insisting I had to go home. Poor girl. I feel really flattered because I haven’t been picked up by a chick before but it really wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. Still not quite sure why I wasn’t able to say no to her.

Then there was the awkward conversation about whether or not I’d reply to her if she text me. I assured her I would – not really wanting to but anywho. Interestingly I heard from her within an hour of my leaving, several texts as a matter of fact (which I very chivalrously did reply to) but not since then. shrug

Got rescued by a friend at by that stage I think it was after 4am and headed back to P’s place and crashed out on the couch. Dead tired and kinda sleepy but still wanting to dance and incapable of sleep.

P left at around 11am I think while I was still willing myself to sleep on the couch. Goodbye hugs are shit Then hung around with V and some out of towners and spent the day eating fish and chips, getting stoned, doing nangs and watching shit TV. Then all of a sudden it’s 9pm and I have to go, despite being vaguely stoned still, so I can feed my starving dogs!

And spent Sunday and monday wallowing some more. Had Monkey over again and we fucked like bunnies. Been stoned a lot. Haven’t cried as much as I’d've thought. Seems we’re in an interesting place now.

Had Monkey come over again today – have a horrendous cold thing at the moment. And the dogs got out again and he helped me look for them. Well… He looked for them and I lay in bed wanting to die. But he brought me some lovely cold and flu meds and I started feeling much better before he was about to leave. Have also been ridiculously horny this whole week. Not sure what’s going on there. Before we broke up my sex drive (hate that phrase, read Emily Nagoski’s blog, she’s brilliant) was negligible but this week… Well… That’s been a different story. So we shagged again instead of him leaving to go and pick a friend up from work. Sorry, L – had to have him! Lol.

And somehow I’ve managed to blab for 2000 words again. Promise I’ll get back to writing interesting shit at some stage rather than just spewing forth words.

No (G)love.

Might start this one with a disclaimer about the fact that this is my take on what happened and a reminder about that fact that my brain is selective in what it remembers when I’m sober and I spent a grand majority of the following very much not sober at all…. You’ve been warned. Also if you’re one of the people I’ve convinced that I’m mature and responsible… You might want to just look away now.

Saturday was finally the U30s – after months of it being in the works it rocked around to saturday before I really felt prepared! Monkey and I did the shopping on Thursday at the new Costco in town. Man, that was an odd experience. Weird energy in there! Monkey did an excellent job of getting the backyard ready and starting to get inside ready too.

Did the rounds of picking people up on saturday afternoon. At this stage I had been 4 days without sleep (and starting to feel a tad loopy for it), autopiloted into town and managed to end up at the wrong friend’s house first. Ah well!

Picked the friends up and drove back home. Flitted around doing god only knows what. And then people are turning up and I’m kinda freaking out because I wasn’t quite ready for it yet but P helped me get “dressed”. Saturday was an excellent example of ‘Madam dressed’ – liquid latex over bare breasts with heels and a skirt. Add copious amounts of eyeshadow and hairspray. Job done!

We started with trying to paint the latex on and ended up just pouring it on. No wonder people love latex so much – the fumes were killer but the delicious feeling of the cold latex pouring over my tits, down my belly and then down into my pants and underwear was brilliant!

By the time we were nearing completion of  everyone being dressed, J came in and was getting changed with us too. Cue very fat feeling Madam. J and P are both tiny. And gorgeous. No fair. Ah well! Pop a couple of pills before I go face the guests, strap my skyscraper heels on and off we go!

Unfortunately I’ve just realised I have abolsutely no idea what I did for the first few hours…. ROFL! I’m guessing I smoked, I drank (Dr Pepper and vodka! Fuck yes!), I meeted and greeted as a good host does. There were lots of people I didn’t immediately know, I kept introducing myself as ‘Madam – who lives here and forgive me I’m high’. Or maybe that was later. Who really knows?

I couldn’t tell you how far into the night it was but at some stage Monkey came up to me and was like “It’s only 11:30!!!” and I was all “I KNOW – EVERYTHING IS AMAZING!!!!‘. Lol. I do remember telling everyone I loved them a lot. Which is true. I’m just not quite so verbal about it usually!

And I’m pretty sure it was fairly early in the night that I went into my bedroom for something or someone and C was in there and then I’m straddling his lap and he’s taking photos and a couple of friends came in and some very odd conversations were had.

Then I’m not sure how much later but C is wanting to know what he should use to clean the puke in my bathroom sink with. And I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that someone has been ill in my sink already. I could’ve sworn it was still fairly early in the night. And he wouldn’t let me clean my own sink. Odd boy. Words should’ve been had! Lol.

Lots of flitting around being an epic social butterfly later I’m reoffered some mdma that had been mentioned earlier. I then run off in search of P who wants some too and get sidetracked once or twice trying to find her and then trying to find the friend with the goodies and being distracted again. Eventually I think I had grabbed P by the hand and was holding onto her while we looked for the other friend so that we didn’t immediately forget. I think she found us in the end. Lol.

Foul tasting goodies helped down by mouthfuls of Dr Pepper and vodka.

Surely before this point had been the best part of the whole evening up to that point – I’m standing in the kitchen doing something or other and turn around and Monkey is making our with a friend of ours…. A male friend. I almost died of joy! All my christmases had come at once. Most excellent!

I recall getting lots of nips and bites and scratches from all sorts of excellent and wonderful people. Including groping someone I had just met and then informing him I’d be incredibly offended if he didn’t grope me baack! Lol

One of the regulars who I have always thought as a tad tough for me rocked up and we had been talking a few times during the night and ended up organising to have a play later – woot! I was horribly convinced that I wouldn’t be sadistic enough but as it turns out I do ok – managed to break a nail on him which is annoying but he had a good time and so did I  had my ‘happy Mistress’ face on ewll before we were done so thumbs up all round by my reckoning.

I was also asked at some point to put needles into one of our gorgeous guests from sydney. Thankfully I was coherent enough to say no to that one – I’m not going to stick very sharp things into someone’s flesh for their first time while I’m off my face. Shall just have to organise it for another time cuz daym those two are gorgeous and boy howdy do I want to get my paws on them!

At some point we served dinner and I ended up in charge of the salad. There was just something about wielding a big sharp knife whilst extraordinarily high that was incredibly amusing! But apparently it all got served ok if the dishes the next morning were anything to go by!

I kept meaning to dance, think I had told one person in particular that we would dance a handful of times and yet always managed to get distracted by something before we got around to it! Lol.

I disciplined everyone’s favourite brat and had a ball. Had my ‘happy Mistress’ face on again. Particularly when we finished the first time and I told her to go and apologise to someone which she did with a kick so I got to beat her again – without any sympathy that time. Good times.

I guess it was a bit later that I came into our loungeroom to find people doing needles so I sat and watched enviously for a while, no G – you will not have my record. Thank you very much. eyeroll. And then I’m sitting on the couch and P is giving me a massage I think. Lovely. And I can’t remember what happened in between but then I’m sitting in front of the couch on my knees with my head in C’s lap, my arms wrapped around his waist and L is cutting into my back. I think she had started on my chest with a different implement but we had changed to my back when I wanted it harder maybe? Doesn’t matter. What matters is fuck me was that good!!!! I haven’t really indulged my masochistic tendencies for a while really and L was doing a brilliant job of indulging her inner sadist. At one point C has mentioned watching it was making him feel queasy which just made my day. Lol. Sick bitch that I am. Not sure how long this went on for but I managed to orgasm just once or twice but three times from the cutting alone. L kept telling me to stay still and I really did try but fuck man I just had to wriggle. It was so painful and so fucking delicious. Until I think she started going back over cuts she had already made and I’m not sure if I was just getting more sensitive or not but it went from feeling like cutting to the blade tearing through my skin which isn’t nearly as nice. So I think just after my third orgasm I safeworded and was just a little puddle in C’s lap. Sooooooooo gooooooooooooooooooood. My god.

I honestly have no idea what else I got up to. I’m sure it will come to me eventually.

So then it’s much later (maybe!?) and most people have left (including C pout pout pout I was supposed to have been adding more booze to his drinks during the night so he had to stay but I could barely keep track of my own drink let alone anyone elses! Lol) and we have a few people crashing on the floor or in bedrooms and I grabbed someone’s hand to drag to my bedroom to start our pile.

And then I’m nekkid on my bed making out with P who has the most luscious mouth and I’m being fucked with a brilliant strap on. It’s fucking brutal and ribbed and just tearing the orgasms out of me. Far out. Managed to make P cum which was beautiful. Not sure if it was with my mouth or my hands in the end but it was gorgeous to watch and listen to her

At some point durnig round 1 Monkey disappeared. I had a pretty good idea why but wasn’t going to leave where I was (with P sitting on my face) to sort him out at that stage – selfish bitch I know. During the smoko at the end of round one, turns out it was for the reason I thought and we all had a bit of a ‘cheer Monkey up’ chat, it’s an intimidating situation to be in! Dude, don’t stress… Etc. shrug

Round 2 and 3 were good too. Tried not to be quite so selfish and to give more during the subsequent rounds but I’m not sure it quite worked! Lol. I think it was round 3 that Monkey disappeared with one of the other girls. At which point I was fucking cheering. Glad he was finally off to have some fun. End of round 3 we’ve decided thats enough! Lol. Outside for a smoke and Monkey’s body language is really odd. I asked him if he used a condom on my way out the door and he said he  hadn’t needed to – which I took as they hadn’t had penetrative sex. More fool me.

Into bed around 8am. Lying there trying to sleep. Drugs not helping. Lay there until 11am when I heard others moving around the house. Thank fuck I don’t have to lie here and pretend anymore! Lol. Get up and my houseguests are cleaning up – that’s not on! Try to get them to quit it but didn’t really try very hard and just retreated outside for a smoke. And then the dogs got out. Bugger. Have a walk around. Can’t find them. Trudge home. Send Monkey out to look for them. Can’t find them. Chilling outside in the sun smoking and talking shit with the people who stayed. Takeaway is voted on for food and off they go to get it. Sydney peeps are dropped back into town to make their way home from there. Couches are sat on and movies are watched. Man, five days without sleep now am I fucking tired or what?

Monkey comes back from dropping people in town and we grab WM’s car and head  back into town with the second lot of people needing to be dropped home. Leave P at work for the staff party. Drop K off at home.

Couple of minutes of silence to will myself into saying what I want to.

“Did you fuck … last night?”

Affirmative reply.

“Did you use a condom?”

Negative reply. “I didn’t need to. I didn’t cum inside her.”

Car brakes slammed on. Amazing disbelief. Crushing sense of finality. Tempted to leave him on the side of the road to fucking fend for himself. Continue driving. Rage. Say things that are entirely not productive and don’t really make me feel any better. Tell him he needs to move out. I’ve asked him to look into it a few weeks ago but now he really just needs to get the fuck out of my house. He says he’ll just go back to sydney. Excellent. Run away. That helps. I’ve already made up my mind that I cannot be at home. And then he mentions that he’s not even sure he loves me anymore. Great. Add a bit more salt to the wound, I don’t mind.

So I’m running through all the people I can call on a sunday evening to help me be distracted who aren’t great friends with Monkey.

Get home. Smoke both my remaining cigarettes. Call some people. First one is going to get sex tonight and can’t. Second one doesn’t answer. Third one answers and I promptly burst into tears. He asks me if I’m ok, a negative is sobbed in his direction and he’s saying he’s already on the way where am I and he’ll come get me. Gorgeous boy. Exactly the kind of reaction I needed at that moment. It means more than you’ll know Let him know that I’m at home and can’t stay and give him a quick rundown of what happened. Go inside to get some shit for monday. Get bailed up in the bathroom by WM wanting me to stay because it’s my house. Not what I needed. Nod and agree and leave anyway.

Driving back into town in my car, music incredibly loud. Road  is wet. Roo’s are out. I don’t care. I’m going too fast and don’t care about that either. Half way down a road one really shouldn’t answer the phone on in the dark when it’s wet and you’re speeding and coming down and haven’t slept in 5 days and possibly still drunk and/or high… Anywho, C is returning the call from earlier. Same deal as previous phone call, answers it and burst into tears. Lol. Ask if it’s ok if I come over and need hard liquor.

Arrive, drinks poured, shit talked. Took my time getting around to what happened I think. C had some very good, logical points that I hadn’t considered. Asshole Manage to get drunk enough to say shit I shouldn’t. Including asking a question I have wanted to for a few weeks… And in the drink induced stupour that was the next few hours I have no idea what the reply was! Bahahaha. Smooth Madam is smooth.

Manage to go outside for a smoke at one stage and was sitting down halfway through my smoke when I went “Shiiit. I have had far too much to drink.”  So I think I’m resting my head on the table trying not to black out/puke on myself (been there, done that already ) and I have no idea how long I was out there but C has come outside and helped me inside where I think I managed to get across that I need to puke and then I’m curled up around his toilet (again, idiot) puking and (I think) sobbing about random shit. Oh dear. Eventually managed to get upstairs and into the shower. Oh god, that was good. Scalding hot water (brilliant water pressure too) across the cuts on my back. C lays out on the floor saying (I think) that he enjoys the sound of running water. Pretty sure he’s just making sure I don’t black out and kill myself in his shower (either way it was greatly appreciated) and then evnetually drag myself out and curl up nekkid in his bed with him (curse that underwear of his, lol).

AND MANAGE TO FALL ASLEEP!

For the first time in 5 days. Thank fuck.

And then spent until like 5pm monday arvo in bed. Lol. Feel bad that he rescued and distracted me (or just helped me destroy my body a little more, whichever way you want to put it ) when I needed it and then had to take the day off

So now what is the question? Have told Monkey to let me know when he’s had an STD test and gotten the results. If he’s clean maybe we can do something. Maybe not. I really don’t know. I haven’t trusted him for a while and now I don’t know that I ever should if getting his dick wet is a higher priority than his health or mine or our relationship. But then everyone makes mistakes. There’s so much more rambling on that to do but not now.

Next few weeks should be interesting to say the least.

A few changes.

I’ve decided not to go with letters and to go back and change people’s letters to names. They certainly won’t be their actual names.

I’m also making some additions and amendments to the bits I’ve already done so if you want to go back and have a reread of the other bits and tell me what you think. The changes won’t happen (other than to Jeans which I only wrote tonight) until probably tomorrow evening as I should have been asleep several hours ago already.

I would, as always, welcome any feedback or comments you might have.

Madam.

P.S. I logged in tonight for the first time in a few days to see this “Top Searches:
what to do when teacher kisses on clea vage [sic]” ….oh dear!

Jeans.

Around the same time I started noticing Sellout boy I also started to notice Nathaniel. Somehow despite three and a half years of school together I had completely failed to become aware of this gorgeous European Adonis of a boy. He had beautiful skin, captivating eyes, the most mischievous smile and hair that grew into ringlets if given half the chance. I was in absolute heaven just looking at the boy.

But I never said anything.

And so it wasn’t until the first day of spring during year 11 that anything happened. Recess time and a mutual friend finally gets the shits with us dancing around the subject and she asks me out for him. I do my best to nonchalantly accept. A peck on the lips is shared. Recess is over. We go back to our respective classes. I honestly cannot remember a single thing that happened for the rest of the day; I would like to say it’s burned indelibly into my memory but evidently it isn’t. Devastatingly, I can’t even remember the first time I had my tongue in that gorgeous mouth.

But I do remember the first time we had sex.

Somehow it transpired that Nathaniel was a virgin (which was beyond me given his looks but apparently his parents did a better job at sheltering him than mine had). His parents freaked out when they came home to find me in his bedroom after school – just kissing – and his mother proceeded to march us downstairs and give us a talk about “respecting each other”. I wanted to tell her that I respected Nathaniel very, very deeply…  But that it wouldn’t stop me from tearing his clothes off at the first opportunity. I (wisely) kept my thoughts to myself and promised to respect him and behave myself.

Unfortunately for Nathaniel’s mother I’ve always been of the opinion that promises don’t count for much and are made to be broken.

Unfortunately for me Nathaniel sustained a football injury that landed him in hospital and put him out of action for a few months. In the meantime we spent a whole lot of time making out and dry humping. And the dry humping is what leads to the first time we had sex.

We were at my father’s house, unsupervised for one reason or another and had been doing more dry humping than usual in the days immediately leading up to this one. Things got hot and heavy as they tended to the minute we were alone and quickly progressed to the point where making out on the couch wasn’t going to cut it. We quickly retired to my bedroom, stripping off clothing as quickly as possible and jumping under my sheets.

It was all going so well, up until we managed some actual penetration.

In our lust driven dry humping frenzies we had actually managed to tear his frenulum preputii penis (that lovely little spot under the glans that’s so much fun to lick…). It turns out jeans with buttons are not great to dry hump against if you’re a boy.

As I said, teenage boy egos are odd things and he was so adorably devastated that I assured him we would just strike this attempt from the record, never mention it again, restore him to virgin status and try again in a few days (after abstaining from any dry humping in jeans).

The funny thing is, I remember that incident so vividly – the fact he hadn’t shaved for a few days so his upper lip was a bit stubbly, his hair was getting longer and was marvelous to run my fingers through, the look on his face when he got his first cock-to-cunt contact – but I don’t actually remember the first sex we had “on record”. It’s what we referred to the entire time we were dating (again almost three years) as the first time we fucked but this non-sex is the one I’ll always remember.

Me and my big mouth.

Not a piece of my “book” tonight but instead musings and lamentations (and probably some emo teeth gnashing as well) on the events and mishaps that occurred last night. It was beer and pool (and dinner) night last night at the pub again.

Had uni during the day for the first time in 5ish weeks and due to my most recent nocturnal behaviour I was running on 4 hours sleep, more caffeine than is otherwise considered responsible and some uppers as well.

Made it through uni. Excellent. Off to a friend’s place to chill for a few hours and then to get ready and head out to the pub. Ended up having takeaway with B (for boobs beautiful) and then convincing her to come out with me.

As such I think we were about an hour maybe an hour and a half late and everyone was already there and fed by the time we got there.

Oopsie.

Another ‘oopsie’ was forgetting that I had invited a friend of B’s to come and join us the night before when we had met at a different pub.

Drive into the city, park near C’s again, switch my new heels for flats (thanks for your logic, B! My feet would have been screwed) and wandered over to catch up with everyone. Have a smoke outside. Head inside. Buy a drink for me and one for C who is already there. Head out the back to the same pool table I blearily remember from the end of last week’s misadventure.

Pool. Hickies. Cider. Black russian. Making out with girls. Having my cleavage covered in lipstick kisses. Smoke breaks. Distraction pool. Black russian. Smoke. Pool. Cleavage, oh so much cleavage. Making friends of friends uncomfortable just after meeting them. Watching a fight outside. Being amazed at how many police cars turned up in under 5 minutes. Falling a little bit in love with the bartender for being so awesome.

Then I did something I never thought I would. And had promised myself that I never would due to past experiences.

Occasionally going against what my instincts tell me to do is a much better idea than listening to them.

This was not one of those occasions.

It turns out that this indulgence and I are not friends.

And unfortunately things went from a greatly enjoyable evening to …well… not so enjoyable.

(Thankfully I did not puke on myself though!)

I got incredibly emo and cranky and just wasn’t coping terribly well. Spent a lot of time outside smoking (which I have to thank for a hideous cough today). Thankfully, I was a tad more sensible than last week and stopped drinking at some point.

And I cannot thank one of my friends enough for looking after me – the little hugs and backrubs when they noticed I wasn’t coping terribly well and hanging outside in the cold whilst I chain-smoked.

I realised, towards the end of proceedings, that my thing for C is quite possibly incredibly misplaced. There were a few moments/comments/actions that had it been anyone else it would have earned them a backhand.

Unfortunately, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I am quite the optimist. And more often than not, able to turn a blind eye when I shouldn’t. Perhaps that’s the emotional masochist coming out – if I stay optimistic there’s always another chance to be let down next time!

Ramblings aside, I managed to once again drop myself in it by opening my mouth when I should really keep it closed. I’m (attempting) to play pool with T and C comes over and asks to see my tits. Usually this request would be met with an almost immediate lifting/lowering of apparel. Interestingly, this time it was an immediate and resounding ‘No’. And then I went back to playing pool. I don’t know if it’s my dodgy memory or something else but I can’t remember if C came back to ask me something or I said something else or what but then I told him that I don’t trust him tonight. And this was true at the precise moment I said it (which I’m tempted to blame on the evening’s frivolities given I’ve always trusted him unreservedly and absolutely or I wouldn’t have even considered doing a couple of the other things I’ve written about)

I’m always blunt, horrifically blunt. Subtle as a brick. I don’t ‘do’ lying. I don’t like half-truths. I don’t see the point and would always much rather someone knows the truth of my take of the situation.

I need to learn that this honesty is not always a good thing.

I continue playing pool and then C lets me know he’s leaving. Give him a quick hug (which is very quickly disengaged from) because I know I’ve managed to fuck up again.

Then B and the other girls are leaving as well, off elsewhere to get cheaper drinks and do some dancing.

I don’t want to dance.

I end up staying with T and another friend and being schooled in improving my pool (spider my hand, don’t drop my shoulder, don’t always hit the ball as hard as possible, guard pockets to make it hard for the other person if you can’t sink one… I even managed to sink three of my balls in a row! T’s an excellent teacher!)

Do the rounds of dropping people home and picking up of drunken housemates and head back to T’s. By this stage I think I had managed to send two incredibly emo whiny desperate lame   apologetic messages to C and a third one that was still sincerely apologetic but also a bit of an explanation.

Sat up with T for a while and then crashed on the spare bed at about 3:30am… Maybe? Didn’t manage to sleep but instead spent the next few hours facebooking and reading other wordpress blogs on my phone. 7:30am we’re up and out of the house again, it’s fucking freezing and dropping house-mates off at workplaces and me off at my little iceblock of a car. And then home again, home again jiggity jig.

Today I’m left wondering about this crush of mine. A couple of friends last night said they couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it and this morning I was wondering that also. Why do I put up with behaviour that would normally annoy me to that point? I like my degradation in the bedroom, not in public, thank you very much.

I’m mostly left hoping that my ‘honesty at all costs’ policy hasn’t ended up costing me a gorgeous friendship.

And I think that’s what bothers me most about last night. Rules and promises (maybe I’m not that much of an optimist) are made to be broken but not friendships.

I cringe at the thought of it but if you end up reading this, C – I’m really sorry – I do like to push your buttons but not the ones I managed to push last night. <3

 

Sellout.

Putting my guilt about dumping my first lover aside, it didn’t take long before I added another notch to my bedpost.

By this stage I’m approaching the end of high school and have cultivated quite a reputation for myself. There was often a really good rumour or two going around about me, some of which I may or may not have started myself…
1) Madam is a man-hating dyke with a hot model girlfriend (fiction)
2) Madam managed to get said girlfriend pregnant (fiction) (aren’t I clever?)
3) Madam let one of the “popular” boys feel her tits in the welding room during a metal tech class (fact)
4) Madam enjoys being chased around naked by someone brandishing a metal clothes hanger (fiction)
5) Madam smokes (fact & fiction (buttpuffing) – peer pressure is a terrible thing),
6) Has piercings where we can’t see them (fiction),
7) several tattoos (fiction) and
8 ) has a hard drug habit (fiction).

A lot of these may or may not have started whilst I was dating B (still not sure how that works with the dyke thing…) due to the fact that I would stay up all night having phone sex with him, arrive to school looking exceedingly hungover and was never available on weekends or did any socialising with my friends outside of school.

Shaving my head (for cancer fund raising… and to ruffle my father’s feathers too) in year 10 probably didn’t help my burgeoning reputation terribly much either…

I was at this time also working as a checkout chick at a supermarket. Now for anyone with checkout chick or, indeed, retail experience of any description you’ll agree with me that it’s not terribly intellectually stimulating and there’s a lot of room for day dreaming whilst on the job. Thus it came as somewhat of a surprise that it took so long to notice a very day dream worthy colleague of mine. I first noticed him in the last few weeks of my floundering relationship with B, and then I couldn’t un-notice him. I was very, very aware of his presence. He was slightly older (though not as old as B), stereotypically cute young alpha male type. And to top things off, had been interested in me for quite some time according to some of the other girls I worked with. Fancy that!

The flirting that ensued was exquisite. By absolutely no means was it masterful. But it was fun!

It probably didn’t help matters much that his last name was… well… A word that most men would love to hear being used to describe their cock… Commence fabulous daydreaming of real orgasms in 3… 2… 1…

The moment I realised I needed to fuck this boy was when he drove me home one evening and as he turned his car on my favourite song was what he was listening to. ‘Sellout’ by Reel Big Fish. Those first few notes and my heart was aflutter and my panties far more moist than they had been a moment earlier.

Never in my life have I been accused of being subtle. Case in point, my seducing of this poor boy went something along the lines of throwing myself at him and sticking my tongue in his mouth, then inviting him inside. Although I did at least wait until the car was stationary…

There are no words better suited to describing what happened next than ‘mediocre’ and ‘unsatisfying’. My grand daydreams of real orgasm were dashed. Neither the length of his appendage or his performance lived up to what his last name had promised.

Less than ten minutes after entering the house I’m being crushed by a bony, sweaty and panting 17 year old, who was no doubt very proud of himself. Meanwhile, I’m just wishing he would go away so I can get on with my evening. What’s on TV tonight I wonder?

I consented to that spectacle once more, thinking perhaps that it was just first time nerves. This time I took charge of the proceedings, laying him down, stripping bits of clothing off slowly, kissing and nibbling the exposed flesh, using breasts, hands, tongue, lips and teeth liberally before climbing astride the mis-advertised merchandise. Turns out it hadn’t been first time nerves. He was just terrible.

As it turns out, either I was too or he knew he was letting his half of the species down as I didn’t hear from him after that. He moved to a different department of the supermarket and I only ever saw him in passing; at which point he would blush and awkwardly beat a hasty retreat.

So much for the alpha male.

Toes.

From there on in sex with Sean did nothing but improve in leaps and bounds. Every visit would involve a lot of time spent in bed, with not so much time spent sleeping.

 It still makes me cringe to think that I discovered I can be quite loud, given that he was living with his ridiculously adorable mother. Although ‘quite’ is possibly an understatement… Gorgeous, tiny mother should not have to be turning up the TV or retreating to her bedroom every time Madam comes to visit.

The sex was always vanilla. Obligatory teenage hickies were given and received like some sort of ritual gift – despite Sean having ridiculously hard skin to mark. I am nothing if not persistent and do not take kindly to being thwarted.

 Doggy style and me on top were the favourites, and it was good. Really good. But something was missing.

Orgasm.

The Big O.

La petite mort.

Toe-curling, sheet clenching, back arching explosions of pleasure.

And so I started doing the dumbest thing a young woman can do – I started faking orgasms.

As I’m sure it starts for so many, this very silly habit started out of a desire to make my partner happy. To satisfy him. To stroke his ego. To let him know he had done well in satisfying me.

Sadly, as with so many lies it snowballed. It started as one well-meaning, gasping, conscious-clenching-of-certain-muscles “orgasm” when I was in fact truly sated and just wanted him to know he could come, so we could snuggle…

But then the next time when the toe-curling doesn’t happen the big O is replaced with the big question: “What did I do wrong?”

And now 15 year old Madam is standing at a crossroads – go left and admit that the last one was perhaps a ‘smidgen’ over acted? Or go right and continue to stroke gorgeous Sean’s teenage ego.

In case you’ve never come across (pun a little bit intended) a teenage girl I’ll give you a hint… I went right.

As a result, in the nearly three years we were together, I spent most of it faking orgasms. I became incredibly proficient at it too, occasionally even convincing myself. I knew it was wrong and even managed to feel guilty about it, but never actually said anything. There were moments when I’m sure it got mighty close but never close enough to finally tip over the edge.

Despite the lack of orgasm our escapades were a lot of fun and full of interesting learning experiences. With things being as strict as they were when he came down to visit Sean and I would make use of any and every opportunity to get our hands all over each other. 
I have incredibly vivid memories of one visit when Sean came down and was staying with my uncle and his partner. We were sitting on the couch in the living room, snuggling under a blanket while watching TV. And then there’s a hand creeping its way up my leg. I’d like to think I was wearing a skirt at the time to at least have made things easier but I was not much of a skirt kind of girl. Before Sean’s hand was even half way up my thigh I was dripping wet. He slid two fingers into my pussy while I tried to focus on acting natural. I have no idea how long this magical (but not orgasmic) and illicit fingering went on for but then we’re being summoned into the hallway and being giving a very stern talking to about our ‘inappropriate behaviour’. And here I was thinking we were being so clever and subtle!

 My first drunken New Years Eve was also an experience I shared with Sean. I was allowed to go up on the strict proviso that I was not to drink or have sex, which I paid absolute attention to… 
New Years Eve came around and Sean invited his best friends (also a younger girl-older boy couple), Zoe and Malcolm around and we watched TV, listened to music and drank Lemon Ruski’s. I got pleasantly tipsy and at one point while Zoe was bending over the couch I went to poke her ass with the top of my bottle – forgetting in my excitement that the lid wasn’t on it and merely succeeded in pouring what was left of the bottle down her back. Some time after midnight and along after Sean’s mother had taken her leave of the crazy teenagers, we ventured into Sean’s room and I had my first non-hetero experience and my first attempt at exhibitionism. The four of us ended up laying on Sean’s bed, Zoe and I each straddling our boy and making out with him. Then one of the penises has the brilliant idea that Zoe and I should make out. Trust boys. So we did. It wasn’t terribly exciting… However, the subsequent fondling, sucking and licking of her tits was incredibly exciting! If it wasn’t Tomb Raider that turned me into a boobiesexual it was that experience with Zoe’s luscious tits. Following this display of girl on girl affection it was back to making out with our respective partners. Zoe and Malcolm were getting right into it and it was a huge turn on to see them enjoying each other so much. Sean, however, was not enjoying it quite so much. I used what few skills I had to try and help him relax and enjoy it but to no avail – we ended up back in the living room watching TV while Zoe and Malcolm made full use of the bed. Boy egos, especially teenage boy egos are very peculiar things.

Sean was also the first (and last) person I have ever attempted to use canned whipped cream as a sexual aid with. In an attempt to have a “kinky” evening it was liberally applied to my breasts, stomach, thighs and nether region….

Unfortunately it turns out I have a sensitivity to whipped cream from a can. The resulting rash was by no means attractive or pleasant. But live and learn!

And then, in its own long-and-complicated-but-ultimately-not-related-to-my-sex-life kind of way, it was my turn to break a heart with a phone call.

Futon.

Throughout the first couple of years of highschool I was the painfully awkward girl; existing on the fringes of several cliques, but never really being a part of any of them. Going from being the big fish in the tiny pond that was public primary school to tiny fish in a large private catholic school probably didn’t help my preteen awkwardness. By fortuitous circumstance my friend from primary school (the bold one) was also navigating this transition. Alas, as with asking cute boys to dance she also took to making new friends much more swimmingly than I did. During those years I had a couple of disastrous crushes that went absolutely nowhere; well that’s not entirely true – in the process of asking a boy out for me a friend of mine ended up securing him as her boyfriend… Interesting how these things work.

Eventually I managed to make some headway in one clique (not the popular one I can assure you) and became a part of it rather than just a fringe dweller. This is how I met Kate. And through Kate I met Sean, my first proper boyfriend and the first cock I would ever become acquainted with.

Sean and I did a lot of talking online, as he lived interstate and I spent most of this time trying to set him up with K. Needless to say, that didn’t quite work out as I had hoped…

Our first face-to-face meeting was chaperoned by my Grandmother. She and I walked up to the train station near her house and (thank goodness!) she at least allowed me up onto the platform by myself. One long, lovely hug and surprisingly good pash later we were sauntering down to join her for the walk back.

At this stage in my life I was also strangely fascinated with breasts girls. The walls surrounding my (new queen-sized) bed were covered in pictures of very scantily clad women carefully torn out of Picture or People or Zoo or whatever not-quite-nude magazine was popular at the time. And a few of Angelina Jolie. Ok, a lot of Angelina Jolie. Despite having a boyfriend I was also trying to cultivate a lesbian reputation for myself at school. To this day I’m not quite sure why. Possibly because bisexuality was the new black, possibly just to make me slightly more interesting than I thought I was.

The time between visits with Sean was filled with an awful lot of phone sex, MSN and dirty text messages. The time during visits was spent with our tongues down each other’s throats, his hands up my top and mine down his pants.

Which leads to my first experience with oral sex. Sean came down to visit and was staying with a family member, I think. We were not allowed behind closed doors alone.  This was a condition far too easily conquered by enterprising minds and teenage hormones.

Indoors is out of the question. Fine. We’ll go outdoors. Consequently my first experience with oral sex was me on my knees straddling his face in the grass of the quadrangle of the local primary school (thankfully not the one I had attended!).

It was pleasant. The sensations were all new and exciting – nothing like the fumbling attempts I had hitherto made at masturbation. The thrill of being in the open and the possibility of being caught was probably a more heady sensation than the head itself.

I spent a lot of the time wondering when the orgasm happens. I was so naive trying to be so mature; it’s incredibly bittersweet to look back on. It’s been an awful lot of rides between that girl and this one.

I’m sure in there somewhere I must have performed my first fellatio. Surely… My apologies for not remembering, B! Although I do recall that I have always enjoyed the way cock and semen tastes. I’m yet to come across a cock that I haven’t wanted to suck or cum I didn’t want to roll around in my mouth and enjoy before swallowing. Some are more enjoyable than others but I have never understood women who say they can’t abide the taste of cock or cum. Your loss, ladies. Move over and let me enjoy it for you!

If my memory serves me correctly (and we have ascertained already that it often does not) Sean and I had been dating for a few months when I was finally allowed to go and visit him unchaperoned.  Be still my pounding clitoris heart.

( on recent discussion with Sean, this may not have actually been the first time we fucked. But it’s the first time I remember and it took a few visits to actually start enjoying the sex, so it’s much of a muchness (please don’t get me started on how I ‘should forever remember the first time’, far too much emphasis is put on virginity in our society. Do it safely. When you want. Try to enjoy it. Don’t stress!))

He was house sitting for some workmates.

They had a very very creepy budgie that was missing a leg and an eye from a cat attack that it somehow survived.

And they had a very uncomfortable bed.

It was everything that a teen movie promises your first time will be – awkward, fumbling, exciting, over too quickly and painful.

The making out beforehand was nice – I was 14, it was always good and neither of us knew any better.

The condom was problematic but eventually sorted.

Inner monologue was something along these lines: “He’s heavy. This mattress is killing my back. My god, how do they sleep on this every night? Focus. Focus. Oh, that’s nice. Oh my god, my parents are going to kill me. Am I really going to do this? Wow, that is nice. How do people do this with any style or finesse when it’s so slippery?!”

Then there’s a sharp pain and a very peculiar feeling. Don’t get me wrong, as I said I had ventured into the realms of self pleasure before but had never really gotten to a point where it was terribly enjoyable. It wasn’t bad. But I didn’t understand why people would go out of their way to do it.

And then it’s over. 

Smooth.

Yesterday was beer and pool night.

Work was a drag all day. Came home, changed cars. Headed to C’s place to drop my car off. Had a drink at his place, he’s had a couple already and is feeling it apparently. Finds some larger plugs for me to borrow to continue stretching my ears and then decide to meander over to the pub.

Arrive at the pub, have a smoke outside with everyone. Fail at introductions and catching everyone’s name. Small talk with F (not flannel shirt F) about C – no I did not try to shag him before we walked over, no I’m not going to try when we eventually stumble home. No, I don’t understand; I’m glad you don’t either!

Head inside grab a cider and a beer for C and head out the back to the pool table we’re using. Listen to terrible music on the juke box. Laugh at the hipsters at the next table. Grab the boys’ butts as they’re trying to play pool. More drinks. C dips his chin hair (it’s not really a beard… just slackness) ad tongue in my cider and then rubs his chin on my shoulder. Thanks love. Needed that… eyeroll
Smoke breaks. A game of pool that I failed at miserably! Being a tad friendly with one of the boys after it turns out he loved the spanking (if you can call 2 swats a spanking) I gave him. Apparently he’s incredibly vanilla… Yeah… I wouldn’t bet on it the way he was enjoying the handprint and the stinging.

And then I think more drinks and another smoke break or two. Head to the bathroom after we had been there for a little bit and was amused at the fact that I was weaving already. Come back inside and we’ve switched tables. More singing. Notice occasionally that I’m probably being a bit loud.

Enjoying the distraction rules of pool… Hehe. Apparently it doesn’t put off T. Neither does grabbing his crotch. Not even a reaction. Geeeeeez.

At one point I let T know that I was probably going to shag his female housemate in the near future. She is a most awesome lady!

Drinks. Smokes. Discussions about whether jean shorts are really appropriate apparel. Another game of pool where half the balls were pushed into the pockets so we could just go outside for a smoke. T is leaving and taking his housemate. Bugger should have dragged her to the bathroom when I had the chance! Next time

And so it’s F, C and I left. I think I’ve been drinking C’s drinks. I’m supposed to be buying his drinks, not having him buy them and drinking them too :/ Oops.

We’re outside having a smoke. And drinks. Or maybe that was later. Now we’re sitting at the pokies. And I’m not feeling so well. Weave my way back to the bathroom. Try to puke. Nothing. The feeling passes. Perhaps I don’t feel sick after all.

F and I are walking over to the servo to get more smokes. Hate C so much – been smoking icky menthols lately because that’s what he was smoking (yes, eyeroll/puke I know!) and now I don’t enjoy port royals anymore Grr. Evil boy.

I send Monkey a message to check if it’s ok that I fuck F. Get the go ahead and apologise in advance if I’m terrible – I want to be good but I just tend to get a bit carried away…. C is going to take photos. And I’m wondering if perhaps I’ll finally be able to coax an erection out of him.

And we’re outside again. More smokes. F goes inside to pee and I’m halfway through a sentence when my brain goes “Psst – you’re about to be sick” but not quite early enough.

Cue Madam puking on herself.

In public.

In front of the crush object.

/headdesk.

And now I feel fine again. Incredibly drunk but fine. Other than the fact that I want to die because I’m so embarassed I have puke on my favourite jeans. C gets me some water and I try to get the puke off my jeans. Gross. F comes back and is appropriately sympathetic. Perhaps it’s time we go. Kebab and chips for F and C on the way back to his place. Walking. Concentrating on the lines in the pavement to try and walk a bit straighter. Walking.

And I’m in the shower at C’s place…

Vaguely remember getting in the door and announcing I’m going to have a shower. I think C checked in to make sure I was still alive at some stage. Unfortunately, yes, yes I am.

Head downstairs and curl up against F. Bugger. I need to puke again. There’s blood in it. That’s not terribly comforting. Sit on the floor in my towel under the quilt. They’re watching a movie. Not sure what it is. And I need to be sick again. There’s still blood in it. And now I have the hiccups too. Wonderful. Curl up on the floor again. Fuck me, it’s cold. Trying to sleep. Too cold.

A different movie is on. Head upstairs and put my singlet, shirt and socks on. Curl up under the doona with F. She suggests we head upstairs and sleep on the bed. Best idea I’ve ever heard. C put Waking Life on again. Not sure I’ll ever get to watch it sober. Not sure I want to.

Sleep for a bit. Wake up because there’s something digging into my chest. It’s a piece of rose quartz. Could’ve sworn I had moved that before we lay down..

Wake up again a bit later and can hear C moving around downstairs. Head down and apologise for puking. Feel terrible. Watch some sitcom and have a couple of smokes with F.

Feeling so incredibly gross. Eventually get our shit together and drive F back to her car. Have a smoke. Apologise to her for being so wasted. Get advised to get my clothes dry-cleaned. Drive home.

Greet Monkey. Shower. Brush teeth (oh sweet merciful zombie jesus that was so gooooooooood). Collapse in bed. Ah, bed. Sleeeeeeep.

So a brilliant night out apart from the whole puking on myself incident.

Lessons learnt:
1) Don’t not eat anything all day and then drink booze.
2) Don’t drink the nice boy’s drinks.
3) I can actually drink myself to the point of puking. Never done that before.
4) Puking on yourself in public is not fun.
5) Jeans wet with puke and water are very cold at 3am.

Ah well. Good night. Hope there’s another one soon. And now I’m going back to bed. Ow, my everything.

Dork.

I have apparently gone back to being the dorky, chunky girl in highschool with a crush on the cutest boy in class.

Turbulent is a good way to describe life since tripping. I haven’t managed to make it to a uni prac shift in the last two weeks. I feel that everything about it is wrong – I cannot understand why we do it they way we do. I mean women are made to have babies. If we stopped fucking with it so often it wouldn’t need so much intervention. If we didn’t instill this fear in young, healthy women they wouldn’t be so terrified; they would know that they are perfectly capable and be able to trust their bodies.

Sigh. I’m just trying to find a way to mesh what we’re being taught and how things could or should be.

Managed to get another job at a local pub during the week. Should be interesting. Went in to talk to the bosses on thursday evening. They’re awesome. Good people. Looking forward to starting during the week

Friday evening I was supposed to be attempting to break my needles record. Got up and went to work, cruising through the day on pills and coffee. Substituting food and smokes with coffee. Makes for a buzzy day!

Well… Until I got a message from the friend who was supposed to be filling me full of holes saying that he was going to have to cancel. Good way to ruin a perfectly good mood.

And my attempt at quitting.

Bugger, bugger, damn.

Go buy a pack of smokes (menthols, no less. The crush smokes them. smoked them – his quitting is going much better than mine apparently!)

Thus my evenings plans are down the drain, my deeply masochistic mood is unsatisfied. I spend fucking hours  a while plucking up the courage to ask the crush to beat the ever loving shit out of me. I want to be bleeding, broken and crying. And I want him to do it. I’m not sure why I bothered. I knew what the answer was going to be before I even sent the message.

I sent it anyway.

What can I say, I’m a slow learner.

And a masochist to boot.

So now I have no plans, no one to fuck me up, raging insecurities and a pack of smokes.

Made it through the rest of the day, go out to car and it’s a toss up – go home, take a valium and do some cutting or go out and get shitfaced.

Shitfaced wins.

Organise some friends to come hang out with me at the pub I now have a job at (cheaper drinks for me and no cover charge, woot!), go home, change, head out. Arrive, take some more pills. Head inside. Order beverage. Wait for friends. Friends send message saying they’re not coming.

Shit.

Madam is a no friends nigel that can’t drive home.

Frantically scroll through contacts list on phone to try and find someone to come out with me who will enjoy the metal bands lined up for the evening. Success! He’ll be here in 20mins. In the meantime, get introduced to a lovely lady. Then bump into a friend who turns out to be the lead singer of the headline act. Excellent.

Head outside. Meet friend. Awesome to catch up with him. Haven’t seen him in forever. Outside having a smoke and catching up – bump into a kink friend who I also haven’t seen in ages! Awesome.

Had an excellent night filled with pool, flirting, brilliant banter, lots of cider and metal. What more could a girl ask for?

Perhaps not to headbang out one’s jewelry. That was a bit shit.

Send messages I wouldn’t even think of sober. Oopsie….

Head back to a friends place to crash, have some food, watch some skins. Sleep as the suns coming up. Haven’t done that in a while.

Spend saturday being fragile. Go to sleep early saturday night so I can work sunday. Alarm goes off sunday morning, snooze, snooze, snooze. Message boss. Not going in. Spend 15 hours sleeping. Dream of some excellent things. Things I wish would happen in waking moments.

And tomorrow. Back to reality. Another week. Uni theory classes resume. Two prac shifts. Second job should start. Mortgage is due.

My god, it would be much much easier if I could get over this dorky crush. Stupid. Or just embrace it so that it’s there but not an issue anymore.

More growing to do yet I guess!

Note to self: write more of the sexscapades book.