I recently had a fling with someone. Actually, it never got to the fling stage. I over thought it, over analysed it, over freaked out about it, and then realised it just wasn’t a good idea to have it. It’s called being sensible. I think … Continue reading Over it
Because I’m too cold to have sex, and also apparently lazy, I’m spending a lot of time under a blanket with a fabulous pile of books.
My laptop’s next to me too, so when a blog on Sex Positions popped into my inbox I immediately put my book down and paid serious attention.
Thirty eight positions, I read. Quite impressive. I wondered how many of them I knew. Or had maybe tried.
The first four were pretty cool and actually, no surprises here. Missionary, doggy style, etc.
Then I got to number five.
First sentence. Face sitting can be very hot.
Yip, I thought immediately. Hot. Sweaty. Like, his crotch in your face and you can’t breathe and you’re already so damn hot and now you’re going to get even hotter and dammit it’s boiling in here and pass the water, fan me, it’s a heatwave, a drought, oh god a heart attack, I’m dying…
Of course as I read on I realised they didn’t mean hot on fire hot. They meant sexy hot, oh my gosh hot, this is so damn good hot, oh yes shove your crotch even deeper please now oh more more god so hot hot I’m coming.
I never got to number six. Sadly I knew these positions were not for me.
I closed my laptop and went back to my book.
A sweet romantic love story. Much safer. Much cooler.
Much easier to cope with.
N.B. Number three also had me like fuck no. And – I glanced at number eighteen. What, how, where is her body?
Violet. Have you booked for the theatre yet?
Oh god, no, sorry, forgot, I’ll do it right now. Right now, sorry.
Of course I didn’t do it right now. Because I am scatty as fuck and I never write anything down and I keep it all in my head and I don’t have a diary and I forget everything all the time.
And my brain is a little like a marshmallow and maybe it’s the internet and maybe I’m starting menopause because I’m also moody BOOM BANG KAPOW but I’ll never admit to either of those things and don’t you dare either, so I think it’s just that I’m scatty.
I’ve always kind of managed. Except lately, when I seem to be starting all my emails with Sorry I’m not usually like this, and OH GOD and OOPS and ARGH HELP FUCKIT FUCKIT FUCKIT.
So today I wrote out my first To Do List.
I took a deep breath. Found a gorgeous piece of paper, picked out a beautiful pen, pulled in my chair, sat up straight, wrote the date on top and then:-
SOMETHING THAT I COULDN’T READ
SOMETHING ELSE I COULDN’T READ
GLUTEN FREE WHAT NO IT CAN’T BE…
And as I got through everything, except the writing which I knew I wasn’t going to do anyway, I felt a kind of smug satisfaction coming over me.
It wasn’t from the sex. It was this great feeling of accomplishment.
Strike one. Strike two. Strike Three.
Except I just remembered I forgot to book the theatre tickets because oh god sorry I am not usually like this, I’m going to do it right now, promise.
But oh my gosh I can’t because I can smell burning and dammit goddammit argh I’ve left the pizza in the oven, the oven’s on fire…
Sorry. I’m not usually like this.
N.B. The pic may not relate. I kinda forgot what I was doing.