I'm fed up and lonely. I'm useless as a sex addict, its all theoretical, I never get any sex. Can't decide whether to finish the depressing three days of freedom story, or rake over what made me this way in the first place, or tell how pathetic I've been these last three evenings or just rail pointlessly against the world.

Oh god, why can't I just get a decent shag? I'm funny and smart and attractive and my body's OK. Maybe cos I never meet any men what with the three kids and never going out and no spare time and no money and Apparent Partner and a job where the only people I meet are under the age of consent (I'm a teacher). There's a nice librarian at our library, I dream of him coming round to stamp my books.

I can't even talk about the librarian properly I'm too miserable. I emailed G last night for fucks sake. Literally for fucks sake, but to no avail. D came over for a visit but only to update me on the progress of his ear infection. Unbelievable agony as it happens.

I've been drinking all the bottles of red wine D brings over to compensate me for not running away with me on my only chance before the grave. Alcohol is not great in these circumstances as it causes increased yearning.
Health Warnings:
alcohol may cause increased yearning
alcohol can result in foolish emails
alcohol may lead to you suddenly finding Ian Van Dahl lyrics very meaningful

Do you ever question your life?
Do you ever wonder why?

Corrrr, deep


Read the words here and join me in wondering why

So what to do when all alone and desperate for validation and excitement? Text someone you shouldn't! I picked G, even though he's a right-wing beer-bellied uptight arsehole completely crippled by bitterness and low self-esteem. I picked him because actually I had no choice. And we shared a history stretching back several weeks, characterised by occasional drunken snogs and failed attempts to have sex. Also I find his sulkiness quite sexy in certain lights. As I walked over the bridge into town I started my first text, interrupted by a call from D telling me to come back and don't be silly. I replied in tones of great sweetness that I wasn't cross, I would be fine don't worry. Thinking all the while go away I want to text.

Here's the text exchange:

Me: What u doing?
G: Just got back from work
Me: Can I come and talk to u?
G: Its up to you I am three quarters pissed and about to watch a film
Me: What's your address?
(It was dark and I was pissed the last time I was there)
G: This is not going to cause me any grief is it?
(At this point I turned around and started heading home again)
Me: oh for fucks sake
G: 46 B..... Road

When I got there he let me in and gave me a dirty look, not sexy dirty, like "you bitch". I don't know why he did that. "What have I done to you?" I asked in an overly dramatic style. He's so weird. On the one hand he was acting like it was all a giant bore that I'd come round. On the other he kept pulling me to him and kissing me.

I did something very manipulative and terrible, clever though, I like to think. I made him get out his photoes to show me. So that I could fake an interest in them, nah actually I WAS interested I'm not that bad. And he would relax and would feel all close to me. And thus maybe be able to sustain an erection for long enough. And Jesus it worked. He said to me, I suppose I wouldn't mind if you stayed here, there's a spare room.

"Hold on" I said, "Let me just bask in the warmth of your invitation for a few moments.."

He laughed in an almost non-bitter fashion at that. I made him try again till eventually he said "Please stay I want you to"

That was as good as I can get from G, and I'm afraid I was grateful for it.
He nearly wrecked it though by saying "I think you like me too much". This from a guy with a bookcase full of Star Trek files. I bit my lip though and merely posed the question "You reckon?"

We got into bed where I cunningly lay with my back to him right along the edge of the bed. With no pants on. Its softly softly catchy monkey with this particular dude. Everyone pretended to be asleep as he inched over. Then snuggled. Then ran his hand over my sensitive parts. Then - what's this? A stiffy? Oh joy! He flipped me over and managed quite a decent shag, not much there for the ladies, but exciting nevertheless. That happened twice in the night, once face up once face down. Me, that is, he was face down both times, we're no longer that young you know. Both 41 to be honest.

By 6:30am I was fed up with him snoring and I couldn't sleep so I snuck away, The walk home was cold dark long and grim. I felt very low and went to bed. When I woke up in the mid-afternoon there were 3 long and jealous text messages from D. That cheered me up. I answered in sweet and tender tones, not exactly denying but definitely not admitting either.

Since then (8 days ago) I've not heard from G though I regret to say I have texted him 3 times. They were all in the first day though. Pillock he may be, but I still want him to adore me. Why is that? How sad am I exactly?

I have to say that writing this journal is not curing me of sex addiction. Kind of the opposite in fact, my fingers itch to text.

I bought a car today and had a great time haggling. The thrill of closing the deal was almost as good as texting a lover. Perhaps if I got a job as a car salesman I would no longer need to shag idiots. Actually the salesman offered me a job as a salesperson. I nearly high-fived him. Fully clothed.

Enough. Wonder if blogger can cope with this length post?

There are many examples of my quest for inappropriate sex, unfortunately part of my childish heart is a bit proud of a lot of them. And if I start feeling all big and clever about it I'm never going to get cured. So I'll start with one of my most recent encounters and maybe when I write it down I'll realise that its pathetic not glamorous.

A few days ago, my partner (who I don't love) took my children (who I do love) away for three days leaving me alone in the house for the first time in six years. On the first night I called up D, a guy I've been having an on-off thing for ages with. I was very excited that my bed would see some action, because I have NEVER had sex there, except for my relationship with Purple BOB (Battery Operated Boyfriend). D is a good bloke but when he's sober he bores me by talking in terrible cliches ("Ah well, that's life, swings and roundabouts, you've just got to get on with it...") and when he's drunk he just talks shite, but at least he tries to take my pants off when he's drunk. And impressively seems able to maintain an erection even when completely blootered.

But I digress.. because he was stone cold sober, worse than that he had flu. He spoke at length .. great length.. of his headache, which apparently roved all over his head, suddenly striking viciously in unexpected spots. I said "Poor you" and "Oh no" for hours before asking was he going to stay the night? He looked at me all puppy like and said he needed to go home and be alone. It was 11:30pm. Fine, I said, but I'm not going to waste my ONLY night of freedom, I'm going out. I put my coat on and stood on the front doorstep going "Right off you go then". He urgently tried to suck up and change his mind but it was too late as I was in a right huff. He offered to give me a lift but I marched off without a backward glance.

So that's how I found myself on a freezing wet night in the middle of the festive season, setting off on the 2 mile walk to town at nearly midnight with no place to go.

This story is long and its late so I'll carry on tomorrow.

I am 41 and I have a problem with sex addiction. I hate to write that. I don't want to give up my cheap thrills because they're the only thing in my life that makes my heart beat faster. Sucking off a stranger in an alley made me feel powerful and it made me forget I should be preparing for middle age by getting over-excited by food. But afterwards I felt like hell. Right now I can't remember properly why I have to give it up. If I had any good numbers on my mobile and I could sneak out undetected, I'd be off this minute to find some awful right-wing bastard with a beer belly and see if I couldn't bring him off and that's the truth.