42

I just got older. I made 43, which is great because I outlived 42. My dad died when he was 42 so I assumed I would too. My dad never put a foot wrong: never smoked a fag, never in his whole life drank as much as I have this evening. But dead at 42.

When I was 21 I slept with 3 different men that were 42.

One was Bob, who owned the bike shop where I worked as a mechanic. How did I get that job? I went in to buy a bike lamp. I was wearing shorts. My wage started at £5 a day. When he went bust 12 months later, I was on £17.50 a day. I thought it was because I showed ability. But with hindsight, I see it was because I showed cheek, and I was 21, and I sometimes wore shorts.

The second was Ken, a punter at the psychiatric day centre where I worked voluntarily. He may have had some dodgy intention but he sang this to me: Coorie Doon

The third was Alec, who has recently birthed his own blog here . I know this becuase we still talk after all these years

Hey!

I have comment spam! How cool is that?

So Where Was I?

Day 23 (or thereabouts) of the love experiment, and I've had more ups and downs than an extended episode of Coronation Street.

I've just sat here for 5 whole minutes not knowing where to start.

Incidentally, I have dealt with the issue of the unresolved shag bunnies by treating them to a hearty mateyness which is meant to suggest the following sentiment: You thought we were something more than chums? Man, that is all in your head.

For now I am being faithful. Well, not to my official partner of course. But to D, and we are being faithful 4 or 5 times a week. Last night we committed faithfulness on the sofa, on the floor and in my bed, each time from a fresh new angle. It was dirrrrty.

When not actually shagging, we often talk about shagging and I would like to share one of these insights with you now.

D: I wish I could last longer.
Me: Why?
D: Because I want it to be fantastic for you.
Me: Well apparently if you make a load of noise that helps. I read it on the internet (here). And anyway who says women like long shags?
D: Yeah but they don't just want wham bam thank you maam
Me: Personally I have a lot of time for the wham bam thank you ma'am (Notice my superior punctuation) At least it suggests passion, unlike just plugging away for ages and ages. That can get really annoying.
D: How long would you consider ages and ages?
Me: Oh I dunno..
D: Half an hour?
Me: HALF AN HOUR?? HALF AN HOUR???? You could get a pizza from Dominos in half an hour. Half an hour would be like a fucking nightmare. I would need to be in view of a damn good book to endure half an hour. {Laughs incredulously} Half an hour!

Funnily enough, this conversation went on for probably half an hour, but here I reproduce only the wham bam highlights.

Thinking about it now, perhaps the reason D and I hit it off so well in bed is not because either of us is particularly any good in bed, it is just because our short-comings (ooh what a great pun) complement each other.

Incidentally, we were full of self-congratulation the other day after acheiving the perfect 69. Later when we were having a brief huff in bed with our backs to each other and me with my knees pulled up I suddenly got excited. "OOH look! We are doing a 94!!!" We cheered up then, and began to discuss other numbers that were do-able. Couldn't come up with many, apart from 33 (spoons) and 11 (bit nervous).

There are other reasons why we still want to fuck constantly after such an unfeasibly long time, and one of them is that about once a week we have a row of earth-shattering intensity and awfulness. The most recent was last Monday and it was terrible. It started with him giving me my enormous tent back by chucking it at me when I opened the door to him. It continued with him striding down the main road that I live on, in broad daylight, with me striding behind yelling "Fucking come back you stupid cunt". Next it went up a side street with me yelling in loud sarcastic tones "Well done, you useless arsehole, for your unfailing devotion and loyalty to me, it must have lasted a total of FIVE MINUTES". Next bit was in a back alley with (I'm afraid) me lying sobbing on the ground saying "I'm going to kill myself and its all your fault" . Then to the allotments where I sat in the mud and said "I don't blame you for going because there is a great big hole inside me and nobody could ever love me". It ended in my kitchen with the kettle boiling for tea and me unable to say anything, just do that mad gasping for breath thing. With the Hard Man D doing something that I would bet he hasn't done since he was a little boy, he was crying.

So that left us shell-shocked, and in a strange utterly British non-sequitur we went to Homebase and bought a plant for the garden.

Laughs Nervously

Hi Blog.
Haven't seen you for ages, remember we used to be so close. We had a laugh though didn't we? {Laughs nervously}
You look bigger somehow. Still wearing that orangey brown?
{This isn't going well. Better get a bit drunk}
Come here.
God you're sexy.
We shouldn't really but its ok because I'm acting a bit drunk. I have missed you, you know. Yeah I know I never wrote or called or anything. I thought about you quite a bit though. No, I did. Its just that, just that, ... oh you know. I was dead busy. Its been one silly old thing after another.

Don't be daft. You're my ONLY blog. Well the only one that counts.

{Phew. That's over. Always hate that bit}