21 Rules To Make Them Think You’re A Classy Girl

Classy Girl1 – Sleep around by all means, just do it on the down-low. The world of Facebook and your entire contact list doesn’t need to know about your escapades. Plus you’ll get a reputation.

2 – Always use a condom unless you want to be THAT girl that has three abortions and a couple of STI’s under her belt.

3 – Don’t leave the house looking like a skank. If you won’t want people to think you’re a slutty crack-whore, don’t dress like one. Legs or chest, girls – never, ever both. Tracksuit pants are never a good look.

4 – Never send more than three text messages. If he doesn’t respond after the first text, send another that evening. The third one is a tad risky and should never be done on the same day. Don’t pursue him any more than that. You look desperate. He’s not interested.

5 – Don’t get your beaver out in public. Don’t be THAT girl. Probably the same girl with the three abortions and a couple of STI’s under her belt. We don’t need to see your bush.

6 – Learn the importance of tit-tape and keep nip-slips to a minimum. What if you got famous? Would you want a nip-slip pic to make it into the public eye? The same goes for sex tapes. Try and avoid them. They aren’t classy.

7 – Always have a tampon.

8 – If you’re wearing tights or stockings, pack a spare. A ladder is never attractive.

9 – Don’t get involved with bitches. If they’re saying those things about HER to you, imagine what she’s saying to everyone else about YOU.

10 – Don’t air your dirty laundry in public. By dirty laundry I mean drama. By public I mean Facebook. We don’t need to know that you’re fighting with your boyfriend, or he cheated on you and gave you an STI. Facebook should be happy stuff. Just repeat that when you think about posting.

11 – Proof your Facebook photos. If it looks like you’re giving someone a blow job to you, it’ll look like that to someone else too. If you look like a drunk fish, just imagine how gutted you’d feel if you didn’t get the job you wanted because your employer did social media checks and found you looking like a drunk fish. They do that now.

12 – Don’t ever let your thong hang out in public. Pant-showing is as bad as beaver-out.

13 – Always carry a safety pin. Broken bra, snapped strap, you name it – a safety pin can normally fix it.

14 – Always offer to pay for your half of the bill. It might be a date and he SHOULD pay, but you’re all about equality… So prove it. You don’t need him to pay for you.

15 – Eyes or lips girls; never both. If you’ve got Rocky Horror-style eyeliner on, don’t overdo the lips. Do you want to look like a clown? Oh and if you’re wearing foundation, please make sure you blend it properly. Tan lines aren’t pretty.

16 – Don’t buy clothes that are too small. You might think you are a size 10 but just because it zips, doesn’t mean it fits.

17 – Learn when enough is enough – men / drinks / shopping / etc. There is a cut off point. Find out what it is and stick to it. You don’t look classy after 15 men in one night. You don’t look classy after 15 drinks either. You see?

18 – Public displays of anger = not cool. You’ll look like a crazy bitch, and he’ll probably walk away looking like a domestic abuse victim.

19 – The same goes for public displays of affection. If you’re using tongue, it’s too much.

20 – If you happen to find yourself at a guy’s house in the morning with not much recollection from the night before, leave before breakfast and leave a number on a note ‘in case’ he wants to see you again. Don’t expect a text or a call. Then, if and when it happens, it’ll be a happy surprise! 🙂

21 – Don’t be a whiny bitch. Life sucks sometimes. Don’t wallow in self pity, just pick yourself up and keep going. We all have a hard time sometimes… What makes you so worthy of the wallowing?


My Boyfriend: The Teenager. Plus His Boyfriend.

Go figure. I’m pissed off again. We (Jock and I) had a few weeks of floating along fairly decently, one night of excellence, and then a whole day of shit after shit after shit. We’re back here again, huh?

His car broke down. The piece of shit car I told him I didn’t like. Sorry, I hated. He couldn’t come and get me last night but I decided to brave it and get the train – make my way over to his for a change. It was traumatising. I get the worst social anxiety when I’m on public transport, mostly because I have ZERO geographical skills and I get lost. All the time. In the worst of places. Normally with no mobile phone signal. Life has a funny way of throwing curve balls like that at you, doesn’t it?

I made it to his but barely. The promise was that we would have a great, chilled out night, he’d get up early, get the car sorted and then we’d make a plan. He was just waiting for the parts to turn up. So, at 11am, he went off with The Redneck to fix the car man-style.

A couple of hours later, he came back in all dirty, oiled-up hands and a dodgy look on his face. They had sent the wrong part but him and The Redneck were going to go find one and sort it out. A couple of hours later, he was back and they were working on the car again.

At 6pm, The Redneck got called into work. At this point, Jock decides to come get me. He needs me to start the car while he fiddles with some dooby-didget.

Now don’t get me wrong, I tried to get involved. I got my hands dirty. After all, it was 6pm and he had already spent 7 hours away from me, his girlfriend, with The Redneck, who I’ve started to call his boyfriend. I poked the appropriate bits of the car, and held bits out the way when he needed to. I started the car when I was told to, and revved it a bit. Nothing worked though. This sodding car would not just sit at idle and kept stalling every time. 8pm came and went and I finally gave in and called… My Mother.

Yep, that’s right. At 28 years old, I had to get my Mama Bear and her boyfriend to come and give us a hand. I needed to be rescued. Her boyfriend is a mechanic so he was bound to know what he was doing. They turned up and a few tries later, they took me home when they realised nothing would work. In between this time, they went for dinner and came back for me, but Jock and I had an almighty shouting match. It was quite the spectacle.

I was infuriated. The one thing I had said to him before I got on the train was that if he was going to spend the entire day with his boyfriend (The Redneck) working on the car, there was no point in me coming. I wasn’t going to sit at his and stare at four walls all day while he was off pretending to be a man. He assured me that wouldn’t happen. In fact, he promised me that wouldn’t happen.

We’ve been really snappy with each other for a while so last night was beautifully refreshing. We were loved up and snuggly, and we had FANTASTIC sex. His toes curled. So did mine. I woke up this morning with a big smile on my face. I even got up and made HIM tea! 😉

Then he went off with The Redneck and that was it; I had lost him. He had gone into man-world and there was no hope of getting him back. It was just like when he took me to the summer ball and forgot I was there. I’m seriously starting to wonder if this guy would even know whether or not I was around. The Redneck is pissing me off too. He’s always on the phone to Jock, hence the boyfriend reference, and Jock will literally drop me like a piece of garbage whenever The Redneck clicks his fingers. It’s fucking irritating.

He got shitty with me, of course. It’s not like he wanted to spend 11 hours (by the end of it all) working on the car when he should have been spending time with me, and he needs the car for work, and blah, blah, blah. Honestly, at this point, I had pretty much stopped listening. I didn’t give a shit. He had abandoned me again. AGAIN!? And it’s always something too – his daughter, the Ex, the Ex’s dog, The Redneck, his mate’s wife… There’s always fucking something. There’s always something more important than me. I’m never at the top of his priority list. He takes for granted that I’ll sit there fucking waiting for him and what makes it worse is that when I get annoyed about it, he all but calls me a fucking brat!?

Are you for real?

Is it really too much to ask that when I brave public transport to get to his house that he doesn’t forget I’m around?! It’s like everything has to be his way, even though he’s adamant it’s the other way round. This is bullshit.

Where’s the guy that was gonna get himself out of debt for me so that we could make babies? What happened to the guy that said he always landed on his feet? What happened to my boyfriend? He got fat, he got grey, he grew a beard, and he stopped giving a shit. It’s not even a good beard. He looks like a homeless pirate. And I told him that to his face too.

He’s not doing any of the things that we planned, and I know life has a funny way of fucking plans up but honestly…? I’ve paid off one of my debts. That’s a big deal for me. I have a shopping problem. If I can start to sort my shit out so that we can have our happy ever after, why the fuck isn’t he putting any effort in?

We’ve been together 13 months and I’m 28 now. I don’t want to be a 30 year old mama so he’s really gonna need to start pulling his finger out. I’ve decided to give it six months. I can’t quite believe I’m saying this about the guy that I fell quite so spectacularly in love with, but if we’re no closer to where we need to be heading in six months time, we don’t have a future together. If I need to wait for him to sort his shit out and be an adult before I have the happy ever after with the beautiful wedding and kids, I’ll be waiting forever. That has become oh so crystal clear.

When the fuck did this get so complicated? I told him not to get that fucking car. Why can’t he just get a sensible car that doesn’t break down instead of a ‘money-maker’ or a ‘classic’?

Why can’t we just have a normal fucking relationship?

Mr. Grey Will See You Now…

Well, the eagerly awaited trailer for the long-coming film Fifty Shades Of Grey has been released… and what a trailer it has proved to be already. There was the shock of the ‘exclusive’ Beyonce version of Crazy In Love which I had kinda predicted anyway… Just ask Bestie. I told him it would be her.

As soon as I watched it, I shared it. Of course I did. I knew of too many other women that were eagerly awaiting the release of this film trailer. This book, and hopefully the subsequent film(s) empowered women, didn’t it? It taught us that ‘naughty’ was good, and sometimes it pays to think outside of the box when it comes to sex. In other words, porn for women. Whatever works! 😉

Guess who messaged me. Of course. MY Mr. Grey. My beautiful, chiseled, fucked up Mr. Grey. Polite. Intense. Smart. Really intimidating. All the words Ana uses to describe HER Mr. Grey. All girls need to have a Mr. Grey in their lives. They need to have that one guy that controls them. That gets them so crazy right now. Crazy in love.

This is what he sent me:

Fifty Shades of Grey Trailer

I miss him. It’s been a couple of years. It’s about the right kind of time that we would be planning to meet up. It’s been every two years or so for the last few years anyway. Look at what happened last time… Fuck I miss that.

I need that kinda night with My Mr. Grey. I need it. I crave it. I long for his fingers to probe the most intimate areas of my body. I want his hand grasping my bottom ribs. I’m skinnier now. I know the way I look will drive him crazy. It’ll remind him of what it was like when we first started sleeping together some ten-or-so years ago. It would have been about this time that we would have met so yeah, we’ve known each other for ten years now. We’ve been sleeping together for ten years. Wow. We’d probably be married with kids by now if things had gone to plan. I can’t work out if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that it didn’t happen like that…?

I’d love to go and see that movie with him. Valentine’s Day 2015 with My Mr. Grey and that movie, swiftly followed by a bottle of wine (for me) and a night of hardcore kinky fuckery between two people that have the one thing most relationships are missing – pure trust.

He can do whatever the fuck he likes with my body. I trust him. I trust his judgement. He knows how far to go and when to pull back. He knows when to go fast and when to go slow. He knows how to tease and do all the little things that drive me crazy. He knows. He’s good at it too. How many women can say that about their beloved other half’s? I don’t think I can say that about my Beautiful Tattooed Jock. I think he likes to think he knows what he’s doing but for the most part, he just flukes it. Isn’t that what we are all doing anyway? Fluking it?

I love Jock. And I do really enjoy my sex with him. But you know when you have that niggling feeling, reminding you of what you could be having? Sometimes I get that about My Mr. Grey. Just sometimes. Like right now.

This movie is gonna do crazy things to me. I can already tell. And My Mr. Grey has been communicating a lot recently.

Why can I sense trouble on the horizon? 

Married After Three Months… Thoughts?

I’m sure you’ve all read the story about the delicious Cheryl Cole getting married after just three months of dating her current beau – Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini. Three months? Let’s just hope she’s thought that through because that name is quite the handful, that’s for sure!


Now I’m not judging this girl because we’ve all been there, haven’t we? We’ve all thought about marrying our current guy after just five minutes of being with them. I certainly went through the lust-induced madness a few months ago when Jock and I had only been together for five minutes. It’s just one of those things that happen, isn’t it?

The only different between Cheryl Cole, sorry Cheryl Fernandez-Versini, and us ‘normal’ girls is that we don’t have a few millions in the bank to actually act on it. If I were as rich as her, I’d probably be on my 100th marriage by now. I fall in love and out of love at the drop of a hat. Gosh, could you imagine??

After three months, how can you possibly know someone enough to get hitched to them? I married The Hubby relatively quickly. In fact, I think we were married within a year of us ‘getting together’, but ours was a marriage based entirely on circumstance. He was going away with work (he was in the Army) and it was easier for me to go with him if we were married. We would NEVER have gotten married if we had waited a year or so. Not a chance in hell. To say we rushed things was an understatement. He just didn’t want to let the girl go that gave him head on demand, allowed anal on special occasions, and cooked dinner every night as well as doing his laundry, cleaning up after him, and generally being a wet rag that didn’t know any better. The truth of it was I LOVED being married. I LOVE being someone’s wife. Just not his wife.

As much as I have loved all of the men in my life in their own little way, people would have thought I were bonkers if I had gone around marrying them after just three months of knowing them. My family would probably have disowned me. Although perhaps not… I do come up with some bonkers hare-brained schemes sometimes. Even still, three months? Do you even know what shoe size he is Cheryl? Do you know where he sees himself in five years time? Do you know what kind of upbringing you want your children to have, or where you want to live when you bring them up? Have you even had the children-conversation? Maybe you’re already pregnant and that’s why you got married… Who knows?

Three months is too short. I’m pretty sure that Jock is the one for me but I still don’t think I’d have gone and married him after just three months. It just seems a little…. frivolous? Yes darling, let’s get married. If it doesn’t work, we can always get divorced. What happened to the sanctity of marriage? What happened to marrying that one special person that you thought you’d be with for the rest of your life? What happened to that?

Or is that just another thing that money has ruined? Would she still have married him if she was a ‘regular’ girl like you and I… with a bank balance to match?

The 10 Rules Of Morning Sex

I love my Beautiful Tattooed Jock, and sex with him is the best thing since sliced bread as far as I’m concerned. BUT, and this is a big but, the one thing we don’t seem to have down quite yet is the whole ‘morning sex’ thing.

I’m a girl, he’s a guy; I get there are differences here. He doesn’t give a shit about morning breath, for example,  but his morning stench makes me gag. He doesn’t mind pumping away for ages but I get bored after a while… I get that we are going to have different priorities here but there are some factors that are non-negotiable.

I decided to write down the unspoken rules of morning sex just to get things nice and clear.

1 – Wake me up but be nice about it.

Morning woodI have no issues being woken up by my guy and his wandering hands or dick but for fuck’s sake, if you’re gonna do it, do it nicely. Caress my neck with your fingers, kiss my collarbone, twirl your tongue around my nipples…

Stabbing me in the small of the back with your morning wood is not going to make me wet. Nor is you poking and prodding away with your fingers at my sore vagina, caused by the great sex we had last night.

Which brings me nicely to my next point… 

2 – Poking & proddin’ ain’t gonna work.

Right, if you’ve had sex the night before, or even a couple of nights before, there’s a good chance that my vagina is still going to be a bit sore. It’s swollen and hurts a bit. That means I’m sensitive. If you’re going to gently caress me to orgasm in the morning light, actually do it gently. Sticking a finger in and wiggling it around hurts. Gently circling my clit with your lubricated (spit) fingertip doesn’t hurt. Think about it.

3 – It’ll take a while to get my juices flowing.

More effective than coffeeIn the morning, it takes a while for most things to happen. I’m never fully awake before a cup of tea. I can’t function properly at work until I’ve had that first cup of barista coffee. I have a system – wake up, drink tea, go to work, have coffee, be human. That’s how it goes.

If you try and make me do stuff before that system of events have happened, it’s not going to go right. In the morning, if you try to have sex with me, you need to work that little bit harder before I’m wet enough to proceed. You get me? If you want to have morning sex with me, be prepared to play around for a little while longer. If it’s not wet yet, don’t put it in yet. Simples.

4 – Don’t go down on her…

…if you came inside her the night before. This has actually happened to me – Big Love came inside me the night before on a benderific night out. He went to help lubricate things along the next morning only to be met by THAT smell that you only smell in the morning after a naughty night.

Come on girls and guys – you know what I’m talking about here. It’s him mixed with her after it’s been left to mix together all night in the sweaty crevice between her legs. It’s gross. Some guys say they don’t care about licking themselves outta you but with that stench, both of you are going to be embarrassed. Do yourself a favour and just don’t even try to go anywhere down near that region. Anything below the nipples is going to make her squirm uncomfortably, scared that you’re going to get a good whiff.

Oh and it should go without saying that alongside cunnilingus, anal sex is most definitely NOT COOL first thing in the morning.

5 – Pee first.

Guys – you can’t climax until after you’ve peed in the morning. You’ll be hard for hours but we know it’s the wrong kinda hard. Just get up and pee first. It only takes a couple of minutes.

6 – Hours = not fun.

Which sex is bestIf you think that going for hours is fun first thing in the morning, think again.

Firstly, we’ve all got shit to get done on our days off.

Secondly, after a while I’m going to go dry and it’s going to start hurting. Once again, this is even more so the case if we had sex last night too.

Thirdly, we know that you can’t climax because you didn’t go and pee first. If I’ve done my business at least once (preferably twice), you’re probably good just to give up.

Anyway after about half an hour of straight-wakeup-morning sex, I’m going to be gagging for a drink…


I can’t believe how many guys are still ignoring this rule. I’ve already mentioned your morning breath. It’s disgusting. Don’t talk to me. Don’t breathe in my direction. Don’t try to kiss my lips. Don’t come anywhere near me or my face with that putrid smell coming out of you. I will try and avoid the same.

Spooning is one of the only acceptable positions for morning sex. Doggy is a bit too dirty. Cowgirl is a bit risky because I probably don’t look that great. Definitely not missionary. That’s too close. Reverse cowgirl is a bit dodgy (think of the morning farts) and being bent over the bed is also terribly questionable. Stick with spooning – it’s the easiest option.

Unless you’re gonna get up and brush your teeth first, and make me brush mine too. Then we’re good with missionary. Honestly though, who’s prepared enough for that? I never remember to have mints next to the bed for when I have company.

8 – There’s gonna be stubble – accept it.

If she shaved for you last night, there’s a good chance that there will be stubble by the time you get around to the second sitting in the morning. Don’t talk about it. Don’t draw her attention to it. Don’t even react to it. Get used to it. Accept it. The more you sleep with us, the worse it’ll get. Long-term-relationshipper’s can go months without shaving their legs or bikini lines. Ask them.

9 – She’s not gonna look pretty – accept it. 

Do I look in the moodHonestly, I’m hideous in the morning. My hair is standing up all over the place, there’s a good chance I’ve got panda eyes because I didn’t take my makeup off last night because I’m lazy, my face is all puffy in the morning when I first wake up, and I’ve got a badass attitude with a mouth and scowl to match it.

Why would you want to sexy up with that beast?

Girls aren’t pretty first thing in the morning. Girls are pretty about an hour after they wake up once they’ve showered, washed, dried and styled their hair, and slapped enough makeup to impress a TOWIE regular. Oh, and they’ve had a cup of tea/coffee.

10 – Cuppa Tea.

The only way to end morning sex is with a cup of tea. You get in that kitchen and make me tea. I’ll love you for the rest of the day. Strong but with enough milk to make it drinkable almost straight away please, and with two level sugars.

Thank you. 

Thanks groggy eyes

Happy 2nd Birthday!

It’s my blogs second birthday today. I’m not in the best of moods to be honest, and the only reason I know that it’s my blog’s 2nd birthday is because WordPress told me. Cheers for that!

I’m pissed off today. It’s raining for the first time in ages. It was summer yesterday. It’s winter today. I literally woke up and felt like we had fast-forwarded four months. It was awful. I got wet on the way to work, I didn’t really want to be at work in the first place, and then Jock dropped that lovely little bombshell… he wasn’t going to be picking me up from work.

Apparently I must have had that conversation in my head, but I’m sure we agreed that he would be picking me up from work today. I shaved my legs this morning for a reason. I wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t coming. I’m so lazy, I was almost starting to look a bit like a yeti. Anyway, he wasn’t coming. The guy that was meant to have been looking at his car isn’t coming until tomorrow, and he’s housesitting for his mate. This made me laugh because five minutes ago I saw on Facebook that they were on their way home and probably wouldn’t be that long. So the fucker lied? He’s not house sitting tonight at all.

The way my work schedules have panned out, tonight was the only time we had to see each other for yet again, another week. So that’s another set of his days off that we won’t be seeing each other. We were fighting last week too. And the week before that was the Summer Ball and we all remember how that worked out for me.

Am I even a factor in his life anymore? He seems intent on ruining the time we can have together with stupid fights and petty excuses. House sitting for a friend, paying for his ex to go away on vacation with his step-daughter… You know how it is. Christ, what else is gonna happen? It’s been shit after shit after shit and I’m starting to get fed up with it all. At what point am I allowed to just hold my hands up and say “You know what, this has lost it’s appeal. There’s nothing here anymore!

When we’re together it’s fabulous but we seem to have the hardest time getting together and that is half of our problem. A while back I told him I wanted to sort us settling down and starting a family in the next few years and he whole-heartedly agreed. So what did he do? Agree to pay for his ex to go away on holiday, get himself even further into debt, and decide to buy a new car because his was apparently ‘fucked’.

We seem so far away from the end goal that I had in mind. It’s gonna be years before we can afford to move in together. It’s gonna be years before he is even out of debt and to be honest, I’m pretty sure we should start with that first. Can you imagine how long it is going to take us to get engaged… or married? God I’m never gonna have kids…

I really miss him too which super sucks for me. I hate it when I miss him. I’ve normally got so much going on that I don’t have the chance to miss him. But I am genuinely sad. Genuinely sad. Sigh.

Life just isn’t going in the right direction for me at all right now. I’m broke, busting my balls, trying to live my life. I’m also trying to work part time, have a social life, fit in a boyfriend, write a blog, write a book, take care of my incompetent family, and more! Surely something has gotta go right soon?

Despite the petty shit, I’m happy. I’m happy because two years later, I’m finally finding some peace with myself. I’ve lost weight, I’ve mellowed the fuck out, and I’m definitely not the stroppy, immature bitch I was back then. And some of you have been around since the very beginning too. Thanks for that! You’ll never know how much it means to me. 

So yeah, happy 2nd birthday blog! You’ve made me so happy! ❤

Introducing Number 4 – The Fireman…

I mention Number 4 – The Fireman in my last post – The Girl I Can’t Forget. I feel that its only fair I talk about him. He was my boyfriend for a year or two, I can never remember. I think we were ‘actually’ dating for a year, but we were doing a lot more for a lot longer – more like two years.


At the time I thought he was the love of my life but when I see him now, I know I had a lucky escape. He got bigger. I did too but I’ve lost the weight now and I look good. He looks like a thug. He’s too short to be that broad and he always has the most inappropriate hair styles for his face shape. His long-term girlfriend now is someone he doesn’t know whether or not he wants to marry. Well, that’s what he told me last year anyway. He was the guy I mention in So, I Got Turned Down.

I was still dating Number 20 when our love thing started. Nothing really happened between The Fireman and I until after Number 20 broke up, but things certainly weren’t platonic, you know?

So ClassyI remember us being wasted drunk one night – my 17th birthday. That was the night, for me, that we got together. I was besotted with him that night. We didn’t sleep together but we did everything but. It was at this point I learned that he had a truly monster sized cock. Huge. Massive. Like 8 inches long and with more girth than I could handle… quite literally. I couldn’t give him head. I had another shot at it a few years back in a bar toilet (so classy) after slipping my underwear into his pocket (again, I’m so classy) and I still couldn’t quite get my mouth around it.

Back to that night – I was wearing a tartan mini skirt. I was a tiny dot back then with long blonde hair so I could get away with a lot of shit. I had a black halter-neck bikini top on, with a red fishnet vest on over the top. I had pink frilly panties on, they said ‘princess’ on the front. I lost those at some point throughout the night. I’m pretty sure I was on the podium dancing with them missing too. Jesus, I’m a fucking cliche. I was just 17 to be fair… Is that any excuse?

In the early hours of the morning, we made our way back to his place. I had fought with Number 20 about our recent breakup and I remember being a bit upset. The Fireman consoled me. Oh hell, he consoled the shit outta me.

I remember us being on his couch, me on top of him, gyrating and dry-humping like the horny teenagers we were. Lots of kissing, lots of boob-grabbing; it was all so young and immature. He helped me to experiment with sex over the couple of years we were sleeping together. Oh so much.

I waited a few weeks before I slept with him if I remember rightly, but we did everything but that beforehand. He was very playful in the bedroom and I think that’s one of the things I loved the most about him. I know I broke his heart in the end and I regret that in some ways. Back then the sex we had just blew my mind. I miss that now.

We had sex on the pool table in the fire station one night. Then there was the night of his Mum’s 40th. He tied me up with his tie to the bed and did the most unspeakable things to my body. I’m pretty sure he lubricated me up (he was so big there was always lubricant) and inserted the bottle of lube at one point. He shoved my own panties inside me and pulled them out slowly. He used ice poles and licked chocolate out of me. He drank boozy drinks from places you shouldn’t put boozy drinks.

He liked white corsets and white stockings, and one day we even went shopping for them. There was so much sexual tension in that changing room, he couldn’t wait to get me home. That was the thing with us – we loved each other’s bodies so much that we literally couldn’t get out of bed. He lost his job because of it. I was staying at his so much that we were fucking all night and he wasn’t waking up in time for work in the morning. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Where does lust and passion like that go? No one else has ever shoved my own panties inside me and pulled them out since! 😦

I cheated on him with Number 20 and he found out. I’ve always had a journal and he found it, read it, and found out all about my lusty night in the back of the car. He literally threw me outta his house that day. He threw me out of his house and then he threw all of my stuff out after me. I had to grab everything from the floor outside his house and it was so humiliating. I deserved it though. I truly broke his heart.

A couple of nights later, he appeared at my front door in the middle of the night. I sneaked him in that night and we had violent sex. I wouldn’t go as far as to say he raped me, but to be honest, I’m not sure it was even that far off. He had rage in his heart and I could see it in his eyes and that was the first night I was ever truly scared of him. He crawled his drunken ass beside my sober body in the bed, and I remember wanting to be so far away from him. I didn’t stand a chance that night, and he wanted to hurt me for what I did. He did hurt me. He had such rough and violent sex with me that I felt completely worthless to him. It was one of the most passionate, animalistic nights of my life and in any other circumstances, it would have been insanely hot. At that moment, it was tainted with my betrayal and his anger. It didn’t feel great.

He kept turning up to my house late at night, drunk after that and I ended up calling the police. He went a little nuts and I don’t blame him. That can’t have felt good for him at all.

We slept together a lot after we eventually broke up. My parents broke up and I introduced my Papa to The Fireman’s mum. They ended up sleeping together briefly and that meant the end for me and my love. I was heartbroken for a long time, and I always let him sleep with me when he called me up drunk in the middle of the night. It was during these on-off spells that I accidentally slept with his sister.

The final straw came in the shape of a disastrous explosion outside my house. He had called me up in the middle of the night on the way home from a club. I’d had a couple of drinks myself and felt a bit feisty. I went outside and told him where to shove it. I was sick of him calling me up and expecting sex. I’m a person, not a fucking sex doll. We both said some nasty things. He called my Mama a whore and I called his Mama a whore right back. I blurted out that I had slept with his sister and he lashed out, punching me square in the face. I went down with a thud and he hit me three times more. At this point my Bestie had run out into the street and grabbed The Fireman. I was sure he was going to kill him and I just picked myself up off the floor, turned away and walked back towards my front door.

That wasn’t the first time he had gotten a bit hands-on, and he’d always been a bit controlling. Back then at 17 years old, I’d never heard of abusive relationships. Looking back now, it wasn’t good… His mother had even had a word with him on one occasion when he got a bit handsy with me when other people were around.

We had a lot of good times when we were together, and we had a lot of great sex both too. It’s easy for me to look back at him and smile. Yeah, him punching me probably wasn’t the best idea and I can understand why Bestie finds it hard to understand why I’ve forgiven him. We’ve met for drinks on a couple of occasions since I’ve returned from the other side of the world. It’s fine. We were young. Whatever.

So there’s the story behind Number 4- The Fireman. He wasn’t the love of my life that I thought he was. He was a little phase in the bigger scheme of things. He was fun but I don’t regret our parting.

Sure do wonder what it would be like now though… 😉