Dear Jock,

I can’t tell him what I want to say to him. I can tell you guys though. So I am.

Dear Jock,

I wanted to text you back but I couldn’t. In fact, I’m not even 100% sure I even wanted to. Part of me felt compelled to, but something deep down inside me told me that it would be a very bad idea. I’ve started to learn to trust that feeling. So I did.

I’m seeing someone else now. In fact, we’re in a relationship. We’ve been seeing each other for about three months, and it’s actually going pretty well. He’s not you but I guess that’s a good thing. We didn’t work. Anyway, I don’t think it would be fair to him, or me for that matter, to message you back and invite you into my life again. The way I felt for you was something I couldn’t explain, and I would have stayed feeling that way for you forever. Or at the very least, a really long time. There was nothing about you I couldn’t love. All the little things I hated about you – even they weren’t enough to change the love I had for you. To invite that sort of feeling back into my life when I’m embarking on a relationship with someone new would be wrong. I would hate it if he were to do that to me, so I’m not going to be a hypocrite and do that to him.

Him aside, getting over you was tough. And I mean really tough. I cried for what felt like an eternity. I don’t even think I’m done crying yet. I cannot explain to you the pain that I felt when you slipped out of my life, but it wasn’t pretty. After that, life and my health got super shit, but thats another story for another day perhaps. Or maybe not. It’s not as if we are ever going to communicate again.

Getting over you the first time around was almost impossible and I’m going to be honest, I’m nowhere near ready to say I’m over you yet. I don’t think I’ll cope if I need to get over you a second time around, and I’m not naive enough to think the situation will ever change for the better. If it was going to change, it would have changed already. We wouldn’t have broken up in the first place. What we had, whatever it was, is finished with. As is any relationship we will ever had. We are not friends. We are not acquaintances. We are ex’s and we do not speak. I don’t want you in my life. I can’t cope with you being in my life. I don’t even want to try.

So next time it’s 1:20am and you think about sending me a text, please don’t. I don’t know what you wanted to say to me. Nor do I care. I don’t want to hear whatever it is you have to say, or what head fuck game you want to play next. It’s done. Over. There is no need for us to communicate anymore.

For months and months I have sat there, blaming myself for everything that went wrong, wondering if I’d had a bit more patience, whether you would have walked away, or if I had just kept my mouth shut about the things that were bugging me, you’d still be mine. But if I had done that, kept my mouth shut and not had those fights with you, I would have ended up leaving anyway out of frustration. So what would have been the point? Just like, what would have been the point in you messaging me, or me messaging you back? What were you seriously expecting? That I’d message back, best of friends, as though the last six months had never happened? Are you deluded?

I can’t question my actions while we were together anymore. I don’t have the energy to do that over and over again, and I’ll be honest, I don’t see the point when I know it’s only me doing that. Walking away was so easy for you, or at least it seemed to be. You were on your way to dating someone new before I’d even realised we were no longer together. That’s not the kind of man I want to date. You’re no longer the guy that won’t break my heart, because you kinda already did. Learning that we were finished in that way has got to be one of the most degrading experiences I’ve ever had. You made me feel as if I were worth nothing and I can tell you this, I know I’m worth a shit tonne more than that, thank you very much.

Part of me is hoping that you’ve realised the grass isn’t greener on the other side, whatever the other side was for you. I don’t think you ever cheated, if that means anything to you now; I genuinely trusted you with my life and that’s what made our breakup so difficult. I found it really hard to detach from you because even right at the end, I trusted you. But part of me does hope that you’re pining for me, checking your phone every five minutes to see if I’ve read the message, or if I’ll message back. I want to think that your heart sunk when you realised I had blocked you. I know you probably didn’t even notice, but I like to think it would affect you a little.

It doesn’t matter if it did or it didn’t though. I’d never know anyway. I wouldn’t want to know. Not now, too much has happened, too much water has gone under the bridge. I’ve said too many things, and you’ve said too many things. None of the right things of course, but what has been said and done can’t be un-done. They happened and whether or not you choose to, I will always remember them.

Throughout all the years and all the failed relationships, I like to think I’ve learned a thing or two, and one thing I have most definitely learned is that an ex is an ex for a reason. Whenever I have gotten back with an ex, or tried to re-invite him back into my life again, things have gone sour and normally, in a truly awful way. I don’t want to run the risk of that happening with you, and I’d rather not find out whatever it is you wanted.

I hope your life is going well but, no disrespect, I don’t really care. Keep it to yourself. I don’t need to know.

Thanks.

The End.

I couldn’t sleep anyway and I was messaging The Fireman for something to do until the early hours of Thursday morning. I seemed to be finding myself needing to define and explain the new relationship I had with Someone New to him, and I’ll be honest, that frustrated me a little. How are you meant to define and explain a relationship when you’re not even sure what it is yet?

“Hasn’t it been a few months now?” he asked.

“Yes, almost three but what’s that got to do with anything…?” was my response.

It was when he asked “Is the sex good?” that I kinda lost it a little…

My sex life is between me and Someone New, (or ‘Mr. Lucky’ as The Fireman likes to call him). What happens in our bed stays in our bed. And no, you don’t have a right to know because you ‘know me inside and out’ as you said, because you haven’t been inside or out of me in a very long time.

My rant to The Fireman was unapologetic. Why do guys think they have a right to talk to me like that?

It was at 1:20am that it happened. Oh no, it wasn’t a text from The Fireman that had me in hysterical tears for a good 45 minutes. It was him. Jock. He messaged me.

“you ok ?”

That’s exactly what he wrote, exactly how he wrote it. I bet that took up a full three seconds of his day. I must be grateful for such a snippet of his time, at such a ridiculous hour of the morning. My heart stopped as soon as his name appeared at the top of my phone. It was a moment I never thought would come; a moment I had been dreaming about for so long but had resigned myself to believing it would never happen. And now it had happened. The guy I believed and still do believe to some extent, was the love of my life, the yin to my yang, the night to my day and other such bullshit, had finally gotten back in touch with me after our awful and devastating breakup.

I called Bestie who was sleeping in a room just twenty steps from mine. Bolt upright in my bed, with tears streaming down my face, “It happened. He messaged me…”, was all I could squeak out. He knew who it was right away. He was furious. Absolutely livid. He told me if Jock were to turn up at my doorstep, he’d just punch him.

Why is he messaging me? What does he want? Why has he left it so long to ask if I was OK, to find out if I had CANCER? Why is he doing this to me? The second I think I could be happy, moving on with Someone New, someone who for once, isn’t like a complete and utter douschebag, he drops his sad, pathetic fat ass back into my life and fucks all my shit up.

I seem to be having a really hard time getting to grips with this. You’ll be pleased to know I blocked the dickhead this morning, but something about that message has gotten right under my skin, and it doesn’t appear to be a sensation that’s gonna fuck off at any point soon. I have no intentions of finding out what he wants, but there’s such a big part of me that’s curious. Is it just the drunk booty call as Karen suggested in my last post? Has he realised that the grass isn’t greener on the other side? Does he want me back? Did he see that photo of me and Someone New together? Good. I hope he did. I hope he saw it and it cut him like a knife. I hope he regrets the day he ever did that to me. You see, as curious as I am, getting over him was and is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I ended up in therapy again because of that cunt. Too harsh a word? No, not in the slightest.

I loved him. I still love him. I just can’t have him in my life anymore. It’s nice to know that he still thinks of me but the fact of the matter is this – he doesn’t think about me enough and he never, ever did. After the time that has passed, after what he left me dealing with, I expected a lot more than just “you ok?”. I expect much fucking more than that. And he’s never going to be the guy that gives me that. If he was, we wouldn’t have broken up in the first place.

See, I feel strong now. I reckon I’m on my way over him, you know? It’s been tough, and I’m sure there are plenty more obstacles to come, but not messaging him right back was a massive achievement for me. I’m proud of not ranting my frustrations out on him. I’m glad for not pouring my heart out to him. I’m happy that I blocked him. That chapter of my life is well and truly over, and no amount of his messaging is going to change that now. I’ve moved on. I’m moving on. I’d be better off alone that back with that prick.

The end.

I HATE Condoms.

Right, I’m a 20-something girl who has had her fair share of sex and has racked up a certain amount of sexual partners over the years. I’m not a complete twat, I know how important safe sex is. I know how important condoms are. But seriously – I fucking hate them.

I Hate Condoms

They ruin the mood for a start. Now don’t get me wrong, nothing ruins the mood even more than an STI, but they seriously ruin the mood. There is nothing attractive about a guy putting on a condom, and let’s be honest about this, there aren’t that many attractive ways that a girl can put one on her guy either. What am I meant to do when these guys are putting on their rubbers? Am I meant to look at them, look away, amuse myself, flick dust bits off the duvet…? It’s an awkward, uncomfortable moment, especially when the lights are on or it’s daylight, and I hate it.

Oh, and what about buying them? I have the HARDEST time buying condoms. Just take a read at this:

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

Once again, I fucking HATE them.

Oh and what about those times when you forget the condoms? Those are the fucking absolute worst times. That was like my third date with Someone New – both of us forgot them, even though we had even discussed having them ready and which ones we should buy, and it was the most frustrating, pissed-off date of my entire life. Either that or one of you has to do the mad, desperate dash to the local petrol station, chemist, shop, or pub toilet machine wearing jeans and no underwear, and no t-shirt under that hoody that you hastily threw on.

Then there’s the whole plastic-bag-in-between-you-during-sex thing. I don’t care how thin they make these fuckers, or how much like skin they manage to make them feel, they don’t feel like fucking skin. They don’t feel natural. They don’t feel non-existent. They are there, they squelch, they make noise, and most of the time, I can feel them.

Plus, have you ever given head to a guy wearing a rubber? Strawberry-flavoured my ass. It doesn’t matter what kind, brand, or flavour of condom that you buy, they always taste like rubbery, lubricated shit. End of conversation.

The position-changes are the worst though. He’s desperately trying to keep the rubber on his cock while you contort around the bed trying to breathe in, push your tits out, make your butt look firmer, and in reality, he’s not paying attention to any of your hard work. He’s just praying that his dick stays hard while it’s raincoat-covered self is desperately waiting for you to get comfy so he can merrily thrust into you again.

If he decides to just cum all over you, there’s that awkward moment when you’re lying there on your back, hands caressing your own breasts, and he’s there pinging the condom off his cock with gusto – like he’s just won a prize and is eagerly unwrapping it. What the fuck guys? Why are you doing that? Just take the condom off like a normal person. There’s no need to be a dick.

If he doesn’t decided to cum all over you and prefers to blurt his load in said condom, there’s none of the lazy post-coital moments where you let him go soft inside you and he slides out with a plop as the two of you doze off. Nope, you can’t do that. Not that most of us would want to. But if he stays in there just a moment too long, there’s the risk that the condom can come off as his dick shrinks in it’s porridgy grave it’s entombed within. Plus then he needs to actually hold his own manhood as he slides out of you in a most undignified fashion, to again ensure that the said condom won’t just slide off and spill his baby-batter everywhere.

Of course, you could be massively super unlucky like me last night. You could be merrily grinding and humping your way on top of him, the position that drives him crazy and makes him ‘cum so hard, I get dizzy’ (his words, not mine), let him blurt his load inside you, and then realise that the condom is nowhere to be fucking seen.

He goes to hold the bottom of the rubber while you ‘hop off’, but there was no rubber there to hold. Was it inside me? Embarrassed, I quickly have a feel before realising it’s not easily accessible wherever it is, and scampering to the bathroom. I pop two fingers up and have a feel around… I can’t feel the condom. Oh my god has it actually gone inside of me? No, surely not. That can’t be the case. There’s nowhere for it to go… Or is there? I recently had that LLETZ procedure to remove precancerous cells. Could it be lost somewhere in that? Holy shit. What the fucking fuck am I going to do?

I clean myself and his juices out of me and run back to the bedroom. He’s found it, thankfully. It must have become dislodged somewhere between me being on my back and me humping away on top of him. Breathe a sigh of relief – condom is not lost somewhere inside the inner depths of my body.

Later that night, I realised something. Six weeks ago, I underwent a very invasive and uncomfortable procedure to remove precancerous cells caused by essentially what is an STI passed to me during sexual contact, probably by my husband. He was a skank and he caught at least two disease in the time that I knew him. Yes, let’s blame him, the fucking skank. Despite my hatred for him and the complete disregard he had of my sexual health to go sleeping with hookers without using protection (apparently – that’s what he told me), just hours earlier I basically had unprotected sex with a man I’d known for just a couple of months. Oh and I’m not on the pill anymore and haven’t been for months.

I asked him to go and get himself tested and his response lead me to believe he hadn’t ever been tested before, or if he had, hadn’t been for years. He didn’t deny it when I asked him later on. I have pestered, badgered, and bugged him into finding the number for the local clinic and promising to call them up tomorrow to make himself an appointment. I don’t give a fuck how uncomfortable it makes him. He’s doing it or he doesn’t get inside me anymore. I’m going back on the pill and I’ve been recently tested for everything with the all-clear, it’s his time to stand up and take responsibility for something in our relationship. If he wants me, this is what he needs to do to get me. I don’t actually think that’s too unreasonable. Do you?

Plus, I’m not on the pill. I’m due on my period in the next couple of days, although we don’t know what the LLETZ will have done to my already pretty fucked cycle. I am considering getting myself the morning after pill but I will wait another 12 hours to see if my period comes. If it doesn’t, I’ll run to the pharmacy. The last thing I want to do right is get myself pregnant. Fuck that. Fuck all of that.

So yeah, I fucking hate condoms. I would go through every uncomfortable sexual health test in the world if it meant not needing to wear those awful, rubbery things. I’d forget about my needle phobia and have every vaccination known to man if I meant I could have sex without a condom.

I hate them. I fucking hate them. And now I’m hoping I don’t get fucking pregnant.

Oral In The Morning?

So last night I had my sixth date with my Someone New. I think it was the sixth anyway. I’ve been real busy with writing work and my day job (I’ve actually managed to do like three weeks without phoning in sick so far – that’s a major improvement for me), and I’ve had my last therapy session! It feels like things are on the up despite my boyfriend being a whole load clingier than I imagined he would be. We shall talk about this later.

For now I want to talk about what happened this morning. Now last night, we had sex as predicted. The only problem was, I started bleeding right after. That’s right, our sixth date was the ‘four-week’ date – when I could officially have sex after the LLETZ procedure to remove my pre-cancerous cells, which was a success by the way. I am all-clear for six months! Anyway, the bleeding and the pain I had meant that we agreed to give it another week before we tried anything again so this morning, he woke me up with his morning wood, and I instinctively moved my hand to greet it.

Not long into things, he told me he wanted me to blow him until he finished. Now normally, I wouldn’t have minded this but it was six o’clock in the morning, my victory roll from the night before had flopped unceremoniously and unattractively, I hadn’t even had a sip of water, tea or anything yet, and I had barely manage to remove the sleep-gunge from the corners of my eyes before he was blurting his load down the back of my throat.

Hmmm. I don’t know how I felt about that.

Rapey oral is always hot, as far as I’m concerned, but there is something to be said about having a little respect first thing in the morning. I mean, isn’t his mouth dry as a bone when he first wakes up? Bad breath and all? Did he seriously think that my poor, dry mouth was going to be able to bring him to an earth-shattering finish? It did, but only with a lot of help from my hands and his pre-cum. My mouth doesn’t even work to speak at 6am, let alone suck a dick.

Oral In The Morning?

Honestly, I actually found the whole scenario a bit rude and there’s not much that shocks me anymore. I can honestly say, however, that no one else has ever asked me to blow them until they squirted down the back of my throat at six in the morning before. Well, unless we were still up from the night before but that’s something else entirely.

So, dry mouth aside, we got there in the end but I feel that I should have my little rant about it. Too frightened to say to him what I would really want to, plus I don’t really want to hurt his feelings, I figured the best place to vent my frustrations would be here… So here I go.

DON’T EVER ASK ME TO SUCK YOUR DICK AGAIN AT 6 IN THE MORNING!

I don’t know how to express that loudly or more concisely to you, gentlemen. Oh yes, this isn’t just for my guy – this is for all the guys that think it is acceptable to basically force your cock down someone’s throat at that god forsaken hour of the morning.

If you want me to blow you, please bring me either water, tea, diet coke, or any other similar cold, wet beverage so that I can quench my thirst. Perhaps even let me to get up to pee but I can honestly forgive that if you can’t wait. But trying to suck a dick with a mouth like the Sahara desert is no easy task. I’m just eternally grateful that my guy produces enough lubricant without me needing to bring my zero-reserve spit levels into play. Not all girls are this lucky.

Oh and if you’re going to cum in my mouth, actually cum in my mouth not over my arm, up my nose, in my hair and across the bed. I know you guys can’t manage to get your aim together for something as large as the toilet bowl, but at least try to have some kind of aim when your target is her open mouth. If you’re going to make a mess all over me (which he did), at least have the decency to bring me a towel or some tissue (which he did).

I guess what I’m trying to say is that there are certain things it’s not acceptable to do first thing in the morning. Just take a peek at the 10 Rules of Morning Sex if you need a helping hand. Anal sex is a definite no-no, and I’ve just added oral sex to the list too. That is, unless my parched mouth has been quenched beforehand, and your semen isn’t the first drink of my day.

Please and thank you! 🙂 

The Bad Feeling Day.

I have had a very bad feeling about today from the moment I first opened my eyes. I don’t know how to explain it to you but I like to call it my female intuition. You know what I mean ladies – that overwhelming sense of dread you get right in the very pit of your stomach when you know something bad is going to happen that day.

I don’t know what it is. I woke up with no energy even though I’d slept for about 7 hours straight for once. I don’t want to talk to people. My phone has been going off and I can’t be bothered to message anyone back. I’m just not in a happy mood and I don’t want to socialise, and it’s hard enough knowing that I’ve got to go to work in a couple of hours (even though it is only for four hours).

I can’t focus on anything. I tried to make use of my free morning to get some writing stuff finished and I can’t seem to get cracking on it. I’m already smoking and it’s barely 11am. I want to call the gynae clinic to see if any results have come in yet but I only called on Monday and she told me to wait a week before I called back, if I hadn’t already heard from them. I know that no news is good news but this whole waiting game to find out whether or not my poor foof is going to get any better or a whole load worse is starting to really affect my chi.

I’m seriously overthinking this Someone New thing and he’s not making things any easier. He’s such a lovely guy but it’s all starting to get a bit too much for me. He’s friended my Pops on Facebook now, and apparently they’re having regular convo’s about me and bike-related stuff. He’s sent stuff to my work. He got a bit funny when I told him Number 42 was coming back to my place of work for a month. We’ve been honest about most things up until this point so I reckoned he should probably know that I was going to be working with the guy I’d fucked a couple months ago for the first time since the deed happened. He already knew we’d slept together. Plus he told me he was falling for me. He actually said that to me. I literally just slumped my face into my hands, that’s how exasperating this situation is for me.

At any other time in my life, this guy would have been EVERYTHING I was looking for. Yes, he’s a bit controlling but I’ve always wanted the guy that COULD control me, haven’t I? That’s what the attraction is between My Mr. Grey and I – he can control me with just the smallest touch or the sneakiest smile. I’ve always been looking for the Father-Figure, that’s why I’ve always liked older guys. He’s hot, he has eyes I CANNOT stop falling into, has a penis I could quite happily play with forever, isn’t too skinny, isn’t too fat, has the cutest little gut that I keep saying I like, has a laugh with me, teases me, has a good sense of style, a great sense of humour, can cook, is clean, doesn’t have money issues, doesn’t smoke, occasionally drinks, doesn’t take drugs but probably could be persuaded on special occasions, is tall and makes me feel protected, loves to cuddle, has the highest sex drive I’ve ever come across in a man, calls me beautiful every day, multiple times per day, and looks at me like he could just eat me up – his feisty, horny, beautiful little Smurf. Those are his words.

But somehow, despite all that, something is still not quite clicking into place.

I guess I’d best get ready for work really. Let’s hope my bad feeling was unjustified, eh?

The Fifth Date With Someone New.

So I went on my fifth date with Someone New. I put my indecision to one side and decided to just go ahead with it. I had nothing to lose after all, well apart from a day of my life and I figured I could handle that.

He met me from the station as always, and we had a coffee in town before picking up some groceries and heading back to his. I was making dinner – caesar salad, and we were going to watch a movie – Godzilla. I’m still ‘off-limits’ for another two weeks yet so he knew sex was off the table. Blowjobs weren’t though. He got two of those off me. See, even when I’m off-limits I’m not really off-limits. I reckon that makes me a good girlfy, doesn’t it?

Don’t worry though – I’m keeping a tally of exactly how many he owes me. Although he did give me a lovely shoulder and back massage before bed so I reckon I could knock a couple off the total! 😉

In all seriousness though, I can’t work it out. One minute, like when we’re curled up on his couch, warmly snuggled up in a blanket, I’m perfectly into him, and I don’t want to go anywhere fast and then the next, such as when he is telling me his mother has anxiety and agoraphobia and hates change, and especially likes to ‘play up’ whenever one of her two sons gets a new girlfriend (AKA me) and turns into a completely, raving lunatic, all I want to do is head for the hills. Between the crazy mother and the ex-girlfriend that he still works with, I’m starting to think that maybe this isn’t the greatest idea in the world.

Plus there’s the girl that “gets in touch” whenever she is single *cough, booty call* who persists in commenting on every Facebook status he puts up, even the ones where I’m clearly tagged in it.

And on top of that, the shoulder-surfing. You know what I mean – he constantly seems to be looking over my shoulder whenever I’m doing something on your phone. That proves to be a problem for me. After all, my blog stuff is on there. And we all know how much of a complete disaster it would be if he found that…. Right?

But then on the other hand, we’ve only been hanging out for a month and a half. We’re in that new phase. That phase where you find out all sorts of weird and wonderful things about each other – the good things and the bad. Plus we have this amazing chemistry – I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself. Is it really so bad to want more of that attention; his touch, even when I’m not sure he’s the right kinda guy for me? Or am I just wasting my time?

We had a perfectly beautiful, lazy day on the couch, watching bad daytime TV and curled up happily in his warm blanket, talking shit about everything and anything that popped into our heads. He’s a really fun guy to be around when he’s not super serious and talking about falling for me, or his mother. We have lots of little things in common, but we still have plenty of things to openly discuss our differences on. He’s fun, he’s funny, I actually want to be around him. So what’s missing? What’s not working here? Or is it something as simple as I mentioned last time (and Karen agreed with) – I’m just not quite over Jock yet?

I’m missing the emotional attachment here I think. The sexual attachment is there. I want to touch him, put my arms around him, hold his hand. The personality match is there – we have lots of things to talk about, constantly laugh and giggle, and can even discuss more personal and serious things too. The only thing thats missing is that emotion for me. It’s there for him and I know that because he told me but on my side, there’s something not right, there’s still one little box not ticked.

I seem to be kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place here. What do I do? Should I carry on with things knowing full well how he feels about me, not being sure whether or not I could feel the same for him? Or should I put an end to it now just in case I might have cancer / can’t have kids / they find something bad during my endoscopy (more fucking tests) / I can’t fall for him too?

When did dating get so damn political? 

I’m So Indecisive Today.

I don’t really know what has happened. A few days ago, I was well into my Someone New. Then he went away for the weekend for work, and I found out that he stopped shagging a work colleague only a few months ago (plus they were shagging for more than a few months, and she’s prettier and skinnier than me, and they still work together, and he’s 30 and she’s only 21 – ew!) and all of a sudden, it’s like I’m not all that interested anymore.

I don’t really know what’s happened. I don’t know if it’s because I’m scared I have cervical cancer – I got a letter confirming that the colposcopy showed ‘high grade cervical intraepithelial neoplasia’ and I was to wait for the biopsy results to make a plan with my consultant in the ‘near future’. It’s all a bit scary if you ask me, even if I am being paranoid.

It might not be that. Maybe he’s just a bit blah for me? I thought at the beginning that he might be a bit of a ‘nice guy’. Maybe it was the revelation of the work colleague that he’s no longer sleeping with, but was sleeping with not that long ago, for a while, and they still work together? Surely everyone knows by now that you don’t shit where you eat? Plus she’s so young – 30 versus 21. That’s just weird, right? Just me?

Maybe I’m just having a hard time right now and I don’t know what I want? I said to him before he went away on his work trip that I didn’t know if this was right for just now. I don’t feel that this sick, weepy, emotional, scared person is a true representation of me. I don’t feel like I’m being myself around him. I’nervous and I don’t know how to act. That’s not me. I eat men like him for breakfast… Don’t I?

He’s already told me that he’s falling for me. He told me once via text message and then he went and actually said the words one of the last times we were on the phone. He’s falling for me. Four dates. A month and a half. He’s falling for me? Uh, again? Another narcissist? Why does this keep happening to me? Why couldn’t we have just sailed along nicely for a few months, like four to six months, having a good time, having too much sex and generally enjoying the ‘honeymoon’ phase before we went into “I’m falling for you” territory? What happened to courting? Dating? Wooing? How can he be falling for me already after just four dates and one sleepover? It’s like Jock happening all over again except it was seven dates for him, wasn’t it – 34 days?

That’s not all either. He told me I would have a surprise coming a while back and the day before Valentine’s Day, a small box with my favourite candies, a couple of stuffed toys and an anonymous Valentine’s Day card turned up at my work. He called himself “Little Legs” in the card so I knew it was him (for someone so tall, he has remarkably small legs), but I never once told him where I worked. I mean, he probably had an idea, but he would never have known where exactly it was. Apparently he worked out how long it took me to get to work in the morning when I was messaging him, and figured it out from my house. Kinda romantic, yes. Super creepy, absolutely!

Plus he keeps talking to my Dad! Admittedly he bought a few bike-related bits and pieces from him but even still, it’s weird that I personally haven’t introduced them, right? And that they are talking quite happily on Facebook. My Dad has even started liking Someone New’s posts on my Facebook page. It’s like this relationship is running away with itself for everyone but me. My Dad loves him. Someone New loves me. What’s the problem here?

I think I know what the problem is. I just don’t want to say it. Don’t make me say it. OK, fine. The problem is I’m not over Jock. I still love Jock. I still pine for Jock. He’s still the only guy I really ever wanted. It’s not as much of a problem as it was a few months back but I’m definitely still going through the motions of that breakup. I think this little love affair with Someone New may have started just a little too soon. I can see this ending badly – I’m going to break his heart.

There’s too many warning signs here for my liking. He’s too controlling even though he’s trying so hard not to be. I thought he came across as a nice guy but at times I wonder if this is just a facade. Is he really a nice guy? He has this dark undercurrent running through him and that won’t make sense to any girl that hasn’t sensed it for herself, but it’s like you can imagine them being really mean and spiteful in a fight, really out of line, really controlling. It’s that quiet arrogance, the same kind of quiet arrogance that I once found so attractive in my Husband. Look how that turned out…

I think maybe I’m just thinking too much into things right now. Maybe I should just kick back and relax? Maybe I’m just an angry, frustrated little bunny because I’ve not gotten laid, and I still have another couple of weeks to go before I can.

Doesn’t help me out right now though. I’m trying to work out whether or not I want to go on the fifth date with my Someone New in about two hours time. I’m trying to work out if I want to stay at his tonight. Or should we just have dinner and then I leave? I’m horny and seriously craving a man’s touch, but will getting him off be enough to curb my hunger for a couple more weeks? Or will it just increase my frustrations? I don’t really have anything to lose by going. Maybe I just can’t be bothered?

I’m so indecisive today.