I Hate Those What-If’s.

I’ve been quiet again. That’s because not much is happening really. I’ve had a few more texts from The Fireman. Things are still sailing along with Someone New. I still haven’t heard a peek from Jock. Not that I ever expected to of course. Well actually, I did….

When we first got together, he was living in a house share with three other women and there was this lovely Irish girl. When I went through the Facebook friends list after Jock and I broke up, for some reason, I must have completely skipped past the lovely Irish girl as she happened to like and comment on a recent hospital selfie I had posted on my page. You know, because I’m in the hospital every week these days. Resting bitch face.

“Hope you’re alright!” she said. It was enough to make my heart stop, not because she had commented on my photo but because it was HER. It was because she was still a friend of HIS. Maybe she’d tell him that I was in the hospital? Maybe she doesn’t know we’ve broken up? Of course she does. She must know by now, surely? It’s not like we haven’t been broken up for long enough. Saying that, his brother didn’t even know so I shan’t hold my breath on people being aware of our ‘conscious uncoupling’.

Or as I like to call it, three months of hell-blubbering breakup.

He doesn’t know that I don’t have cancer. He doesn’t know I’m on cancer scare number two. If she tells him that I was in the hospital, would he contact me? Would she even tell him that? Is that information that she would share with him? Maybe in passing conversation…?

Would he message me, do you think? I don’t. I don’t really think he gave that much of a shit to start with. The last thing I’d want him to think is that I’m in hospital because the cancer-news was bad. I wouldn’t want him to think that. I wouldn’t want to feel his pity. I wouldn’t want him to feel sad for me. Or maybe I would want him to wonder…?

This is why you should get rid of ALL of his friends when you go through yet another devastating breakup. In weeks, months and even years gone by, these mutual acquaintances will pop up out of nowhere and make you think of all those happy times again. It’ll bring up all those questions you thought you had buried deep somewhere – is he still thinking about me? Does he still love me? I wonder what would have happened if we had just stayed together…?

I hate those fucking what-if’s. 

The Doppelganger.

There is a guy I see everyday and he is the spitting image of Jock – his Doppelganger. I don’t know why but I always seem to see him. Whether I’m walking down the road back home and we pass each other in the street, or he walks past my house as I happen to be writing in the window. Almost every day I see him and every time I do, my heart skips a beat. I’m short-sighted so from a distance away, I actually think it’s him, Jock. As he gets closer I realise it’s not and every time, I get a little disappointed. I don’t really know why.

We haven’t spoken for such a long time now. He never did ask me whether or not I had bowel cancer. Just like he doesn’t know that I’m now going through the scary cervical crap now either. I guess it was for the best that he ran off when he did. If one cancer scare was too much for him, his heart probably would have exploded by now. If he had a heart of course. Wanker.

I’m over it now, moving onto Someone New but occasionally my heart still pines for him. Every time I hear All of Me, my heart stops. Every time I see the guy that looks like him, my heart skips a beat. Every time I come across another photo of him that I had forgotten I had, my heart pounds through my chest. I do miss him. Every now and then, I miss him. I let myself listen to our song on the way to work. I let my eyes fill up with tears. I don’t let them escape down my cheeks, but I do let them start to form. It’s OK that I still miss him and that I still get upset. I have a heart. My heart was broken. He was the man I thought I was going to marry and have children with. I know that’s something that won’t go away overnight, if at all. I’ve accepted now that he will always be the one that got away. I know everyone thinks he was bad for me, but he’ll always be the one I really wanted. He was fat, old and grey but he was everything I was looking for. Just not in the package I expected to find it in. And with a bit more baggage than I would have wanted.

I don’t think Someone New is going to be the next love of my life. I actually see quite a lot of similarities between him and One Ball and The Lapdog. I think he’s going to be a gap-filler; someone that fills my head and my time while I’m waiting for the storm of Jock to pass. I don’t really know if I’m allowed to say that out loud but oh well, I’ve said it now. He’s too much of a control freak to be a long-term thing for me. Too much of a nice-guy at the same time, quite bizarrely too. He won’t be able to control me and that will frustrate him eventually. The nice guy persona will be ripped down one day. He says it keeps him on his toes right now but how long will it take before it annoys him rather than excites him?

On top of that, there have been a few red lights for me already – those warning bells that don’t seem like much now but out of experience you’ve learned will end up being a massive, great big deal later on when it’s too late and everyone’s feelings get hurt. 84 messages when I woke up the other morning, for example, and the constant selfie-taking obsession he seems to have materialised. When I was at his for our third date, he grabbed my phone when I was in the toilet and took about 50 selfies (because the camera is the only thing you can access on an iPhone when it is locked). Out of those 84 messages I woke up to, around 50 of them were selfies. Plus he wants to know what I’ve eaten, where I’ve been, where I am, and what I’m up to all the time. Like every minute of every day. I can’t work out if he’s just the really good, attentive boyfriend I’ve always wanted, or a total complete freak. I think it’s probably the latter.

Maybe he’ll surprise me and be a good guy after all? We’ve definitely got chemistry but is that always enough? Are these real warning signs, or is this because I didn’t have anything like this with Jock? He never gave a shit where I was or what I was doing, which should have been an alarm bell by itself really. Is it really so strange for my new boyfriend to want to know how I am, how I’m feeling, what I’m up to? Is it really so strange for him to want to put a selfie up on Facebook of the two of us together after just a month? We’ve had four dates. He’d asked me to be his “girlfriend” before we had even slept together. To be fair, we do talk a lot – we’re always Whatsapping or Facetiming. He tries to call me every day. It’s exhausting being in constant contact but I do enjoy talking to him.

Oh, before I forget, I need to add this guy to my list. Someone New – Number 43. Christ these are starting to add up fast. Maybe I should be a fourth-date girl more often and I wouldn’t be looking at such a long list. You should see my resting bitch face right now. Or resting slut face, it seems more appropriate. Maybe I should set myself a limit? Get to 50 guys and that’s it, no more guys! I either have to reuse a guy from my past (The Fireman has been in touch again. Maybe I could get back with the ex?) or become a Nun. Technically then I can only have 49 guys because I need to keep one space open for the Bestie in case we do decided to get married and procreate one day. That’s if they leave my cervix where it is. Resting slut face again.


See the kind of dilemmas you’re faced with when you have two cancer scares in six months. Yes, that’s right. You’d better be sympathising with me. Fucks sake.

Date Number Four With Someone New.

So ladies and gentlemen, I have good news to report. Someone New and I finally managed to get our shit together and made it to the bedroom and let me tell you, date four was every bit as exciting and thrilling as I thought it would be. The perfect way to start four weeks of no sex…. I shall go into that later.

He met me from the station on Tuesday evening and we grabbed some groceries for dinner. Back at his, awkward and nervous at the start as always, he rallied around cooking me dinner, making me comfortable on the couch, grabbing me a blanket and more. Honestly, he couldn’t have been more attentive if he tried. He even hid five Kinder Eggs (my favourite chocolate) around the house in places he knew I’d find them. Is this is a good sign? Or is he just trying to make a good impression at the start? You know how most guys are all hearts, flowers, romance and thoughtfulness until they actually get you and then they no longer try quite so hard…

We snuggled on the couch while he royally fucked up dinner by not putting the oven on the right temperature (which he later tried to blame on me – kinda hoping he was joking!), but it wasn’t just one-sided fuckery; I managed to knock over and smash a full glass of wine. Great job considering he was house sitting and it wasn’t even his carpet… or glass! Ooops! I get so clumsy sometimes!

After a bit of serious making out on the couch, he ordered me to go upstairs to bed. He’s very good at that – ordering me. “Sit on the couch”, “I’m about to brush my teeth, you should go first”, “Put these cushions under your ass”, “Watch me while I play with myself”….

I think I’m right with my previous predictions – he is most definitely a control freak. A ‘Mr. Grey’ type control freak, I think. From a very early point he repeatedly said “You are mine” – a similarity I noticed when I watched Fifty Shades of Grey – something else I should probably talk about.

He wouldn’t let me help with the cooking. He wouldn’t let me help with the clearing up. He refused to let me move, bringing my wine to me, my dinner to me, a cloth for when I smashed that glass. In one sense, it’s really nice being catered to but on the other side, it’s really intimidating in a weird sort of way. Plus I’m starting to wonder if I would last in a relationship with a control freak. I can’t be controlled. Everyone knows that, right?

Date Number Four With Someone New.

He was very dominant in bed though. For someone that told me he wanted me to tie him up and have my wicked way with his body, he didn’t give me much of a chance. Plus I was really nervous despite the one and a half glasses of wine I had drunk. I don’t think I gave him a very good representation of what I’m really like in bed but it looks like he’s willing to wait the four weeks until we can next have sex. Maybe I’ll get the chance to show him the real me after all?

First time sex is always clumsy sex. It doesn’t matter how good you are in the sack, shit always goes wrong the first time you sleep with someone new, someone shiny, someone you’ve never touched before. Luckily, not too much went wrong but there were a couple of things – he lost the plugs out of his ears and I lost my nose stud, the dog had managed to earlier chew through an entire packet of chewing gum and we were forced to feed her this awful charcoal stuff that went everywhere and stained our clothes. Plus the wine glass smashing incident, and him putting the oven on 80 degrees instead of 180 and then later trying to blame it on me. He made lasagne for dinner, with popcorn for later even though I can’t eat dairy (cheese on the lasagne) and popcorn is definitely one of the food no-no’s with my diverticulitis. I ate the food anyway because I didn’t want to be a fussy eater or an ungrateful cow, and was so petrified about going to the toilet the next morning that I ended up being constipated for a couple of days after. Plus we couldn’t get the shower to work and it was freezing cold, and then we flooded the bathroom, I managed to make the sink leak as there was a crack in the bowl and I overfilled it whilst brushing my teeth. Oh and I forgot the condoms and my toothbrush. I bought condoms on the way and yet still managed to forget my toothbrush, and in the end he remembered to bring our little rubbery friends too! I’ll put it down to nerves on both sides but things didn’t exactly go according to plan…

… Until we got into bed. My body reacted very well to his body, let’s put it that way, and even now, three days later, my butt cheeks still ache after the extra activity it was forced to do during Tuesday night’s shenanigans! I was on my side, on my back, on top of him, on my front, bent over the bed, you name it, we did it. I sucked him to a beautiful finish on the couch to get the first one out of the way. I didn’t want him to cum too early and ruin the evening so I did my girlfriendly duties and made Warm Bodies a film he won’t be forgetting in a hurry! 😉

Later on he came twice more, once kneeled over me, forcing me to watch him jerk himself off, finishing himself all over my chest and my stomach, and the second time making me watch again, while he finished himself off into my mouth. When this guy said he came a lot, he wasn’t kidding. Even the third time around there was more than I could handle! Luckily, the gentlemanly control freak kicked in within him and he grabbed me some Kleenex to mop myself up.

He’d already told me that he really liked it when his partner watched him jerk off and I’d had a few questions but never been brave enough to ask him. Like – what do I do while I’m watching you jerk yourself off? Am I meant to play with myself, because I’ll probably be too nervous to do that at the beginning? Where do I look? In your face? At your hands? Right at your cock? Am I expected to talk to you or just listen and learn? I didn’t really get the chance to ask those questions but it’s OK, we answered them all.

Playing with myself, stroking his body, playing with his balls, licking my lips, looking at him in the eyes as they roll back into the back of his head, feeling his legs tense up as he’s about to cum – all acceptable things to do apparently whilst watching the boyfriend jerk off all over you. I’ve never really watched someone jerk off over me, right in front of me before but I’ll be honest, it was perhaps one of the hottest experiences I’ve had. Watching his eyes lustily roam over my naked, squirming body as he moved his hands over his own cock was HOT! Knowing that I was having that effect on him was the biggest ego-booster I could have asked for. To be honest, we’d screwed for probably about an hour that night, and we were up at 6am doing it all over again so by the time he was done and finishing himself off both times, I was getting super sore. I don’t know why but it seemed he was having a hard time finishing off whilst screwing me…?

Still, I got laid. And you have no idea how happy I was at 7am the next morning too! 😉


So, keeping in line with the whole #SmearForSmear thing, I went and had mine done. I should wait two weeks for the results and if I’d not been sent a letter, it should be fine but to give my doctor a call.

Less than seven working days after I had my smear, I got a letter. “There were some changes to some of the cells in your cervix called high grade dyskaryosis. It is unlikely that you have cancer but these changes need investigation and the appropriate treatment.”

That’s right, less than a month and a half after I got the all-clear from what we believed could have been bowel cancer, I’ve been told there’s a chance I might have cervical cancer instead. I find that pretty fucking ironic seeing as I had Googled all of my symptoms and came up with cervical cancer by myself right at the beginning of what I had started to call my “Poo Problems”, almost six months ago. I even asked the doctor if there was a chance that I could book a smear because of my concerns, and I had also read of a blood test that you could have done, but he dismissed it entirely telling me that I probably had IBS and shoo-ed me out of his office.

Six months later I finally get the smear I had asked for, and now I’m told the thing I had suspected all along – there was something wrong – I have high grade CIN3 dyskaryosis. What does this mean? I have no clue. I called the Doc’s and spoke to an actual female doctor and she just told me what the letter had said. They had found high grade, severe abnormal cells and therefore needed to be sent for a colposcopy and treatment.

Now, I must present to you the symptoms I’ve had over the last few years. I’m going to say three years. As soon as I came home from the other side of the world after leaving Big Love, my periods were all over the place. I have been keeping track of them on an app on my phone for over a year now and my cycles are never the same. Sometimes it will be 43 days, sometimes it will be 22 days, and most of the time it’s a completely random number anywhere between the two. I had pain during sex and occasionally bleeding but I put that down to just being rough and ready (and normally drunk), uncomfortable lower abdominal pains, chronic backache, itchy and uncomfortable legs… Plus there’s the poo problems too. Apparently they could all have been linked from the start.

For someone that never really wanted to have kids, the thought of not having the option to choose literally fills me with dread. I can’t bear the thought of not being able to make that decision for myself. The thought of it makes me cry. Proper cry. Painful cry. The kinda cry where your lip wobbles uncontrollably, and you can’t stop the tears from falling onto your Mac as you type out the words. I know we’re talking about the worst case scenario here but it’s kinda hard not to when you’re faced with the thought of having cancer for the second time in six months. I also think it’s kinda ironic that the Hubby has a kid that he doesn’t want or see, while I’m faced with the possibility of not having kids at all. And let’s face it, with the diseases that he bought home, there’s a fucking good chance that it was him that gave me the sodding HPV virus in the first place. Oh yeah, I never told you that I found out he had a kid while he was on the other side of the world, did I? Lol, I can’t wait to get into that story.

I’m positive on the outside, not letting it phase me and just getting on with life, having a laugh and being the cool, bubbly person people know me as. Inwardly though, I’m a wreck. It’s not even 11:30am right now and I’ve already smoked a herbal little beauty and to be honest, I couldn’t care less if you judge me for it. Two cancer scares in less than six months. I reckon it’s the perfect time to live a little dangerously, don’t you?

On the plus side, I think tonight might be date number four with my Someone New. Maybe tonight I’ll get laid? I’d better get laid. After the treatment on Thursday, I’m not going to be able to have sex for four weeks, or so the pamphlet says. I can’t wait another four weeks to fuck him. It needs to happen tonight. He doesn’t know it yet (I blew him out last night) but he will be getting a little visitor when he finishes work in the form of a very nervous, very frustrated, very playful little Smurf. That’s his nickname for me, by the way. He said this was me: (which I kinda liked)


I need a night of frivolous cuddles with Someone New. I need to feel desired and pretty, like I’m not just one health concern after another. I want him to prove that he will be there to hold my hand through this like Jock couldn’t. That’s not bad, is it? Plus, I really don’t want to wait another four weeks. I’m scared he’ll lose interest and worse than that, I’m scared I’ll lose interest. You know how that seems to happen.

So yeah, that’s what going on in my life right now. Two cancer scares in six months. Except this one is marginally scarier.

Date Number Three. FUCK!

So my Someone New and I, we went on our third date. We didn’t have sex. Almost, but we didn’t. But I can 100% wholeheartedly tell you that I CANNOT keep my hands off this guy. Literally CANNOT keep my hands off him. It was pathetic. I was a pathetic, horny little mess. He loved the attention and said as much but even I know that the behaviour I displayed was very unlike me.

We met (an hour later than agreed) and went for a quick coffee and a piece of cake. Then we did some shopping for our lunch, took a casual stroll back to his new place (he bought a house – immediate improvement from penniless Jock), he showed me around, made me pastrami sandwiches and cups of tea, and then well and truly smooched the pants right off me on his couch.

We were kissing. There was so much kissing. Then he was running his hands up and down my body, pulling me on top of him on the couch, sneakily sliding his hand up my shirt… It’s awkward, don’t get me wrong, but its good awkward; sexy awkward if that even exists? A bit bumpy and grindy, a few slips and falls along the way, but it’s sexy and passionate and you just get caught up in the moment, you know? He stood up and pushed me towards the bedroom and once we were in there, he started to peel off my clothes. First my top went, then my bra, then he turned me around and pushed me back on the bed, taking his shirt off. Down came my jeans, my pants not far behind them. He was down to boxers, gyrating against me, getting ready for the kill….

“I’ve not got any condoms!”

FUUUUUUUUCK! I didn’t take the condoms I had because I was trying so hard not to be a fucking slut and assumed he would have some ready! We’ve already had the condom chat for fucks sake. How come neither of us were prepared? I was already naked at this point so he started to head south, licking, nibbling and flicking his way around my body in ways I was seriously impressed by, and it wasn’t long before I started to feel my legs shake uncontrollably. Someone New just made me cum for the first time. I let him go down on me the first time we slept together, not that we even slept together, and I just don’t do that. It’s such an intimate thing for me, it’s not something I like to do early on. You gotta earn your way to that golden ticket. Afterwards, as I lay there shaking, watching his eyes glide all over my naked body, I freaked out. Excusing myself, I ran straight to the bathroom for a few seconds just to compose myself. I don’t know how I feel about my body these days. I’ve never dated someone, and slept with someone new, sober and skinny. I was sober. I wasn’t even high. Totally, one hundred percent sober, and I didn’t think about running home and blazing up once throughout the entire day! Not even once! I wasn’t nervous, well apart from the first few minutes, but he feels comfortable to me now, nice, comforting almost? We huddled up together on his large couch and just being curled up in a ball next to him, or have him rest his head on my chest, or spooning in that way we do that’s never just spooning, felt like absolute heaven. It’s his smell I think. I have a thing about smells and Someone New’s smell drives me crazy!

He said I was beautiful. He said I had a beautiful body. I tasted good. I felt good. I have a beautiful pussy. Every time I touched him, I could feel his hard-on which brings me nicely to the topic of his penis.

OK so we may not have had condoms but we fooled around. I’m clean, I know that because I was recently tested, and I was dumb… I gave him head. To be fair, he gave me head too! We were both dumb. I don’t care. Glossing over that fact, obviously.

His penis does have a pretty pronounced bend in it to be fair but I love it. He’s not circumcised even though I thought he said he was, he does produce a lot of pre-cum, he cums even more! It’s got some serious girth to it, and its just the perfect length. I have developed somewhat of a connection with his penis. It’s not perfect, it’s perfectly imperfect and I can’t get enough of it. I dropped to my knees, pulls his trousers down and gave him the first full blowjob of his life. He’s never had a girl do it for longer than a few minutes, he’s never cum in a girls mouth, and no I don’t think it was a line. Trust me – you didn’t see the mess he turned into!

I CANNOT wait to fuck this guy. If he thinks my blowjobs are great, he’s gonna have a whale of a time when he gets to actually fuck me. And he really couldn’t compliment by oral skills enough. By the time I had finished with him, I was wetter than I think I’ve ever been and I teased him just a little by letting him have a little feel…

I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m going to fall in love with Someone New. And I think it’s safe to say he feels pretty much the same. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other today, it wasn’t all just me doing it. I’m glad we haven’t slept together yet because it means we have so much left to look forward to, although we definitely crossed a few lines today, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me. I can’t wait for him to feel how much I will clamp around his cock as I cum around it. I just can’t wait to fuck him. That’s all. I just want to fuck him. I’m heading straight to the shops tomorrow to buy hundreds of condoms and I’m going to put them in every coat pocket and handbag just in case. We are not going to have a sexless repeat of date number three, that’s for sure.

So yeah, we didn’t have sex. Maybe I’m the fourth date girl?

While We’re Doing The Honesty Thing…

I’ve been mulling over how to write this for a couple of days. During one of our naughtier conversations, my Someone New divulged to me a little bit of information. I’m going to need to be careful how I word this, and I shall tell you why in just a moment, but we’re talking a pre-cum situation. As in, lots of it.

Just as we said our goodnights after talking about our “Famous five” (list of five celebrities we’d have a free pass to cheat with if we ever could) and I mentioned us having a naked duvet day watching nothing but Angelina Jolie films. He replied “I’d need to wash the duvet, couch and anything else I came into contact with if you were there and we were watching her in films” and left it at that.

I assumed he’d mean there would be spunk everywhere and replied with a cheeky “That’s what showers are for!” but apparently that’s not what he meant. Confused? I was. What did he mean? Is he going to make me squirt? Is that what he was casually implying? “Is it something I’ll do, or you do?” I asked, and at that point he changed the subject.

A few minutes later as we were saying our goodbyes for bed. He had screen-shotted a Google search which essentially said “a lot of pre-spunk juice”.

My blog has a habit of coming up on the first page of Google for the most random of keywords, so I don’t want to write what he wrote just in case he ever screen-shots it to send to another girl and I’m right up there on the first page. So I’ll avoid saying it completely. How about we call it LOPC – lots of man juice that comes before the actual man juice. Except lots wasn’t the word he used. It was “high quantities”. OK, we’ll call it HQOPC. PC = pre-cum, obviously.

What the fuck does this mean? Are we talking like walking around with it literally dripping out of him? Like I know pre-cum happens, it’s quite hot in certain circumstances, but what about high quantities of it? What does that mean? HQOPC? What’s a high quantity?!

Not one to flirt around the subject, I decided to have a Google and apparently there are quite a few young lads out there experiencing this. Surely this just adds to the situation like lubricant to make things nice and slippery? I know when a girl is wet, it’s a good thing so surely it would be a good thing if he was wet too? I don’t really know what to make of this. Unusually, this is something I haven’t had to deal with before. Oh and guess what else I found out too… He’s circumcised! Woo hoo! Could this be my next perfect penis…? 😉

I like this part of the relationship where you are still learning new things about each other. We’ve not slept together yet. In fact, we’ve barely done anything except a few stolen kisses and some childish hand holding. Oh and those times he put his hand on the back of my neck, My Mr. Grey-style, and when he put his hands on my hips when we were bowling. They may only have been the slightest of touches but they sent shivers down my spine. You know what it’s like when you REALLY like someone – everything they seem to do is sexy, right? But we know NOTHING about each other. I don’t know what he looks like naked. He doesn’t know what I look naked. I don’t know what his skin feels like, his tongue tastes like, how he smells as I get close to nuzzle his neck… It’s hot, it’s sexy, it’s anticipation. And there’s always something new! With Jock, I had to learn how to work with a small penis. With Big Love, it was circumcision. With The Fireman, it was his massive cock. One Ball – well, the name kinda gives it away, doesn’t it? With Someone New, we have a penis that bends slightly (apparently), circumcision and HQOPC. It’s funny how penises are different! 🙂

So yeah, what do I do with this information? I guess I won’t know what to do with it until I see it up close and personal, so to speak. But how much can there really be???

Another complicated chapter in my sex life, it would seem!! 

Should I Get Back With My Ex? (But Not The One You Thought!)

Something happened last night with The Fireman. We were chatting as we seem to do these days and it wasn’t long before we were reminiscing about old times… But not the good times, oh no. The bad times; the really, really bad times.

It started innocently enough – we were talking about what we would do if we had an endless supply of cash and we both come up with the idea of travelling. He’d take me on the boat he was going to buy, but only if I behave.

Me: “I never behave”

Fireman: “That’s what I love about you”

Me: “Not back then you didn’t”

Fireman: “I did really. I loved the excitement with you. Apart from when you were sleeping with Number 20. Of course”

Did he really bring that up? Ten years later and he’s still banging on about that? He punched me in the face and I still slept with him afterwards yet he can’t let go of the fact that I cheated on him and slept with my ex when were we young and dumb? We were 18 years old for fucks sake. It’s been ten years!

“I don’t know about you but I was deeply in love… I don’t want to get too deep but I’d thought about proposing to you…

You’re my first and deepest love. That love is the standard I set all current / future loves against…

I have to live with you embedded in my heart for the rest of my life…”

He wasn’t drunk, I know that because I asked him. What was wrong with him? Why had our normally sexual conversations taken a more morbid direction? What was going on? This wasn’t our regular reminiscing. This was going somewhere different.

“We’d be eleven years married by now”

We’re really taking a serious walk down memory lane here, unwrapping and talking about things both of us had thought we’d buried deep. I couldn’t work out where we were going with this. I figured he’d got the hint – I wasn’t interested. After all, he turned me down one of the last times we got together (big no, no – he admitted that was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do) and then we went for that date and I basically brushed him away on the front door step. That ship has well and truly sailed, surely he didn’t think he was going to get into my pants again?

The guilt trip continued with him rambling on about how much my infidelity ‘carved’ his heart and that he never really believed he’d ever gotten over it and if I’m honest, it all felt sooooooo melodramatic. It was TEN years ago! I know I was his first love but we weren’t the biggest love story of all time. When I look back through the great loves in my life, he’s not one of the ones I would put right at the top. Nowhere near close to that! I didn’t realise I had made such an impression on this guy – certainly nowhere near as much as what he’s telling me throughout this conversation! What was the point in all this anyway? What’s the point in going back through something that happened ten years ago and still mulling it over?

Well, ladies and gentlemen, something pretty damned amazing happened. You know that moment you break up with someone and you automatically assume it’s not for real and you’ll get back together? You know those nights you spent crying endless tears into your pillow at night, wishing he’d get back together with you? You know those dreams you have about the grand romantic reunion…?

Well, those dreams do come true. It just takes a while apparently.

“If we pretended we’d never met, only just say in a supermarket, would you let me take you out?”

I figured we were playing one of those theoretical games so I made a joke out of it – “Depends if you’ve got the same smooth moooooooooves?” 

The answer I got wasn’t the answer I was prepared for…

Should I get back with my ex?

Ten years later and he finally decides I’m the girl for him and we should give it another shot? Plus, that aside, I have my Someone New now. I know we’re not official or anything yet but he’s basically said as much to me.

Boyfriends are like fucking buses – you wait forever for one to turn up and two come along at once, throwing themselves at you, making all the promises under the sun.

How the fuck has this happened? Just a month or so ago, I was crying into my pillow, devastated by the end of my relationship with the Beautiful Tattooed Jock and now I have a brand new shiny Someone New clambering to fall in love with me, and an ex from a decade ago declaring I’m ‘the one’ again.

What the fucking fuck? Do you want to know what makes it worse? I was so surprised and taken aback by the surprise date invitation that I went and said fucking yes! OK, so it wasn’t like in a heartbeat or anything like that, but he did win me over with the promise of a nice meal in a proper country pub, complete with open fire and hot chocolates with marshmallows. In the cold light of day I’m starting to think that wasn’t that greatest decision I could have made this week.

So what do I do now? Do I go on the date with The Fireman I dated for almost two years, ten years ago? That would mean lying to my Someone New. He would not appreciate that betrayal of sorts, and I’d feel really guilty and end up telling him anyway. That’s what always happens. Or I could tell him it’s just a lunch-date with an old friend, which is basically the way I’m looking at it. The problem with that is The Fireman won’t be looking at it that way, will he? He’s made his intentions pretty damn clear. I’m beautiful now “physically and in person” and he can’t get the idea of us together out of his head. Maybe that’s his way of dealing with his breakups? Just like mine is making random guys fall at my feet apparently. Ha! I wish! I’m pretty sure my Someone New is a dreadful control freak, and my other option is the ex that actually punched me in the face. Plus I’ve slept with his sister. That would be weird.

So the only logical way to deal with this is to get out of the date, right? Now how do I do this? Honesty? “This is weird for me, plus I can’t see your family ever taking to me again especially as, at the time, I was fucking you and your sister, my Bestie was sleeping with your other sister, and my Dad was sleeping with your Mum… That’s not something I feel would be easily forgotten, nor the way I blurted it out to you which, in hindsight, probably meant I deserved that punch in the face”

Oh yeah, I can see that going down really well, can’t you? Honestly, what’s the point in this date anyway? Do we really think we are going to be one of those beautiful love stories? Together, made stupid mistakes, broke up, did our thing for ten years and then got back together again to live happily ever after? As if. There is NO point to this date. It won’t ever work. His sister probably lied about us sleeping together and denied it ever happening. I could prove it actually happened because not only was my Bestie there, My Mr. Grey was too. Bestie went to bed and The Fireman’s Sister, My Mr. Grey and I were meant to be heading to bed, except us two girls did and he didn’t get the invitation. I probably shouldn’t tell The Fireman that, right? Lol!

So much stuff has happened since then. So much stuff! Surely neither of us are deluded enough to think that this would ever work a second time around?

As if my head wasn’t fucked up enough already!