Saturday, 18 December 2010

Nurse Harlot

I felt much better yesterday but Virgil got ill.

He texted: I'm on my way home in a minute. Please make sure it's warm!!

Then: I'm outside in the freezing cold in flipping G__...

Half an hour later there was a knock. It was Virgil, too poorly to get his keys out of his pocket. Shaking with cold, he staggered to the sofa. I helped him with his duffle coat and laptop bag and he burrowed, speechless, under the duvet I brought him. I brought hot Ribena with honey and Lemsip in the special mug I am not allowed to drink coffee from.

He cheered up as he thawed. Eventually he felt well enough to eat a pizza and watch BMX Bandits, although he sweated and shivered through the night.

Virgil has a theatrical side. Why am I so hot and cold? he moans. I tell him to stop being a drama queen. Then I get annoyed with him when he tinkers with an email I've asked for his help with. I discard the draft he has changed only to find I've lost a very carefully composed message and am furious. Never discard a draft in Gmail!

Virgil must have reinfected me because today I'm getting worse. At least our timing means we are both almost certain to be well for Christmas. There may even be sex.
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Thursday, 16 December 2010

Post-party cold

I am in bed with a cold. I could get up but then I'd feel rotten. I don't have any work so this doesn't even count as a sickie. Better to stay here, listening with half an ear to something about Confucianism and scanning blogs and websites. I look at a discussion about poly relationships on Informed Consent, check in to Quiet Riot Girl to find that she likes Joni Mitchell too. I feel so out of touch with my kink when I visit IC.

Our sex parties have come and gone, too much work to write about. They really were a splendid success, although we were too ambitious and worked so hard that we were too tired to properly enjoy them. Beds were broken, igloos and sleighs were made and fucked in, clothes and glitter went absolutely everywhere. I feel an inner glow of satisfaction and pride at having created something memorable and good. Now it's someone else's turn. I want to be entertained, to arrive as a guest and leave at the end, not worrying about clearing up and who's going to take the sheets to the laundrette.
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Monday, 6 December 2010

The No Sex Diaries

I am too busy organising a sex party for thoughts of sex.

Can that be right?

I'm thinking instead about snowflake decorations, Turkish Delight and whether we have enough safe sex supplies. None of these things are intrinsically sexy and nor is the very onerous admin that is the hidden 9/10 of the iceberg.
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Sunday, 5 December 2010

Facebook Envy

I can't stay away from Facebook but it mostly serves to make me feel bad about myself. It's like picking a hangnail or worrying away at a mouth ulcer, painful but you can't help yourself.

If honesty and candour were permissible - and they're not - my Fb update would be: Your life looks better than mine.

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