Thursday, 29 December 2011

Don't get too attached

We have been planning a New Years Eve party (yes, for that read sex party). Virgil's idea, following the success of his birthday play party, immense resources have already been invested. It's been our main focus since even before Christmas. We have fallen out with friends over the guest list and raided our savings to secure the fabulous venue. Now Virgil is ill with a suspected wisdom tooth infection. I have an appointment to pick up emergency antibiotics for him tomorrow. At the very best, he will be feeling better but still on antibiotics and not out of the woods for NYE.

At times like this I think WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT OF TRYING TO DO ANYTHING NICE EVER?

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Tuesday, 27 December 2011

What makes a good vibrator is not what you might at first think

I own two dozen pairs of shoes but only one vibrator, a Lelo Gigi. Actually it's Virgil's but I have claimed squatters rights. After all, it's been on my clit the most. If Virgil went off to have sex with someone else, taking it with him, that wouldn't feel right. We agree to buy vibrators separately for use with other people.

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Thursday, 22 December 2011

Neighbourly news update

I had lunch with my neighbour today. Good grief: he really is sexy. Even after two hours of conversation (ample time to fall out of a crush on someone) I still would. Definitely. I would even more now. Unfortunately I was wrong about him living alone. Why did I think he lived alone? Maybe because he said he had a studio flat. Funny how we hear what we want to hear.

He has a girlfriend. They live together. But she's away for the next ten days.
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Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Did I mention that I had a crush on my neighbour?

Serious excitement at Harlot Towers this morning. I hardly ever find anyone instantly attractive but my upstairs neighbour caught my eye immediately and with force. Even though we rarely bump into each other, for over a year now Dmitri has occupied a special place at the back of my mind. Imagine a little shoebox labelled 'crushes that will never be satisfied'.

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Tuesday, 20 December 2011

What's in it for you?

Somebody suggested that a blog should offer its readers something. That's funny. I thought a blog was a big electronic chasm that people come to wail into (those who aren't posting pictures of their children and bible study group outings, that is).

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Sunday, 18 December 2011

Help

I just joined an online poly support group. Well, actually it turned out to be a mono/poly support group for people who are monogamous and having relationships with poly people. Whatever that means.

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Saturday, 17 December 2011

The view from inside my ass

Creeping Americanization made me choose that one, right?

I had something close to a panic attack earlier. The trigger was going to spy on Sarah's Facebook profile. I read some of her wallposts (she's witty) and looked hard at a rather indistinct picture of her on a bicycle. It's her second profile picture where she is on a bicycle. Virgil always rides his bicycle when he goes to see her. I wonder if she has some kind of bike thing going on.

The reason I am spying on Virgil's lover's Facebook page is that I thought she might have blocked me (there was a reason for this other than pure paranoia) so I checked. Obviously I then had to look.

The lesson, I tell myself, is that it is not a competition about who is the coolest. I have humiliated myself. It's not good for self-esteem.

I feel like a big fake, a twat of epic proportions. I am a monster with a towering, fragile ego. I have only myself to blame. The view down is scary. I need something in my life, some kind of achievement of my own to feel good about. I phone Virgil and tell him about the snit although I don't tell him what started it.
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Tuesday, 6 December 2011

Disillusioned

I wonder how Virgil feels about Sarah. Does he miss her when he doesn't see her? How much does he think about her between dates. I'd like to know how the feeling coexists with what he feels about me because I can't imagine it. He's seen only her outside our relationship for the last few months, so (I surmise) he's satisfied and not looking for something more exciting. He says that Sarah has the potential to be a good friend. I am trying to feel pleased about that.

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Sunday, 4 December 2011

Never Leave Me

This morning I wake up at 6am. At 7 I get up and go into the living room to read 'Opening Up'. Douglas, our counsellor, lent it to me. He thinks I might find some helpful advice in it about negotiating open relationships. I had been expressing, with vehemence, my feelings about the book Sarah gave Virgil. Virgil told me afterward that I had looked terrifying.

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Thursday, 1 December 2011

A Proposition

This is the email I wrote to Robert after our last date:


Hi Robert,


I owe you an apology for not helping you out when you confessed to being unable to flirt. It was mean of me. Then again, when a date sits facing you, wearing the shortest of skirts, with her legs wide open, surely she makes up in body language for what she fails to communicate in other ways? How much of an invitation does a pervert need?

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Sunday, 27 November 2011

Out Alone

I dressed up and went alone to the play party but I talked to friends and (disappointingly) did not play. There was a very sexy French woman working in the cloakroom. A mutual friend who Virgil and I topped together not so long ago had told her all about me. I assume that she told her about the topping because of the way Hannah raised her eyebrows when she said 'all' about me. I should have made an overt offer. Instead we chatted. Maybe it would have happened but I got tired and went home. If we meet again I think it is a situation with potential.

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Friday, 25 November 2011

I bore myself but it's not all doom and gloom

We can have an open relationship but only if it's not fun for anyone. The tension starts at least a day before the date, maybe even earlier. I start wondering whether we're going to have sex before the date. I may have mentioned this before, but I always want more sex than Virgil and I keep count.

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Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Hopeless jitters

It's a double date day. Virgil is going out with Sarah to see a show and Robert is coming over here for a dinner. How convenient for the purposes of an open relationship yet how trying. I am at sea. Nerves sit queasily on jealousy. An impending client from hell this afternoon provides another focus of misery. I should not drink coffee on days like this.

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Tuesday, 22 November 2011

Needing or deserving?

Some submissives are able to say that they deserve a beating. I envy them. It probably helps them get what they want. All I know is that, whatever my behaviour has been like (frequently lacking), I am often in need of a beating. Whether I deserve it or not I cannot judge. Although being spanked, flogged, caned and so on is one of my favourite things ever I'd much rather pretend not to enjoy it (at first).

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Sunday, 20 November 2011

News

Tempting as it is to delete the last few postings, I am going to leave them up for posterity and move on. My inner grouch protests but I am feeling a bit better. Fragile but stronger, happier and more positive.

I have a safety-valve: I asked Virgil whether he would be prepared to put our open relationship aside for a month or two if it all got too much. I explained that at the moment trying to change relationship, career and self (while organising a large sex party) feels overwhelming and I don't know how I am going to manage it all in time.

He said yes he would be prepared to do that. I don't think I will ask for it but knowing that he would really helps. It makes me feel like I have some choice.

And I have given notice in one of my jobs, which feels great.
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Monday, 14 November 2011

What is jealousy?

Well, since I am so hopelessly in the zone tonight, I am going to try to define what my jealousy is about.

1. some of my jealousy is undoubtedly ENVY. Specifically, I am envious that Virgil is playing d/s games with other people and not with me.

2. I am a COMPETITIVE NIGHTMARE. Virgil seems to attract more people than I do. That is so annoying...  and what if they are more attractive, cooler or simply more interesting than me?

3. SCARCITY: I worry that there will not be enough sex left for me when he has finished having sex with other people.

4... is a fear of feeling left out while other people have fun without me.

I do not worry that Virgil does not love me. I think he really does. I think part of my awful behaviour is that I've been testing him, and he hasn't disappointed. However, INSECURITY hangs around like a bad smell in our relationship because I feel that I am too dependent on it.

Sometimes I would give anything for the age gap to be reversed in our relationship. Being a 40-year-old woman with a 33-year-old man is not easy. It doesn't matter how youthful I look.

Oh, here's another one: I am ASHAMED of my jealousy and all the negative hurt and angry feelings that I have been having.
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Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

I am totally furious but in a very numb way. Much slamming doors and shouting earlier. I feel as though I will never feel hungry or sleepy again, anything except for pissed off. I am positively humming, thrumming, throbbing with bad feeling. I can't cry or do anything.

Even though it's 8.45, Virgil is trying to go to sleep. This makes me furious.

We were trying to talk but it just went wrong. We were talking at cross purposes and had only bad things to say about each other somehow. I don't understand what is going on. I just get so angry. Nothing can get in or out.

I cannot make sense of this tonight.

I said, Yes we can talk. Tell me all the things you need to tell me. I can't ask because I am afraid that the answers will upset me. He says, you aren't interested in what I'm doing. I can't talk to you. You don't ask. I say, Meet me in the middle then. Don't expect me to suddenly have loads of questions for you. I've already asked them. I already know quite a lot about Sarah, for example. He asks me to tell him what I know, which makes me angry because repeating them is like sticking pins into myself and why would I want to do that? It just feels so raw and painful, every bit of it. I am being dragged kicking and screaming...

I want to scream and throw things and cry and make up with him and talk until sunrise but there is nothing I can do. He won't do it and I can't make him.

I sit in the living room and Google 'open relationship'. It takes me to a page on managing jealousy and I read it through twice.

Virgil is probably asleep now, with the door open, which I have not allowed him to shut. Maybe even the light on. I don't go and look. I'm going to stay here and read about jealousy in open relationships and hope that there will be some light at the end of the tunnel.

What's my trigger? It's mostly about him being intimate with other people. Feelings always come in to it where he's concerned and I'm jealous about him having feelings for other people. I'm not jealous of his friendships, though, just his lovers. Another factor is that my own desire to have sex with other people is motivated partly by a feeling of having not enough sex in our relationship. This is called an economy of scarcity, apparently.

Reading about other people's problems and the solutions they find to deal with them is making me feel a bit better. I have to find a way to put down my anger and jealousy and pain. It is only me that is holding on to it. Nobody is making me do this but myself. I'm going to go and find the Ethical Slut and read it with a cup of herbal tea and try to calm down a bit more.

I'm fucking sick of how much time and energy this is taking. I want to see other people and do other things, forget about it for a bit and have fun. At the same time, it is all I can think about.
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Date

The Ethical Slut says that you might find it helpful to keep a notebook in which you just write FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK when your open relationship is doing your head in and that's ok. Maybe I'm not a totally fuck-up. I'd quite like to have a room to go to where I can scream it as loudly as possible and beat my hands against a soft wall. Oh hang on, such rooms do exist and I'd rather not.

I went on a date with someone yesterday. I didn't mention it earlier because I hadn't posted for days and there were so many other things to write about.

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Sunday, 13 November 2011

Collision course


We’re talking about anger. Virgil says he feels the anger I’m communicating is a step back but I think it’s progress. I say, At least it’s honest anger. At least I’m saying ‘I feel angry and it’s because…’ rather than shouting at you about trivial things.

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Co-writers


Working together is so fucking hard sometimes. Sitting in a café over breakfast, my pledge not to raise my voice at Virgil goes out of the window. He accuses me of losing my temper. I assure him I haven’t but don’t lower my voice.

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Clarity


I realised something a few days ago and felt happier than I’d done for ages: that my jealousy extends far beyond Virgil having lovers. I actually resent him having any good thing in his life that doesn’t involve me.

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Monday, 7 November 2011

Break-up date

Instead of feeling blue that Virgil is out on another date with Sarah tonight I am mostly feeling sorry for Michel. I just called things off with him.

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We Believe In Joni

Last night we spent an entire hour close together. There was no tension. My head was on Virgil's shoulder. He leaned against me. We held hands. We barely moved but we pulsed against each other. We didn't say one word because we were listening to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5782PQO5is
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Sunday, 6 November 2011

Hell Bent

Came home from work last night knowing that Virgil was off on a date. He had been too quiet - no Facebook or Twitter activity, no texts or emails. There is no privacy these days. The flat was empty. I swallowed, got ready for bed, read Feel The Fear... as though my life depended on it.

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Saturday, 5 November 2011

I shallt not

Continue to feel very dull. I was insomniac last night for several hours and then had restless dreams until the morning. Virgil was awake some of the night too, cross with me for being restless. In the end I read from Feel The Fear... and told myself: 'I can handle it', and 'Don't take things too seriously'. It's all good advice. I almost don't care anymore. Lighten up, Harlot!

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Friday, 4 November 2011

Queen of Passive Aggression

We just came back from our third relationship counselling session. I feel rather dull. I had thought it went all right - not quite what we had anticipated but better than the week before when I basically just vented about my fear of being cuckolded (although in retrospect getting out all that bile was actually a quite useful - and I don't know if I would have been able to say it outside a session).

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Thursday, 3 November 2011

I want you just because I can?

Having finally had sex with someone else other than Virgil last week, I am in two minds about whether I want to see Michel again. I feel guilty about this. In the meantime he sends me affectionate texts and emails. I think he's going to get hurt.

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Sick thoughts

Ill. I have lost my voice, possibly due to an extra-loud rendition of Love Shack at a karaoke party. However, it happened, writing is better than talking at the moment. Virgil is ill too with a similar thing. Man flu, I believe his variant of it is called. We both look and smell awful, haven't washed for days. I think smelling bad is a side-effect of being ill. The heroic amounts of vitamin C I have been taking haven't helped but Virgil stinks too and all he takes is Lemsip and Ribena.

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Saturday, 29 October 2011

Preserved

My skin is soft and smooth. I don't have stretchmarks and my vagina has not been distended or torn by birth. There are no caesarean scars on my stomach. My breasts don't look so very different from when I was a teenager. I have never lactated and no infant mouths have pulled on my nipples. A few thread veins swirl on my left thigh but you have to look closely. With age and exercise I have become more muscular and sinewy but no bigger overall.

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Friday, 28 October 2011

Milestone

Finally I have had sex with someone else. An almost-totally solo adventure.

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Wednesday, 26 October 2011

Delusions

Things continue very sweet and loving between me and Virgil. He is very affectionate and thoughtful. We don't bicker. Declarations of love are up. One could think of an open relationship as merely the price for his happiness and this amiability. It doesn't stand up to any kind of close examination, this thought, but I think it anyway.

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Options

I have started to count the days, the days since we had sex, that is, not the days until anything. Virgil is not to be pestered for sex this whole week. He has a big thing coming up this weekend and must spend all his energy preparing for that. He knows and I know.

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Monday, 24 October 2011

Not safe to leave

The less safe my relationship feels, the less I'm satisfied with it, the less I want to venture outside it. I sit in and fume, hating the dusty, cramped hovel it has become but not wanting to leave it either. Maybe I'm afraid that only my presence in it is keeping it together, that if I go out all there might be to come back to is a pile of straw.

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Sunday, 23 October 2011

Dream

He came home at 5 and was as quiet as a mouse. Even so I had woken up, alert to the familiar tap of his shoes. We hugged in the hall. Then we curled up and went back to sleep. It took me a long time. I had to get up at 7. I thought about feeling resentful.

I dream that I am losing Virgil. We're supposed to be together but whenever I look around he's wandered off with other people. He's slipping away from me. I can't control my temper and he no longer wants to be around me. He sees my fear of his leaving in my face. He tells me that I should watch out because now he can go round to Sarah's and fuck her whenever I'm nasty to him. I hit him twice in the face hard and know that I have crossed a line.

I wake up and feel so relieved. What would the woman I want to be do?
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Saturday, 22 October 2011

I Went Out

Fake it til you make it is a motto of Virgil's. Tonight I managed to do so. I did go out and I did enjoy myself seeing friends and some unexpected old faces. It was much more enjoyable than I thought it was going to be. Now I'm back home and although it's only eleven o'clock and... no, fuck it and goddamn it I really don't want to think about what Virgil might be doing now. So I just won't think.
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Parched

My jealousy is like a desert. Every drop of love Virgil gives me gets swallowed up and is gone. There simply cannot be enough love. I ache inside. Can I do this? If I can't, what will happen?

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Friday, 21 October 2011

Corrections

I'm ashamed of the nasty, mean, childish sentiments dribbled out in my last blog entry but I won't edit it. It can stand as testimony to the corrupting power of jealousy on one's better self.

Time to grow up a git, I mean, a bit...

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Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Sandy Eyes

It has been a bad night for sleep.

Virgil had a date yesterday, with the woman he seduced in our flat when I was away. Ava was supposed to be taking my mind of it but she bailed, with a migraine. She didn't know that was my ulterior motive for seeing her so I couldn't complain, just told her to get well soon with probably about as much honesty as with which she told me that she had a migraine.

It was too late to arrange anything else so I decided to go with it, sit with it, see how it felt. He was gone when I got home. I was worried about how slowly the time would go but the evening passed reasonably. I wasn't exactly leaping around with glee, but I was ok. I worked on my Halloween costume and practised white-face make-up. Healthy food slow-cooked on the stove. Admin. I tried not to think about what they were doing.

Having heard about its open-relationship subject matter, I watched half of Bob & Carol & Ted and Alice. Then I realised that it was after midnight. I had mentally prepared myself for Virgil coming in late and decided that it would be better to be asleep when that happened. So after a bit of reading in bed (still not tired), I put on precautionary earplugs and an eyemask. I wondered what I would look like to Virgil when he finally did come back.

I lay in the total dark hearing rain on the windows. I wondered about Virgil cycling in the rain. Earplugs were a bad idea. They let just enough sound in to be distracting. Then, after about ten minutes, he did come in. He was feeling affectionate. He wanted to talk and cuddle and told me how sorry he was that Ava had cancelled. He smelled alien, of cigarettes and more. I told him and he said that was weird because the date he had been with smoked but hadn't smoked with him. But I could smell her all over him.

I said, Something you should know about me is that I have an excellent sense of smell, and how could you think I would be ok with cuddling you while you smell like this? He said he had thought of washing when he came in but had got distracted and forgotten. Then he said sorry for being so thoughtless. He went off to the bathroom and I heard him splashing around. When he came back he smelled more like himself but he hadn't done a very good job because the fingertips on his right hand still smelled of her. He asked if he should have washed his hair. He said that would just smell of her flat and dinner.

So thanks, Virgil, for managing against my express wishes to tell me exactly what you did on your date and literally rubbing my nose in your sexual activities. I was upset: I'd been doing quite well and now felt grim (and still feel fairly grim this morning, to be honest). We talked. He comforted me. We cuddled. We didn't row, which is the important thing. But I didn't sleep well either.

I have had a few dates with someone else, but I think I might have blown it - that's a different blog entry. We'll see. I feel like I just have to do this, to persevere with it until I stop feeling jealous. It would help if my own non-monogamous sex life was shaping up in the way Virgil's is. We both recognise this but it's just one of those things. I can hardly expect him to wait until I meet someone first. I should be glad for him, and I suppose I am. I mean, I can't bear to think of him hurt, vulnerable or sad.

Jealousy. I'm jealous of the fact that in spite of the fact that we played yesterday morning (He initiated it, reader. I can have no complaints. He made a big effort to tie me up and please me, first orally and then with his fingers and a vibrator) he refused penetrative sex because he was saving himself for sex with her. More than that, by having an orgasm with me he was preparing himself for sex with her later.

I can't get my head around it. My stupid head. Virgil loves me and he lets me know it. He's making a big effort. We're talking and talking. We have an appointment with a counsellor later today. He's being all kinds of nice and loving at the moment. Our sexual activity levels are higher than they've been for ages.

But then he does something really utterly fuckwitted and thoughtless like getting into bed with me smelling of the sex he's had with another woman and he can't really see that that might not be cool. Would he turn up on a date with someone else smelling of sex with me? Would they like that? (Note to self: ask him that next time.)

He asks me how it's different from him smelling of other women after we've been at a sex party. Just of course, of course it's different. It's not the same thing at all.
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Sunday, 16 October 2011

More Wrong Things

Sitting here on the graveyard shift, it's hard to believe that exactly one week ago I was sobbing in my sister's housemate's bed.

We're still talking and there's a lot more of that to do. We keep finding new things wrong with our relationship. Last night Virgil tells me that my habit of eating his food is a really annoying ongoing issue and I have to stop doing it. You have to stop making me responsible for your food choices, he says. It drives me mad. But I only want a little bit, I protest.

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Tuesday, 11 October 2011

The Pits

I give up on writing well but I still want to write. When the boundaries of your life turn fluid (and not in a good way), a diary will always inject a little solidity into the proceedings. The feeling of agency, even if it's just an illusion.

If a self-pitying wailing meltdown is not to your taste, look away now. If you want to see someone at the end of their tether and acting like a baby, read on. I'm not proud.

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Monday, 10 October 2011

Summit

I am back home, temporarily. That is to say, I slept here last night. Now I am killing time on the sofa, waiting for Virgil to wake up so that we can talk some more. We spent four or five hours yesterday, on the sofa under a blanket, talking about what's gone wrong for each of us and what we need to change in order to try to carry on. Then we went to bed and watched an episode of Breaking Bad and went to sleep, curled up.

There is a lot more still to do. He's still not sure. To be honest, I'm still not sure. I want to save it but I don't know it is reconcilable. At the moment there's a lot of resentment on both sides.

My issues:
Sex. We need to be able talk about it. I am not allowed to initiate sex. Every time I raise it as an issue he attacks me (this has happened periodically for years). This cannot be right? I don't think he puts enough energy and enthusiasm into sex with me. I get jealous when I think that he is more enthused about sex with other people. I also think he has other issues with sex that he won't talk about. It's like an elephant in the room. I know that I haven't always raised it in the right way, and that he feels hurt and undermined. I want to try to do better and change that. From what was said yesterday, I don't know whether he is prepared to try to change this at all.

Outside space. I need to live somewhere with outside space, a balcony at least. I have now lived in Virgil's flat for 18 months. It was only ever supposed to be a temporary arrangement. I am not happy here. This feeds in to the wider issue of...

Compromise, which is that we both have different needs but we should both be willing to try to make things happen for the other person. I now know that I enjoy: theme parks, cigars, five star hotels, the occasional bit of junk food, dressing up, not having a TV, living in a modern apartment, 3D films, ribs and pulled pork (my meat consumption has increased exponentially), Wii (sometimes!), drugs, sex on drugs... I'm sure there are more. Being with Virgil has broadened my experience immeasurably and I am thankful for that but it doesn't feel like a two-way street. He's just not interested in trying new things for my sake. I wouldn't even mind if he'd try them and decide they weren't for him but it's not even that. He's single-minded and it's his way or do your own thing. Independence and doing my own thing is fine, but it's also fucking rude at times, like for example at a sex party where he's just not interested in anyone you point out, not even willing to try.

Now I'm getting angry again. There's too much to write. There are too many things. We talked endlessly about open relationships and what he 'needs' - which seems to come down to being able to have sex with other people in our bed. I am really against this. It feels like an invasion of my intimate space. It's something that he just won't put down. He won't see my side of it or respect my feelings about this. While we argue it starts to seem so surreal and meaningless. But I cannot agree to it - the idea makes me very unhappy. How can I agree to something that makes me feel like that? I say that I am willing to review it in the future but that I want to feel more comfortable and right about the open relationship that we do have. He looks furious. I wonder if this is worth it at all.

He seems different. Not as lovable. Nastier and resentful.
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Sunday, 9 October 2011

Plate tectonics

How can you be going along, knowing that you have your issues but that you love each other, one day, and single the next? How must it feel for people who come home to find a letter and no one there? One day you're telling people about him and that although you have your issues it's a good relationship. A day later you split up and move out. You hadn't even known that you were going to do it but the pressures must have been building up underground because suddenly you are both saying things and suddenly things are moving very fast indeed.

Virgil and I didn't touch on our last night in bed together. I came home from work at 1.30 and he was already asleep, just a smell of cigar smoke to tell me how he'd spent his evening. I edged in to my side of the bed, careful not to touch him, and lay on my side facing away. I couldn't bring myself to touch him although on some level I wanted to. I don't know whether he woke up but he turned and I felt the small of his back briefly touch mine and knew that he wasn't going to curl up against me, which is what he used to do.

We used to call it the octopus of love the way we would lie entwined, with two bodies joined and eight arms and legs. I'd never believed you could love anyone as strongly as I loved Virgil back in the day. We slept like that for ages. I really couldn't see it ending.



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Hope and Self Hatred

When I'm sad and alone I sleep with the light on, even though I know it doesn't make for a good night's sleep. I don't know why I do it but there it is.

In the end I slept quite well. I woke at 5 and lay in the dark, waiting to feel sadness. I thought, Oh God, another 10 hours until I meet Virgil to talk. So I made tea and read a book about trees until I feel asleep again and then I slept until 8.30. 

Killing time and thinking of my priorities, I look for flatshares and part-time jobs. I glance briefly at Facebook and OkCupid to see if anything interesting is happening. It's not, and it makes me think that I will have to separate from Virgil on these forums too and how hard that will be. These aren't good thoughts. I don't know how to not think about these things. Inevitably tears come and that crumpling-in-on-itself body ache. 

I have a ridiculous, hateful hope that he will say come back home and let's try again, but I don't think he will. I wish I didn't have this hope. I think about how I don't want the petty arguments and tensions either. We lost each other at some point. Avoiding conflict, we must have stopped being honest and drifted. Even though we were still together we weren't talking, telling each other the important things. I don't know what's been going on in his head. There's so much I hadn't told him until yesterday, about being angry with him.

If I love him why can't I be respectful of him, kind and nice to him. Why am I such a fucking monster?

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Saturday, 8 October 2011

Break Up Day

It's five months since my last blog post. I'm sitting on the sofa in my sister's living room. My lovely sister, who could only confide in me one month after the abortion that she had last year and was so unhappy about. This morning when Virgil shouted that he didn't want our relationship anymore, that was it, it was finished and I should get out, I knew I had to go. I picked up my phone and thought about who to ask for help.

I couldn't think of any friends who I was prepared to call on in such a situation (Hello, it's me. How are you? Not good actually. I haven't been in touch for ages but now I need to come and stay with you and I'm very sad and won't be any fun to be around - is that alright?). Family is different. I phoned my sister and said pretty much that and she said, Fine,  no problem, I'll come and pick you up and you can stay as long as you need to. Amazing. Thank you, Gabi.

She's meditating now and then my mum's coming over for the evening, so it'll be three of us. More explanations. I don't really want to see anyone, but it's probably better than being alone because that's when grief rips through me.

My mantra for today is: Don't think about it. Just don't think. Only focus on right now, not about what's going to happen in the near future or how your life will change. That's how I packed some things and got out of the flat and into the car without crying. Virgil had gone out. I had asked him to go and give me the space to collect my stuff and leave. He was shocked that I had made arrangements so quickly but I said that if he stood by his remarks then he was getting no more than what he asked for. Once the decision is made there's nothing to say. I can't cope with contact. Being kind and sympathetic with each other makes it more painful. I didn't want to touch him or talk to him.

I don't particularly want to talk unless it's to make up and get back together to try again. There may be time in the future for a relationship debrief where we can try to be friends and comfort each other and say that it was best that we split up. I'm nursing a hope that tomorrow when we meet up to talk we will make up, and that's a chance I'll take because I really wanted this relationship to work. I really wanted to be family with Virgil and spend our lives together. But my intuition is that tomorrow he will wake and feel sad but know in his heart that splitting up is the right thing to do. That's the feeling I had when my last relationship finished.

Before he left we stood in the hall and held each other and I recapitulated and said to him: Please don't go. I still want you. I've never loved anyone like I've loved you, and my heart is breaking. Then someone in a yellow jacket saying they were a BT engineer buzzed the intercom to be let in and while I was distracted by that and the decision not to let him in, Virgil left and I heard his boots clicking down the hall.

I'm not the victim here. Don't think for a minute that Virgil's outburst wasn't caused by some very bad behaviour of mine - it was, but my rancour was not without some kind of justification. I was angry that in three days he hadn't emptied the dishwasher. It contained dishes and a load of soggy rice, the remains of a meal he had cooked for a woman he had entertained and had sex with on the sofa while I was away last week. I was complaining bitterly that I didn't think I should be clearing up after him in THIS way. Of course it was my decision to empty the loaded dishwasher at that exact moment. I was upset that he was in bed under the covers, claiming to be too tired to have relationship crisis talks with me. I don't sleep well when I'm upset. I had been awake since 7am. It was now 10.30am. I decided to do some cleaning to kill time and soon discovered the things in the dishwasher. It all blew up from there.

He said he wanted to try to fix things and that he loves me but that it would have to change completely. He told me (correctly) that my behaviour toward him had changed completely over the last year and that my criticism, put downs and rudeness were impossible. He needs us to have an open relationship where I don't explode with jealousy. I don't know if I can do these things, although I know that he deserves to have them. There are things that I am not getting in this relationship - needs of mine not being satisfied - and this is why I am angry, frustrated and jealous. I don't know if we can make it work.

So Virgil's words didn't come out of the blue, it's just that he sounded so very definite, as though internally he had reached a decision and now we had to act. And to be honest, I have had some dark moments recently where I have doubted the rightness of our relationship. So I had to leave, basically because it was Virgil's flat when I moved in to it and now that we're splitting up I'm the one who has to go. I didn't much like it anyway, which was part of the problem.

I think I knew before today that this was going to happen but it feels like a giant hand has reached in and pulled me out of my life.
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Monday, 30 May 2011

Prisoner

Sex is an escape from anger and boredom and I don't have a problem with that. Restless. I'm not hungry. Only sex will take my mind off my mood. While envious of my shrinking waistline, Virgil is utterly unhelpful, and I do have a problem with that.

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Wednesday, 25 May 2011

Grouch

A really very sweet text from Arthur last night. Apparently he enjoyed our conversation very much and thinks there is so much more to say. Now I feel like a curmudgeon. Well, yes!, we can have more conversation. I reckon I'd even meet for a coffee and the real life acid test.

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Tuesday, 24 May 2011

Getting Aural

Davy, the New Boy from OkCupid, called. We talked for half an hour but there wasn't much aural chemistry. His voice was a bit nasal and there was something in the cadence that was anti-sexual. I don't think it worked for him either. Next time I call someone the New Boy it'll be on the basis of a lot more than just a few emails.

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A Talk With My Ex

I was just getting home from the community garden. Gardening therapy had been partially successful. I watered the beds for two hours while thinking of things I could have said better at the dreaded meeting. I wish it were possible to have parts of one's mind erased at times like these. I'm bored of my own thoughts. Then my ex-girlfriend Beth called.

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Monday, 23 May 2011

Upshot

I had the dreaded meeting and it was about as bad as it could have been. I don't know why some people think it is more ethical to make you wait three days in unpleasant anticipation and make you go to them just so that they can give you a month's notice in person rather than sending an email. It reminds me that even the most heinous bastards tend to think they inhabit the moral high ground.

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New Boy

OkCupid has finally turned up someone of interest. Davy and I have already swapped emails and pictures and this morning I suggested a phone conversation as the next logical step. Virgil saw me writing to him yesterday. Apparently I looked up guiltily and closed loads of windows as he came to sit down with me. First I said that I wasn't doing anything. Then I admitted that I was. Virgil said: "You would have gone ballistic if you had caught me writing to someone on OkCupid in the living room while you were there."
"Only if you told me about it," I replied. "I couldn't go ballistic if I didn't know."

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Penthouse

Daniel and his wife are happily married. They don't have sex. She's just not interested. Weekends are family time but from Monday to Friday he can do what he wants. So what Daniel does of a Friday night is this: he hires out a penthouse suite at a central London hotel and recruits a mixture of friends, acquaintances and internet swingers to come and play. Having provided the venue he's sure to get some. Daniel is a horny devil. He's a friendly guy too, and interesting, but you get the feeling that he would fuck a hole in the wall if someone would just stick some lube around it.

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Horrible day

Unless you've had a messy weekend, Mondays are crap days off, especially when you have a dreaded meeting to go to. Days off are supposed to be fun. Mondays are nothing days when you just feel that you've got to do admin or useful things. There's nothing festive or celebratory or special about it at all.

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Saturday, 21 May 2011

Another Ex

An ex-shag wrote to me. I found the email by chance when I logged in to a mostly retired account.

"How's things stranger? [I last saw Adrian about 4 years ago so fair enough]. I was wandering through AFF and stumbled across your profile..." 


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Ex

My ex-girlfriend called a few days ago in response to an email I wrote her. I was at the rag and it was in a busy period so I couldn't talk. The number on my screen said 'Blocked,' and over the background noise I didn't recognise her voice immediately.

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Tuesday, 17 May 2011

NSFW

Oh fucking hell, the stress of things being various. One of the designers at work just looked over my shoulder and asked me what the name of our sex party means. I told him that I would kill him if he looked it up but he just gave me a scurrilous grin. Now he's off home to find out, the firewall at work having prevented him from doing so already. Hopefully he'll forget, get distracted on the way home and be unable to remember the name he saw over my shoulder as I worked on something that was definitely NSFW. The thought of what might happen next makes me extremely uneasy.

For some time my life has been a juggling act between three distinct and (many would say) incompatible spheres. I organise an arty sex party for no money at all. At other times I doze my way through well-paid but glacial nightshifts on a scandalous rag. Finally, I also work in the field of, well... I'm not saying.

I operate with a sense of mild anxiety should any of the three parts of my life meet each other. It's like a Wenn diagram. My clients must know nothing of the other two sections; my employer may know about my clients but certainly not about the parties I organise; friends and contacts from the parties, once I trust them, get to know about the other things I do, although working for the rag gets me raised eyebrows from the more right-on of my circle.

I got sloppy and now I wonder what will happen. This could be the most enormous piece of gossip about me, or maybe Jonathan could just keep his trap shut...

And in case you were wondering, I don't tell the people I know about this blog.

Am I the most secretive person in the world?
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Sunday, 27 March 2011

Apparently Everyone is on OKCupid

But I haven't run in to them yet and I'm happy to stay anonymous. I've spent the last few days tinkering around and filling in bits of my profile. I'm a secretive fucker. I don't want people I know reading my profile (at least until it's good).

The epiphany of the username was a false summit. I am now dithering my way through the boxes it asks me to fill in about myself. When I run out of things to put in lists I go and look at other people's profiles for inspiration. I can never remember back past the last few books I've read. I can't tell you what food I like unless I've eaten it very recently. Deep down I think lists are bullshit. I prefer answering questions.

Name six things you can't do without: I say coffee, and immediately start getting pointed towards people who say they can't do without coffee either. I decide that things like coffee and bicycles won't necessarily score me the connections I crave. Maybe I should put orgies, sound spankings, five star hotels and being cooked for.
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Sunday, 20 March 2011

Alone

Gadzooks, I was jet-lagged. My woeful last posting was, I am convinced, due mostly to the wrong feeling caused by moving too great a distance in too little time. It was less about time difference and more a feeling that my mind and body didn't fit together properly.

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Friday, 25 February 2011

Am I Depressed?

Today Stan, my life coach (ahem), asks me if I am depressed.

"Not in the way that I was in my '20s," I reply. "Honestly, I've known depression and I don't feel sad like that, but I've no enthusiasm for anything, I feel physically exhausted and I just don't know where to start on everything that feels wrong at the moment."

I suppose that could be depression.

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Monday, 7 February 2011

A Double Date Looms

We have a date with Lou and her boyfriend Will this week. It's a dinner and sex, or food and fucking if you prefer, and it's at our house so it's definitely going to happen. Last time Will's work schedule interfered and we had to leave after dinner so that he could get up early the next day. Lou was very sweet in her disappointment but Will was adamant.

She's driving this scenario. It's usually one person more than the other. That night she looked like a Goth princess, having made great effort with her appearance, cleaned their home to an almost Spartan tidiness and cooked roast lamb with mint sauce for everyone. Will sat awkwardly in his chair and did not exactly spring up to welcome us. He's not sophisticated but he's a nice guy, just shy and probably shouldn't have gotten stoned before we arrived. He's got a very nice body. I'd like to know what would unlock him.

So we were not entirely convinced by the work excuse and I suspect this date is make or break for us as a foursome.
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Friday, 4 February 2011

Sugar high

Happy people make me cross but to be honest, so does almost everything tonight. It might have something to do with tiredness or eating too many cakes and chocolates.

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Saturday, 29 January 2011

Neighbours

I have a sexy neighbour. I noted his hotness instantly which doesn't happen to me very often. I have seen him around in the past from a distance. We spoke briefly in the bike room yesterday. It was in the morning and we were both getting our bikes. He asked if I had far to cycle. I replied not at all which was why I was extremely late (and felt glad that I didn't look quite as scruffy as usual that day). I then asked him whether he had far to go and he said only to Kings Cross but he smiled when he could have looked outraged at the imposition.

This is not exactly flirtation but it is extremely friendly considering where we live. Our block is full of people who don't talk to each other. It's a transient rental population so nobody bothers. My handsome German neighbour could be living on any of three other floors. I don't even know his name although I think I could recognise his bike.
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Wednesday, 26 January 2011

A site visit to a swingers' club

The entrance to Fun For Swingers is obscured by the parked vehicles of the other businesses in the industrial estate. Then we see the LEDs spelling out its name in the blacked-out window. There's an A-frame sign outside too saying 'SWINGERS'. Jenny assures us that at weekends parking's not a problem and that in this area no one cares what you do.

"It's full of arty types," she says. I wonder if the arty types would welcome a local arty sexy party. Why are arty types so unhedonistic about sex?

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Sunday, 23 January 2011

Aftermath

It doesn't matter that the sight of Virgil getting pleasured by or fucking another woman turns me on; the thought that he might be right now having sex with someone without me makes me want to shout and throw things. I had a few moments like that yesterday afternoon and my eyes felt hot. Then I realised that there was a fair chance that his lunch with Hazel hadn't ended in bed. Virgil likes the seduction part of a fling and won't usually rush things. The uncertainty calmed me.

I wondered what it would be like to come home last night but my bad mood had gone by the time I walked through the door. Virgil was affectionate and solicitous. He didn't ask about how I had behaved earlier and I didn't ask about his lunch. We slept wrapped around each other and this morning made love.
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Saturday, 22 January 2011

Action stations

With the help of my sister-in-law and in recognition of the stew I am in about my career, I have been goal mapping. It works on the principle that you visualise the kind of life that you want to have and make a plan for how you're going to get there. Then by looking each morning at a self-made chart of pictures and words describing goals you set for yourself you basically reprogramme your brain and you're off. I am suspicious but curious and willing to try.


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Huff

I have my best thoughts on the move, rarely at my laptop. I consider starting a Twitter diary but the joy of that medium escapes me. I resolve to write a very little bit, every day, while things are fresh in my mind so let's start with this:

It's Saturday so I am about to go to work. I could be mistaken but I suspect that Virgil is getting ready for a date. He is meeting someone for lunch. He has shaved and washed his hair and is asking for his blue cardigan. A chance glimpse of his phone earlier told me that the lunch is with Hazel. We played with her a party not so long ago. Afterwards she expressed enthusiasm for another round. I like Hazel, who is an intellectual poly political type, but declined the invitation. She is pretty in a classical way, like an old English painting, a bit soft at the edges and is clever rather than sexy. I think my lack of interest might have been the green light for Virgil, who has a special thing for mostly lesbians. Hazel's poly credentials are impeccable at any rate. 

The private knowledge makes me grumpy and he is unsettled. He wants to know if he is being ignored. I say that I am simply thinking and (when pressed) that they are neither good nor bad thoughts, but that I don't need to discuss them. I am just busy. I half-heartedly wish him a nice day. He leaves. I stew at my laptop. 

I feel hateful but determined to sit this huff out without throwing things or saying anything I'll regret. I don't want to have a discussion about open relationships. I just want Virgil to go the fuck out and get on with it... and then I will see how I feel. The secrecy, if such as thing is possible when two people share a one-bedroom flat and iPhones display unopened text messages to catch the unguarded eye, is at my request. I'm still in favour of a 'don't ask don't tell policy', even if it's less evolved.

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Saturday, 8 January 2011

Fear

We had a horrible argument about sex today in which I found myself repeating things my ex said to me when we were arguing about sex.

Virgil lacks passion recently and I miss the kind of heated, anything-goes love we used to make. I don't understand why he can want to go down on me and not want me to reciprocate or to fuck. I couldn't stop myself, although I worry that my outburst was damaging and pointless. Virgil looked hurt, furious and somehow trapped.

Sex arguments with my ex punctuated much of our 3 1/2 year relationship. My lack of desire became the expression of my faltering affection. I am afraid that Virgil is falling out of love with me. I think I am probably experiencing the same feelings of futility and powerlessness that she felt.

How do people with problems with sex talk about them without compounding the situation?

I want to fall more in love, to be able to say that we are 'more in love than ever'. Instead I feel that we are loving on thin ice.
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Shit or get off the pot

Crashing desultoriness for weeks. I have not even been able to write it down.

Here are some of the New Year's resolutions I should make:

either commit to my work or stop doing it but end this moping about and indecision
therefore probably decide what kind of a new career I want to have
become more entrepreneurial and creative
find a new money job or end the need to have one
move house (and neighborhood)
stop ruining my relationship
stop complaining
blog more
eat better
have sex with more people
nuture friendships
try to care more about other people
babysit or social contact with at least one niece a week
phone my mum every week
plan my 40th birthday so-called celebrations
return to exercise
count my blessings more often
learn to knit

It's exhausting. This is why I don't make New Year's resolutions.
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