Quest for the Holy Grail

The holy grail of human existance is predicated on the fact that, as John Donne was perspicacious to point out, no man is an island. Or woman for that matter. While Harriet Harman gets her knickers in a twist over the differences between the sexes (she seems to feel there are none, just a male conspiracy to "keep the little woman down"), I think more of the similarities, or at least, the complementariness of the sexes. 

Whilst I leave dissection of Harman's arrant (and dangerous) nonsense to others to complete, (Ms R for instance has a few, sharp words to say on the matter), the subject of today's rather wistful post is the need to find that other, complementary person - the one that fills the physical and emotional void at the centre of each of us. While women seek to fill the void more literally than men, metaphorically the need is the same in us all. Someone who fulfills us physically, who takes care of us emotionally, who gives and accepts our touch, affection, passion and lust. Who cares for us, even we care for them. Maybe the need to nuture is stronger in women, but is it not balanced in our lovers by an equivalent desire to protect? 

Yet the more we reach for this ideal, total, all-encompassing 'other', the more of a mirage the existance of such an individual seems. For whilst we dream of Gods and Goddesses to place on pedastals, we are each of us aware of our own mortal failings. While we have a tendancy to expect perfection in others, we are only too aware of our own feet of clay.

Experience tells us that we will never find all we want and need in one person. But hope springs eternal, or else we make bitter compromises, risking stability for danger, family for fun. We compare and contrast, are kind and cruel at the toss of a coin, each of us at times taking turns to be pursued and pursuer, so rarely the two roles combining in serendipitious fate. So the chase goes on - we are careless that we are the object of someone obsession, whilst the object of our own continues their own life mostly oblivious to us. Or you share an obsession, but its pointless, cos its not going anywhere - its as much of a mirage as a Platonic ideal (as opposed to platonic - if I'm not getting my philosophical constructs confused and generally talking out of my arse. If I am, blame the Kronenbourg).

So what is the answer to life, the universe and everything? Is it 42 married lovers, in the faint hope that if you don't spend too long with any of them, you can maintain some shreds of emotional detachment, and kid yourself that it isn't a synonym for emotional emptiness? Or do you pursue the hunt for the "one, true other", and spend the majority of your evenings sobbing into the sofa? Or do you just marry the nearest person, and try to forget you ever had needs and hopes beyond Tesco and the school run? Christ I'm depressed! That's what seeing K today does for me. That and the fact that I haven't seen D for a week and won't for another two. My efforts at pretending to myself that I'm not slightly pining are wearing thin. 

The Past, The Present

Today started like the last few, with a steely determination to finish the interminable decorating, which I have. Give it another few hours for the gloss to really dry before I rip off the masking tape and I can reassemble my living room. Rehanging the curtains was a relief and the sofa covers are washed, clean and replaced. It won't be long before my house will be my home again - new, improved, lonely?

I met K for lunch today. Ostensibly to transfer temporary ownership of the paint stripping heat gun, but also to chat, to explore. I had no concerns about the meeting - he did. He confessed to nervous shaking. But he looked good. Losing nearly 3 stone suits him and the antidepressants seem to be kicking in. He's more positive, more relaxed, more like his old self.

And it is my turn to be depressed. I realised that I do miss him a fair bit. I certainly miss his cooking; I think I'm getting scurvy. Most of all, I miss the life we should have had together. Before his first visit to the counsellor, he canvassed his ex-wife for her opinions on how he was to live with, which he repeated to me. It just confirmed to me that we should never have got together in the first place - she remembers him as social, fun to be with, sulks that lasted no more than an afternoon. Why did I get the rough end of the deal - what is it with me? Perhaps now he'll go back to the happy person he used to be, before I screwed up his life. Oh I know this is negative thinking, but part of me wishes that I had some security, some certainty, something reliable.

Tonight I had a ticket to go the Barbican to hear Midori play the Britten Violin Concerto. I had been looking forward to this hugely - I booked it up the weekend K left. When I mentioned this to him this afternoon, he offered to come with me, and started complicating the simple pleasure I was looking forward to. In the end, we decided that he shouldn't come, but it still took the edge off the whole experience. Rather than looking on it as an adventure, I was just watching the couples, wondering I would ever be one of them, in a happy, stable way. Crap. There is a theme - see/speak to K and I'm down afterwards. Despite the fact Midori was breathtaking.

The Aftermath

So, the deed is done, I am now officially single. K and his stuff have gone, leaving behind a beautiful letter, a huge bunch of flowers and the crap furniture. Amazing; he's had 10 years to buy me flowers, why wait til the morning I throw his arse out?

I can't quite shake the suspicion that as soon as I have the house straight and everything sorted, I'll think, "Hmm, that's better, now when will K be home to see it all?" I'll miss his smile, but I've missed that for ages now. Part of me thinks I'm being incredibly selfish, immature and unrealistic to expect a relationship where we were both happy. From the example of my parents' marriage, judged a "success" by society simply due to its length, I learnt that I never wanted to spend my adult years in the poisonous atmosphere of the silent war, like I had my childhood. But that's often where we ended up, unless I folded.

Apart from the sly attempts to meet women off the Internet  (and lie about it), the passive aggressive silences and the occasions when the aggression had nothing passive about it, it was the emotional manipulation that wore me down. Strangely, it was often around food. K had very definite ideas about the purchase, the preparation, the cooking, the time and location of eating and the clearing up afterwards. Neither I nor the off-spring were that fanatical in our beliefs about any of it, so to keep the peace, we'd go with the flow, mostly.

But it was extremely difficult to point out the difference between the reasonableness of the request (can someone wash up afterwards) and the unreasonableness of the full-on sulk if he didn't immediately get his own way. Sometimes people get phone calls straight after dinner, and so don't start the washing up for an hour or two. That shouldn't be an "issue" but it always was. It was so difficult to point out that there was nothing wrong with requesting that we usually eat early due to his work schedule, but there is something wrong when no-one dares have a life or arrange anything after work for fear of upsetting his cooking schedule. Try to make the point, and you are bombarded with the reasons that his request is reasonable, and it is. What's not reasonable is a 4 day period of only speaking to answer questions with a grunt because someone forgot to mention they'd eaten the last of the bran-flakes, despite there being a cupboard full of other cereal. Or something equally petty., but he could never see that.

So I was left with the choice of continually rowing over petty, nonsensical trivia, or not sweating the small stuff and giving in. The problem was that the expectation became set that emotional manipulation works, and the situations in which it was deployed spread and spread. Thursday night, we had the classic, "Either you share a bed with me tonight, or you'd better look after my sleeping pills for me." No direct threats to kill himself, just the wild implication in the hope that emotional blackmail would get me onto the same mattress as him once last time. The joke is that after Monday's heart scare, I'd promised to spend one last night, just cuddling. I don't mind doing something freely offered - I object strongly into being manoeuvred into the same thing. "This - is precisely why you're moving out on Saturday." I tartly informed him.

Waiting...

In deference to the current situation, I didn't stay away the night before today's monthly meeting that has become a bit of a regular fixture, but got up at sparrow's fart to drive there instead. D was there, of course, and the challenge of touching each other with a room full of potential witnesses was the name of the game. On a tour of a new facility, he managed to sidle up behind me, and I rubbed myself against him in passing a couple of times. The most fun was in the lift - squashed in at the back gave us 8 floors-worth of opportunity to touch, rub and hold hands.... childish, but amusing.

However, his faced dropped when I mentioned that I have tomorrow booked off. Its the final packing for K & I said I'd help out. But next week, I will be free to pursue this affair to my heart's content. I hope I have more sense than to sit around and wait for opportunities to do just that - but if the alternative is "speed-dating", I may take up hermitry full time.

You must be joking. Right?

Just when you think everything is sorted....along comes fate. I got home this evening to a bizarrely quiet house. It was hard initially to say what was wrong or what was out of place - the living room is full of half-filled boxes after all. But K's car was there, with no obvious sign of K. He might have been asleep upstairs, but instinct and a quick check showed otherwise. Prowling around, I got alarmed to find his heart-rate monitor abandoned on the sofa, and the empty medipak of single-use patient electrode pads on the window sill confirmed that I really should start considering the possibility I was trying very hard not to.

No answer on his phone, none of his family had heard from him. Just as I was about to wildly accuse them of ganging up to exclude me, he rang the landline. He was in the local hospital, having an ECG, having had palpitations most of the day. Funny how imminent tragedy can focus the mind. I was surprised on the dash to the hospital how concerned I was - despite the cool, bitchy part of me hissing that is was probably a panic attack. But its not - the ECG shows a definite physiological problem. The diagnosis is yet to be finalised, but the most likely outcome is yet more daily tablets to prevent further problems.

He looked so sad and lonely, I just wanted to put my arms around him and tell him it will be ok, that he won't be alone, that I'll look after him. But the cool bitchy part of me knows that once the immediate shock has worn off, the issues will be back and as much as I want to make him happy, I don't want to have sex with him again, and that relatively minor point is nevertheless quite critical in relationships. I told him that he didn't have to move out on Saturday. But when I got back to the hospital with an overnight bag complete with new slippers for him (God bless 24-hour Tescos), he gently reminded me that if it wasn't this week, it would be in 1 month, 2 months' time, and what was the point?

I've realised that I habitually spend the first few years of new relationships focusing on making the other person happy, and that, in itself, is enough to make me happy. However eventually, I notice the person as an individual and not as a container for my attention, tenderness, affection, sexual indulgence, whatever and I stop asking myself what I can do for them, and start wondering what they can do for me. I'm in considerable danger of doing it all over again. I know I can make D happy for a few hours at a time with lashing of attention, flattery, wild sex, concern, etc, and doing that gives me short-term comfort. It saves me from focusing on my own fuck-up of a life for a few hours. Where's that going to leave him though, poor sod?

Thank Feck it's Friday

A busy day today.

I got up early to beat D into the office to leave him a card and a pressie for his birthday over the coming weekend. Obviously I had to get in before anyone else or the office feckwit would comment long and loud on why I'd bought D a present, where was his, blah, blah, blah. And what do you buy the married man you've been seeing for only 2 months when you think its probably not just sex but neither of you have explicitly confirmed otherwise? A chocolate sportscar of course - a token of a mid-life crisis from a token of a mid-life crisis!

As we were chatting, I thought I'd better drop in the news about the split from K. He'd gathered something was up and asked me out for a drink after work - conveniently our company still honours the tradition of POETS day. Surreptitious arrangements were made and we convened at a suitably remote hostelry for a pint of shandy. It was a relief to just sit and chat in comfort and relative privacy. When you're in a hotel*, its a wicked shame to waste the bed-time and although you think you remember that this person is someone you could have a conversation with, its nice to have it confirmed. After we finished our pints, he suggested we go for a "walk in the country". Too bloody perishing - we'll go for a drive.

I know you're supposed to find a hidden lovers lane under the cover of darkness, behind high hedges, discreet-like. But hey, I have needs, it was his birthday and the countryside offered nothing but endless open fields. So we pulled onto the verge.

• The thing about which I am most smug: this morning's classy decision to go with the matching knickers on the off-chance I might get some action.
  
• The thing that took me most aback: he said he wanted to arrange a night away next week, and the week after, and the week after that, and the week after that, and the week after that....
  
• The thing that made me most impatient: his repeated fear that I would find someone younger and leave him.
  
• The thing which most made me catch my breath: His admission that as soon as he got near his office this morning, he knew immediately that I'd been there as he could smell my perfume; that he could always smell it for a day after he'd had me.
  
• The thing that was the best: feeling his teeth on my nipples again. It still works.
  
• The thing that was the close second: hearing him gasp as my lips slid over the head of his cock.
  
• 
  

So the day was generally lovely, and then home to K. I made what I thought was a reasonable offer of more cash in order to keep the bedroom furniture. In fact, not all of it, just the one chest of drawers I use. He replied that he wanted it all and felt he was being "done over". This irritated me beyond belief. I've subsidised the git for 10 years on living costs - his quid pro quo was to provide the big ticket items. Anyway, I'm pissed at myself for getting riled, and I'm reminding myself that at least I was smart enough to make sure his name isn't on any of the bills, or it could all be a lot worse. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Roll on Saturday week.

Oh, and even if that trip to Australia is off because I can't afford it, I'm determined that this will be the year I finally do that weekend in Amsterdam, perhaps for my 40th in the summer. I've got my girlfriends lined up to go with me, it could be great!

* Nearly forgot to mention, the incredibly talented Z describes moments in hotel rooms so perfectly here that I find myself screaming, "yes, Yes.... Yes, oh fuck yes, God Yes, OH. GOD. YEEEES!". Its all so true, and wonderfully written.

Maggot or Caterpillar?

Well, its all over, including most of the shouting, with K. He officially moves out next Saturday and the house is being pulled apart and tagged as his or hers. There have been some dicey moments when the threat of a row around who had absolute right to the wok loomed, but we've managed to back away from total insanity. We've even been getting on reasonably well, until he started to try to pin me down to what nights I was eating at what time and I could feel my blood pressure start to rise again.

And I've cried and told him that I'm sad its over. He's found somewhere to rent that is a state at the moment, but hopefully will be tarted up before he moves in. The location is perfect for him and he may even be able to buy it. If I give him a whacking great lump sum for the deposit. Which will sting a bit, but is fair enough. I'd rather see him settled - its one less thing on my conscience.

So I'm now starting to face up to reality of life on my own. I swing from ecstatic to terrified. The sprog is contemplating moving out, so I may have to get in a lodger at some point. Yuck - but perhaps that's too negative. And I have to acknowledge the growing infatuation with D. You know the pathetic thing where you can't settle until you know where they are, but once you do, you're just happy to be sharing the same building with them? Pitiful!

So which am I - a maggot for ending a 10 year relationship, or a caterpillar, about to metamorphosise?

Respite Care

I have made the point, repeatedly and firmly and calmly....and then less calmly and with rising hysteria...that I need some space. So K is going to spend the week with a friend. Except that as I'm away a couple of nights this week, he's threatening to come back on those nights. I've said that as I won't be here, it's no skin off my nose. I could make the point that being somewhere different might allow him to think differently, but I haven't got the energy. I feel sorry for him. I look at him and remember why I fell in love with him, but know that it hasn't gone the way I hoped.

Tomorrow I have the first of a number of two day training courses at another site. Apparently, the woman running it specialises in emotional rape - she ferrets out your mental Achilles heel and sinks her teeth in. Everyone who has done this course has cried...or seen others cry. As many of them are software engineers, we're not talking touchy, feely, in-tune-with-their-feelings types, we are talking taciturn geeks with the depth of a puddle. They have all come back, mentally reprogrammed with mad-eyed zeal to save the world, and become great "leaders" and "communicators". So great timing - my plan is to indulge in a little passive-aggressive silence myself, while ferreting out her emotional weaknesses and exposing them to the harsh light of day. Wish me luck!

But more pleasantly, on the evening in-between, I hope to catch up with an old friend. Every girl needs a good, platonic, honest, male mate who tells it to you straight and he is mine, although we've drifted apart a bit the last six months. Nevertheless, he is someone that within 5 mins of being with, I'm spraying saliva over through laughing so hard. Could be just what the doctor ordered. And if that doesn't fix it, a session has been booked with D for Wednesday night. I sincerely hope that Z is right, and the emotional rollercoaster is on its way up.

Today, Hair Monster is...

This is turning into a bit of a Facebook style status dump, but after yesterday's optimism, today I feel flat, down and slightly tearful. I wasn't this morning; I continued with my enthusiastic desk-tidying fetish and went through the drawers. I got down as far as the Paleolithic period and filled 2 bins with tut, rubbish and old paperwork.

But the early cheerfulness and conscientiousness started to evaporate into edginess. K texted a few times, and I was explicitly forcing myself to expect it to be him each time. And then D rang. As I thought he might. Just to confirm who was where next week. As much as I want to see him, I don't know how to talk to him. My current private life is so big in my head that I worry that one hint of concern from him and I will burst into tears. I don't think that's really what he's bargained for.

Crap, everything is big and heavy and tragic at the moment, and some lighthearted fun could be a good antidote - I just don't know how to get it at the moment. I wonder if WtC is around?

Ch..ch..ch...ch...changes

This is turning into a good year. I've never been one to be afraid of changes, I just don't assume I can inflict or direct change on others. However, the sessions with D and the realisation afterwards that things in my life couldn't continue as before has shaken up my determination not to be unhappy. At the moment, I seem to be stoically bearing my unhappiness as the price of not making anyone else unhappy, specifically K. I told him that I had had enough of living in this atmosphere and refuse to continue to do so. That prompted begging and tears (which isn't great) but he accepts that he needs help, so I accompanied him to the doctors this morning. A short course of anti-depressants and a referral to a counsellor is the outcome. When the doctor asked what he might want to talk to a counsellor about, he mentioned grief and I mentioned his "Conflict Resolution Strategies", which is shorthand for his passive-aggressive 5 day sulks, his emotional manipulation, his juvenile attempts at controlling the behaviour of others around him and his occasional propensity to snap and turn physical.

He is facing up to his problems and I am hugely relieved that there will be a competent professional to help him. Its no longer my responsibility alone to "make" him happy - he's realised what I mean about taking responsibility for himself. I've told him that I can't guarantee that I will fall in love with him all over again, or even still be able to put up living with him, but I would feel less guilty about turfing out someone who could cope with life, as opposed to someone who plainly can't at the moment. And who knows? Perhaps we will get through this difficult period. I keep reminding him that we can't go back to the way things were when we first met, we need to go forward, as the people we are now.

Its a step forward, and I'm sure that there will be two steps back pretty soon, but at least I see where forward is now, whereas a few weeks ago, I could just see us frozen in this hell for ever. One day at a time.

What's more - unsticking this situation in my personal life has had a huge knock-on effect on me, which is showing up in a far more positive attitude to work, which is making my boss happy as I get all proactive on him. So all round, I've got a lot to thank D for. He should be back in the UK any point now, but we won't be in the same space til next Wednesday. A little bit of me fantasises that he'll find a reason to nip out and ring me tomorrow afternoon, but that's pretty unlikely. And if he does, I'll assume its for a "It was nice while it lasted" conversation. No, probably best we bump into each other in the office and see where we are..... This is a year when I get more selfish, on the basis that its probably better for everyone!

VD - The Aftermath

Well, perhaps it would have been less trouble to have gone back out at 10:30pm for a card. It would have saved the (one-sided) conversation he was keen to pursue at 4:30am on his way out of the door to work, along the lines that he couldn't see a card for him, so I obviously hadn't bothered, so what was the point, and I had a go at him when he didn't buy me one last year, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I wasn't really awake enough to defend myself by pointing out that we were only 4.5 hours into VD. Give me a bloody chance. Anyway, I bought the cheapest, least foul one I could find that promised nothing about loving him forever on the way home and left it on his pillow.

Question: why did the text I received, sent from somewhere hot & glamourous, from someone holidaying with his wife, consisting of nothing more than "x x" make me so much happier than the card purchased by the man I live with, who tells me he loves me? That's pretty fucked up.

The horror of VD

Oh the torment - its Valentine's Day again. Earlier, I got home from my usual Wednesday evening amusement to find as expected, K was in bed. However, less expected, waiting on the sofa for me was a red envelope. I thought about turning round and going straight out to the 24 hour Tesco to see what they had left, but I couldn't be arsed. I might go tomorrow before work. Or after....

Honestly. He'll talk to me over the phone, but face to face he's back to the passive aggressive sulking, which it is my duty to break down and mollify him sufficiently until I am worthy of being spoken to again. I can't be arsed!!

High Days and Holidays

Hmm, that last post was a bit of a self-indulgent whine, but as my daughter says, "That's what the internet is for!" Of course, me and Trekkie Monster know the internet is for porn, but hey, I can multitask.

So holidays - what do I have against them? Well, its more a case of what they have against me. The fact that the current interest is off with his wife sunning himself in a tropical paradise has reminded me of a nasty trick that life has played on me. I just don't get to have holidays.

I can't really say my parents had a bad marriage. After all, they stuck together for 40 years and who am I to say it was all bad? A fair chunk at the beginning was probably good, and they were kind to each other at the end. It was probably only 10 years or so that they weren't on speaking terms. Its just a shame that ten years had to coincide with my childhood. Thanks, guys. So after my older sisters left home (which they did with unseemly haste the instant they could), there was just me left. Mum and dad used to take it in turns to drag me away on holiday, because they refused to go together. So there was one bored, sullen kid and one bored, resentful adult, stuck in a tent in a field in the middle of nowhere. So that was a riot.

Then there was the occasion after shitface left. Its okay, my daughters know I privately refer to their biological father as shitface. I kept it from them for many a year, but they probably have an equivalent name for him - not that they need a name for an individual who (at his own insistence) hasn't clapped eyes or ears on them in nigh on 20 years.

Shitface came home from work one Friday night, announced he had fallen madly in love with a woman in the office and was leaving with his stuff first thing in the morning. And yes, he was as good as his word. As the door slammed shut behind him, the phone rang. It was my mother. She said, without really pausing for breath:

"Hi, you know your dad's been ill for the last nine months? Well we hadn't really spelt out how bad it was cos we didn't want to worry you, 
but the specialists say he actually needs a heart transplant and he's been on the waiting list and a heart has just come up and they're just running the tests now to check his immune system is up to scratch as much as possible and he hasn't got cold or anything but hopefully they'll go ahead later today but we won't know anything for 24 hours so I'll ring you tomorrow. Bye."

As weekends go, it was a bit of a shocker.

Happily dad survived, and by about the Wednesday, I realised I had to get a bit of a grip. A quick tally up revealed that apart from £27.28 in the bank, I had: no money, no income, no assets, no job, no experience, no qualifications, no childcare, no friends (they were all away at uni), no family support (they were still quite busy at the hospital). What I did have was a brand new mortgage, only 4 weeks old, 3-year-old twins and less than 2 weeks to go before Christmas. Which meant that even if I managed to sob my way through a social security interview, I wasn't going to get any cash before the new year. So I rang shit-face, to ask for some money to feed the children with. I was told in no uncertain terms that he had no money for me as he and his new girlfriend were about to get on a plane. Apparently, "Lesley needs a holiday, she's had a really rough time of it recently." Wow, I can't imagine how bad it must have been for her.

Which brings me slap bang up to date. Why aren't K & I having loads of fabulous holidays? In the intervening 20 years, I've sorted the money issue and while I'm not rolling in it, between us we have enough to keep the wolves from the door. Well, we did have one very nice holiday, to Cyprus. Its a beautiful place and I couldn't believe my luck. I thought I'd broken my holiday jinx. Until the last night, when K got the hump and turned on the silent treatment. And on and on, despite all my efforts to jolly him out of it. Eventually I snapped and walked off by myself, determined that I wasn't going to have my last evening ruined by spending it in an atmosphere of tension, just like my childhood. Except when I got back after a not incredibly exciting meal in Pizza Hut, he refused to let me back into the room and an "incident" kicked off.  Its not the only time it has happened, and I'm not prepared to go abroad with him for any length of time because I have nowhere else to go. In the UK I can walk away, drive away, let things cool down. I'm not coming home from another holiday covered in bruises.

So no, I don't get to do holidays like other people. Wah. Life's snot fair.

Heart or Stomach

K and I haven't been getting along too well recently - probably no surprise there. However, one of the major souce of rows is around food. He gets home several hours before I do & prefers to eat early. He likes cooking, I don't - should be perfect, no? No.

Somehow this has transmogrified into a control issue. If he is cooking, then I must be at home at the time he decides. There is no option (without a row) of, "Oh I bumped into a friend - if you want to cook, leave mine in the microwave - if you don't, I'll ring a pizza when I get in or knock something up." This is allegedly totally acceptable, as long as I let him know in advance. The problem with spontaneity is that you can't always diarise it, and spontanteity that doesn't include him is apparently selfish.

Likewise, meeting friends for a walk on Sunday mornings, maybe ending up at a pub, maybe having something to eat, depending how we feel is selfish. He might have to sit at home waiting for me to come in and that's not right because he does too much of it. My view is that if he chooses to work unusual hours, that is not my problem and it is more than unreasonable to expect me to have no social life in the evenings, just because he's already been home for a few hours.

The problem is fundamentally that I told him that I no longer care about his behaviour - on or off line since the last little episode. He has realised that its perfectly true - I don't care, and is scared witless. Which is making him cling, which is pissing me off. He feels insecure, I feel smothered. The problem is, he just adds tension to my life. I can't go for a drink after work with my daughter without planning how I'm going to "manage" him when I get in. I'm rushing out of the pub because I know he will have the arse because he wants to cook and we must be in the house before he starts. The smell of frying onion must be mingled with the stench of burning martyr. He can't accept it's controlling. I can't be doing with it. It ain't good.

Philosophy of Infidelity

I've been reading the Philosophy of Infidelity blog; I recommend it as well written & honest. I particularly find it interesting that he's not afraid to say that he fell deeply in love with his mistress S. However, as he now admits, married man & single lover is not a good combination, and they eventually separated. He emphasises that working on your marriage has always got to be a better bet & I concur - yet we're all human. Oh, and his number 1 rule is: Never have an affair with a co-worker; everyone in the office will know and its inescapable when it all goes wrong. Again, I concurr but I'm human...

I have always been quite highly sexed and spend a fair amount of time thinking, reading, looking at or actually having sex (even if its alone, in the work bogs cos I'm bored), but I'm aware that sex without the expression of affection and tenderness (backing away from the L word, because its not quite the same) is empty and pointless and simply unsatisfying for me.

I know that I have an obsession, an addiction to giving head. Its one of the few pastimes in which I can totally lose myself in the moment, and a fair part of the attraction is that its a "safe" way to give pleasure, to show that tenderness, to be almost nurturing, without giving anything of yourself away. Its like an emotional condom - I could give blowjobs for hours and have the emotional release without getting emotionally attached. And as for my own physical pleasure - well the delight of bringing someone to orgasm with my lips and tongue, feeling their body rise, tense, release as a gush, feeling their muscle tension, hearing their breath, perhaps even a muttered word, particularly when I did it all myself, well, its wonderful in itself but as part of a longer session, I've been known to come in unison.

Oh Christ I want more sex. But K cannot oblige with all I want, and I can't bring myself to pick up some chancer off AdultFriendFinder. So what choice do I have? At least I'm not emotionally involved. Yet. But part of me wants to be. Its like that urge to stick your hand in a bare flame - you know its going to hurt but some stupid bit of you is egging you on. Actually, all I want from this fling (its still a fling til tomorrow and I'll decide on the new label then) is appreciation & gratitude.

O.M.G.

Its taken a while to have the time to update here in peace and quiet, but I know you're all (!) desperate to know what went down. Or who.

I have to say, with a bit of warning and some wind-up texts to get us in the mood, he did not disappoint. Au contraire, he confidently span me through some positions that had me gasping with astonishment.... and pleasure. There was one particular one, well! But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I got to his room at about 6:00pm and he'd suggested a session before dinner - fine by me. Can it only have been an hour or so? Felt much longer. Was enjoying myself exquisitely particularly with the Karma Sutra special, when he mentioned I should try it out with K. And it all came crashing down around me, really. We had frantic sex, lazy sex, tired sex, languorous sex, lustful sex, (though none from behind) all of which was fantastic, but in the dark, I was left with the thought that I had to go back to normality with K and how was I to do that when I'd been reminded so graphically what I was missing?

Also, I wasn't too chuffed with an air of smugness (intentional or otherwise) about how fabulous his life was. Mine, of course, is an utter fuck-up, and reminders of this fact aren't welcome. So, all in all, I was fairly unsure come the morning how I felt about it all. And then we started again, but we were both "well-used" from the night before and not much was happening, so I went down on him.

Oh the joy and delight of having access to a live cock that doesn't only respond to it's master's hand. I could have lost myself down there for hours, but a gentle mouthful bought things "to a head". He apologised for coming - no idea why. I'd warned him that I wanted to taste him. He didn't think this was what I meant. I made it perfectly clear that this was exactly what I meant! And it cheered me up enormously!!

However, by making a reference to him as sex-toy of the month, I led him to understand that a repeat showing was not cut & dried. He seemed sad about that, but I needed time to absorb the sensory overload. Its hard to go from near famine to a 20-course banquet and not be overwhelmed. I stopped in a bookshop on the way home and found myself in the self-help section. I suppose I was looking for some inspiration, and I found it. I inspirationally realised that if you take anything in life too seriously, you might end up actually reading some of that shite.

So over the weekend I went some way towards making things better with K (who has finally delivered an xmas present), and messaged the lover through an internet BB that I stalked him to, in order to indicate that negotiations were still open. He is keen to repeat on an opportunistic basis... and as it happens, an opportunity will present itself next week. After that he's on holiday for a fortnight - somewhere hot, glamorous and expensive (see what I mean about smug - he'll be offering to show me the photos next). That might be a natural break, but we shall see. But oh fuck - the sex was good!

In for a penny....

So tomorrow is the big day - or night. Cliched Fling - the rematch. The last few days have seen text messages flying back and forth, winding us each up to fever-pitch. He has promised to remove my knickers with his teeth and tongue; I have promised to let him.

Unfortunately, due to a delay in my booking, his hotel was full. And so was the cheap one down the road that you pay for in advance.... so I'm just staying in his room. All night. Gulp. Does he snore? Who knows? Its rather alarming that I have effectively no escape other than the car - I wonder if I should stick a blanket in the boot in case of emergency? This episode might destroy my air of mystery - your secret lover is supposed to be spared the sight of you farting and picking your nose in the morning.

And of course its all a bit intimate. I said that I was more nervous this time - the anticipation is no longer hypothetical, but very real. He said that he hadn't expected to advance to staying all night so quickly...I gave him the option to postpone, but he didn't take me up on it. Mind you, my foot was caressing his balls under his desk at the time.

Much more worryingly, he is lining up other dates, occasions - next month and when he returns from holiday. Whoa nelly! I want to be able to extricate myself from this affair with dignity and grace - I don't want to become the subject of office gossip, I don't want to get emotionally involved and I don't want to be around if his marriage goes tits up. I may have to have a serious chat with him tomorrow, and point out that his wife WILL know something is going on. Just because she hasn't got the hard evidence won't stop her antennae twitching and that is going to have an effect. He would do himself a favour if he took the opportunity of the holiday to start again.... but what do I know about his marriage? For all I know, they have an "arrangement", but then again I don't think so. However, my timing isn't great for mentioning all this - Yes, listen to me, do the sensible thing and throw me out of your hotel room to sleep in the car!

So, once is an accident, twice is a fling, three times is an affair? But perhaps there's room in the scale for dalliance & liaison... and I am sick of doing what I should do instead of what I want to do. I'm reasonably clear what I'm getting out of this: exciting sex, an ego stroke, a mental re-alignment of the power balance with K and an indulgence of my wild streak, in descending order. Him? I expect he's bored indoors, his wife has other interests, he's had/having a major birthday or anniversary and perhaps a health scare that has highlighted his encroaching mortality - a rage against the fading of the light? I'm guessing, but as building the kit car hasn't assuaged his midlife crisis, a sleazy affair is the obvious next step.

This year really does have disaster written all over it, doesn't it.

The Cheek!

Well, the slightly-more-observant-than-I-give-him-credit-for K has accused me of having an affair on the strength of finding some new lingerie in the dirty clothes bin. Well, technically yes, not that I was going to admit it so I leapt for the moral high-ground on the basis that his further evidence is that I haven't been going to bed at the same time as him for some months. Well that's because a) he goes to bed exceptionally early and b) he will want to attempt unsuccessful sex. Again. He claims that "normally", I show him the things I've brought. In answer, I pulled out various items of clothing and grilled him on whether I'd shown it to him before it saw the inside of a wardrobe or after. He had to concede. And I certainly haven't been having an affair for months!

Then there's the small matter of the number of times I've caught him on the internet chatting up women. Now I'm a relatively easy-going person, not out to stop anyone's fun and I took the line that as long as it stayed as online fantasy, then fine. But I caught him ringing up one woman 8-9 times a day, and 3 months ago, directing another one to our local train station once I was due to be safely out of the country. He claimed that he wouldn't have gone through with it. We'll never know because she bottled it. But for 3.5 years, I haven't gone on about the lack of full-on activity, he's been (not very) secretly attempting to find out if the problem can be solved with a different shag, can I be blamed for cracking and getting some attention elsewhere?

Meanwhile the other lover is agging for a replay. Perhaps once more....

New Year's Bloody Eve

Never good, is it. The pressure of being on the verge of a whole new year, virginal in aspect, yet you know that despite all that potential for change, for rebirth, for reinvention, it's pointless - you'll just fuck it up like all the others.

2008 has a whole new horror for me -the dreaded 40th birthday. Six months off, yet monolithic in its unyielding, ticking unavoidability, like an essay deadline or an execution. Oh I'm sure its possible to emerge, unscathed and blinking into your 5th decade without a dose of the screaming heebie-jeebies, but to be frank, the omens aren't good. 30 was a bit of an issue for me. It was also the year I reached my seventh wedding anniversary, having known my husband for 10 years in total. Well guess what? This year I'll have known K for 10 years and we'll have been shacked up for...you guessed it.

And as for the state of play there? Well, his obsession with eating does nothing to help his high blood pressure, the medication for which does nothing to remind me why we got together in the first place....if you get my drift. Yes I know that was stupid - you can't build a relationship on sex. I knew that but hey - see 1st paragraph. Me? I'm very aware that I've been avoiding losing weight because I kid myself that if I had a great body, I'd want to use it. Actually, I'm not kidding myself about wanting to, I'm kidding myself about the opportunity to.

Mind you, having said that, in the last month, a "potential situation" has arisen. And of course, its with someone I work with. What a bloody cliche - I can hear you all (all 1 of you that stumbles across this in 8 months time) screaming "No - don't do it." I don't know if I will, I don't know if there is any chance for the potential to turn physical at any point. I just know that a bit of mild flirting that wouldn't scare the horses has put a spring in my step and encouraged me to lose 1/2 a stone. That's 7 lb for the merkins. Actually 8lb now, due to this poxy cough I've had all Christmas which has kept me away from the wine and beer far more effectively than a 12 step programme. Just another 40 to go. The irony isn't lost on me that this is probably as good as it gets - all the ego stroke with none of the embarrassing disrobing issues. Quit while I'm ahead maybe. But his Christmas card had "xx......" and damn, I want to explore those dots.

So - an inventory. A stock-take of my present position.

Emotional
Living with a man with whom I have little in common, who has no subject of conversation beyond work, food and rugby, without much in the way of sex to fill the silences. Considering an ill-considered affair with a married man from work.  Potential for happiness in 2008: 3/10

Professional
Not fabulous. Not particularly gelling with my new boss. Am giving in to my inherent laziness and frankly, just don't care that much. Performance review wasn't brilliant, although not unexpected for someone newly promoted. But I basically need to get some inspiration and get my finger out or things will not go well. Too apathetic to look outside the company. That final salary pension thing sucks you in. Potential for happiness in 2008: 4/10

Family
The children. A current major worry. Not that there's anything wrong with them - its just when they are around I see my life through their eyes and I feel like I'm letting them down. They expect perfection from me and I feel punctured by their low-level barbs of disdain. One has just officially left home. Its not like when she left to go to university or abroad to bum about, because each time then, she had plans to come home again. Not this time. She's moved in with her student boyfriend and I felt bereft. Until I logged onto facebook and found she'd left a message for her boyfriend (unaware that it would appear in my update page too), saying that she couldn't stand the stultifying atmosphere here and wanted to leave there and then. My crime? Watching tv on Christmas Day. Christ, what does she think overweight 39-year-olds with flu do on Christmas Day?

The other one has gone to see the unsuitable boyfriend who dumped her at the beginning of December, because he hadn't succeeded in emotionally blackmailing her into coming home from abroad a month early. Not that he had done anything about finding them somewhere to live together - he is perfectly happy living with his parents and spending his spare money on computer games. Understandable in an 18 year old - less so in a 25 year old. Obviously I don't want her giving in and moving to where he is at the other end of the country, but as he apparently said to her (as reported to me by her incensed twin sister), "well, your mother is hardly the best person to take relationship advice from". Possibly not, but life advice from someone who has not only been self-supporting from the age of 16, but single handedly bought up 2 children as well has some weight. Just do as I say, not as I do.... I wouldn't mind if he made her happy, but he doesn't. She likes eating out, or at least stopping for coffee when out shopping - he considers it a waste of money. Alternatively, she likes long walks in the country. He sulks and stays indoor playing computer games while the rest of his family go for walks. She loves travelling, happy to rough it and submerge herself into a country and its culture. He joined her for a month and whined the whole time, ruining it for everyone else in the party. Honestly he needs a slap! You'll just have to trust me on that one. Potential for worry in 2008: 9/10

Hobbies
Well, I was making good use of that gym membership earlier in the month, til this bloody head cold and interminable cough ambushed me. I've joined about 4 different orchestras this year, which has been variously terrifying, exhilarating, tedious, unintentionally hilarious, touching and in the case of chamber music, passionately fabulous. If only I'd practised more as a child....

The obsession with web stuff has dwindled to zero. I really should have carried on promoting WW, but as the bank-charge reclamation stuff that was driving so much traffic to my site was cut off by OFT indecision, I lost the drive. I always secretly knew that the fun was in the design and putting it together, rather than the intrinsic subject. Potential for happiness in 2008: 7.5/10

The future
So what do I want to improve in 2008? According to the superficially seductive philosophy of Ayn Rand, "Happiness, not pain or mindless self-indulgence, is the proof of your moral integrity, since it is the proof and the result of your loyalty to the achievement of your values." So according to her, I should feel no guilt about turfing K out because I'd rather live in my own space. Sprog Junior could move in here as the atmosphere would be so much better, and I could enjoy an indian summer of whoring around before preparing to "go gently into that good night". I could also consider going to Australia with my sister, who invited me just before Christmas, leaving spring or autumn. I frankly wouldn't want K dragging along behind and there's no point suggesting I go alone with her for the moping. Can't really afford it. Mind you, I could get another job somewhere else entirely with more money - sell the house or rent it out. But K won't move further away from his job or brother or kids, so that's a no. So the bottom line is that I feel suffocated and hemmed in, the obvious solution to which is to leave my lover, except I won't be going anywhere, its my house, and as he has little in the way of assets since I persuaded him to leave his wife, he can't afford to go anywhere either. So I guess we're stuck...for another year....