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?

Like it says up there

This week has been rather stressful and I have reacted to it mostly by focusing on the two items up top - curry & chocolate. Which is quite nice, but I've eaten too much and drunk too much and not slept enough. That will all have to be reversed, but I don't reckon March will be the month to do it....

Hurts so good

Ok, so I've always "got" bondage - the mental power exchange of restraint, of control, of dominance and submission, but I was never a pain freak....or so I thought. The very first moment of the first time D & I got into bed together he confessed that he had a fetish for having his nipples bitten. And so I obliged, but I was worried that I was hurting him. Last night he admitted that it was never hard enough and demonstrated on me. Oh Christ, I'm a convert. Yes, I was imagining my wrists fastened behind my back to stop me pushing his teeth & nails away, but just a look from him froze me to the spot as his head went down and his lips pulled back. Who knew I could orgasm just from having my right nipple bitten? Not me - took me totally by surprise. I'm purring now!

Oh, and the best version was Susan Cadogan's.

Ooooh, you're my best friend

John Deacon's nauseating lyrics aside, a mate is....

• someone you are braying with laughter with, 2 minutes after meeting, despite not seeing them for six months,
  
• someone who has your best interests at heart,
  
• someone who challenges you intellectually,
  
• someone you can have a philosophical row with, without either of you taking it remotely personally,
  
• someone who strokes your ego....and punctures your pomposity
  
• someone who makes you feel good about yourself,
  
• someone who guesses all your secrets...but makes you confess them anyway,
  
• someone you trust with those secrets,
  
• someone you can share the good stuff, the sad stuff, the scary stuff and the scandalous stuff,
  
• someone who fancies you just enough to remind you that you are sexy
• someone I'm glad I know
  

:)

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.