Thursday, 6 August 2009

Quiet Boy and Pussy Boy

Even though I am dating - there are two people I'm, if not in love with, then in lust with. Both of whom are completely wrong for me, however:
Tortured artist. Need I say more? One minute he requires constant reassurance, attention and affection, and sex the next he says he's not sure what he wants and goes AWOL.
The eternal bachelor, we see each regularly and I've never experienced such an amazing lover immediately. The realist in me says that is down to endless practise rather than natural talent. He has his sexual prowess down to a fine art. We have 'relationship' sex casually - and it is amazing! The only thing is sometimes he smells of pussy. I know how weird this must sound, but it's true and as such has acquired the nickname Pussy Boy.
After a rice salad with a vinaigrette dressing an ex-boyfriend once asked if I had given someone a blow-job that day, I hadn't, but it took much convincing on my part. So I appreciate maybe it's just his pheromones but still..
So why do I delude myself that these are healthy 'relationships'? I don't, I know they're fucked. Do I purposefully sought out broken men to avoid admitting my own fear of commitment? Fear? What fear? I'm just too old to compromise on the important bits and therefore tolerant on the areas that are not dealbreakers.
Talking about (that's a) dealbreaker (ladies) - how good is series three of 30 Rock!
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