For the first time in a long while I have no idea where or when my next shag will be coming from, there was hesitation of saying goodbye to Jason's body, but I'm not usually one needing to have a replacement standing by.
The last day or so seem to have presented a strange selection of opportunities:
The married man got back in touch, although I've told him I am seeing someone and I'm not going to go back there, my stomach turned over. In a good way, or in this case a bad way. I hope that by naming him the Mr Married, he will be the last married man in my life.
In the words of Rudyard Kipling - "Never look backwards or you'll fall down the stairs".
A 23-year-old that intrigues me, and is into me. So why do I feel so weird about it. Age is just a number, right?! We're hopefully going out this weekend.
We met at a party before Christmas. He asked for my number, I didn't think he would call, but he did (eventually). First to say he was busy until after Christmas, but then again last night. The problem is, I can't really remember what he looks like. As I recall, he was tall(ish), dark(ish) and funny(ish), but the call last night was fantastic, full of laughter. We are due to meet up for a safe(ish) coffee one lunchtime next week.