Sunday, 5 September 2010

First love gets hitched and all I get is this lousy...

The spring in my step teamed with almost unbearable enthusiasm for life, love and lust, there had to be a catch...

Via Skype, I was catching up with an old friend.

Him:  You know your suchandsuch is getting married?


You: So I hear, it's about time.  I hope he's... they're... both chuffed (I hadn't heard, a lump was caught in my throat, I blamed a dodgy internet connection and said we'd have to finish the call by phone).

When I broke up with my first love suchandsuch it was inevitable, we were too young, too in love and loved to argue a little too much.  Although we haven't seen each other in years, I get the occasional Facebook poke and Christmas card (let's skip over the sporadic phone sex).

Suchandsuch has been engaged a few times (to different women) since his time with me, this time though he's set a date.  This was the only man I could have seen myself marrying and he was getting married to someone else.

I hate it when nostalgia comes with a knuckle sandwich.

Desire: The Return

I'm can't pinpoint how the desire returned but when it did, I was immaculately post-coital.

I awoke with a spring in my step, colour to my cheeks, and all sentences however innocent were brimming with innuendoes.  Even ladyplays were hot and steamy rather than just about the end-of-day release.

Men are everywhere, attractive men, men I am attracted to.

I can't help but notice and evaluate crotches and fantasise about those crotches and my hand/mouth/ladygarden*...  I'm like a walking 1970s erotic film, "Oh the postman is here, he wants me to sign for his package...".  

Oh dear.




*Ladygarden...?  Why can't I just say pussy?!

Saturday, 4 September 2010

Summer of Discontent

I had started to believe that my missing libido wasn't missing after all.

Maybe whatever it was that was making me ill, had been increasing my sex drive, maybe it wasn't normal to think about sex every other second and seek out lusty adventures.  Maybe being ill heightened my need for physical gratification.

Memories of yestersex had all but disappeared.  My body had forgotten what it felt like to be touched,  caressed, licked and penetrated...

Until, that is, about a fortnight ago my desire returned.

Full throttle.

Thursday, 2 September 2010

Infected!

I am at least still a little smug in the STD department - still clean as a whistle in the knicker area...  I wish I could say the same for my left arm!

Recently, I was left with a fungal infection.  Athletes foot of the arm, would that be called Athletes Arm?!  And you what? I didn't realise until a week later that Achilles had given me his lurgies...

NHS Direct has got to be the Patron Saint of Hypochondriacs, but there I was with real symptoms, and after seeing some anti-fungal pills in Achilles bathroom (I was NOT snooping - they were on display - promise!).

When I asked him about the anti-fungal pills were for - try getting anti-fungal into casual chit-chat - he is with a fungal nail infection - albeit a subtle one.  Now all I can think about is if *that* nail and *that* finger was anywhere near my vajayjay...

*tries googling - fungal nail infection vagina*


*tries googling - fungal nail infection vagina NHS Direct*