Month: July 2012


I saw Richard, it was our third date. He is winning me over by being caring and generally lovely. I went to his place. He looked so pleased to see me and smiled at me all night in the way people do when they really like you. He made dinner for the two of us. The sex was great. I would not describe it as ‘professional’ in the way that LK is professional, zeroing in on the right spot like a heat-seeking missile, but it was still great, he does it the same way he does everything else, with care. You can tell he’s been in long relationships. He is taking his time finding his way around me. Nice. I feel pampered.

He reminds me a lot of my ex husband (I was married for 9 years back in the 1990s to a sweet, patient man). I don’t know what to think about this. If LK’s skills revolve around industrial-strength orgasms then Richard’s skills are in the area of being affectionate, achieving an easy intimacy and making you feel like you are having an actual relationship with him. What to do? If I keep seeing this guy, and I have every reason to want to keep seeing him, then before long we will be in an actual relationship. If I want a proper boyfriend who is considerate and looks after me, Richard is the man for that job.

At one point he put his arms round me and I let him hold me and didn’t flinch or pull away. Usually I don’t like anything soppy unless it is coming from me. So letting him do that was a bit significant.

So. I don’t know what to do. I thought LK was the one with more to offer but Richard is overtaking him with an onslaught of Nice that LK will struggle to beat. An amount of Nice that JC couldn’t accomplish if he sincerely tried, which he has no interest in doing.

Ah well, I can hardly complain, can I. I got 99 problems but an attentive man who makes dinner ain’t one.

I’m going to be super busy again now for the next two weeks and Richard is going on holiday so I have time to think about what action to take next.

The Orb: Little Fluffy Clouds


Lizard King

LK did a little pantomime of pretending that he might be busy before doing exactly as I asked and rescheduling his weekend plans so as to make time for me.

We had some ‘getting to know you’ time at his place. It was fine. He’s very competent. I felt like he did a thoroughly professional job on me. It was great, actually. So great that it reminded me a lot of JC and while I was on the way home I thought about him. I had this extraordinary experience with JC where we talked for months before I ever met him in person, with the result that by the time he finally laid his hands on me, I was luxuriously in love with him and it was the best first encounter I’ve ever had in my life. I don’t love LK. I had a good time with him but I don’t love him and I noticed the difference.

I am ashamed to report that when I arrived home at three in the morning no doubt not quite in my right frame of mind, I emailed JC and said things I should not have said. He emailed me back yesterday and said ‘suggest something’. Like he’s going to be able to fulfil anything I might suggest. We’ve been round and round that particular circle too many times already.

Maybe Richard will take my mind off things, we have an upcoming date.

Baby, that won’t stop you from loving me.

All right, so never mind serious news, let’s talk about your favourite and mine, dating.

I am feeling 90% recovered today. This is a very welcome sensation that is accompanied by a renewed interest in boys.


Oh my goodness. I feel I have been so hard on poor Richard. He has been really great.

Recap: Meet Richard, about two weeks ago. Have two dates in quick succession. Get on fabulously. I incur a minor injury and blame him. Go abroad and send him complaining emails. Then – surprise! – develop Bloaty Head. Feel scared. Talk to Richard, who is more freaked out than I am and urges me repeatedly to get a doctor to the hotel. Ignore him and continue going to work. Return to London. Get diagnosis of heat oedema. Take cold showers.

News: Feel better. Minor injury clears up without a problem. Richard texts every day to ask how I am. This afternoon, everyone, I went to a place in Islington and had an hour’s massage, paid for by Richard, a man I have only met twice. When I came out I texted him to say thanks and that’s when he started talking about arranging our next date. Awesome. What a sweet guy.

Lizard King

Oh yes. The Lizard King is in town and so am I. We are having a conversation in which I am assertively telling him what to do with his weekend so that we can have some alone time. TLYW will bring you the news on that as it breaks.

Could it be any more exciting, readers? I think not. Now get up and dance!

All Saints: Lady Marmalade (Pete Tong 1998 mix)


Wet t-shirt contest.

How to lower your body temperature when it is hot as fuck and you have no aircon at home.

Wear nothing but a tiny cotton sundress. Nothing else at all. Get in the shower with your dress on. Turn the water on cold. Yelp as the cold water hits your skin. Return to living room in your cold, wet, sopping dress and sit next to the fan. In 30 minutes when you have dried out, do it again. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Thanks everyone for being concerned about me. I saw my GP this morning and he confirmed heat sickness and oedema and told me to stay cool.

Heat Oedema

  • Go to a hot country, in the middle of summer. It is hot.
  • Stay in a hotel that is mostly great but has terrible air conditioning.
  • Become seriously overheated while failing to appreciate the risks.
  • Don’t sweat very easily because the climate is humid (apparently this is a thing and it is easier for your body to regulate its temperature in hot, dry climates than in hot, humid ones).
  • Develop heat sickness.
  • Symptom: fatigue, leading you to sleep, spending even more time in your hot room.
  • Symptom: red marks on the face like burns or under-skin bleeding.
  • Symptom: oedema. Normally would be in the ankles but if you are me you have oedema of the head, making you look like Mr Potato Head.

Treatment: lower your body temperature. Right now I’m at an airport on my way home, shivering under the fierce aircon in a tiny t-shirt, with my big red potato face.

Fucks sake. I hear it is hot weather in London. Just when you actually *want* a nice bit of British cold.

I wonder if Richard will ever speak to me again.

Bloaty Head

Picture the scene. I’m in a hotel in a very hot country a long way and several time zones from home. All’s well at home and Little G is looking after himself and the house but I’m not in a good condition at all.

I am suffering with my persistent and painful injury and I’m emailing Richard about it, which suddenly galvanises him into levels of concern for my health that are appropriate and then some.

Then, just to make life interesting, my forehead balloons and looks like it’s bleeding under the skin. My injury continues to hurt. The two things seem to be connected. I email Richard because I have no-one else to talk to. You can imagine the type of conversations that pass between us by text and email. “Are you ok?!” “Actually no, I’m worried, my head is blowing up like a balloon.” “Shit.” “I know.” “See a doctor now.” “I can’t, I’m working. I’m putting ice on it.”

Four days pass. I work. I spend time with my client. By this, I mean that I wake up, order coffee for breakfast, ice my head, meet my client at 9am and go out and about with her working until let’s say 5pm. Then I have a chance to slap some more ice on back at the hotel until we meet for dinner at 7 and hang out together until 1 or 2am when I go uncomfortably to sleep.

Each morning I wake up to find that the swelling has spread. From my forehead to my eyes. From my eyes to my nose and mouth. By the last day of work I’m carrying ice around town with me and putting it on my face every chance I get.

At this point I no longer think my swollen face is anything to do with the minor injury I incurred. I think I’m very severely allergic to something here in this country, probably in the hotel, but I can’t work out what. Even though my allergy or Bloaty Head Disease or whatever it is begins to look like it has nothing but a coincidental relationship with me hurting myself while on a date with Richard, Richard is now thoroughly involved and he is going out of his mind with anxiety. He is booking me health appointments back in the UK, consulting his friends and losing sleep over it.

Eventually, as I’m packing my suitcase to come home (o god i can’t wait to get back to the UK) he decides to play hardball and insist that I absolutely must call a doctor to the hotel right now. But I don’t want to. I am icing up my face every ten minutes and I just want to get out of this hotel and on a plane back to the NHS.

So that’s the latest news. I:

– still have the remnants of my disgusting cough, oh yeah

– still have a hurty injury

– have Bloaty Head disease which is progressing frighteningly from day to day

– and have inadvertently involved a man who I’ve been on precisely two dates with who now is going out of his mind with worry.

Christ on a bike.


I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m going to ice my face all the way home and if it’s not significantly better when that plane lands in London I’m going to Accident and Emergency.

The picture is from the video game Theme Hospital, in which Bloaty Head is a real thing that patients can suffer from.



I need to have a quick moan. I know this is supposed to be The Life You Want, not The Life You Moan About but what the hell. Moaning is therapeutic. I need some therapy.

I don’t think I can see Richard any more. I really really really liked him, we had so much in common, similar backgrounds, loads of common interests, he lives near me, he’s sexy, we communicate really easily, it was going so well. But then near the end of the second date there was a minor accident and I incurred a physical injury. I didn’t think much of it at the time but by the next morning it was giving me pain and we’re now on to about nine or ten days later and I am still in pain and it’s not getting better. I feel like crying. I might feel better if I did have a cry about it.

It was his fault. It was an accident but it was still basically and mainly his fault so now I’m full of resentment and blame as well as misery and you can’t build a relationship on that. I emailed him and told him everything about it and this was his chance to do a HUGE MASSIVE display of sympathy and remorse and concern but he isn’t really taking any responsibility for what happened so now I can’t see him any more.

So disappointed. So disappointed. That’s the first time I’ve ever had an amazing start go down the pan like that so unexpectedly and with so much physical discomfort.

Because I am so desperately in need of some sympathetic attention right now, the fact that LK hasn’t bothered replying to the email I sent him five days ago has not gone unnoticed.

Are you all feeling sorry for me? Because someone needs to.

On the plus side, if you can call something so very slight and probably alcohol-fuelled a ‘plus’, I had a surprise text message last night from Angel Face, that celestially beautiful 25-year-old that I described to you on 3rd July. Apparently he’s been travelling in recent weeks. Yeah, I get the picture, sweetie. You’re back in London and you are wondering who you can call on to get laid. Well. I might be able to help you with that. Just be a bit careful with me because I’m feeling fragile.

Sextravaganza: Take You Home Tonite