The Wing Commander

I haven’t blogged for a few days because there wasn’t much to report. The happy pills (it’s now Day 26) are still making me sleepy. Not as badly as last week, but my slightly improved alertness is offset by the fact that we are having our annual heatwave in Britain, which makes the whole country a bit dozy. I managed a bit of self-improvement (1 long walk, 1 swim, 1 visit to the dentist). I went out to some business meetings. Other than that I’ve been fairly inactive.

For my sake as much as yours, let’s run through Gloria’s Behavioural Indicators of Normality and assess the mental health scores on the doors this Sunday morning.

  • Laughing at things, check. I am increasingly finding things funny enough to laugh out loud, that’s so wonderful, it’s like having your eyesight restored.
  • Music. I have once or twice listened to music and didn’t hate it, although it is still not reaching me in the way that it normally would.
  • Dancing. I don’t feel the impulse to dance, this used to be something I did every day at home because I couldn’t help it, I hope I get that back soon.
  • Doing activities, eg reading, cleaning my house, making things, getting some exercise. I am partly successful in this, much more so than a couple of weeks ago, but considering that ‘doing activities’ ought to be the default state when I am awake, there’s still a long way to go.
  • Enjoying sunshine. We are still working on this.
  • Propensity to find myself and other people attractive. Uh, yeah. So there might be a bit of news there. Let’s have a tune while I am thinking what to say. It is Sunday morning, after all. Quick spot of Church.

Missy Elliot: The Rain (1997)



I might as well tell you, it’s by far the most exciting thing that’s happened in the last few days. So it looks my sex drive is starting to trickle back. I wouldn’t say I am fully functional physically but the part of my brain that is concerned with sex (quite a large part of my brain, ha ha) is starting to wake up. I looked through the millions of recent selfies that I’ve taken for the least awful one and uploaded it to my online dating profile. Because I’ve been away from the online dating scene for a few months, I immediately get masses of traffic, which always happens any time someone new turns up.

I thought fairly hard about what to write on my profile. Normally I am a magnet for the fashionably-attired under-30s of London and I am so not complaining about that, I consider myself extremely fortunate to have their attention at my age. But you know, I have days when I miss the Head Honcho. I wish I had someone in my life who I actually respected. So I wrote about that. I wrote that, as a general rule, I am the boss, both at work and in my private life. If I date you, you should expect to do as I say unless we’ve explicitly negotiated something to the contrary. Despite these tendencies (I wrote) I miss the company of someone I could regard as a peer. Would like to meet someone who is successful, well-organised, has their shit together, capable of providing intellectual stimulation as well as light entertainment. I further specified that normally I only date models (just to set expectations of attractiveness at the right level) and finally, while I do want some kind of meaningful relationship, I am a terrible commitment-phobe so it would help if you are away a lot.

LOL. I thought I had no chance. I was almost going out of my way to be unreasonable.

Then two things happened.

First I get mail from and subsequently have an extended conversation with an incredibly buff and fashionably-styled 25-year-old, so urban, loads of edge, such sharp grooming, hot as a baker. God damn. We are chatting and seeing what mutual interests we have and whether we can work something out (that is, we are discussing whether he is willing to do as he’s told). This is thoroughly distracting in the most delightful way and I would love to put my hands on him. It is so distracting that I barely attend to this other conversation that I’m having with a guy who’s nearly 15 years his senior, until I do start paying attention.

I don’t love the military, okay. Let me just say that. Some people do, but I don’t. I am anti-war and I find uniforms extremely unattractive. So that’s why I don’t take the Wing Commander (not his real title) too seriously when he strikes up a conversation. We are just chatting. He likes dominant women but can’t find one who has the confidence to tell him what to do, after all he is a senior military type and tells everyone what to do, all day long, where it is serious business involving large numbers of people and explosive situations. I ask him some questions about his job, because it is interesting, but I don’t take him seriously as a prospect, mainly because if I wanted someone to push around, that’s what the 25-year-old arm candy is for. In fact I more or less say as much and refer to the aforementioned Urban Kid. Then he starts talking about his post-graduate degree in philosophy. All right, now I’m listening. I review his profile and photos. I realise that as much as I dislike uniforms, this guy looks like George Clooney in one of those militaristic action movies he’s always making. He is clearly not 25 but if you can see past the uniform, which isn’t that easy, he is a handsome guy and he looks tall, broad-chested and well-built. I guess they have to be fit, don’t they. He certainly looks it. Then I go and look up how much officers of his rank are getting paid, and it is a lot. So. We’ve been talking a lot over the last few days, to the point where he took my attention away from the younger guy. I say ‘talking’, we are emailing because I am currently not permitting a phone conversation because I don’t feel like it. He wanted to meet right away, I said no. He said ‘then it will be in a few weeks because I am out of the country, this is what my life is like’. I said ‘perfect’, because it is.

So we’ll see. I don’t know where this is going. I do know that I was right about Nurse Moody before I’d even had a conversation with him. I also know that I really, really need to get those extra pounds off right fucking now and if the Wing Commander’s away for a few weeks, that’s actually a feasible period of time. So guess who’s dieting. And I am sure Urban Kid will benefit from that as well.

3 Health points.


2 thoughts on “The Wing Commander”

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