In which I am a bit drunk and feel like writing about love and sex.

Let’s see if I can do this before my laptop dies or I fall asleep.

Background: I had a glass of wine with dinner and am in a swank hotel in Johannesburg, which is enough to put anyone in a good mood.

So let me tell you about the Person who I was illicitly in love with until the other day when I cut off the supply. While I was in Philadelphia I was missing this person terribly and now only about 2 weeks later I’m in South Africa and I’m not missing them at all, which just goes to show that as you get older you become extremely good at controlling your emotions.

I’ve known the Person for almost exactly a year and it has taken that long for them to reveal themselves to me and what game they are playing and in my view it is a very foolish and self-denying game.

I get lots of satisfaction out of (a) sex, of which there is an abundant supply, still, even though I am an old lady, and (b) romance and being in love. So I have very much enjoyed the long game over the last year in which the Person and I carefully and tentatively romanced each other in a rather illicit way and I was very much looking forward to having sex with them, because what else would you expect to do with someone you are romantically attached to.

I listen to the things people say, I listen to all the details. I’m a very sharp listener considering I’m a bit deaf. People make off the cuff remarks and do various little things and I notice all of it, and through this they reveal the particular version of reality that they are inhabiting.

So the first thing that I’ve noticed about the Person is that he is a bit insecure. Coincidentally, he’s a bit insecure about things that aren’t my best features either, except I don’t worry about them as much. I’ve noticed him making remarks from time to time about people being fat and having less than perfect teeth and there were times when I thought this was directed at me and perhaps in a superficial way it was. I am a bit bulgy around the middle, there is no denying it (nice tits, though, swings and roundabouts) and my teeth or more precisely my gums are far from my best feature because I keep smoking like the fool I am. THEN it dawned on me that the Person is actually worried about these aspects of himself, and that’s why he makes critical remarks about other people. He posted a picture of himself on social media in which he is on a beach in a pair of swimming shorts and of course I’ve never seen him with so few clothes on before and guess what he’s every bit as chunky around the middle as I am, the only difference being that I don’t make bitchy comments about other people being fat. So that was interesting. Once that penny had dropped, I started paying attention to his attitude to his own teeth (which are far better than mine although not perfect) and he hides them. You know when people hide their teeth, they don’t smile or laugh properly and they use their lips like a suit of clothes. He does that. Interesting, huh.

And then there’s this other thing, the love and sex thing. So there was a period quite recently where our relationship was really heating up and it seemed to me that we were right on the brink of something happening. He has a particular weakness for big tits and my boobage is as impressive as my bulgy tum. I can really get some cleavage going on if I dress right and he can’t keep his eyes off it and there have been several times when he came and stood so unmistakably close to me and was shaking with desire and CLEARLY wanted to put his hands on me, which I wished he would. Then he panicked and backed off and went all frosty and borderline aggressive. And it was around this time that I started to pay very close attention to the things he says about his female friends. He talks about them in this very odd way and makes them sound like needy fuckwits.

Me, I like being single. In fact, I fucking love it. I am popular with boys. There are three of them in London right now, excitedly waiting for me to come home. Not second-rate ones, either. They range in age from 21 to 28. They are all handsome. The youngest one is unbelievably gorgeous, to the point that I can’t believe my good fortune. The middle one has been a devoted courtier of mine for 2 years. The oldest one is a scientist with a PhD. See how nicely I do. I am not at all short of attention and I can’t really imagine why I would want to trade that in for a relationship unless there was some compelling external reason, which there isn’t. I am a very fortunate woman. I’ve never been a big fan of couples and as I get older, richer and more hungry for adventure, the less interested I become. I like romance, as light and fluffy as candyfloss and I like to get laid, ideally with someone new who I’m not tired of.

Not so for the Person. After I started Listening, I noticed that he made two or three remarks about his female friends that made me think that they and also he were in need of some sort of help. Of one, after he’d done criticising her weight (she is quite a bit heavier than average) he remarked ‘at least she’s got a man’, like it was some sort of achievement (!!!! what is it, 1950? what do you mean ‘got a man’? I have enough men to start pimping them out, I wouldn’t call A man anything to get excited about). Then soon after that there was another occasion where I can’t remember the exact words but he referred to his female friends collectively as trying to capture A man and settle down like it’s some sort of difficult quest. I’m a feminist, okay, and a second-wave feminist into the bargain. IMO, being shackled to some idiotic guy who keeps knocking you up and won’t do the housework is the default condition that society would very much like to see ALL women consigned to, and the difficult part is RESISTING it. What a terribly sad state of mental health these poor women must be in, I thought, assuming they even exist.

And of course, it doesn’t matter whether they exist or not, because it’s not about them, it’s about him and how he sees himself. And how he sees himself is a far better catch than he actually is, considering he’s pushing 35 and still living with his mom and dad and has the CV of an 18 year old (okay, 22, let’s be fair). And so it becomes clear that this is where his satisfaction comes from. My satisfaction comes from developing romantic crushes on people and then bringing them to fruition in the bedroom. His satisfaction derives from other people developing romantic crushes on him and then pulling back and not having sex with them and not letting himself be in a position where someone has Got A Man and it’s him.

Which is okay and everything, I’m hardly in a position to be judgmental with my taste for hot boys who are half my age, you know, do your thing. Whatever floats your boat. But even so. I just don’t QUITE see how declining to have sex with people is more fun than actually having sex with them. Perhaps it’s not just his waistline and his teeth that he’s worried about.

So there you go. So after all of that I just went straight to the part of my brain that concerns the Person and switched off the romantic feelings at the mains. And that’s why he’s not getting laid and I’m going home to a fan base. I’m having the scientist as a matter of priority as soon as I get back. Very nice Finnish boy. Blond. Very attractive. So that’s my agenda for when I get off the plane in the UK. See my hairdresser to get my roots done. Take the Finnish boy to bed.

And that’s all the slightly pornographic news. Let’s have a nice vintage tune.

Naughty by Nature: Written On Ya Kitten

 

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