Men Are Like Buses

H has found it.

Paranoia made an unexpected appearance. I caught a glimpse of "real" feelings towards a man.

He goes on a night out...I wonder if he will find it as easy as me.

I sought his reassurance and now the side is down.

Yet a blunt reply from me and he needs smothered in cotton wool to undo it. And then he is back on top.

C is lording my sexual attraction to him over me. I hate that.

I met D for that drink which morphed into a dvd in his apartment, which morphed into 3 bottles of wine and a beer, which morphed into my own demise from my classy facade to a hammered slut.

He was the gentleman. I left unsatisfied....the humiliation didn't creep in until morning.

He kissed me when he walked me home. But ignored my offer to come up and my offer after that.

A phone call this morning told me that he would never have slept with me on a first date. That he has more respect for me than that. That he wants to "do it again sometime".

I presume he knows that I would have happily fucked him in an alley on the way home. That I was desperately horny and worked up.

Of all the men in my life right now he's the one left me wanting more.

Not a slut. A girl making up some time after a 3 year relationship.

Somewhere during that 3 year ellipsis a large handful of men had their balls lanced off.

Last night I decided to partake in some charity work. I know not for what charity.

The usual crowd. Jumped up City folk. Brown nosers. Conservative and out-of-touch suits. Snotty jokes. Misguided comments.

It was the perfect excuse. To blow money I couldn't afford on a dress. To eat eggs that come from quail and steaks that come from any animal other than the vintage cow. To drink champagne and snort cocaine with the rest. To take the party to a large hotel suite into the wee hours. To have wasted sex with the fellow employee who always drags me kicking and screaming through the night. To wake up in the image of a distressed prom queen. To take coke at 9am in preparation for the company meeting.

Today though, I tie my hair back. I give my presentation. I phone H and act like nothing happened.

He asks me what my pick-me-up was, I tell him coffee.

Until next time let us all raise our glasses to the poverty-stricken, the homeless, the ill and the decrepit. What a fulfilling and life affirming task last night was.

H is coming over as sensitive and sentimental. Sweet. Lovely. Disgustingly cheesy. A turn off.

And when none of the above, he slips back to demanding and tough to take.

I have a drink to look forward to with D - pretentious, attractive, upbeat, funny, innocent but in control. Genuine. I think.

The 600 miles is making me think a drink with another man isn't an issue.

H has quite possibly been shagging away. Not being able to look into his gorgeous and dangerously convincing eyes is either making me wiser or unnecessarily mistrustful.

Meanwhile C continues his mind games. His lifting and laying. Starting to force some distance between us now.

When a relationship becomes 'exclusive', what does it mean?

That word encapsulates so much in modern relationships.

Now I'm 'exclusive' with H. Does it mean the same level of commitment even though there is a distance of 600 miles?