new lover

Things that go bump in the night

26 May 2010

My Englishman is a little like Tigger. On Speed. things that go bump in the night

He goes and goes and goes and goes…

…then he keels over, sleeps for a day and then gets up and goes again.

He’s irrepressible.

But if there’s one thing I cannot do with a grin, it’s being woken at night by a 35 year old man bouncing on the frickin bed!

I know it is 1330 somewhere in the world, and the sun is shining and it’s time to make hay whilst the sun shines, but here, in this country it’s long past witching hour.  Read more... (559 words, 1 image, estimated 2:14 mins reading time)

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A Girl Guide in Paris

12 February 2010

‘You are coming back…aren’t you?’  

I looked at him anxiously as he rushed to get out the door of the little hotel room. The man who would become My Englishman, looked confused.

‘Of course I am,’ he said with reassuring gusto.

And then he disappeared for an agonising forty minutes whilst I lay on the little single bed and waited. I hadn’t told him that a guy had left me before in similar circumstances and was simply never heard from again. I didn’t tell him that because, well, ….he might think I was that kind of girl. The sort that men have dark second thoughts about, turn around and flee as fast as they can!  Read more... (948 words, 1 image, estimated 3:48 mins reading time)

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Contact

7 February 2010

Apparently my last post left folk hanging. Well not to worry, I wasn’t left hanging. Nor was I left dismembered in a freezer after meeting the Secret Agent. Nor did Sexy Girl 1, or Sexy Girl 2 run off with my man. My memories of that night are somewhat hazy though. Overindulgence in champagne does that! I can really only remember snatches …. in his arms in the taxi wondering if he did indeed have a big freezer. In his apartment where I noticed extreme tidiness and wondered if perhaps he was a ‘little gay’. As a woman I keenly observed furnishings and fashion – they were cool, urbane, a little sparse. It was as if some woman had stripped his life of its beating heart and left him with the bloodless form, not throbbing function. I do remember thinking that this was the view from the other side of the divorce fence. I couldn’t help thinking about my cluttered home filled with the detritus of kids, and pets and …… life. I hadn’t thought (until then) of how alone some men are left when the wife ends up with his home, his kids, and the leftovers of his life.  Read more... (1140 words, 1 image, estimated 4:34 mins reading time)

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