Wendy takes me to the park for a wang

Half past four in the morning, and I am aching with desire for Trish. So as an effective way of abasing myself in her eyes, and losing the respect of Wendy and Kitty at the same time, I sent a series of six texts to her, describing in detail what I'd like us to be getting up to.

At 5am, she replied. "What's happening? Those messages surprised me."

"Sorry darling. You make me think of sex. Sex with you. I'll shut up now Xx"

"It's OK."

"I'm sorry Trish. Just started thinking about you, as I often do, and didn't have the self-control to keep it to myself. I fancy you a bit, as you know. I think about sex with you all the time. Just manage most of the time not to say it."

I put the phone under my pillow, willing her to reply. But why would she respond to the incontinent sexual fantasies of a man after she's rejected him? I tried finding a position in bed which would lessen the physical craving for her, a longing which was melding with teary-eyed dejection. In truth, I couldn't care less about losing my self-respect; it's losing Trish that makes me sad.

---

Wendy and I went up to the park the other day, taking our usual narcotic picnic and my current monomania. We were throwing the ball for the dog using one of those instruments which picks up the ball in a scoop on the end of a plastic handle. Everyone I know calls such a thing a "wanger", but I'm not sure that is the canonical term.

We sat in one of the little shelters near the lake. "I'm quite a good shot with this, you know," she said. "Me and [ex] and [daughter] were up here once a while ago, and he was being very annoying, really getting on my tits, so when he wandered off a bit I thought I'd crack him one on his back with the ball as an "accident". So I put one shot in, to get my aim in. It narrowly missed him. He laughed and threw the ball back. I put it back in, aimed it at his back, then fired it off as hard as I could."

"And just then, right at that moment, he turned round and it cracked into his goolies. He fell down as though he'd been shot. He was in agony, but when he'd recovered a little, he just about managed to croak out 'It's OK Wendy, it was an accident'." When he got home he sat there with a packet of frozen peas on his nuts. 'How about that,' he said. 'You couldn't have done that if you'd tried.'"

She told me about a time she and Kitty went to Blackpool. They were waiting for a pizza, and asked the assistant if there were any toilets. On being told that there weren't any, she walked past the counter and into the kitchen, and did a piss against a fridge.

I took the wanger off her and fired the ball off for the dog. It ricocheted around the shelter above our heads. "Fuck's sake Wendy, I think this thing is better in your hands." Why can't we be lovers, Wendy? -- and immediately I dismissed the thought, and was glad to sense it expunged. Don't sabotage a lovely day, you fucking idiot.