Oh, you’re really down at the moment, I’m sorry. Although I don’t know you really, after all these years of reading you, I do know that you have a brilliant ability to bounce back and to see the good side of things. Something will come up, a simple twist of fate and all that, I’m sure. (Also, hasn’t anything come of moving into Kirsty’s place, I thought that might be on the cards?)
I hope it all works out. xx
(And even though I still feel a bit sorry for Trina, I do think she’s an arse moaning on at you)
Thanks isabelle. Thanks for commenting. This is only my blather but it matters to get all this temporarily off my chest. This blog is going to be turned into the book where I sell a hundred thousand copies and I can release Wendy from her job and we’ll spend happy days where I cook for her and the carrots will get burned because I’m fucking her whilst hitching up one of her dresses over the kitchen table….oh, if only.
Re Kirsty. There is still a plan to rent her, – née our – house, but probably not till the New Year. I’d love it. To have my girls there whenever they want, and Kirsty and her boyf too. I get on very well with him.
Trina’s not a bad girl. All her moaning is a roundabout way of her saying “why don’t you love me?” I’m in a similar position myself. It’s a parallel. Trina loves me / I don’t love her. I love Wendy / Wendy doesn’t love me.
I know I’m saying this through the deluded smog of a man in love, but in an ideal world that won’t ever exist, I want to stop thinking about myself all the time. I can’t “take care” of Wendy, but I want my days to be centred around a togetherness where I naturally and spontaneously care for her. And to have sex with her all the time. The two go together for me, but she doesn’t fancy me.
I know neither will happen, neither together, nor separately. Neither the practical, day-to-day love – the playing with her daughter when you don’t feel like it, the shopping, the washing-up – all of which I want to do – nor running my hands through her hair, the kissing and slow stroking. None of it will ever happen.
What an awful evening! Is the LCl club open the U.S. members or is it a strictly domestic organisation? Are there dues or initiations? Can I heat the needles?
I’m sorry you’re in a rut. I wish I had a big bag of money. I’d send it to you. I’d just spend it on stupid stuff, anyway.
Trina’s the only member. I don’t particularly want to expand the club’s ranks.
Don’t worry M, I’ll be OK. I think. Possibly. I do get through most things but this is going to be a bit of a test. There’s always excessive drinking in the meantime.
Well good sir the worm always turns as they say, sometimes we have to do some shite we’d rather not but something will break your way even if it’s a gig you don’t want, sometimes we have to take something we despise to temporarily keep the head ever so slightly above water, at least until we can grab that branch floating by, me gives you da good vibes mate…
As for this Trina woman i don’t know why you even deal with the c*nt, there is a distinct pattern with her and you know it, she drinks and then she berates, of course maybe you should tell her for 50 quid you’ll shag her senseless, explain that it’s 50 a session, sorta dovetails into what i said above but hey, twice a week and you’ve got your room and 25 quid to spare… they don’t call me a Jean-ee-Us for nuffin…
Yes, at the moment I just need anything. I can’t afford to be fussy.
There’s always been an element of me being Trina’s gigolo. It used to be that she pays for the hotels and the weekends away, and the unspoken other bit of the bargain was sex. Which she really enjoyed. She’s very inexperienced and it was very vanilla and I couldn’t get her to expand her horizons – but that didn’t matter when it was her card that was coming out when we checked out of the hotel.
Now that the sex has been taken out of the equation, I don’t really know what we’re doing this for. I know the criticisms of me are just a translation for her sadness that I can’t love her, so they don’t really affect me. Still, it makes for a shit end to the night.
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