Oh dear. Twas m y last day in the office on Friday, and only 3 other people turned up. I brought far too much cake with me and one of the guys went out to get pizza. So we ended up having a late lunch (around 3pm) of pizza, cake and wine once everything had been packed up.
Seeing as I was the only one who drank red wine, I ended up having a bottle to myself. And then going to the pub. And then instigating shots. And then going to a lapdancers to buy coke for people who'd asked for it. And then sneaking into some private apartments to sample the goods. And then staying out and getting drunk til 4am. I count that as 13 hours of drinking.

I was fooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooked!

I'm not yet in the mood to talk about the rest of the weekend yet. Suffice to say it hasn't been great. Meh.

Just had a phonecall from my (nice, not nasty) boss saying that as we're moving offices and will be somewhere new next week, the head honchos have also decided to downsize. Starting with me. Tomorrow's my last day.

pissbolloxbuggershitarsetwatbastards

She did, however, say that I could take the rest of the day off as 'paid leave' if I wanted to, and she's absolutely gutted that there's nothing she can do about it.

Oh balls.

....Or not, as the case may be...

So my bro went awol last night again. I left work at around 6pm and was still in town when he texted me to tell me he was ok but wouldn't be going back and wouldn't be answering phone calls. So I picked up a cheeseburger from Maccies and went to the boyf's, where I sat for an enjoyable hour watching tv and drinking tea.

Next I had to deal with my mum. Apparently she'd found a lump the previous evening and had gone to the docs to get it checked out. Knowing how melodramatic my mum is, I'm not worried, and neither are the docs yet. Its more likely to be a freckle - that's how neurotic she is. Anyway, as the phonecalls increased, she started threatening to take a load of sleeping pills, so thats when I had to pack up and head over. My bro was still sending me texts at regular intervals so I knew he was alright.

I got to my mum's and found that she'd called the police. Poor little Merlin had been thrown in the garage but was subsequently rescued. Had to wait around for the police to arrive, and when they did, I recognised one of the officers and he said he knew me but couldn't quite place it. The boyf made a joke under his breath about knowing me from my 'other job', but luckily only I caught it. Twas weird tho. I  mean this guy was massive, probably 6'7", not easily forgettable!

Anyway, the police confiscated one of my bro's replica guns that he collects and I showed the big guy his room that my mum claimed he'd 'trashed'. I'd love for my mum to see a normal teenagers room before and after its been trashed (usually you can't tell much diference) - my bro's room was pristine. I then proceeded to take Merlin and the boyf home with me to sit by the phone awaiting news.

As I had predicted, he came home as soon as it started going dark. My mum wanted to come round to collect Merlin again but as the boyf was rolling around on the floor with him I said she could come get him before we went to work in the morning instead. The boyf said to me that he'd felt really uncomfortable and embarassed whilst at my mum's because of the way she had behaved and what she had said, and we both agreed that she had wasted police time.

Still, I'm a bit miffed that the boyf so openly declares his disgust for my mum's parenting skills. Ok, she's a bad mum and in no way maternal, and only ever cares about how she is perceived and what affects her, but she's still our mum and unfortunately I have to be there for her rain or shine until I'm unable to, cos she's got no one else. He told me that my family life and upringing etc is 'not normal'. "Well its normal to me" I replied. "But it's not normal" he insisted. I tried to explain that it may not be his kind of normal, because he grew up in a 2.4 family-type surrounding, but its all I've ever known, so it is normal to me. He just doesn't get it. He has an ideal image of families because his family life is so picture-book, whereas to me, I think that amount of harmony in one family is weird. Oh well.

Anyway, a pleasant evening was spent with the kitten and some pizza, even though my princess growled at him and wouldn't let him go upstairs. And now its morning, my mum's been to collect Merlin and I've warned her that I'm not a babysitting service. Haven't heard from my bro but apparently he's back to normal at my mum's. Phoned in and explained to work why I'd be taking the morning off to catch up on sleep (and blogging - hee hee)....
....and now just had to rescue my cat from the mean yellow one next door who was stood on our fence growling at her. She's so fat and pathetic - all she can do is growl!!!

Might try to have a little nap......

I've just calculated that I've worked 9 hours today without a lunchbreak. Highly illegal!!! Am rightly justified in embellishing my timesheets when I do because just occassionally I work days like today.
Don't feel tired or hungry though, and only a tad stressed.

Also just got a call from my mum saying that my bro's gone and walked out again. She chased him so far but gave up and now she's hysterical and crying on the phone to me. What am I gonna do? Nothing. I'm definitely not driving round the streets again looking for him. He can look after himself and my mum needs to bloody well grow up. And stop using me as a crutch.

I will, however, go and collect his birthday present which he apparently doesn't want anymore, which is a fluffy grey kitten called Merlin....

KITTEH!!!

I've set the boys up in the kitchen this morning to tidy out the cupboards, and just been chatting to them whilst making a brew. They're really rather cheeky chappies!! But one of them is vair vair cute....starting to think about maybe having some fun with him in the disabled loo.

Well, he's only he til the end of the day and I'll never see him again...!!!

To boss about!! We are moving offices this week and I have been sent two lovely agency boys to help pack up all our stuff. Guess what? They're under my command and do whatever I tell them to - its really rather fun....

Ok, so I'm an ordered type of gal, and when I was younger, got into the habit of making lists for things. Like a list of all the piercings and tattoos I had done and on what date, a list of things I wanted to achieve in my five year plan......and a list of all the guys I've ever slept with, with dates. Ok, maybe a bit odd.

Anyway, that list managed to come up in conversation last night. Can't quite remember how. Think I was telling the boyf about my bezzy Tara laughing at the fact that I had one and then coming round to the idea herself. He thought it was an odd thing to keep a record of, and we started talking about how many sexual partners we'd had (without actually naming numbers) - he said he could count his on three hands, and that he didn't want to know about me cos he hates the thought of me being with anyone else (bless).

So yes. A list. Mine has names and is arranged in chronological order. It has not yet been colour coded to show which are flings and which are relationships, but I have considered it.....

Crazy lady? Probably.

Oh well, the naughtiness of yesterday afternoon didn't last unfortunately. After our bath 'session', myself and the boyf went to a local pub for our Sunday dinner, and then called round to my mum's to see how she was holding out since Friday's fiasco. Turns out my bro has been threatening to run away since he walked out on Friday, forcing me to trawl the streets in my mum's little fiesta with her hysterical beside me. I say good on him, my mum pretty much deserves everything she gets. I know she has problems, but she won't acknowledge the fact that she's deranged, so she's getting the bare minimum help from me. Unless its regarding my bro. He can come stay with me whenever he likes.

Anyway, my cousin came over from Norway on Friday, so I've spent the weekend seeing her too. She is such an 'it' girl, and she loves making a point of the fact that she's from Norway. Everywhere we went it was a case of "Oh this is how we do it in Norway. Cos I'm Norwegian you know". Bloody hell, so am I and I don't ever bring it up! Ended up spending £80 even though I wasn't drinking, didn't pay for taxis and hardly ate anything. I rarely spend £80 a weekend on myself, never mind anyone else!

So...Sunday afternoon. Escaped from my mum's after a while, but not quick enough so that she managed to get a jibe in about my legs being 'too big' for the ripped jeans I was wearing. That's a novel way of saying 'they look too tight on you'! Ignored her but then ended up doing an hour-long workout later on. Bloody squats and lunges and press ups and crunches and oh why can't I just be fat?!?!?

(Seems to me that I can either be fat and happy cos I can eat what I like, but unhappy cos I don't feel sexy, or slim and happy cos I've got the figure I want, but unhappy cos I have to drastically restrict my eating.) Meh.

Anyway, today in the office has been crappy. Not for any particular reason, just cos I'm on some sort of period and hence a bit irate, and its warm and I wanna prop the front door open so I don't have to keep getting up to let people in!! Oh well, and hour to go then I'm gonna consider going home.......

It's got to that time on a Friday afternoon when you think of things to do that require the minimum amount of effort but take up the most time or at least make you look like you're busy doing something you should be.

For example, I am now busy alphebatising files. And sorting through all the crap on my desk. The fact that I'm merely taking a pile from one place, sorting it into smaller piles and putting them somewhere else, bears no significance. I'm just counting down the hours til 5pm.

Or maybe 4:45pm.

Fuck it, I've had my timesheet signed off for 5pm, I'll go at 4:30!!!

Well, looking at the board opposite me, it tells me 6 people are in the office today, including me. The girl who sits in the front office with me has gone to an external meeting so its just me til 5pm. No one has bothered to offer me any relief for lunch and the woman who keeps getting me to do her photocopying for her has just come in. I may spend the afternoon hiding under my desk....

On a lighter note, I just got to do the empty-printer-cartridge dance. Anyone who's worked in admin will know what I'm talking about. The printer cartridge starts running out leaving big white streaks across the pages, but its not ready for the bin yet! Simply remove the cartridge and give it a good old shake. I like to dance whilst shaking. Sometimes I'll shake it over the shoulder and pretend I'm Tom Cruise in Cocktail, other times I'll do it side-to-side and pretend I'm Baby from Dirty Dancing learning to shimmy for the first time.

Tis a good ol' office jig!!

Great plan last night - Ben&Jerry's cookie dough ice cream, flapjack, pjs, bed, cat, laptop, download chickflick. I thought I'd give P.S. I Love You a try seeing as I read an interview with the author recently and she's around the same age as me.

Big Mistake.

About 5 minutes into the sodding thing I started blubbing, and pretty much cried all the way through. For those of you who don't know what it's about, it's the gorge Gerard Butler (who I've loved since Phantom of the Opera - I always shout at Christine when she picks Raoul over the Phantom. Ahem) dying and then leaving his wife letters and 'signs' to help her get over him. Its bloody awful but I sobbed from beginning to end.

I hope when my hormone levels have returned to normality I would be able to sit through it without bawling, otherwise something has definitely gone wrong with me!!

Anyway, managed to make it into work at 8:55am, but as no one was around I've put 8:30 on my time sheet because that extra 30mins almost gets my hours back up to what they should be so I don't have to pay for taking Wednesday morning off. Bloody agency work.

So far today I've had two. One from the nagging faffy woman who is in charge of our department and recently rubs me up the wrong way just by looking at me, and the other from the manager who hired me but doesn't actually work in my office.

The first one involved being questioned about whether I still wanted to work here and if I needed any help with, and I quote, "hole punching or stapling" (talk about undermining my role in the office), and a nice little explanation into the hormones which are making me feel like shit. Thanks for that one.
The second 'little informal chat' was great - the office manager could not stop stressing that she was far more concerned with my health than my work, and was only concerned with my welfare.

We've agreed that asap we're gonna knock my hours down to three days a week til I feel more like working a full week again. I wish I could take Monday and Tuesday off cos that would mean I could go away for a long weekend with the boyf. But 3 days working and 4 days off sounds good to me, especially as I've told the club manager where I dance that I was taking time off as well. Good all round!

Feeling a lot more chirpy and positive today. I think at some point between Tuesday and last night I may have hit rock bottom, and can now see the light at the end of the tunnel. Either that or I'm just on a rollercoaster and I'm having a climbing day before I plummet again.

Either way I'm gonna enjoy the ride for as long as possible....

In Norway we have a sort of rice pudding that's served cold with a sort of cranberry sauce. And usually only at Christmas. It might as well be called 'sort of rice pudding and jam'.
I just had a nice bowl of rice pudding for um...high tea I guess you'd call it. Twas nice and satisfying so I thought I'd let y'all know.
I'm gonna go home now, the crazy talk has started and I'm gonna be known in blogland as 'the crazy rice pudding-fanatic cat lady'. As long as that's all and no one tags 'who smells of wee' on the end of that title, I suppose I can live with that...

Ok, so I know we've been really bust at work lately, but I had a migraine this morning and ended up calling in sick. As I am contracted by an agency, I decided to call them rather than the office manager, and told the girl who deals with my bookings how I was feeling. I've told her the miscarriage story rather than the abortion story, and this morning told her about my non-stop crying and the possibility of getting signed off or something. Although sympathetic she wasn't very helpful.

Anyway, she's just phoned me back now, saying someone from the office has been on to her requesting I go in this afternoon as there is too much work to be done and I am desperately needed. So I've agreed to go in at 12.30.

Bastards.

Was looking forward to a much-needed day in bed.

I suppose its nice to be needed in work, but lately I've started to get fed up with the job, with certain people asking me to do their photocopying for them and talking to me as though being their gofer is my dream job. For fuck's sake it was the highest paid admin job going and I'm saving up for my Masters which is gonna cost over £6k. I don't want to be there!! If I had the choice I'd turn tail and run as far away as possible from that office.

And the silence majorly gets me down. I'm working with a girl who's about 28 and hardly talks to me all day - I have to initiate any conversations that take place and she's constantly stressing, skipping lunch and staying late. I feel like saying "are you actually happy stuck in this dead end job? Don't you want anything more for yourself??"

I think I may ask to go part time from next week, or when this workload has been shifted....

The boyf is on his way home - no more blogging for me tonight. Dammit, and I'd only just got up to date with Kender.... You other guys'll have to wait I'm afraid. Bugger.

Have a good evening y'all!!

Was browsing round Home Bargains yesterday on my way home from work and picked up a mahoosive box of broken cookies that were going for something stupid like 69p. "Hmmmmm" thought I, " I could either take them into work tomorrow and share them and have something to dunk in my tea, or I could keep them at home so I stop scoffing the boyf's expensive and multi-calorific biccies". I got them home and set them on the counter in the kitchen, where they stayed for approximately 5 minutes. Got into my pjs faster than Superman can get into lycra and kindly escorted the box of cookies and a bottle of milk upstairs to my room, where I got into bed and proceeded to devour the lot.

Well, I managed to save myself half a box for tonight, which is why I'm back in bed with biscuits to my left and milk to my right and a GODDAMMIT THE CAT JUST FARTED AND IT REEEEEEEEEKS!!! Was gonna say a milk moustache but OH BEJESUS that is one helluva whiff. The milk has started to curdle its so bad. And its LINGERING!!! OH GOD MAKE IT GO AWAY I'M GOING TO SUFFOCATE......

BLEURGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Ha ha, she's woken herself up cos she smells so bad.

So pissed off cos I wrote this post last night and it didn't save. Grrrrrr.

Anyway. I skipped off work early on Friday cos I had a last minute doc's appointment due to the fact that I'd been in pain and feeling like crap. Had lots of fun internal stuff with yet another GP who I've never seen before (don't think I've ever seen the same doctor twice) and got given lovely antibiotics - the sort that if you drink alcohol during the course you could wind up in hospital. Bonza.

Boyf picked me up (suitably worried about my health) and we spent a nice snoozey Friday evening together. I even cooked dinner! Saturday morning was spent in a similarly lazy style, and it was only in the afternoon things started going wrong. I'd mentioned several times to the boyf that I wanted to throw the hoover round the house but wasn't sure I'd have time, as I was supposed to be in work at 5pm and he wanted to take me for a meal beforehand. Think I mentioned it 3 times, but they obviously weren't strong enough hints, as he just sat in front of the tv watching a film he doesn't even like. Then I was trying to put my false eyelashes on (for work, not cos I always wear them!) and I just snapped. Partly because the eyelashes weren't working and partly because there was housework that needed doing and the boyf hadn't offered to help. So I got really short and snappy with him and he ended up asking if he should leave and walking out.

At that point the tears came. Now, let me explain. I am not a crying sort of gal. I will cry at a sad movie, and that's about it. I don't cry at funerals, I rarely cry when I'm in pain, and I think I cried once when I split up with someone. I heard the front door open and then his car door open and I just lay on the bathroom floor and sobbed. Every time I thought I'd composed myself another wave of anguish consumed me, and at the same time a little voice in my head was saying "what the hell's going on???" The boyf reappeared and as soon as he saw what was happening assumed he'd set me off and was full of guilt, wanting to know what he'd done. The pair of us were pretty confuzzled when I tried to explain that nothing was really the matter, I just couldn't stop crying.

Afterwards, although still a bit melancholy, I had cheered up and was successfully dry eyed and non-blotchy-faced. I had explained that I had expected him to know by some sort of telepathy that I wanted him to lend a hand with the housework, and tried to explain the female rationale behind the 'asking' rule. (ie, if something needs to be done the other person should pick up on it without having to be asked. If you have to ask you'd rather do without the help. Female logic at its finest) We went for our posh meal which was lovely and then I got called into work cos no one had turned up. I got quite a few drinks bought for me (I hadn't started the antibiotics yet) and was quite merry, despite the fact that I couldn't really bend over as my ovaries felt like they were in the midst of dying. The boyf had gone to a party with all his colleagues and their other halves and although it would've sounded dull on a normal night, I wanted more than anything to be there with him.

I ended up leaving work early after getting upset cos I couldn't get through to the boyf, and walking through town on my own to get the bus home. L texted me while I was walking at ended up coming round at about 3am. We watched a bit of TV and went to bed, and I got paranoid in case the boyf realised I'd been trying to get hold of him and came round to find L in my bed. At that point, it was totally innocent and I hadn't touched him, but even so...

In the morning, we cuddled for a bit, and then he turned the heat up. So we messed around for a bit and things were just about to get interesting when the boyf phoned me all worried and concerned. So I threw L out. (Nicely). Not like I had an attack of conscience or anything, but I realised I'd rather be with the boyf than L, despite the vast differences in levels of excitement between the two. However, ended up going to my mum's to have the 'face to face' she'd been threatening for weeks, where she declared that I had distanced myself from the family and she felt hurt and angry that although I only live round the corner, I never bother to come and see her. "It's a two-way thing" didn't wash - apparently she's the one with the hard life who gets no help and sympathy and I'm the ungrateful lazy daughter.

Guess what? I burst into tears again. Out of all the things in the world, my mum is the one person who can never make me cry, cos I'd built up a defiance as a kid and crying was a chink in the armour I used to protect myself from my mum. I ended up telling her I'd had a miscarriage (small white lie) and was unwell and starting to worry whether it had affected my fertility. She carried on having a go for a few more minutes then softened. We had the first proper chat we'd had in ages, and then went to see my nan, who doesn't even know who I am anymore. The boyf then came to pick me up and we enjoyed a peaceful Sunday evening.

Monday loomed, and I was stuck in a meeting for 4 hours. Joy of joys. You'll never guess what I did shortly after the meeting finished? That's right. Started crying again. It's getting ridiculous now. No one in the office knows, I managed to hide out in the loos til I'd calmed down and the red eyes and gone down. No one bloody cares to be honest. And I snapped at one of the guys, and he's one of the only people who's always been nice to me, and that made me feel even worse.

So what do I do?? Do I go back to my GP (another new one who I've never met before and who has no real interest in my health) and ask for anti-depressants or mood enhancers, or do I ask to be signed off for a few weeks and try to relax and de-stress, or what? I know one thing: I have a lump in my throat at the moment cos I know I'm half way through Tuesday and I haven't cried.

Yet.

My day so far has been pretty crap - haven't left the office and still got that muggy, phantom hangover feeling.  The highlight? One of the girls bringing me a special treat - lunch from Marks and Sparks! Including the impressive 'BBQ Biscuits' - we arranged to meet at the microwave and heat up the first batch with a nice brew. Wonderful. My face is probably covered in chocolate and marshmallow now but I don't care.

Second highlight is being able to watch some movies. Seeing as the systems are still down, I have taken the opportunity to watch the majority of Prince Caspian and I'm now downloading the new Adam Sandler film (bonus points for knowing the correct title!)

I've found out that if I only do 6 and a half hours today, my wages come to a nice tidy (undisclosed) figure for this week, so I'm planning to skip off at 3:45. I don't think I can be bothered informing my boss. Plus, I have a doc's appointment at 4:15, so I'm quite fairly justified in my early dart.

Plans for this evening? Get home, nap for a few hours, do a nice pasta bake and have a relaxing bath while its simmering in the oven. Don't even want a bottle of wine. Just comfy clothes and bed!!

Why do I feel hungover when I definitely didn't drink anything but water last night??

Left work and unfortunately bumped into my dad on my way to my evening job. He offered me a lift home and I had to think of a reason why I'd want to hang around that particular area after 5pm. A vague story about friends nearby and coffee seemed to do the trick. God, if he only knew I was on my way to lapdance the night away!!

Got into work around 5:30pm and went a bit excitable. My friend Tara had to check my pupils and my nostrils to check I hadn't 'had anything' and I was just being a nutter cos I'd been stuck alone in the office all day. The night got off to a slow start and I ended up talking to my boss who was flirting shamelessly with me and confessed he had a crush on me. He's married with kids. And his wife and kids also work in the club. Not a wise move. From my point of view, he's spending too much time with me, and the other girls are gonna pick up on it and either tell his wife out of spite or use it against me some other way. And I'm not even remotely interested in him otherwise it might be worth the bother.

Tara made a fortune, as usual, whereas I struggled with a few measly dances. I just feel ashamed and embarassed blatantly bartering for more money the way she does. I try to tell myself that I'll never see these guys again and they deserve to be ripped off, but if I can't justify it to myself I'll never be able to convince them! I've just lost interest in the hustle at the moment. I'm sure I'll get my spark back....

Anyway, computers are still down, the only thing that's working is the internet. Hurrah! Although we have a very important meeting on Monday and are unable to prepare any of the reports for them, which is majorly shit.   

But as long as I'm getting paid I don't really care!

My hangover seems to have finally abated.

I can now concentrate on writing a more literate blog.

So yes, me and the ex last night... As I was saying, I managed not to accidentally fall on top of his cock whilst naked, and am rather proud of that. Despite the fact that for the past two days I have been reminiscing about what mind-blowing sex we used to have, and reflecting on the fact that although I have a boyf who closely resembles a porn star, he's not up to scratch in the bedroom stakes.

Yes, I wasn't the slightest bit tempted to stick my tongue in his mouth or give him a hasty blowjob down a sidestreet or anything like that. I was a good girl. I can look my boyf in the eye and think 'I have nothing to feel guilty about - last night I was FAITHFUL'.

Well done me.

.......erm......having your hands down each other's pants frantically finger fucking at the bus stop doesn't count, right??

Only just got round to attempting to do some work (I know, 2pm on a working day is despicable) and would you believe it? The z:// drive where all the office's shared data is kept is down, and no one has been able to access it for quite some time.

What a shame.

Looks like I can blog away guiltlessly and look forward to that mid-afternoon nap....

Head is foggy.

Hangover keeps trying to take over my feeble brain but I won't let it.

Majorly taking the piss in work today. Everyone's on a training/team away day and I opted to come in and cover the front desk. At the moment there is only me in the entire office. Had a hospital appointment this morning to check that I'm a definitely no longer up the duff, so had a lie in, went and handed in my sample of urine (which I was very proud of as not only did I managed to get it in the bottle but it was also the right colour, ie didn't look like Tetley's, and didn't betray the fact that I'd been out drinking all night) and went for a leisurely full english with the boyf.

Now am sat in office with a 'to do' list in front of me and all I want to do is sleep!!

On a brighter note, Ryanair are giving away free flights today so I've just booked three friends and myself a weekend in Milan for less than £120. Score.

Oh, and yes I did behave myself last night with the ex. Well....I didn't sleep with him, lets put it that way! Plus I got free drinks off a pap in a cocktail bar so ended up drinking daiquiris and mai tais and a bottle of champagne.

Which is why my head feels like bughhhhh.

...but not together! The ex called me yesterday when I was in work to invite me for a few beers in the sun. As I had skipped my lunch (after getting angry during Monday's lunch listening to Radio2) I decided to leg it out of the office a bit earlier, and after picking up some essentials from the shops, we went and found an amazing beer garden in the middle of town that was totally empty, and lapped up a few Corona's in the sun.

We gabbed about the prospect of his new bar that he would be managing, and I gave him some pointers as to the setup and so on and so forth. When we had been together, he had run a hugely successful student-type bar in town, and I like to think that it was our joint efforts and brainstorming that produced such great results. So I got in my views on the new place, advising him about menus, drinks, gimicks and giving him the number of a very good chef who would design his menu for him. After we had exhausted this, we started talking about his 'casual shag' - a girl he used to work worth who he started shagging only when drunk. It took him for ever and a day to admit that they had slept together, even though I sussed it way back when, but he doesn't want a relationship and wants to keep things as friends who have the occasional shag. A bit like our situation, which is 'exes who still love each other but have settled for being friends who have occasional amazing sex'.

Anyway, I digress. So, my curiosity, or indignance, got the best of me when her name came up, as she has been pushing him to make more of their relationship, and he's obviously not interested, and she regularly gets drunk and makes a scene when they're out, and yet he's still holding on to her. Now, the guy I went out with would have binned her ages ago as she is too much of a crank, yet somehow he puts up with it. It seems that even he doesn't know why he's kept her round. Strange. If only he'd been more patient when we'd gone out, we'd probably still be together!

So that topic also exhausted, he asked me how things were with the boyf, and we eventually got on to talking about how much we missed having sex with each other. We agreed that some of the best sex we'd ever had was with each other, and started to get a little turned on reminiscing about particularly memorable experiences. I antagonised the situation further by blutoothing him my work pics portfolio, and his admiration for the pics were soon clearly evident by looking at his crotch! Mmmm - would've loved to drag him off to the loos there and then, but was determined to be a good girl. Luckily, his friend turned up shortly afterwards, and I went to meet some other friends and the boyf at a cocktail bar.

A few cocktails, a posh meal and a bottle of wine later (all of which I paid for as the boyf is skint until payday at the weekend - grrrr) I was feeling more than a little tipsy and textin the ex every time the boyf went to the loo. Managed to make it home without slipping up, at which point I had a go at the boyf for something irrelevant, intentionally headbutted him several times, and apparently passed out on the bed with my mouth open mid-rant. Sexy.

This morning I was extremely apologetic and gutted that I had no msgs waiting for me from the ex, and decided to let the boyf have his wicked way with me, overruling the fact that I had drunkenly told him that I didn't want to shag him at any point in the near future cos its hurts too much and I'd only have to fake it. Nice. However, it didn't hurt but I did have to fake it, and eventually I was getting no joy out of the situation so instigated a bit of anal fun instead. I think I'm a bisexual man trapped in a woman's body. Anyway, needless to say, he lasted about 30seconds after entering the back door, leaving me only just starting to feel horny and obviously unfulfilled. So I rolled over and went back to sleep (see, I told you I was a man!) and was consequently late for work this morning.

At least now I feel a bit more justified craving sex with the ex.