The Rock Climber tells me why he loves me

He told me he loved me at three weeks. It fell out of his mouth as we waited for our taxi to take us from the pub to Maccas for late night nuggets. We'd been on it all day - drinking, pinging and fucking. I put it down to an "I love you man" moment;... Continue Reading →

The Rock Climber – Part One

They say that when one door closes, another door opens. After saying goodbye to the love of my past life, again but less spectacularly this time, my door to real happiness seems to have finally opened. It’s early days yet but it has consumed my life for six weeks now. It happened the day after... Continue Reading →

One year on

My Facebook memories kindly reminded me today that one year ago I was dumped via text message by a man I'd been seeing for eight months. A man I practically lived with. Facebook can fuck off. Tonight I tried to get the man I'm seeing to in some way say some small thing to make... Continue Reading →

The endless torment of an adulteress

It had been weeks since I had cried in the shower. Weeks since I had cried about you, or was it months? It feels like only yesterday you were in my bed but it has actually been almost three months. Three months since I told you to stop contacting me. We both knew you wouldn’t.... Continue Reading →

Growing older not wiser

I feel old. It’s ridiculous to say at 35 but I feel my life passing me by and I don’t feel in control of it. I got an MRI today on a bung knee. I have no idea what I did to it originally, way back when I first noticed it in 2017, but it’s... Continue Reading →

All the butterflies are dead

For the first time in a long time … Not a fuck buddy, or a fling, dating that goes nowhere or a string of messages that peter out because we have run out of inconsequential nothings to talk about and the effort of being witty is just all too much to be bothered with. I... Continue Reading →

A metaphor for wilting flowers

I wasn’t going to write about you anymore. I wasn’t going to give you the time. But my thoughts are full and overflowing and I need to make space for new things, new pathways, new experiences, new connections. I need to eradicate the memory of a thousand conversations, the feel of your body and the... Continue Reading →

The heavy weight of words unsaid

A tangle of limbs on my bed. Our breath, that had been coming fast and hard, gradually slows. The skin on the underside of his bicep was smooth against my cheek, my hand thrown across his chest.  It had been so long since we’d seen each other and while the sex felt the same, everything... Continue Reading →

The subtle art of knowing everything is fucked

I usually leave book reviews for my book club meetings but I’m going to make an exception for Mark Manson’s follow up to The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck, aptly titled Everything is Fucked. I’m about two-thirds through but something I read has cut to my core and I can’t seem to get... Continue Reading →

The married man’s right of reply

He wrote this as a right of reply to my previous post. I've made one minor edit to remove an irrelevant reference to a mutual couple we know: It ended all too soon. Of course, I can understand why it did, why in fact it had too. I am not the sharpest implement at times,... Continue Reading →

How I ended my affair in a spectacularly predictable way

We always get exactly what we deserve. Last night I got what I deserved. It was eight months in the making and the moment I had feared since the day he told me he was married. I wrote him a letter. I told him I was in love with him. The consequences of doing this... Continue Reading →

How I became an accidental sex therapist

Like many of us, I am often better at giving advice than following it and this week I’ve once again found myself in the position of dirty Dr Phil. I received a message on Plenty of Fish from a married man looking to chat. I politely declined his request at first, citing that fact that... Continue Reading →

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: