Hubby and I had an amazing evening last night. We curled up with a DVD and a bottle of wine. It was like an festive M&S advert. But with regional accents.
We are siblings really. I have given up on sex now because, he doesn't really want to make love anyone. Bless the lad. We got quite drunk, almost accidentally, after finishing almost two full bottles of Merlot. Still, the mood was relaxed and cosy, rather than hot and heavy.
I am starting to realise that perhaps this relationship, my marriage...it serves a different purpose to the one it used to. A long time ago, hubby and I gave each other everything we needed; security, intimacy, passion and loyalty. Now, although we are the best of friends, there isn't the same urgency around us.
It's not ideal. But I have invested so much time, money, love and effort in this relationship. I am not going to leave him.
I'm still waiting for James' correspodance. It's making me a bit edgy.
Tuesday 16 December 2008
Monday 15 December 2008
The butterflies...
So, after deliberating long and hard about joining the extra-marital dating site, I decided to put both feet in and go for it.
As soon as I joined I had hundreds of messages. It was quite overwhelming. I have a password on my photograph, so I thought it smacked of desperation that these men had only read a few paragraphs about me and were already snapping at my heels.
I was surprised that the majority of them were very eloquent and polite - not nearly the sort of come-over-to-my-place-and-I'll-have-you-over-the-mantelpiece-darlin kind of response I expected. One man shined out though. His name is James, he's 40. We have been emailing each other (I set up a separate account - want to minimize any risk of getting caught out). I await his next reply.
I guess I am a little giddy with that first flush feeling you get when you meet someone new. When my Gmail lights up with that promising (1), my stomach turns. It has been such a long time.
As soon as I joined I had hundreds of messages. It was quite overwhelming. I have a password on my photograph, so I thought it smacked of desperation that these men had only read a few paragraphs about me and were already snapping at my heels.
I was surprised that the majority of them were very eloquent and polite - not nearly the sort of come-over-to-my-place-and-I'll-have-you-over-the-mantelpiece-darlin kind of response I expected. One man shined out though. His name is James, he's 40. We have been emailing each other (I set up a separate account - want to minimize any risk of getting caught out). I await his next reply.
I guess I am a little giddy with that first flush feeling you get when you meet someone new. When my Gmail lights up with that promising (1), my stomach turns. It has been such a long time.
Friday 21 November 2008
Rise of the Machines
Oh dear. Hubby has been upstaged by a plastic idol I have decided to name "Charles".
To be fair, upstaging Hubby was not hard. The man has the all the sexual ability and tenderness of a horny 12 year old. Quick and painless.
Oh, I am cruuuel...
Anyway, Charles and I met in the electronics section of my local Harmony sex shop. I often walk passed and have never before gone in. We have met many tines since, every occasion explosive. He is there when I need him. He is the right size and shape, and he knows what to do. It is amazing to think that two AA batteries and a bit of thermoplastic rubber could induce such ecstasy.
During one of my post-orgasmic hazes, I decided to do a cheeky Google search for dating and found this website. It's called 'Illicit Encounters'. I've actually heard about it before at work (I think someone caught our CEO on it once) but forgot about it until now. The site is a dating site for married people. What a contradiction!
Had a look around. Has got me considering my situation. Don't want to sign up though. However difficult things are, I'm not desperate enough.
To be fair, upstaging Hubby was not hard. The man has the all the sexual ability and tenderness of a horny 12 year old. Quick and painless.
Oh, I am cruuuel...
Anyway, Charles and I met in the electronics section of my local Harmony sex shop. I often walk passed and have never before gone in. We have met many tines since, every occasion explosive. He is there when I need him. He is the right size and shape, and he knows what to do. It is amazing to think that two AA batteries and a bit of thermoplastic rubber could induce such ecstasy.
During one of my post-orgasmic hazes, I decided to do a cheeky Google search for dating and found this website. It's called 'Illicit Encounters'. I've actually heard about it before at work (I think someone caught our CEO on it once) but forgot about it until now. The site is a dating site for married people. What a contradiction!
Had a look around. Has got me considering my situation. Don't want to sign up though. However difficult things are, I'm not desperate enough.
Friday 14 November 2008
Quatam of Adonis
Woof.
Have just come back from cinema with Hubby. Saw latest Bond film and, Oh My Gosh, was it good. I mean - the film itself was rather dull and predictable, but why should I care when I have the fabulous Daniel Craig to ogle? Solidly. For over an hour and a half.
There was a distinct lack of embarrassingly tight swimming trunks, but I can let that go. I could tell Hubby was getting uncomfortable; every time there was a close-up of the said action hero he coughed and shifted in his seat. During a particularly slow moment, I carefully nestled some select bit of popcorn in his hair. We went and had dinner at Frankie and Benny's afterwards. He noticed during pudding and was not amused.
Last weekend I went shopping "for myself", and bought something that I thought I would have never bought. It is small and phallic, and, apparantly, will make me reel with ecstasy. Shelly is skeptical, but will give anything a try once. I have to hide it in my sports bag in the bottom of my cupboard.
Naughty girl!
Have just come back from cinema with Hubby. Saw latest Bond film and, Oh My Gosh, was it good. I mean - the film itself was rather dull and predictable, but why should I care when I have the fabulous Daniel Craig to ogle? Solidly. For over an hour and a half.
There was a distinct lack of embarrassingly tight swimming trunks, but I can let that go. I could tell Hubby was getting uncomfortable; every time there was a close-up of the said action hero he coughed and shifted in his seat. During a particularly slow moment, I carefully nestled some select bit of popcorn in his hair. We went and had dinner at Frankie and Benny's afterwards. He noticed during pudding and was not amused.
Last weekend I went shopping "for myself", and bought something that I thought I would have never bought. It is small and phallic, and, apparantly, will make me reel with ecstasy. Shelly is skeptical, but will give anything a try once. I have to hide it in my sports bag in the bottom of my cupboard.
Naughty girl!
Tuesday 21 October 2008
Monday 20 October 2008
Shopping bags...
Have decided to drink obscene amounts of water this morning, since the Gods have blessed me with industrial-sized bags under my eyes. Nice.
Hubby kept kicking me last night. He's like a sodding donkey. I got into the office this morning, and at least 4 people asked me if I was "feeling okay". I told the first 3, "yes", and the fourth that I had spent the night with Captain Buckaroo and, if they didn't want to receive an equally brutal kicking, they best get out of my way.
Well, I said that in my head. I am so much cooler in there anyway.
I fear it is one of those days.
Hubby kept kicking me last night. He's like a sodding donkey. I got into the office this morning, and at least 4 people asked me if I was "feeling okay". I told the first 3, "yes", and the fourth that I had spent the night with Captain Buckaroo and, if they didn't want to receive an equally brutal kicking, they best get out of my way.
Well, I said that in my head. I am so much cooler in there anyway.
I fear it is one of those days.
Friday 10 October 2008
Hello cyberspace...
First of all, I would like to stress, I am writing this blog simply for my own entertainment.
The truth is, I am bored. I am very, very, very bored. In fact, I am so bored, I am running out of ways to format my typing to convey exactly how bored I am.
I have been secretary and legal consultant for a small licensing company for about 7 years. I have a desk in a bog-standard office. I go to the same sandwich bar everyday. The people who were here when I came have gone on to "better things". I am now part of the furniture. A comfy, if slightly worn-out sofa, if you will.
I am married, rather begrudgingly, to a man who no longer makes me feel anything. We met in my late twenties, through a mutual friend, after I had been hung out to dry by the love of my life, Mr Perfect. Mr Perfect was as his name suggested, bar the fact that, despite my best efforts, I was not his one. Ms Perfect, whom he met at a work conference during our 3rd year together, was his one, and he made like a banana when he discovered that, leaving me with a pending contact for a two-bedroom flat and a chronic lack of faith.
Hubby, however, was nice and predictable. We courted for the standard 3 months (the recommended dating-period for rehabilitating sad singletons), and began seeing each other, which turned into going out with each other, which turned into a proposal and finally, marriage.
Things are okay between us. I think that maybe that's the problem - things are fine. But it isn't exciting...it isn't even interesting anymore. Our love-making is performed mostly out of habit. If he leaves the dishes expectantly in the sink, it makes me furious. Even the way he moves in bed (not erratically, but very frequently, with a lot of grunting) makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork. Honestly, if he ever leaves any cutlery in reaching distance of my bed, my health will be at serious risk.
Scratch what I said at the beginning of this blog. I am lonely. I am writing so people will write back. Help me feel less boring.
Lots of love,
Shelly x
The truth is, I am bored. I am very, very, very bored. In fact, I am so bored, I am running out of ways to format my typing to convey exactly how bored I am.
I have been secretary and legal consultant for a small licensing company for about 7 years. I have a desk in a bog-standard office. I go to the same sandwich bar everyday. The people who were here when I came have gone on to "better things". I am now part of the furniture. A comfy, if slightly worn-out sofa, if you will.
I am married, rather begrudgingly, to a man who no longer makes me feel anything. We met in my late twenties, through a mutual friend, after I had been hung out to dry by the love of my life, Mr Perfect. Mr Perfect was as his name suggested, bar the fact that, despite my best efforts, I was not his one. Ms Perfect, whom he met at a work conference during our 3rd year together, was his one, and he made like a banana when he discovered that, leaving me with a pending contact for a two-bedroom flat and a chronic lack of faith.
Hubby, however, was nice and predictable. We courted for the standard 3 months (the recommended dating-period for rehabilitating sad singletons), and began seeing each other, which turned into going out with each other, which turned into a proposal and finally, marriage.
Things are okay between us. I think that maybe that's the problem - things are fine. But it isn't exciting...it isn't even interesting anymore. Our love-making is performed mostly out of habit. If he leaves the dishes expectantly in the sink, it makes me furious. Even the way he moves in bed (not erratically, but very frequently, with a lot of grunting) makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork. Honestly, if he ever leaves any cutlery in reaching distance of my bed, my health will be at serious risk.
Scratch what I said at the beginning of this blog. I am lonely. I am writing so people will write back. Help me feel less boring.
Lots of love,
Shelly x
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