A genuine, real-life doctor (complete with fantasy white coat and stethoscope) has contacted me on IE. This is, no doubt, a very good thing. Especially since he is hella cute, and I'm so sexually frustrated now that I am probably more adept at peeling the labels off beer bottles than the machines programmed to do so at recycling plants (in all seriousness, Hubby's friend made a comment about this the other day in the pub during post-football celebrations. I had made a pile about a foot high of branded foil. Hubby thought it was hilarious. Yeah. LOL at yourself, sweetheart.)
Anyway...have arranged to chat later this evening with him online. Hopefully he won't resort to badly punctuated come-ons and dubiously-capitalised, playground references to his genetial. I don't mind talking dirty, I just need said dirty talk to be grammatically correct.
I'm sure this will conjur up an image of some hoity-toity middle-aged English teacher, marking her lovers sexual ramblings with some virtual red pen....
...and that is a pretty accurate image of me. Will keep you posted, conrades!
xxxx
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
Starry-eyed
So, I'm more than a little obsessed with Ellie Goulding at the moment. 'Lights' is such a great pop album, and considering I grew up listening to Madonna and Prince, my standards are possibly higher than most...
Anyway, the stand-out track (and single, inevitably) is 'Starry-Eyed', a short burst of beautiful, glitchy electronica and soaring, auto-tuned vocals (I'd like to point out the use of AT is rather tasteful on this track, compared to the hyper-processed sound of Kanye "Second Coming" West). Have a listen if you haven't heard it already. Or if you have.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PULdPep_xfs
Music has alway had a profound effect on me. In fact, during a conversation with The Husband the other day, it dawned on me that a considerable chunk of my memories all relate in some way to a song. The most vivid memory I have of my mother, for example, is watching her clean the house while dancing to Blondie's 'Hanging on the Telephone'. I must have been about 6, jiggy along with this impossibly jolly hippy, hair down to her bottom, bright orange duster punching out to the music.
When I think about my teenage years, I think about George Michael, and being awkward and dressed in uncomfortable netting and lace at a school disco. Stood straight and terrified up against the speaker, I remember feeling the pulse of 'Father Figure' through the broken mesh behind me, and the bass teasing my body with these alien, adult feelings of sexuality. Puberty was siguarly the most exciting and the most terrifying time of my life.
There is something about Ellie's track, 'Starry Eyed', that drags me back to being this tense, vunerable 16 years old, seeing love as this complete and utter Disneyland fantasy. All moon-eyes and just kissing for hours and being so affected by another human being's presence that you would shake.
A far cry from the reality of marriage, perhaps, but I am glad, at times like these, to recall how my lover James once turned me into a quivering teenager, and how those moments, however rare, are still there to be reached for and grasped with both hands.
IE is proving fruitful once more. A few hopefuls in my inbox. Will of course keep you updated, such is my narcissism.
Love xxx
Anyway, the stand-out track (and single, inevitably) is 'Starry-Eyed', a short burst of beautiful, glitchy electronica and soaring, auto-tuned vocals (I'd like to point out the use of AT is rather tasteful on this track, compared to the hyper-processed sound of Kanye "Second Coming" West). Have a listen if you haven't heard it already. Or if you have.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PULdPep_xfs
Music has alway had a profound effect on me. In fact, during a conversation with The Husband the other day, it dawned on me that a considerable chunk of my memories all relate in some way to a song. The most vivid memory I have of my mother, for example, is watching her clean the house while dancing to Blondie's 'Hanging on the Telephone'. I must have been about 6, jiggy along with this impossibly jolly hippy, hair down to her bottom, bright orange duster punching out to the music.
When I think about my teenage years, I think about George Michael, and being awkward and dressed in uncomfortable netting and lace at a school disco. Stood straight and terrified up against the speaker, I remember feeling the pulse of 'Father Figure' through the broken mesh behind me, and the bass teasing my body with these alien, adult feelings of sexuality. Puberty was siguarly the most exciting and the most terrifying time of my life.
There is something about Ellie's track, 'Starry Eyed', that drags me back to being this tense, vunerable 16 years old, seeing love as this complete and utter Disneyland fantasy. All moon-eyes and just kissing for hours and being so affected by another human being's presence that you would shake.
A far cry from the reality of marriage, perhaps, but I am glad, at times like these, to recall how my lover James once turned me into a quivering teenager, and how those moments, however rare, are still there to be reached for and grasped with both hands.
IE is proving fruitful once more. A few hopefuls in my inbox. Will of course keep you updated, such is my narcissism.
Love xxx
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
The Norm.
It's days like today I remember why I cheated in the first place.
It has been nearly two months since James and I broke things off. My married life has settled into it's old, clunky pace again. I work. I go home. I get a kiss on the cheek. I cook. I go to bed. I wake up. I work.
Hubby and I sat curled up in front of the box last night, wrapped up in each other's limbs, my head snuggled into his breast bone. The woman I am today doesn't recognise the woman she was three months ago; sexy, in control, full of electricity. Today she is tired and hopeless, and even the familiarity of her true love's chest fails to envoke anything other than the same images of marital monotony. Like a mirror facing a mirror.
I need my fix. I'm logging on tonight.
It has been nearly two months since James and I broke things off. My married life has settled into it's old, clunky pace again. I work. I go home. I get a kiss on the cheek. I cook. I go to bed. I wake up. I work.
Hubby and I sat curled up in front of the box last night, wrapped up in each other's limbs, my head snuggled into his breast bone. The woman I am today doesn't recognise the woman she was three months ago; sexy, in control, full of electricity. Today she is tired and hopeless, and even the familiarity of her true love's chest fails to envoke anything other than the same images of marital monotony. Like a mirror facing a mirror.
I need my fix. I'm logging on tonight.
Friday, 7 May 2010
In response to Steven.
A nice gentleman called Steven posted the following on my last blog.
"To you and the many people like you I really do wish you good luck. But I do believe that adultery is the ultimate lie (to you and your spouse). A sexless marriage is not a marriage you simply can't have the emotional bond without it, so you look elsewhere for whats missing. Your more like co-workers doing a job working for a likeminded goal. I think you've already thrown in the towel just by looking at your blog profile, all the bloggers that you follow are all adulterers also. Not one blog that I could see about repairing damaged relationships. I make no judgement on you, you sound like a very caring person, maybe just a little off track. Please keep an open mind and seek out some quality help for you and your husband. Goodluck!"
I just wanted a chance to respond to this.
Oh Steven. Please do not assume that I, and those like me, have not sought help for our issues. This seems to be a general assumption about adultery; that it is a way out for people who cannot be bothered to work hard at their relationships.
I have been to marriage counselling. I have tried to engage my husband in discussions about our sex life. I have wasted money on lingerie and sexual parifinalia trying to bring him round to the idea of his wife as a sexual object. However, all this work has only confirmed the reality of the situation. My husband and I are in love; we are soul mates. But he does not fancy me, and no amount of negociation is going to change that.
The point is, we are in love. Although we do not really sleep together, we most definitely have an extremely strong emotional bond. And, although this may be difficult for some people to believe, my affair is not some underhand way of me ending my marriage.
Of course there were/are emotional ties with James, my lover. He is a wonderful man and we allowed ourselves to fall for each other. But, although the hurt can be searing, most boundaries were kept to, and I feel that our relationship gave me the room to enjoy my marriage, without feeling the need to nag my husband for sex.
And, in truth Steven, that is what this partership was about. Sex. Nookie. Rumpy-pumpy. In my experience, men find it very difficult to accept that there are some women out there who require this as a physical need, and are completely capable of compartmentalising sex and romance. Break-ups are hard, but I have preserved my feelings, and a genuinely believe I had a great deal of control over the situation.
You say that I saw my relationship with James as if we were two co-workers, trying to achieve the same goal. What is problematic about this? I had a practical physical need that wanted to be fulfilled, and I arranged an affectionate but business-like relationship with a gentleman in a similar situation to fulfil that need. Less emotional? Maybe. But it worked for me.
And, in regards to lying, none of us are saints, and we're certainly not ignorant to the fact that we are deceiving our partners. However, when it's a choice between loosing the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and conducting a discreet arrangement which for nearly two years has only served to improve my relationship with him, I choose the latter.
In other news, I think Cleggy is barking to side with those gay-bashing Tory monsters. Eurgh.
TTFN,
x
"To you and the many people like you I really do wish you good luck. But I do believe that adultery is the ultimate lie (to you and your spouse). A sexless marriage is not a marriage you simply can't have the emotional bond without it, so you look elsewhere for whats missing. Your more like co-workers doing a job working for a likeminded goal. I think you've already thrown in the towel just by looking at your blog profile, all the bloggers that you follow are all adulterers also. Not one blog that I could see about repairing damaged relationships. I make no judgement on you, you sound like a very caring person, maybe just a little off track. Please keep an open mind and seek out some quality help for you and your husband. Goodluck!"
I just wanted a chance to respond to this.
Oh Steven. Please do not assume that I, and those like me, have not sought help for our issues. This seems to be a general assumption about adultery; that it is a way out for people who cannot be bothered to work hard at their relationships.
I have been to marriage counselling. I have tried to engage my husband in discussions about our sex life. I have wasted money on lingerie and sexual parifinalia trying to bring him round to the idea of his wife as a sexual object. However, all this work has only confirmed the reality of the situation. My husband and I are in love; we are soul mates. But he does not fancy me, and no amount of negociation is going to change that.
The point is, we are in love. Although we do not really sleep together, we most definitely have an extremely strong emotional bond. And, although this may be difficult for some people to believe, my affair is not some underhand way of me ending my marriage.
Of course there were/are emotional ties with James, my lover. He is a wonderful man and we allowed ourselves to fall for each other. But, although the hurt can be searing, most boundaries were kept to, and I feel that our relationship gave me the room to enjoy my marriage, without feeling the need to nag my husband for sex.
And, in truth Steven, that is what this partership was about. Sex. Nookie. Rumpy-pumpy. In my experience, men find it very difficult to accept that there are some women out there who require this as a physical need, and are completely capable of compartmentalising sex and romance. Break-ups are hard, but I have preserved my feelings, and a genuinely believe I had a great deal of control over the situation.
You say that I saw my relationship with James as if we were two co-workers, trying to achieve the same goal. What is problematic about this? I had a practical physical need that wanted to be fulfilled, and I arranged an affectionate but business-like relationship with a gentleman in a similar situation to fulfil that need. Less emotional? Maybe. But it worked for me.
And, in regards to lying, none of us are saints, and we're certainly not ignorant to the fact that we are deceiving our partners. However, when it's a choice between loosing the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and conducting a discreet arrangement which for nearly two years has only served to improve my relationship with him, I choose the latter.
In other news, I think Cleggy is barking to side with those gay-bashing Tory monsters. Eurgh.
TTFN,
x
Monday, 19 April 2010
Not good.
So, as of last Wednesday, I am back on the adulterous market. James and I have ended it.
I'm in a lot of pain right now; despite the fact that I knew it was coming, it wasn't a mutual decision. The tough thing is not being able to tell my best friend, Hubby, about it. Last night he took me out for Thai and all I wanted to do was cry into my sticky rice.
James is struggling with his feelings about me. The last few weeks have been incredibly intense. I can't define in what way; just that our emotional connection has risen to a new level. I'm sure in any other situation, that kind of butterfly-stirring, firework-lighting effect would be welcomed, but when you're cheating on your husband or wife, it's the last thing you want to feel.
There were a few hours, lying in bed with James, drunk on romance, where I thought about running away. I rehearsed it in my head; telling Hubby what I'd done, letting him hate me, packing a bag and escaping with my lover on some generic highway into a postcard sunset. Alas, reality always find a way of seeping in to your fantasies sooner or later.
On Sunday we met for lunch, and James named what we have been avoiding for the past year; we were in hopelessly love. He cried, I cried. I was all very dramatic. Although we parted agreeing that we both needed 'space', this is most definitely the end. Seeing each other again after having christened the elephant in the room would be far too dangerous.
It's at times like these where I have to remind myself why I embarked on an affair in the first place. I love my husband; he is my one and only, the Rhett to my Scarlett, the cream in my cake. James was only ever meant to fill a gap. Like some kind of good-looking, emotionally intelligent Polyfiller.
Forgive my DIY analogies. James wasn't just some device. He was a living, breathing human being, and to refer to him as any less than that would be cruel. Which, unfortunately, is all I'm capable of being at the moment. It hurts too much to think about what he really meant to me. For the next few months, he will be the adhesive that closed up the cracks in my marriage, nothing more. At least until I get my thoughts together.
I think it hasn't quite hit me let. It's all still at arm's length. Give me a few days, I'll be your regular suicidal dumpee.
I'm in a lot of pain right now; despite the fact that I knew it was coming, it wasn't a mutual decision. The tough thing is not being able to tell my best friend, Hubby, about it. Last night he took me out for Thai and all I wanted to do was cry into my sticky rice.
James is struggling with his feelings about me. The last few weeks have been incredibly intense. I can't define in what way; just that our emotional connection has risen to a new level. I'm sure in any other situation, that kind of butterfly-stirring, firework-lighting effect would be welcomed, but when you're cheating on your husband or wife, it's the last thing you want to feel.
There were a few hours, lying in bed with James, drunk on romance, where I thought about running away. I rehearsed it in my head; telling Hubby what I'd done, letting him hate me, packing a bag and escaping with my lover on some generic highway into a postcard sunset. Alas, reality always find a way of seeping in to your fantasies sooner or later.
On Sunday we met for lunch, and James named what we have been avoiding for the past year; we were in hopelessly love. He cried, I cried. I was all very dramatic. Although we parted agreeing that we both needed 'space', this is most definitely the end. Seeing each other again after having christened the elephant in the room would be far too dangerous.
It's at times like these where I have to remind myself why I embarked on an affair in the first place. I love my husband; he is my one and only, the Rhett to my Scarlett, the cream in my cake. James was only ever meant to fill a gap. Like some kind of good-looking, emotionally intelligent Polyfiller.
Forgive my DIY analogies. James wasn't just some device. He was a living, breathing human being, and to refer to him as any less than that would be cruel. Which, unfortunately, is all I'm capable of being at the moment. It hurts too much to think about what he really meant to me. For the next few months, he will be the adhesive that closed up the cracks in my marriage, nothing more. At least until I get my thoughts together.
I think it hasn't quite hit me let. It's all still at arm's length. Give me a few days, I'll be your regular suicidal dumpee.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
April fool
Dear Ron (in Florida),
Thank you for your comment on my previous post, entitled "Apologies". I always appreciate comments from my regular readers, and it seems you have a good understanding of the sort of human being I am.
In particular, you understand that I am just the sort of women who welcomes, nay, encourages, comment from strangers relating to my genitals.
Your phrasing is divine; your point so well executed. A statement this powerful need not be constrained by the laws of grammar. I applaud your boldness, and, if I wasn't currently married, maintaining an extra-marital relationship, and planning my advances on our new office intern, I would surely fly out to the States and let you "dive into my nether-regions", as you so beautifully put it.
Alas, as my status does not allow it, you may be waiting for some time.
Kind regards,
Michelle (sadly, rather far away from Florida)
Thank you for your comment on my previous post, entitled "Apologies". I always appreciate comments from my regular readers, and it seems you have a good understanding of the sort of human being I am.
In particular, you understand that I am just the sort of women who welcomes, nay, encourages, comment from strangers relating to my genitals.
Your phrasing is divine; your point so well executed. A statement this powerful need not be constrained by the laws of grammar. I applaud your boldness, and, if I wasn't currently married, maintaining an extra-marital relationship, and planning my advances on our new office intern, I would surely fly out to the States and let you "dive into my nether-regions", as you so beautifully put it.
Alas, as my status does not allow it, you may be waiting for some time.
Kind regards,
Michelle (sadly, rather far away from Florida)
Monday, 29 March 2010
Apologies...
Work...ridiculous...
Papers...filling desk...Idiot colleagues not helping...
James moments...few and far between. Husband has officially given up on my nether-regions. Expect to find 'Gone Fishing' sign down there one of these days.
Have developed uncontrollable crush on our new intern. So gorgeous. Would of course be a complete and utter craddle-robber if I did anything about it...but no harm in looking. Well, staring. Christ.
Currently distracting self from the never-ending spreadsheet that is my life by listening to Sinead O'Connor and eating Snack'a'Jacks (really not sure how to punctuate that). Finally managed to get a copy of Spotify without paying for it. Had day of 80's hair metal yesterday. Now feeding my ovaries with a bit of the said shaven-headed diva. They love it.
Hello to all my readers. I promise I will be back properly soon. But until then...
S xxx
Papers...filling desk...Idiot colleagues not helping...
James moments...few and far between. Husband has officially given up on my nether-regions. Expect to find 'Gone Fishing' sign down there one of these days.
Have developed uncontrollable crush on our new intern. So gorgeous. Would of course be a complete and utter craddle-robber if I did anything about it...but no harm in looking. Well, staring. Christ.
Currently distracting self from the never-ending spreadsheet that is my life by listening to Sinead O'Connor and eating Snack'a'Jacks (really not sure how to punctuate that). Finally managed to get a copy of Spotify without paying for it. Had day of 80's hair metal yesterday. Now feeding my ovaries with a bit of the said shaven-headed diva. They love it.
Hello to all my readers. I promise I will be back properly soon. But until then...
S xxx
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