Sleeping In My Car

It feels like all my Melbourne men are treating me like a leaper at the moment. Where’s the love? Re, attention? It’s not like they’re all married. And I’ve been having fun with one that’s definitely NOT married and who's gone on holidays yesterday and won’t be back until just before Christmas so there’s no way I’ll be seeing him until next year.

That’s right I’ll be having a Terry Christmas. If you can’t get it at home import the love! It’s such a drama him being here, more so now that my sister has moved back in. She’s lucky she’s got a job overseas starting in April so at least it’s not permanent. I don’t feel like I’ll ever get out of home. (“That’s up to you,” to parrot or paraphrase my psychologist. Para-parrot? It’s the gist. I try not to roll my eyes during our sessions).

Anyway back to my cheating ways. The aforementioned Man, I should say he’s a funny one. I’ve known him for some years now and he sometimes disappears. This last time that he’s been back in touch he’s actually become separated, maybe even divorced now. This hasn’t made doing it any easier though. He now lives with co-worker/friends. Three - how biblical and timely - Christians and a very “bad man.” Which means no sex at his place. Or at least that’s what he’s told me.

We have finally managed to have sex. In the car! I can’t believe it. I hate doing stuff in the car but it’s been our only option since he’s come back into my sex life. It’s been a really nice progression towards the sex. The few times he's been to my house (while still married – keep up!) we’ve just kissed and he’s rubbed my clit and gone down on me. (I suspect I gave him a blow job in return but I can’t actually remember). The fingering and kissing seemed to be enough. He enjoys my wet and informs me it’s practically a monsoon down there. He’s not the only man to say, “God you’re so (fucking) wet! I love it” And suggest it’s a bit overly wet. I have never needed lube before, (have it but used it once). Well as long as my stimulation is maintained I seem to be slippery enough. Which is useful considering how much men seem to like sticking their fingers inside me.

Yeah so anyway, it started with chatting/texting again and then he casually offered to pick me up after work. "We don’t have to do anything once we get there if you don’t want to." Well fuck of course I want to. You’re a good kisser, you claim I’m sexy and you’re driving me home, hooray!

So we go "parking" for a while and start kissing. Move to the back seat and REALLY start kissing. My top and bra come off first, as always, and I get him to lick my back. Which is my new favourite thing. We fool around for at least an hour and it feels sooo good. The spontaneity of it was fantastic and the fact I hadn't done anything sexual (with someone else) in months meant I was ripe for the picking. Too public (I felt) and not much room to have sex that night. We actually heard a couple having sex in the park attached to that car park. They came in their car after us and we thought oh shit we're not alone but they got out and went on their merry way.

Just under a fortnight later he offered to pick me up again and we ended up back in the car park. Same thing, although we went straight to the back seat that time. I was feeling even more aroused and braver so I was determined to take ALL my clothes off in the car. Managed to get him to take his shirt off. God what a hairy chest. I love that feeling against my breasts. We had a long kissing session as he held me in his arms and we just talked about some of the bondage stuff he's done before. I'm not sure I want to do that and there was a point when he said I might not be suited to it. I think because I'm too ticklish. I don't know. As I say it's not something I've really thought about. P.S. Last Friday I met up with someone (newish) who's also into bondage and he seemed to think I'd enjoy it. Well, sounded like he wouldn't mind trying it with me. I don't know.

We didn't have sex that second time. I got him to come - every time, ha! but yeah...actually I don't think we had condoms. Otherwise I would have given it a go. Third time's the charm. On the weekend at like 2 in the morning (on Sunday) we caught each other online and he asked to meet up. Sounded good to me! The car park we had been using is locked up at 1 am - we know that for a fact as we were asked to leave. Luckily we were dressed again and just chatting, still in the back seat but it could have been worse! So where to? Then he thought of a place in Ivanhoe. It think it was some sort of sport's field. Surrounded with enough trees too feel hidden. It was just a good thing they don't lock up over night. it was very good. We made the best of the space available. We did it missionary which surprised me. Seems a bit middle of the road for him. I imagined doggy to something more unusual for him. Then again there may not have been room. Considering how much I like my back licked and him grabbing on to my tits from behind it seemed the obvious position to have sex in. I got a bit daring and started biting his nipples. He liked that a lot. I'd do it again. Had it done to me on Friday. It is an interesting pain sensation. The more I kiss the more I feel like nipping and biting lips. Amy you animal!

Christmas Gift Ideas

No not really. I don’t have any ideas of what to get men as presents at any time of the year. I’ve never given anyone (and that would be Terry in this case) a blowjob for Christmas. I can’t remember if we had sex at all last year – on the day I mean! It was my first full day staying up there and I know I was a bit homesick. I rang about three times.

I think I know a few men who'd appreciate oral sex from me on Christmas Day but I don't drive so I can't make the Christmas rounds. How much cock can I stuff in my mouth before the lead up to Christmas do you reckon? I think three would be a good number to aim for. Three Wise Men, give it a Christmas feel. (Feel me up for Christmas!)

I’m very funny about Christmas. I love the build up even though I know it’s one of the biggest let downs of the year. I guess because your family doesn't change just because it is Christmas. The social gathering and dynamics don’t change much. And actually I prefer my family in small doses. Not the en masse event Christmas tends to be. A few cousins will be away this year but still. The numbers are not in my favour for feeling comfortable or like I can join in the group.

I love the lights – damn you daylight savings for limiting that aspect – and getting presents that I hope most people will like and having the annual Christmas/End of Year party with my friends that we started in high school. Cocktails is the "theme" this year. I can’t afford that. They can BYO I’m just getting white wine and perhaps one 6 pack of alcoh-pops. (I HATE that expression). Finger food seems easier than making a proper meal for everyone plus there may not be enough room to sit at our kitchen table. That’s just over a week to go and I haven’t thought much about it at all. I’m busy thinking about Christmas cards and getting things sent off in the next few days. God no wonder people don’t read my blog.

Merry Christmas one and all and to all a goodnight!

TGIF

Am I right or am I right?

This morning I wasn't really in the mood for work but I dragged my sorry arse in. I even ended up getting there early. It's now my seventh day on the job. And so far I've been stressing myself out over my anxiety to ask questions when I need assistance. It would be good if I could say my training just went out the window but that would mean I left training actually trained. If you knew how much I was freaking out during that. Like, I know it is okay to cry, but man in training in front of your team mates it's just embarrassing! In my defence it was near the end of a very long day that had left me feeling steadily worse.

I closed an order tonight, and I think I did it as well as I could. :-) You'll have to excuse me this sounds like my therapy talking but I actually feel like I achieved something at work today. It did take the asking that I was too scared to do in the first place but I don't care. As long as I survive this, (six month contract), long enough to feel comfortable with what I am doing. I'm picking up little things from re-doing my work. And it's a bit easier asking for help now. I have been feeling guilty for wasting company time. (Which I would be doing right now if I hadn't closed that order; I'm technically free to do what I want as long as I look busy and don't look up porn on the Internet. To ease us into the job our daily target is one contract a day. After which is free time).

It's nice to be in a better mood. Fridays are good by nature but I'm feeling a bit better about myself at work. Not like last Friday when my joy sprang from the fact I was getting away from it because I didn't think I could cope another day.

Time To Go

I'm thinking of moving on. Getting rid of this blog and my other equally popular one Talk TV, which isn't about the highs and lows of being a transvestite. If it had been it may have really sparked some interest. A small but dedicated following! (Not much to ask).

It's not that I have anything against the idea of writing. In fact when I'm "in the zone" I really enjoy it. But blogging has NOT been what I was expecting, nay hoping, for.

My life's changed dramatically in the last two months so I don't even know if I want to continue writing under the loose headings I had in mind for either blog. There's been events in those past two months where I thought I could write something but if I didn't do it then and there it seemed to lose its meaning to me. So really now I'm just trying to think of a way to express myself that I find satisfying.

Job Hunting

Yes I've been at it again and yes it's depressing the shit out of me. I could also be premenstrual but I've been feeling shitty all week.

I came across this at work and yesterday found a copy of it online so I thought I'd share. Gotta laugh, eh? Or kill yourself. I'm not opposed to either of those options at the moment.

Write Where It Hurts

Just so you know I wrote this a while ago possibly on a tram on the way home from work of a morning. Also I was inspired by the antisocial teen cartoon Daria. (For those of you not in the know). 

Forget the talking cure or I don't like the talking cure. I much prefer the writing cure. I hate talking about myself but I don't mind writing about myself. Either way I usually feel like I can't accurately explain how I feel.
I notice I try to put some context in my blog writing but feel the detail gets boring. It has that, "You had to be there" feeling without inspiring envy that you weren't.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who writes like that, especially in the bloggersphere. And if I was less hard on myself I'd see there is something enjoyable and vicarious in reading good blogs. I thought I'd be more popular than this. And it shits me that I'm not. After all the praise I've had about my writing from teachers and friends. Dear Blog, I expected way too much from you.
Sex sells, so I tried sexing it up, hence this second blog. But maybe I need to keep it real; write where it hurts.
I have thought about going back to therapy and Leo. I'm worried about not being able to get back in and that's putting me off a bit. Silly I know. I'll get through that then worry it'll be exactly the same with me clamming up and painfully sobbing. So why bother you may ask? Well I know I'm not happy with myself or my life. Leo knows it too, "It can be better Amy." he sounded convinced and sincere even to my cynical ears.

Make Up The Breakup

I broke up with my therapist yesterday. As much as I tended to disliked therapy it still feels traumatic walking away from it. Like it always does. I guess the only other example I can give is when I left cleaning the first time. I hated it so much but I cried on the street when I left to catch my tram home. It was a giant leap into the unknown and hence I understand why it felt so dramatic, not to mention terrifying, for me. I can only speculate as to what is distressing me about walking away from therapy.
My therapist suggested I tell my GP that I have decided to stop going to see him. I managed to do that this morning. I thought she'd be a bit more, I don't know. I don't want to say she should have pushed me to give it a second chance but it feels like they both should have. She seemed so proud of me when I first started going, seeing as I was so hesitant at times about the whole process. I've said to her and the two therapists I've seen "I don't know what to say." I don't know what to expect and I feel like I don't get how it works. The last few sessions he said to me, "This is your time Amy" and constantly reassured me that I can say anything I want. But I don't feel comfortable talking about myself generally and the relationship is too one-sided. I'm proud I actually told him that's how I felt, and he agreed but....shit! It just wasn't working for me. That upset me a lot yesterday too. If therapy doesn't work then what will? I can't tell if the drugs make any difference and I know I'm not happy but what the fuck am I supposed to do now? When I told my mum she said, "You're not going to do anything stupid are you?" When I established she meant kill myself I told her I didn't think it was stupid. But no, I don't think I'll kill myself over therapy. Not when there are so many other upsetting things in my life to push me over the edge! [And it really is MY life that I hate. For the most part I'm not against Life].
I am too indecisive. There have been many occasions when I wanted a situation to change but I couldn't do anything about it. That is to say, I didn't know how to, or I was too scared to. The example that comes to mind was when I started high school in the UK, about a year earlier than we do in Australia. I had no idea what was going on and I just couldn't cope with any of it. I lied about doing homework and I was being bullied by older boys. The few girls from primary school that went with me seemed to be making new friends and coping well. I was a complete mess. So much so that I developed a disgusting stress reaction on my hands that made all the skin peel off. The thing that got me through was knowing we would be returning to Melbourne soon so my dad could take part in the elections up in Papua New Guinea. (He didn't win, that time). Although I eventually made friends here and was more than capable at keeping up with the school work - it was just boring a lot of the time - I couldn't wait to get out of Australia. My fingers were crossed hoping my dad would get another posting so we could leave again. We did after four years but the move was to Seoul, South Korea. I knew I wasn't going to like it there, even though I lied to myself that I was happy to be living overseas again. It was horrible. My point is I don't take control of my life. Or I don't like to.
It looks like I've broken up with Terry as well. Either way I don't feel a sense of relief. At least not a complete one. I know it will never be over with Terry. He has been anticipating an end to the sexual relationship possibly since the start. The way he tells it I'll meet someone more age appropriate and settle down but there willalways be a friendship and connection between us. The only part I like about this is us still being friends. There are times when I find Terry extremely selfish putting forward this "plan." He can have me till he dies - fuck, deal with that one Amy! - or I move on. I don't think I really want that. I don't need a placeholder. Maybe I'm a slut but I like the relationships I've developed with other men. I'm not thrilled that they tend to be married but now I've experienced a bit of a relationship it seems that being a bit on the side suits me better. Originally it really upset me that Terry would want me like this. I don't want him to be my practice partner. I don't want to think of him dying either. It's the same problem from day one when we met online: the bloody age gap! How could I not be a bitch if I abandoned him when things got too difficult or gross? (That is if I had to care for him as he grew older. And what if we did have kids? I don't want to be caring for people at the two extremes of life. He doesn't want that for me either but if we have a full, living together relationship then how could I ever leave based on him getting older and needing care? Fuck! I feel damned if I do, damned if I don't).

I don't think any of this is over. However our time is up.

Oh Deer!

I was pretty excited about this weekend. The Old Man was going to drive down from NSW to stay with me at my place for about ten nights. (My mum’s gone overseas to explore the Wild West – wish I could have gone too but I’ve had no steady work since the end of June. So while she’s in America we thought it would be a good time for him to visit). He went to bed early last night so we didn’t talk before bed like we usually do. He’s mad, choosing to drive down each time he sees me in Melbourne but he says he doesn’t mind and I agree that it is easier having a car when we’re together. He’s a tradie so he’s used to getting up early but today he was on his way at 3 in the morning. I wasn’t even awake for my “midnight” pee until sometime after 4 am.


I woke up properly around 8.30ish. I could hear the beep of the answering machine in the kitchen. I hadn’t realised I’d left it on. Our phone is so annoying, you can’t hear it ring from my room but you can hear the beep of a missed call. I assumed it was The Old Man with an update on his progress. By that time of day he should have made some decent time. So I didn’t bother getting up to check the machine. I lay there lazily thinking about being with him.

That is a pretty good depiction of how we do it. (Minus the glasses).

I even decided to have a wank with the help of my vibrator, in dildo mode, and one of my gay short story collections. (Gay and Lesbian porn does it for me because they describe oral so well. It’s my thing so I like hearing about it from both sides of the experience. Both sources do a wonderful job). Thinking I’ll be getting the real thing later today, with some “man-woman sex” thrown in. (That expression sticks in my mind from the coming out episode of Ellen. Very funny. Pity about her chat show.)


When I finally went to check the machine and turn my mobile on there was a surprising and disturbing message. He’d been in an accident so I called him right away. First off let me reassure you that he’s all right. His car on the other hand is a write off. He hit a deer. I mean of all the things you can imagine would you even think of that? Once I was reassured he was okay I said, “I didn’t even know we had deer in Australia.” Apparently there are some feral ones up around his part of the country. Why anyone introduced them here in the first place I have no idea. So now he’s waiting by the phone and trying to organise a new car and new travel plans. The last time he called it seemed fairly certain that if he got a new car we’d move the visit to next weekend.


We were going to have a get together tomorrow so he could get to know some of my friends and my sister a bit better. I’m going to have it anyway – I asked him if he’d mind and he said it was all right. I feel like having a bit of company. We won’t be able to next weekend because I’ve got two friends birthdays then. I’m going to dinner with a date wow! LOL. I’m actually a bit nervous about it, but it’s mostly the age difference. My friends aren’t rude though so I know it will be fine.


Annoyingly putting my sexual needs first also meant I missed a call from my mum letting me know she arrived safely and had gone to see the salt lake of Salt Lake City. She sounded well. I’m glad as she was a bit stressed out before the trip, travel anxiety I know how that goes.

Hanging On The Telephone

UPDATE: I have very, very mixed feelings about this work. I was convinced this morning that I would quit. I was writing my resignation email to kill time between calls. However things picked up and I ended up doing a bit of overtime talking to a man I had previously talked to. Although you get a code as an operator – smooth operator – that customers can I ask for so they can talk to you again, I don’t think that was the case today. I’ve been told building a client list is the best way to go but of course that takes time. Only two people have asked for my number so far.

I have to say after four shifts, (or 16 hours), in some ways it’s getting easier but if you break it down I’m still just idling by the phone for the majority of the time. Give me time to sit and think on my own and only bad things can happen. And I now know you only get paid per minute of chat. And paid rather poorly I might add. Oh and paid monthly! I need money now. I thought this was going to be easy money, I was wrong. If things don’t change then the money really isn’t worth it.

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t have any more shifts scheduled. Apparently they work out a week’s worth on Sundays. I just want to get out of the house tomorrow! I plan to go to a movie and relax. Since starting my body has been very tense before and during my sessions. Is the anxiety worth it? Or the headaches? I doubt it. I'm slightly dreading a call from the “office.” It makes me wonder if I should just send that email now. Then say, “Didn’t you get my resignation?” At this stage I haven’t given them my bank details or an ABN. Let them keep the money I made them. It can’t be more than $50.

Trial And Error

This has been a rather interesting night. On Monday I applied to a phone sex service place I found on the internet. I didn’t know if there were any jobs available so I applied half expecting not to hear back from them. (I should mention a couple of weeks ago I applied for a similar position placed in the local newspaper. You could either email or phone. Being shy I just emailed. I even attached my resume, whatever good that would do).

I was shocked when on Tuesday morning I received a call and had a brief interview. I’ll be honest I did not sound confident. But then again I’m not confident full stop. I don’t have anything against this sort of work or the people who want to get their kicks anonymously. So I had to stress I didn’t find the work distasteful. I’m pretty open-minded. I have in fact done phone sex for “fun” before. I chat like an addict - much to my frustration and dismay - on Yahoo and occasionally other sites; and sometimes it leads to a chat on the phone.

Back to the initial interview: I’ll be honest I don’t think I totally convinced her. However she did offer me a trial shift. In another moment of hesitation I said I’d have to check my diary and she told me to call back if I was interested. I was just about to ask for the number but she hung up on me. Not good I thought.

My initial contact with them was via email so I thought I would try that again and suggest a day the following week. (I swear she said the trial shift would be next week). Anyway I wasn’t sure I’d hear back from them, so was kicking myself on the way to therapy - that may be another story - about fucking up yet again! By the time I got home and checked my email it was well after five o’clock. There were two emails from XXX chat saying can you do a trial run tomorrow and here’s a mobile number to call so we can talk about it a bit more. I texted and sent an email, thinking I had left it too late, but it wasn’t my fault! She did end up calling me back and although she could still hear some hesitation in my voice I felt a bit better about it. She gave me a 5-9pm shift. Great!

It is actually because besides The Old Man and the couple of people who read this blog – hey guys sorry it’s been so long – I haven’t told anyone I’m doing this. I figure if I am a total fuckwit at it then no one need ever know. Then again if I can handle it then I can say I’m doing this work and I’ll need the phone from such and such a time. Do you mind mum? So basically this is all on the sly. I’m just grateful my mum has gone out with my sister tonight. I suspect she might be back before my shift is over but I can hide in my room until then.

I am a bit tense and nervous. I’ve written most of this in down time, slightly dreading the phone ringing. I know I’ll be checked up on again tonight. Well, I have been called by a punter before being checked up on which is a bit of a relief; something to tell her about. He called me a “Dirty little bitch.” Who me?

So far that’s two and a half calls. The second call was about a minute and he just hung up. Well they all hang up but at least with the two others we had reached a crescendo. I did think, “Was it me? I’m I crap at this?” Then again I can imagine at times it’s not the easiest call to make, either nerves wise or partner/kids walking in. It’s a pity in terms of experience. The other two wanted oral sex, both ending in mind blowing 69 sessions. This one minute guy was looking for a good titty fucking. Honestly never saw the point in it, even with large tits is there much place to go?

I’ve signed off now and had no more callers. That was a long hour of pacing the kitchen floor. My mum got back just before 8.30. I’m going to have to tell her now. I had a chat with the woman about how I did and they’re willing to give me another go tomorrow. From four in the afternoon so I will have to let my mum know. It’s a job….I’m still learning the ropes. Oh well I won’t do it if she really doesn’t want me to. I’ll let you know how it goes.

It’s Probably For The Best

As most people who are very well acquainted with me know, I meet my men online in chat. Very random way to conduct one’s affairs but being shy and jolie laide it seems to work for me. Q: Do you like sex? Check Q: What’s your favourite position? A: 69 with lots of kissing. Q: Do you mind that I am a) Married? b) Older or more often c) Both? Yeah I’m cool with all that but could you be fat and not particularly attractive too? You are? Great! Let’s do it!

Sometimes it feels like I’m too easy but really it does depend how I feel and the conversation that starts online. It (almost) always takes me a few chats, perhaps some phone calls, before actually meeting. This morning I went online and this young guy who I’ve chatted to off and on for a few months now told me he had the day off and wanted to know if I’d like to have a coffee with him. I was reluctant as I always am because from what I’ve seen he has a good, young body and I find that uncomfortable. I forget which photos I’ve shared with him but he’s always said he likes what he sees. [You know I sometimes share the naked ones just to put them off. Although if they reply after seeing my face then they’re usually still keen. So rude when the conversation ends after you put your pic up].

Yeah so anyway this guy always greets me with a “Hi sexy.” I told him I was too shy to meet and since I’ve been rather down this week I didn’t think I’d have anything cheery to talk about. I am shy. Eye contact is really hard for me, although I am getting better at it. It’s hard to explain how shy I can be in person when I can do so much stuff in chat. The last time I meet someone online he said, “You’re not shy!” Well we did make out on a park bench so I suppose he was right. With him I think I did that nervous prattling on. I like older married guys because they appreciate the complicated webs we weave, as we add more to our individual sticky webs. (Don’t be artistic Amy). Of course the deeper and longer the relationship gets the more messy it tends to be.

God, I keep missing the point. I kept putting him off the idea of meeting but then he asked if he could call me. We hadn’t done that before but I thought what the hell so gave him my number. We talked for a bit and it was good, I said way too much so of course I got the old, “You’re not shy,” but I countered I wouldn’t be saying this in person over a coffee. It was nice to put a voice to the photo – his profile pic is a bit intimidating. He looks tall and his face although not looking straight at the camera has a slightly shocked expression like he just overheard an insult and is about to hit that person. I suppose that could be chivalrous, but you know we’re still practically strangers. So I was a little off put.

He sounded nice, nice enough to meet. So we arranged a place to meet an hour later. I turned everything off and went to the bathroom a little excited and surprised at myself. I had to pick some clothes and shave my legs. After the legs I put my phone on because Malcolm said he might call me to see how I was doing. (The aforementioned shitty week came to a head last night when I sent texts saying I want to cut myself. I didn’t, already did on Tuesday – did I say it was a very bad week? – but my auntie called me and that made me feel better. A bit embarrassed too. When people ask why I don’t know what to say, but I think it’s being vulnerable. I do think people see depression/suicidal feelings as a weakness too. I can’t help hating my life that much that I’d rather be dead. But this is sidetracking yet again!)

Lucky I put the phone back on because there were all these missed calls. I went back online to find this guy had chickened out. He was still online so we had a quick chat. He told me he got nervous when we hung up and that he’s never met anyone online before. I totally understand. We both laughed at how quickly the tables had turned. I sent him a hug and told him I shaved my legs. Apparently he wasn’t expecting more than a blow job. Oh well you never know! He also said he didn’t have any condoms. I told him I’d just packed some in my bag; in my head doing the happy dance that the condom issue would be easily dealt with if it had gotten to that stage. My shyness makes it hard to bring it up, when it’s up.

I am a bit disappointed but as I say I totally understand the last minute jitters. I’m sure if we made it to the kissing stage we would have been fine. But of course there is always The Old Man at the back of my mind. The fact I’ve recently been getting up to some naughty stuff on the side and it is already racketing up the guilt levels. I’ve told everyone else but him. I try to justify it by saying we haven’t made a commitment. (That would be my fault too!) But I still feel bad because he’s soooooooooo in love with me. Silly man. He is right, when we are alone together we do get on extremely well. It’s the age difference. I can’t handle it. And frankly it’s rather embarrassing to be with an older man in public. He knows all this but...agh! It’s tough and I feel like a mega bitch. And he’ll still love me. D’oh!

Egg On My Facebook‏

That was so embarrassing. I just (9.25ish PM*) left work. I had to walk past this guy, a comedian friend of a friend, who although I've been in his company a couple of times and seen several of his shows I wouldn't say I actual know him or that we are friends. And yet ladies and gentlemen for some reason I thought I'd ask to be his friend on Facebook this very afternoon. Okay I sort of had a crush on him. Besides the blonde hair he seemed like the kind of guy I'd like to date. I think the kind my mum wouldn't mind me bringing home. Funny, clever, a bit of a show off but that comes with the job, portly (in a Hancock kind of way) therefore one would assume a fan of food. He has so many friends on Facebook that I thought I'd be able to slip under the radar as well.

Today I had to hang around for my keys to start my shift, very annoying. Our room is opposite a storage room that gets transformed into a venue during the Comedy Festival. A bit awkward at times, from memory of last year's festival. Anyway the walls are covered in posters advertising acts. I finally noticed one for the aforementioned comedian; he's performing at the Town Hall. "That's interesting." I didn't think any more of it. Maybe I might see him around. I didn't think it would be tonight!

I really had to go to the loo after my shift, even though it involved the temporary but necessary removal of my tight black jeans. (As hot as this day ended up being what was I thinking when I picked those pants!?) I HAD to pass him. Twice as it turned out. If I was a different type of person - a brave person - I would have asked him if he's checked his Facebook lately. Imagining him asking "Why?" And me replying "Oh no reason." Even if I was brave enough to do that I still think I would blush when talking to him directly. (We sat next to each other one time at a Sunday pub gathering he used to host but I don't think we excahnged any words. He mistook me for a man whilst telling me off for my lack of audience participation at one of his shows that was "a guide to being a gentleman." So embarrassing! My sister told him "That's not very gentlemanly Andrew." Good for her! He said it was a mistake, the stage lights in his eyes, etc. I haven't seen him since but I was thinking about seeing this year's show, before any of this happened tonight).

I got into the disabled cubicle and did what I had to do. I thought "Thank God I'm wearing sunglasses and doing my Hollywood pose in my current profile pic [below]." He won't recognize me now. I was sweaty, but let's face it, gorgeous nonetheless. [Hmm, just joking?] I did wash my face as I often do after work. I do think I look pretty just after washing it. I don't know why. Perhaps just "fresh" and my eyelashes look nice wet.

I think he did look at me on my way out if the toilet (if not before). What if he does recognize me? Accepting my friend request if not today than some time during the festival? Fuck! Embarrassing. I did write a short note saying where I'd been with him in a social context. Years ago now but still...!

*Just getting this comedy gold out on my tram ride home. Got to love my iPod touch. Thanks Terry honey! Mawh!!!

P.S. I double checked my email, we are not friends. You know what else I like about iPods? Shuffle. I swear the last song on my way home was Michael Bublé’s Haven’t Met You Yet and I quote “I guess it's half timing/And the other half's luck/Wherever you are /Whenever it's right /You'll come out of nowhere and into my life.” Aww Michael! I have to say I don’t mind the Bublé either.

P.P.S. Sorry for not saying a hi and welcome to you bobjuan23 but I can’t access your blog/info so I don’t feel I know you. Thanks for being a follower. The strangers are always a special edition.

Bin At It Again‏

I have this bad habit of doing more work than is actually required of me. (I know! This from the girl who complains about all the unpaid overtime she does). I can't help it. I don't feel like I'm doing my job properly if I don't empty ALL the bins. I don't need to empty the individual bins just two jumbo recycling ones and the kitchen and toilet ones. It gradually became a habit to do them all when I was spray and wiping the desks. It was part of the job when I did my last cleaning gig. (God I have cleaning tenure!)

It's all part of the environmental "Green Building" thing. It's such crap. I empty those bins - the ones I'm supposed to and the ones I'm not - and no one pays attention to the rules. Sigh! I told Terry yesterday I'm weaning myself off the forbidden bins but tonight my routine was interrupted* and it misleadingly felt like I had more time on level one. I did the bins, almost all of them. I didn't end that late. That's nice. I still resent every minute of overtime. Hee!

A big hello to my new follower. You didn't have to join, especially as I have little to say at the moment. I enjoyed reading your blog. You sound just like the sort of married guy I like spending time with. I don't care what anyone says smart IS sexy. Although you'd be wasted on me and my inability to orgasm. God I envy the ease in which your wife seems to "cum." Lucky ducky! Oh well enough about me and that department.



*Thank you Mr Lord Mayor! I like to start my shift cleaning the Mezzaine but today there were still people about for The Lord Mayors Commendation Board Meeting.

Robert's quite short in real life. I've seen him a few times since starting my job. Thing is he's based in the Town Hall, not my building. I don't know if he was at this meeting but I couldn't help thinking "Do it in your own buidling." I see his official car sometimes and giggle at the triple zero second half of the number plate.

Is it just me or is he a bit of a spunk? Hmm....

Once Bitten, Twice As Shy?

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while but being perpetually lazy and easily distracted – Merry Christmas everyone, Happy New Year! – it has taken me quite a while. I’m not sure the feelings and sentiment are the same any more too. Like what I wanted to say has changed with time. Just shows you how all these posts are fleeting moments in our lives.

It’s mostly private, and definitely belongs to us alone, but there were some things I wanted to write about my weekend with Terry. I’m finding this hard to articulate but this weekend wasn’t only about meeting (and most likely having sex) but I guess a confidence boost. You know the difference the love of a good man can make: A friend who cares deeply; a potential lover; someone who wants to take care of me.

Our weekend started bright and early. Tired, drunk and happy after a night out to see a band with my friend on the Friday I couldn’t sleep much beyond the influence of the Nurofen and alcohol I’d consumed before bed. I was pretty fucking excited! Terry had told me to text him when I was awake. I was awake at 5 something in the morning. That seemed too early so I didn’t text him until I had some breakfast. He called me back right away. Seems he was awake early with anticipation too.

We meet just round the corner from the end of my street. A big hug – I’m a cuddly bundle of nerves - and into the car. Let’s get out of here! Trouble is I didn’t know where to go. I found it stressful, driving down Sydney Road, being in my neighbourhood. We had to go somewhere since we couldn’t go to the caravan park until that afternoon. I suggested Coburg Lake. It’s a pretty area and we could sit and talk for a bit, make some plans together. Because I was nervous to be with Terry in public I just wanted to get to the caravan park as soon as possible. (And Terry it’s not just an age thing, although most are older than me: (occasional 30s), 40s, 50s, 60s. I get nervous meeting men and being with them in public. The hint of anything sexual makes me uncomfortable. As you all well know). We took a gamble to see if they’d let us in early. It paid off. No one had used it the night before so we were ready to go by mid morning.

And behind closed doors I was ready. Terry later told me he was quite surprised how ready I was. Look, I get horny too you know! LOL. I could have stayed in bed all weekend. I’m a little sex starved. Though I guess I try to deny it but lately everyone else seems to be getting some and all I’m getting is jealous.

This weekend was about showing me how sexy I am. And not only sexy, but something bigger than that: a worthy human being. The idea was to end up with confidence in the bedroom and confidence out in the world. I know I made progress in the bedroom – my best performance to date! But in the real world I think it’s still too early to tell. Terry suggested I hold my head up and look at people more. I already get told off for that one.

In a reckless moment I told him to give me a love bite. As it was on my neck he didn’t do it hard on purpose. When he looked down at it, even in the dim light, and said “Shit” I knew I was in trouble. I said I didn’t care and invited him to leave on lower down. It wasn’t until later when I looked in the mirror that I freaked out. It was a violent purple and almost dead centre of my neck. How the fuck am I supposed to face my family with that!?! The more pressing thought was what was I going to do the next day? I couldn’t go out with that. I made Terry buy me a scarf. It’s beautiful. I was too embarrassed to go in and pick one but Terry came back trumps.

I worried the love bite would be there at Christmas. It was a week by the time it faded so disaster and potential familial embarrassment avoided. One of my neighbours from a home a few houses down the street, Claude the old letch, noticed my love bite and he just wouldn’t let it go. It was healing by then but he called it a “beauty.” He thought I was showing it off, I was just being practical. I couldn’t hide it at work so what was the point hiding it at home? My mum and sister didn’t say anything about it, not to me anyway. I brought up the chat with Claude, acknowledged the love bite then with my mum. I still didn’t want to but I knew Claude might say something the next time he saw her. So Amy has a boyfriend. Good, I thought she might be “one of them.” No actually she just likes to fuck around, good day to you sir. Man if he knew how old Terry was he’d think he was in with a chance. I sort of think at times he’s subtly offering to teach me a thing or two in the ways of amour. Oh gross!

That second photo of me is on Monday morning just before heading home and back to the real world. I had some foundation with me but that sucker wanted to be seen. So much for keeping my head up in public now. I am making an effort and I agree with Terry it’s going to take time but to fuck myself up that early seems so me! That Monday it was someone’s birthday at work and they were taking photos and I couldn’t help thinking, Oh great! This would happen to me. Now it’s not just Terry who has it on file. Well apart from Claude no one said anything about it. Thank goodness for suppressed white folks, eh? I hope I’m not as shy as I used to be. I wouldn’t mind being bitten again.