Oops

How can the whole of May have passed without me typing a word here? Isn't it weird how some months seem to drag on forever (January this year felt like an epoch) and some just skip on past so quickly that you hardly notice them.

Anyway, hello again! How've you been? Did you get that promotion you were after? How about those Red Sox? And other things of that nature.

Life here has been both stressful and pretty uneventful, somehow. The biggest change is that I'm now seeing someone (we're officially "in a relationship" on Facebook, so you know it's a big deal). All's going well so far, apart from the fact that we're a little bit too alike - we're both quite quiet and introspective so long periods go past where neither of us says anything. Which I actually don't mind, I hate people who are jabberjabberjabbering all the live-long day, but I worry sometimes that he's bored and wondering why I don't have more to say for myself. I'm sure he's not though, or he wouldn't keep calling, would he? Well, we'll see.

On a more important note, he can make me cum* like there's no tomorrow. Before this, I hadn't had sex since February and I was starting to think I could live without it, but now...I literally want to be naked with him every hour of every day (luckily neither of us have jobs at the moment so we can actually do that). I'd forgotten how sexy it is when someone's inside you and you're both sweaty and breathless and it feels so amazing and then he says your name....god, it kills me every time. It might just be because of the drought, but I can't get enough of it.

Anyway, at the moment I have a whopping cold sore (sexy!) so we're limited in the things we can do - which is unfortunate because he's very talented with his mouth - but once that's gone normal service will be resumed. And I CANNOT WAIT.

Oh, I should probably add that he's also incredibly sweet and thoughtful and makes me laugh. You know, all the good stuff. It's little things, like we were in a bar the other night and I'd nearly finished my drink, and suddenly a new one appears in front of me. That sounds minor, but I've never had a boyfriend who does things like that. Most of them wouldn't have even noticed, and even then I would've had to ask for them to get me another (which I wouldn't do by the way, I'm not one of these women who expects everything on a plate. But it's nice when it happens unexpectedly).

So, yeah, smitten. Everyone keep your fingers crossed for this one.

*I hate writing that word - is it "cum" or "come"? - but it's my favourite way to put it. "Orgasm" is a bit too grown up.

No sex in February, woo!

Yep, the abstinence is going well so far. One whole week since the start of Lent, and all I've done is share a bed with a guy. That was last night, actually - we went to the pub quiz and I started talking to this bloke on the team next to us, and the next thing you know I've invited myself back to his house. I've got to stop drinking during the week. But the point is, I kept my pants on the whole time. Plus I get extra credit for the fact that I haven't actually had sex this month at all, the last time was the 31st Jan.*

So, a week with no sex and no chocolate and I haven't yet cracked up. Maybe this isn't going to be as hard as I thought.

*Yes, I've started writing down who I sleep with and when. It's just good sense.

The things we do for Jesus.

Well, and God too.

Today's Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, which if you're Catholic means fasting as much as poss, and if you have to eat, then definitely no meat allowed. I had scrambled eggs with mushrooms and cheese at about 7 p.m., 3 hours ago, and I'm now staaaarving. All I can think about is a big meat-filled Subway sandwich. Plus I've given up chocolate - also for Lent, not just for fun - and right now I'd kill for a Mars bar or some M&Ms (non-peanut, I don't agree with nuts in chocolate). But I don't want to burn in hell, so I must resist.

Church was pretty good today, apart from as usual forgetting if you're supposed to say "amen" when the priest daubs the ashes on your head. I haven't been since Christmas but I think I'm going to get back into it regularly, as much as it feels like a chore sometimes (particularly when hung over) I always come out feeling...sort of refreshed, I suppose. Like I've got a clean slate for the week and maybe this'll be the week I don't fuck things up in one way or another.

Obviously I'm not the perfect Catholic (premarital sex complete with birth control, oh yeah, and that abortion that one time) but I'd like to think I'm going to heaven. I'm ultimately a good person, I want everyone to be happy and try to do things to help that, and I've never screwed someone over REALLY badly. Points for that, surely. Plus I'm giving up sex for Lent, so that should bump me up a few places on St Peter's list. If I manage it, that is. But I'm pretty determined. Just in case, though, I pledge here and now that every time I have sex, I will donate £10 to Cancer Research. And I'm skint, so you know this is serious.

I met a man!

Again.

He's cute and kind of odd looking (exactly my type) and he's got a great accent and he smells sexy - pheromones rather than Lynx Africa, which I actually love shut up. You know when a guy puts his hands above his head and you get a whiff of him and go "ooooh!" Yeah, that.

And this one is NOT going to go to Morocco and come home with a girlfriend. Still not over that, in case you can't tell.

The only thing is, he's got the same name as my cousin, which is a bit weird. And once again I used sex as an icebreaker, despite my plan to keep my legs shut. Still, I'm seeing him again so it's not quite as whorish. And it was sooooooo good. One more point on the Non-Self-Induced-Orgasm board. I rode that boy so hard I'm walking bow-legged today. I, erm, called in sick for work (on my second day, nice one) but all in all, not a bad day [/Jim Halpert].

Oh yeah...

The non-self-induced (thank you jamesnslater) orgasm count is up to 3! Drinks all round!

Act 1 - in which our heroine begins to reveal her sluttiness.

Me: I'm meeting [Potential New Boyfriend] tomorrow night, so could you drop me off at the station?
Mother: Of course. Will you need to be picked up again later?
Me: Nope.
Mother: Oh.
Long pause.
Mother: Don't you think it's a bit soon to be staying at his house? It's only been two weeks.
Me: Nope.
And scene.

If only she knew I'd fucked him within an hour of meeting him. In fact, if she had any idea what my "number" actually is, I really think a valve in her brain would pop. Ignorance is bliss.

Still no period. 9 days late, that's not a big deal is it?

Finally!

Well slap me round the chops with a halibut. Last night, for the very first time ever, I had an orgasm at the hands of another person. We were just messing around, he was behind me playing with my clit, and suddenly I realised there was a distinct possibility I was going to come. So instead of tensing up, worrying I was taking too long and just faking it, I got determined and concentrated and the next thing you know - boom! I was so proud of myself.

He definitely noticed the difference between that one and all the times before when I'd been faking - he said "I can feel you throbbing" - so now I guess my faking days are over because he's totally going to know. But maybe that's a good thing. If it's happened once, it can happen again, right?

He's ba-aack!

I know I should've been way more indignant. I should've made him work his way back into my good books. You can't just go missing for two weeks then reappear and expect everything to be normal.

And yet.

Yes, the first of the two men I'm dating (well, sleeping with - let's not overstate things) popped back up to say hello last night. I'd had a really crap night - a group of about 10 of us has gone to this big outdoor party thing, and I'd lost everyone within about two minutes of getting there so I had to come home ridiculously early. Normally I might've wandered for a while, befriended some girl while queueing for the loo, and eventually stumbled across my friends randomly after a couple of hours or so, but I just wasn't feeling it last night despite having a face full of UV paint and looking super hot in my new top. So, home I trundled, stopping off on the way for a few bags of crisps which I consumed in my pyjamas while reading crappy womens' magazines.

Then, 2a.m., my phone beeps:

"Sorry haven't been in touch, been ill and had lots of stuff going on. Didn't mean to mess you around, just been selfish recently." Well at least he's honest. I texted back explaining my crappy night. He replies:

"Not in the mood? Doesn't sound like you! [clearly he knows me well] On way home now, hammered. Getting pizza."

What can I say? I was hungry. I demanded he come over immediately. He didn't need to be invited twice, probably couldn't believe his luck. Didn't even have to grovel. I'm so weak.

It was a great night in the end though. When I'm on top of him everything flies out of my head and all I can think about is how amazing he feels inside me. We fell asleep at about 6, wrapped up in each other. He got up to go to work at 11, and now I probably won't see him for another two weeks or so. Or until the next time he's drunk and horny, whichever comes first.

Where's my willpower? If found, please return to walkallovermeidon'tmind@selfrespect.com

Like flies to a sugar bowl.

This is getting ridiculous. Last night, for the third time in as many months, I didn't even have to leave the comfort of my own kitchen to find someone to fuck.

We were supposed to go to the pub, but then my friends got stoned and I was too involved in Big Brother to move, so we just had drinks in the flat instead. When we were all good and hammered, two of my flatmates came home with a couple of guys they knew - turns out one of them comes from the next town over to my hometown, so we got talking. Somehow that graduated to "can I have your number?", then the dancing started (that tells you how mashed we all were - in 8 months of living here, we have never once had an impromptu dance party in the kitchen). It was just a short step from that to being dragged into my room and stripped of my clothes.

I didn't even have to try. Honestly, it's getting far too easy.

Good sex, not the most well-endowed of men, but made up for it in enthusiasm. Plus something he said really pushed my buttons without him even knowing it: "You're so sexy, I just want to bite you." Rrrrooowwrr!

There was an awkward moment when we did it the second time - once we'd finished, the condom was nowhere to be found. I immediately started planning how soon I could get to the doctors, but a quick trip to the loo and a bit of digging around solved the problem. It was an incredibly weird feeling, rooting around in my own ladygarden; I don't go in there very often, preferring to concentrate on the exterior, plus I'm quite small so it was a struggle to get enough fingers in there to retrieve the poor lost rubber. But retrieve it I did. Hopefully an experience that will never be repeated.

Anyway, I think we'll be going out for drinks on Friday, so that's nice.

As for the man I've been sleeping with on and off for the past month (the one mentioned below, whom I quite like but who chose exam revision over sex - I forgave him for that, incidentally), well, I sent him a message two days ago and he still hasn't got back to me. Therefore all privileges are suspended until further notice, leaving me free to "see" other people. You snooze, you lose.

So tonight I did it backwards.

My shag du jour came over at six, we got it on for an hour or three, then I went out with my friends. I've never done it that way round before - normally my sexin' hours are from 1am til 4 (approx). But I quite like this, it means I've had my fill beforehand so I don't spend the whole night speculating on whom I'm going to be taking home. The pressure's off. Yeah, I could get used to this.

It's definitely true

that the more sex you have, the more you want. Last week I slept with two guys, after a dry spell of about six weeks or more, and now I am bouncing off the fucking walls. It's not even about orgasms, since I'm the only one who's able to do that for myself. It's about having a body on top of me, pressing down, sweat mingling. It's about listening to someone else moan and groan and gasp and tell me how good it feels.

Ultimately, it's about power isn't it.

Blushing...

Bumped into the Brazilian tonight, on the way back from a late night group venture to purchase wine. We hugged and kissed on the cheek, and exchanged how-are-you's. I didn't realise he was going one way and I was going another, so I marched off assuming he was following and I'd get a chance to hang back and say...I don't know, something. But no, he was gone. I'm now kicking myself.

Okay, he has a girlfriend. But that didn't stop him from lying back and enjoying the view of my bedroom ceiling the other night.

A Little Deeper.

I feel I should give more background on who I am, so people reading this can get a better feel for me. Erm, so to speak. So let me tell you something central to my life:

I like men. I like sex. I'm what might be termed "a bit slaggy".

Last night I made a list of the men I've slept with - the total was 17. I know the names of 13 of them; 4 are anonymous. 4 were serious boyfriends, 1 was a friend with benefits, 6 were friends of friends, 6 were complete strangers (and remain so, as it happens.) 4 were alcohol-fueled mistakes and I woke up the next morning willing to gnaw my arm off to get away.

1 took my virginity. 1 introduced me to the joys of dirty sex. 1 said he loved me after a week. 1 never said he loved me over the course of eight months. 1 had the most amazing body I've ever had the good luck to get my hands on. 1 thought he was my third, when actually he was my sixth. 1 taught me how to give the ultimate blow job. 1 made me feel like a slut, and not in a good way.

But I'm not ashamed. Why should I be?