Tuesday, 16 August 2011


“I just recounted: you were number 9” – said the message from Friday night’s date. Number 9 what, you might ask. Answer: the ninth woman he had ever kissed. Oh Jesus.

As a good friend of mine would say, dogs learn faster. Offer a dog an electrified choccy drop and I reckon it wouldn’t take more than one dose of pain to get the message through. I on the other hand repeatedly kiss boys I have no intention of seeing again. Result: guilt and admin. I even told this one the PASSION KISS story in the hope of putting him off. Didn’t work. Turns out he’d been deeply religious up until a couple of years ago and was now starting out his life as if he were 18 again. Let’s gloss over the finer details but suffice it to say around about the time he had hoisted me up in the air (he was 6ft 5) at the bus stop and suggested we go back to his but “keep our clothes on” I was scarpering up Mare St faster than if a vast mob of looters was behind me.


And there’s a lot of next. Oh yes you lucky, lucky people; I will be baring my soul to you all in the name of entertainment over the next couple of weeks. I’ll try and keep a running diary otherwise I think I may get confused so here’s a quick heads up of what’s to come . . .

TONIGHT: Grumpy Andrew (not Andy – absolutely positively not Andy, apparently).

TOMORROW: Steve! Slightly concerned he works in King’s Cross. Could be too close for home.

THURSDAY: Stuart! Who I met on Saturday at a burlesque show. Fancy that – a real lifer. He’s undoubtedly too nice and I will break him.

NEXT WEEK: Jonathan (serious, short but very hot) and Stuart (different one – tall and funny but only one pic. Cause for concern? He likes furniture though which is basically why I said yes)

More of this anon then – assuming I live that long.

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