Killing two birds

00:23 a.m

My phone beeps. Again.

Two men are waiting for me to respond: The boyfriend, for a retort to his goading reaction to my earlier sarcasm, and the obstinate Chris, for a response to his call for bedtime action.

I just lie down in bed, disgusted by and yet still wanting both for different reasons.

Evidently when it rains it bloody pours, because just 24 hours ago I was feeling a little bit lonely and quite ignored.

But defiance gets the better of me and I end up replying to one.

Two hours later.

Bits of me are still feeling tingly, and definately less ignored. But perhaps still lonely, I find myself replying to the other finally.

The answer's less than satisfactory, so I think I'll be passively even more defiant, and invite that one over too.

Inwardly, perhaps we're all just contemptuous children, unsatisfied with not testing the boundaries of no's and shouldn't's, and all just wanting to see how much it takes to cause an explosion.

It's not what you're thinking! I'm not letting him do more than massage my shoulders. God knows I don't have the energy for it again after Chris. But it's good enough to soothe my injured pride just knowing how much of an insult it would be if he only knew...

Sometimes I want to tell him directly not to try and play games with me, because girls can play a lot better than men can.

We know how to cheat, you see.

The Devil ain't lost her horns yet

Well, for the benefit of all 3 of you who were wondering where the devil I've been, the answer's quite simply in the last post.

I thought I'd try a little straight-lacing, (almost) monogamous committment and honestly, all that jazz... Okay, and paranoia got the better of me too. With him being over at mine so often, I didn't want him stumbling upon certain online sexual confessions.

But things have taken a slightly less hunky-dory turn, as things usually do. And I've missed indulging in these semi-public exposes. After all, now that the entire civilised world and their kid sisters are all furiously blogging with the bandwagon, I reckon one more shameless name-less won't hurt.

We'll call him the Boyfriend.

The one with whom it's completely appropriate to stuff a hand deep into the pockets of for an inappropriate amount of time in order to fish out a simple article such as a coin in public. In other words, to actually go out with rather than just go home with.

Ah, what a wholesome change that can be! For a while, anyway.

Call me ungenerous, but I stop reciprocating with monogamy and honesty once it's not being given freely either. And patience is still not one of my virtues. For the same reasons that i don't see it necessary to wait until a dying relationshup has been officially killed off before I start seeing someone, I also don't need to see it fully revived before I walk away. In fact, the first signs of life are enough to warrant departure.

Cowardly? Probably. Selfish? Definately.

But detachment is the way to live without disappointment, and life is far too short for anger, much less vengeance. It's much easier to love and move on. As they say, all's fair in love and war, and I'm much more of a lover than a fighter.

Anyway, the point is that I got tired of suppressing a part of myself, however small it was. And an awful lot's happened since, and I do want to write them down to let them go, but I'm late for a date and I may be rather occupied for the rest of the night to be writing undisturbed.

I hope so, anyway!