Tag Archives: The MILF of Xmas

Protected: Adventure of a lifetime

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Psychopath love

I’ve been seeing someone I haven’t told you about, someone I used to know. Over the course of just over a year my ex-girlfriend (Exgf) and I have met for coffee and a chat; that’s all. It has always occurred at her request and I’ve always gone along with it because I still have a lot of money tied up in the house we used to call home. I’ve given of my time because it has been in my interest to do so, in a vain, almost desperate hope that one day that money will be returned to me. I’d rather have nothing to do with her, but our catch-ups (as I think of them) has turned out to serve the purpose of furthering my education about women, relationships and myself.

Ever since the date with the English Shrink and the resulting epiphany that my ex-girlfriend is the archetypical psychopath I have seen her as something of an experiment, an opportunity to learn more about the inner workings of a psychopath by being able to go behind the scenes. I have been careful to not let her unpredictable appearances influence me in any way. My seeing her as a stone-cold manipulator makes it easier to feel nothing for her and believe very little that she says. I’ve been pleased by how little sway she has had with me, especially when I was having serious doubts about Busty Blonde or absolutely single.

I was seeing Busty Blonde until June 2014, then a plethora of short-term flings that you have read about in detail afterwards. Not once did I initiate contact with Exgf.

Here’s what transpired in that year.

17th February 2014
Just had my Exgf on phone telling me that a boyfriend from when she was 21 has made a reappearance and wants to see where things lead. I offered to check him out online for her, but I find very little. I feel she deserves happiness like anyone else. I happen to know what happened when they were a young couple; it all unravelled because of her. My concern is that the leopard has not changed its spots. She tells me that he has just come out of a long-term marriage. To my mind he’s on the rebound and regressing emotionally, hence seeking her out. Nothing can come of it in the long run because both their motivations are bad and not the same.

20th March
My Exgf called me up at lunchtime, just like she did the day before. The previous day’s call had no real point to it other than to chat it seemed. Today’s call was to suggest meeting up in my town for a quick coffee. Out of curiosity I oblige and we meet outside my apartment and go to the local Costa. She is chatty about her new job and the training she has just started. I’m paying close attention to what questions she asks, and unsurprisingly, it is about Busty Blonde. I can’t believe my bad luck when my nosey ex-neighbour walks into the coffee-shop. The neighbour’s face when she sees with my Exgf is priceless.

The discussion turns at my Exgf’s insistence towards women and their sexuality. She asks me how I reconcile myself to the fact that I want to do nasty things, like have a woman use a bottle as a dildo on herself, but am disapproving of a woman who has done such things with another guy. It’s a fair question and one that I do not answer because I am more curious about why she is asking this. I don’t ask about her motivations nor did I give the answer to her question. The unspoken answer to her question is thus: I feel no desire for a defiled woman, but I do feel attraction for a woman that I can defile and defiling her is an exquisite sensation. Why? Simple, just like so many sexual encounters, there is a transfer of power, from the one allowing herself to be defiled to the one in control of what is happening. It’s a glorious ego-trip, plain and simple. That good ol’ male ego is alive and well within me still.

My Exgf told me that she had two platonic male friends, both of whom have recently tried their luck with her, but she swatted them off. She tells me that she is still holding out for an encounter with her ex-boyfriend from over 20 years ago. I feel nothing emotionally upon hearing that, whereas I think she was checking me for a reaction. My Exgf and I went for a walk around the high street and then go our separate ways, neither of us making noises about meeting again.

14th May
My Exgf phones me, telling me that she started her new job as a flight attendant and then drops by innuendo the fact she has started seeing a guy – an Irish hotelier – and it involves sex. I feel absolutely nothing. I think all the negative feelings that I harboured for her are gone. She is truly nobody to me now. If she was hoping to hear a jealous or shocked response from me she must have been bitterly disappointed.

1st June 2014
My Exgf phones me out of the blue; her usual work situation had come about. After only two weeks as an air stewardess she was at odds with everybody and going to senior management about it. She’s a very slow learner; this happens wherever she works. It’s all part of her psychopathic being in that everything is always someone else’s fault.

She tells me that she hadn’t seen her new boyfriend in over a week. They had been on five dates and slept together on one of them. The most recent date was a breakfast meeting only because she was summoned to work at short notice after having invited him over. Less than an hour after arriving at her place she had to go to work. She hasn’t heard from him since and can’t figure out why.

He mentioned to her that he was going to a jazz club in London that week, but that he only had one ticket which he was grateful to have got. Exgf didn’t believe him and phoned the club, asking about the ticket sales for the event that he was attending. The club confirmed that ticket sales had been brisk and sold out quickly. She’ll never change, her own tricky nature causes her to see the same in other people.

17th June 2014
Just had Exgf sitting on my sofa telling me about her new shitty job and how good her new boyfriend is in bed but how ugly he is. Listening to this shit I wondered to myself, “What the hell did I ever see in you? What was the massive attraction? Why did I feel the things that I did for you?”

If I were to come across her profile today I wouldn’t even read it. I really can’t remember why I felt that she was The One; the person I would spend the rest of my life with. Tonight I couldn’t wait for her to leave, so much has my disdain for her grown.

I think that with time we all move on emotionally, imperceptibly, but we do. I now seriously doubt that it is normal for a couple to have a permanent relationship that lasts all their lives. It’s just not natural.

11th August 2014
Whenever I interact with Exgf via my phone, to me it feels like I’m dealing with a prostitute. I was curious to hear what she had been up to, a form of cheap thrills for me and more lessons in my never-ending education about women, love and relationships.

2nd September 2014
I get a call at ten in the morning from my Exgf as she woke up. She has a hair appointment in my town and wants to catch up. I’m suspicious about her motives but wonder if she is bringing me a birthday present. She comes to my place and uses the toilet, making mention of all the long blonde hairs that are on the bathroom wall. I made a mental note to wash those walls down before another woman comes to visit me.

We go to a Costa Coffee and I’m happy to let her buy me the biggest coffee I can order. It is nice to get some money back off her. Exgf sat and ate while I regale her with my shenanigans with the Busty Czech and The Saffa. I do this to tease her, toy with her, like she used to with me, except I was too blind to see it when we were a couple. Then it was her turn to tell me of her dating exploits. The Irish hotelier was still on the scene, but she knows it’s never going to amount to anything. After a bit of badgering by me she agreed that, in effect, he was just a friend with benefits.

When Exgf arrived, it was obvious to me from how she was dressed that she was on her way to a date. So I chide her about it. She tells me it was indeed a date, happening in a few hour’s time. It’s with a guy she has seen twice before. She likes him as a person but wouldn’t have sex with him. I pointed out that her boobs were noticeably on display, to which she responded, “Well, that’s just to show him what he won’t be getting”.

Even now I find her breasts very attractive. I’ve forgotten how they felt in my hands; it’s been almost a year. When I’m feeling horny, instead of watching porn, I watch the two videos I made with her. I still find them incredibly arousing.

Exgf tells me more about her date, speaking glowingly about their common interests, how loaded he was, how he had rich family in my town, how we was a prize catch for someone who fancied him. It was interesting to see her speaking of this guy in terms of being a material prize. She was more about the money than I had realized. Exgf claimed that her issue with him was that he was somewhat low-class and not very intelligent, but she enjoyed his company nevertheless. She says that, but I could see her letting him fuck her anyway; a pity-fuck. Perhaps she’d let him finger her; she always liked that. In a reciprocal gesture she’d probably suck him off because she wouldn’t think twice about doing that. I know her better now.

We parted ways and to my surprise she hugs and kisses me. A couple of times earlier, walking from my place and in the shop, she had made unnecessary physical contact. My hours in the gym are having an effect; she likes my muscles, but they’re not meant for her.

Back home I later started baiting her with suggestive text messages. I suggested that she was very welcome to come back to avail herself of the champagne bottle that she had used as a dildo the previous year. Her responses were one of indignation, but I know that they had an effect, not that she liked them, but that she would be thinking about it for days to come. After our years together I know how to turn her on and it involves days of planting naughty ideas in her head that she eventually had to fulfil. Turn a woman’s mind on and her body will follow.

I asked her what show she would be giving me this year for my birthday. Would I want to watch her doing something sexual with an object or another man – and film it? Yes, such is my disregard for her and showing just how much I see her as merely a sexual object in my world.

21st September
Exgf and her Irish boyfriend had met the Queen at Windsor castle at a soiree there. Exgf told me a few months earlier that once this event was over that she would dump him. I reminded her of this and she replied that things were getting interesting and that “he knew many, many people”. I chided her with, “So you’re using him for contacts and he’s using you for sex?” She replied with “what makes you think I’m not using him for sex too?” So, she doesn’t fancy him and knows that there is no long-term future, but she’s still shagging him and looking to exploit his contacts. Charming.

After that conversation I sat thinking of my experience with The Brazilian and how disappointed I was with that outcome. I wondered if she was just using me for a quick roll in the hay; probably. Is The Saffa doing the same with me?

2nd October
As usual she comes to my town for a plausible reason which I suspect is one of her endless lies. She can not get through a day without telling a lie, whereas I go years without lying. We go to a local pub where I buy us pizzas and beers. We sit on a sofa and chat like a normal couple would. She tells me about her money troubles and problems with colleagues at work; some things will never change with her. She has always chewed the skin on her thumbs to pieces when stressed so I try to take a thumb in my hand. I was expecting her to pull away or look shocked, but instead she turns and looks at me with tenderness in her eyes and grips my hand affectionately with hers. She quickly lets go when she realizes what she had done. “I just want to look at the state of your thumb,” I said. She still wants me, but I don’t feel the same way. She’s just a source of amusement to me now.

Later in the encounter she proudly tells me that she is seeing four guys, but only sleeping with the Irishman. One guy she fancies, one she likes as a person and the other gets no mention. She asks me if she still gives the best blowjob in my opinion. I find that question strange.

23rd October
She phones me to say that she’s down in the dumps and can do with some cheering up. We meet outside my block and walk to a nearby coffee shop. She’s tense, but I know she’s stressed, as usual, so I decide to be polite and civil. I have no agenda for the encounter. We talk about nothing in particular, I think she badly wanted to be distracted; she gets bored very easily. I think it’s a contributing factor to her promiscuous past. She tells me that she finally dumped the Irishman.

We end up back at my place where I make us lunch because she had mentioned not having any food in her house. I feel sorry for her, for a variety of reasons. She wolfs the curry down and I can see that she’s intent on just wasting time with me, while I have work that I’d rather be getting on with. I orchestrate movements such that she feels compelled to leave. If she wanted to suck me off, I would have let her, but she’s made it very plain that that’s “never going to happen again”. The way I know her, the fact she keeps saying it, means she’s thinking about it.

Later in the day she sends me two text messages, “Thank you for cheering me up. I do appreciate it,” followed by, “But you’re still not getting in my knickers”. I respond with, “You need to get yourself tested and ask me for it before you get that privilege,” which I know will focus her mind. I know it also gives me the upper hand.

The next night, a Friday night, she phones to ask if I’d like to go away to Sharm el Sheikh with her. She can get very cheap flights and knows how to get cheap hotels there. If I wasn’t keen on The Cockaholic or seeing anyone else, I’d be tempted. I know we’d end up fucking but that would complicate life between us. So I decline her offer, citing a lack of money, but I can hear that she’s disappointed. She retorts by saying that she’ll ask the guy she dumped a few days ago if he’d like to go.

4th January 2015
The past few months have seen little interaction with the Exgf, which has suited me. I’m finding each encounter with her increasingly pointless other than to remind me of how wrong about someone I can be. She comes around randomly when she has time off and probably bored. She kept seeing the Irishman with connections, using him, not ever feeling anything for him. They were just friends with benefits. She valued the fact that he used a condom when fucking her, but moaned about the fact that he refused to manscape and would often just lie there and she had to do the work.

She stayed on several dating sites, notably Plenty of Fish (PoF), which she claimed just kept options open and gave her something of a social life. I can see the similarities with her early adult years in that she loved the attention. She kept dating a guy who was a keen gardener, something that she appreciated, but wasn’t attracted to him. She dated several other guys at the same time, but was just being fucked by the Irishman and enjoyed the company of the gardener.

Eventually she tired of both of them, citing incompatible work schedules with the Irishman and lack of desire with the other. She said that she did get off with the gardener a few times and would feel his cock, but it was too small for her liking. She claimed only to have felt it, never more than that. I don’t believe her; she’ll have sucked it, especially if he fingered her. Apparently he was quite upset when she ended it as it came as a total surprise to him. What drove matters to a head was him suggesting that they go away together.

Then she came across a guy on PoF who seemed to tick all her boxes. Let’s call him ‘Dick’. She was quite taken with him and told me that he was the first guy that she ever felt anything for since me. It occurred to me that it is in my interest to see her happy and matched, perhaps her new beau will buy me out of the house. I encouraged her to see where things led with her new flame.

They had been on only a couple of dates before Dick suggested that they go away together. She was coming up to the busy time of the year doing demo work in shops now that her air stewardess days were over. She wanted to know if they were sexually compatible; time was a factor in whether or not she wanted to keep seeing him. So a few weeks later they went to a hotel in Stratford-upon-avon where they shagged the night away. Apparently as first times go it was good.

A few weeks later she starts telling me of her reservations about Dick. He doesn’t like holding hands, something that she expects to do and it really bothers her. He is quite selfish in that he always expects her to fall in line with whatever suits him. The thing that bothers her most is that Dick doesn’t lavish her with attention. She likes and wants a man to pursue her, to send her text messages and emails every day. She tells me that she doesn’t want this because its romantic, it’s because it tells her that he wants her more than she wants him, a feeling that gives her a sense of power. I find her honesty refreshing and I also pause to remember that that was exactly how our early days together were.

She says that she’ll give it time, something I encourage her to do because it’s in my interest that she finds someone as foolish as me. Apparently Dick’s a fitness fanatic and fucks her for hours on end. He can cum once an hour, which I find impressive as does she. He must be enjoying fucking her and sucking on her big fat tits; I would if I were him.

Monday 5th January 2015
At 9pm she phones me; her car’s has broken down. She’s sitting in the car park of a pub waiting for a tow-truck. She starts telling me as usual how shit her life is and the topic wonders over to Xmas and New Year’s. She tells me that she’s “met somebody”. A Spaniard off Tinder who, on the third date, came to her place and cooked Xmas lunch. I ask if Dick is history and she says ‘no’. She’s keeping him around because the sex is great. I ask if she’s slept with the Spaniard and she says not. I ask why and she says it’s because he hasn’t made a move on her and she’s on her period. She doesn’t find him physically attractive either and says that he’s a little pudgy. She did spend a night in bed with him on New Year’s, but nothing happened. She’s concerned that he has sexual hangups and won’t be any good in that department. So, just like the MILF of Xmas, she wants it both ways.

Tuesday 11th January 2015
She phones me during the day, just before noon, asking for advice about a software problem. Then she gets choked up and starts crying on the phone, telling me she’s struggling with life before ending the call. She calls back later at 3pm asking if I could come around and help her move her desk and computer to another room of the house. Out of kindness, feeling sorry for her and with no agenda whatsoever, I go around after 6pm. As I go about moving everything and fixing her myriad of problems she tells me that after she rang off she sent a booty call to her stud. He came around, they fucked and she swallowed his load. After he left is when she phoned me. Charming.

She tells me that she has felt so guilty about stringing along the Spaniard that she is avoiding interacting with him. I find that rather prescient because that’s probably what has happened with me and the MILF of Xmas. She’s hoping that this Spaniard will stop sending her flowers and messaging her. I remember her saying that that is what she wants, but seemingly only from a guy that she wants. I ask if the turn-off is that he is too keen, to which she agrees. She’s hoping that he just gets the message and goes away.

Exgf is still intent on keeping Dick around, but only for the sexual benefits as he can shag for hours she says. She knows that they have no long-term future together because she finds him totally selfish.

The conversation gets heavily sentimental and we reminisce about us. She tells me that she has come to realize that I’m the only man she has ever loved, but has resolved that she’ll never allow herself to feel that way again because the pain afterwards is just too much for her. A back-handed compliment that I find tinged with sadness.

More than anything else, what I got from this interaction, is a stark demonstration of how she uses men. It also shows that a man can be too nice to a woman and can get kicked in the teeth for it. I include myself still in that category; I won’t be helping her with anything again.

End of January 2015
Exgf tells me that she has no trust or respect for the guy she thought could be her One. She does enjoy sex with him because it’s raw. He also does as she asks and uses a condom every time. Then she tells me that she’s seeing the Spaniard on the weekend.

After the weekend she phones me up to pick my brain about something to do with psychometric tests for a job application. Then she tells me that she saw the Spaniard on the weekend, but didn’t sleep with him and has no desire to do so. He seems unwilling, unable or too inept to make that happen. She says that she’s happy to keep seeing him as a social outlet. The user keeps on using.

I loved her intensely. Every day my heart pounded from my feelings for her. It was an illusion and the illusion was all mine, but carefully crafted and delivered by her. The reality, a hard, cold reality of what was really going on was all hers. The person I loved became, when the illusion was shattered, somebody that I used to know. Of course that person didn’t really exist.

If I were to meet my Exgf today, not that I would ever even approach her on a dating site, I would not think her anything special, nor would I find her that unique.

My Exgf is living proof of my now-lost naivety.

Gotye – Somebody That I Used To Know

So f*cking depressed

I’m thoroughly miserable. Nothing gives me pleasure and I don’t yearn for anything, not even kinky sex with a new lover. I’ve lost my spark, my drive, my interest in everything. I don’t see the point of any of this any more. I’ve not had a history of a life-long battle with depression like some people have. Yes, I had some ups and downs as a teenager, but who didn’t? I’m feeling things that I’ve only ever felt once before.

I was on a 5-star luxury tour of Italy with my ex-wife and we were both between new contracts. On the last day of the tour we got an email from our landlord in which he gave us a month’s notice to vacate our home because he was selling it. The news hit my soul like a fiery sledgehammer and I was lurched into a deep depression that lasted for months. It was the feeling of vulnerability and helplessness that dragged me under. It was a paralysing Novocaine for my soul. Until then her and I had been through a lot of challenges together and we came out smiling every time. This time was different. What snapped me out of it was seeing her collapse to the floor, clutching my jeans at the knees, sobbing her eyes out as she begged me to get a job, any job. We had just finished moving into our new home, a rented one again and it had been an exhausting process for both of us. I did as she asked and things got better from there. Now that feeling was back and with a vengeance.

I think it’s only when we’re depressed that we see things clearly. When nothing and nobody gives us pleasure only then can we see what’s really going on around us. There’s a simplicity and clarity that is lacking at other times, those times when we’re like everyone else. We can see the everyday, mundane things and question their validity and usefulness. We can look at things we’ve repeatedly done and ask why we’ve done this, for the first time thinking about it, really thinking about and seeing the familiar in a new way. It’s not necessarily a better way or just an alternative viewpoint, it’s seeing everything in a different context that makes it all seem illogical to the point of insane.

You see people mindlessly, cheerily going about their lives, doing the same things over and over, hardly ever thinking about it. There is much to be said for blissful ignorance, for it frees you from the burden of true consciousness. Being fully aware of the absurdity of modern life can drive a thinking person crazy.

If you were to think about it, you would realize that there is no point to life. That realization hits us all at some point, but how we react to it is what matters. It can paralyze some people, liberate others and do absolutely nothing either way for some of us.

Life is the biggest joke going because no matter what you do, you die. Nobody survives life. Whether you do or you don’t, it doesn’t really matter because the end result is the same. You dream, you struggle, you sacrifice, you suffer, you hurt and, no matter what, the result is the same for all of us. It’s a difficult phase, that bit between birth and death.

The problem comes when you believe everything is futile, that there’s no point. Nothing gives you pleasure and nothing matters. That’s when a negative spiral kicks in and you get dragged under into a world that feels lonely, cold and overwhelmingly intense.

What has brought this on in me this time?

First, I’m feeling angry towards women. I feel that they’ve been toying with me, using me, wasting my time and money, exploiting me. Some of their bad ways have rubbed off on to me and I’ve hurt two good women: Busty Blonde and Busty Czech. I feel that my dating experiences have degraded me, made me into a worse person than I was before I started out. If I knew that things were going to turn out this way, would I have bothered? Probably not.

This latest episode with the MILF of Xmas is yet another disappointment in what has proven a lengthy procession of disappointments. It feels like the Cunt Carousel has spun me around one more time and thrown me off into a puddle of mud, a puddle made up of dog faeces, pussy juices and urine. It’s the type of puddle that dries in the park, then families come and sit on while I watch them when I’m in the gym. Shit everywhere; it’s all just shit.

Second, my working life is a disaster. It’s been almost a year and a half since I walked out of my job. The duplicitous nature of everyone I worked with has scarred me. I have no faith left in people. Mark Twain said, “The more I learn about people, the more I like my dog”. I agree with him although I don’t have a dog. I have no desire to get back into the so-called “formal” workplace. The thought of sitting in an office surrounded by snakes in suits makes my stomach turn. I’ve half-heartedly applied for dozens of jobs in the past year because I need the money but haven’t been called for an interview once, despite reworking my resume several times. It feels like my industry is done with me, more than I feel done with it.

On the back of that, while the job search was running in the background, I decided it prudent to start building a business of my own. Working for a salary provides a living, but making profits can lead to a fortune. I’ve poured my energy into resurrecting an online business, but that effort didn’t result in a fraction of the money that I am beginning to need. I had an idea for an eBay business that I threw myself into, but that also proved a fruitless waste of time. A sense of desperation started creeping in and I resorted to an old hobby of mine that has proven a financial roller-coaster: day-trading. I may as well have blown that money on Lotto tickets.

Women perceive themselves through all the roles that they fulfil in life and chastise themselves about the one that they are doing worst at. Men are very different. We largely see ourselves through our work. That thing we spend most of our waking time doing is what defines us. If we’re unhappy in our work, then we’re unhappy in our life. I’ve realized that many of the dates that I went on were doomed because I was using dating as a crutch for a frustrated working life.

Third, which is related to my aforementioned second point, is the fact that my finances are running low and I’m starting to panic about it. I’ve been living off my savings as frugally as I can since the day I quit my job because I knew it might be some time before I had money coming in again. That “some time” has proven longer than I can afford. I’ve only got money left to last me for a few months. The pressure of this is starting to rot my brain some days.

Fourth, I’ve had a falling out with my best friend. We’ve been the best of buddies since we were fourteen, or so I thought. Then one day I saw a posting on Facebook about fake friends. You might have seen it, it starts with “friends don’t get jealous…”. That stunned me because it encapsulated his behaviour towards me over the years. He was never to be seen or heard from when I was having a rough time, except the time I left my Exgf and he let me stay for two months. Other than that he was visibly missing when my life was shit. He is also the biggest liar I have ever known, a side to him that has grown over the years and has increasingly bothered me. In recent years the friendship had degenerated into him being an ask-hole in which he would phone me up to debate a problem he was having and then he would do exactly what I suggested should not be done. When his son was kidnapped a year ago by his ex-wife (the boy’s mother) I volunteered to fly at my own expense to snatch the boy back, then drive across two continents to return him home. That was the plan if the various legal routes failed, of which one didn’t. My “friend” would never have even thought of doing that, let alone have the balls and brains to make it happen. The final straw was an incident just before Christmas which showed me his true colours and his attitude towards me. This acidic revelation about his true nature felt as great a betrayal as my ex-wife’s lies. It has rocked my faith in all people. It has shaken my faith in myself because how could I have been so blind for so long?

True friends

True friends are never jealous of each other.

Lastly and perhaps most importantly, I’m now seriously doubting that The One exists. Why should she? Is it all just an illusion, a foolish notion that I’ve allowed to take on life-consuming importance? If I didn’t have this quest, what would I have applied myself to? I honestly don’t know. Trying to find Her gave my life some meaning. It gave me a reason to get out of bed each day. Scouring screens of pretty faces was often the highlight of my day. Now I don’t see the point in all that any more and I’m left feeling empty. My dating life has been a crutch to lean on when what truly ails me was left unattended. All along my life has lacked purpose, I can see that now, but I don’t know what to do about it. It’s hard to find a purpose when nothing gives you pleasure, people are a source of pain and you’re about to run out of money.

I’m tired of living a life predicated on being too dumb to steal and too proud to beg. I’m tired of aspiring to things that are not likely to happen for me. I totally get why some people resort to a life of crime, but that’s not for me. Apparently “hope to a man is like winding is to a clock”. I’ve run out of hope. This clock is broken. There’s no helping hand to put it back to working order. I feel totally and utterly defeated by life and now I hope for nothing.

I’ve hit an all-time low.

Today I bought boxes of ibuprofen after doing a circuit to the supermarkets in my town. Collected into a neat little pile they stand proud on the stool in front of my sofa, the stool that I’ve fucked so many women on. I’ve lost count of how many it was. What does it matter? What does all of this matter? If I do something or I don’t do something, what does it matter? It’s just me, this tottering tree in an unfeeling, deaf forest. Nobody cares. I don’t matter to anyone. If I’m here or not, it doesn’t matter; I don’t matter. I won’t be missed. I don’t think many people will attend my funeral.

I’ll leave my front door unlocked. The smell will eventually become too much for my neighbours. No, that’s not fair to them; they don’t deserve to find me like that. I know, I’ll leave a cryptic message on Facebook after midnight. The next morning somebody will figure it out and come around. Should I be like Benny Hill and surround myself in money or some things equally garish? Unused condoms? Should I be well-dressed? A gentleman should always look his best.

The boxes of pills before me silently shout at me, crying out for attention, imploring to be used in one reckless gush. They seem stronger than me.

Scraggly birds outside in a naked tree start making a noise under the dark sky. An angry magpie is arguing with an indignant pigeon. They must have an IQ of what, three? Collectively? What do they have to look forward to? Why do they bother? It’s near to freezing now and icy drops of rain are spitting on them, but they don’t notice or don’t care. They too seem stronger than me.

The boxes clamour for my attention…

The Wanted – All Time Low

Bombshell MILF

The MILF of Xmas is a package deal; the kid thing will take a lot of thought on my part. I don’t know if I can handle that; I don’t feel emotionally equipped for it. I spend many hours on Sunday doing research on the internet about dating a single mother. The general consensus from other men on forums is ‘don’t’, but she doesn’t seem like the typical single mother I’ve read about.

The MILF of Xmas and I speak on the phone on Sunday night and we have good banter. It feels as good as the previous night’s date. I ask her to phone me on Monday night once she’s finished work.

We swap email addresses during the day, but she doesn’t phone me on Monday night. I send her a link to a YouTube music video that we discussed on Saturday night. I get no response and put it down to her being busy in the run-up to Xmas and having a child to look after. Or does this mean she’s about to start playing games? Do the power games now begin; seeing who calls whom first? Or is this really the effect of a child being involved?

It’s Tuesday, the day before Christmas Eve and she surprises me at 11am by messaging me on WhatsApp asking about my day. I respond neutrally and realize that it is now school holidays, so she should be off work and having to look after her son. She then asks if we can get together in the afternoon. I’m elated!

Seeing as I made the effort to visit nearer her town, she says she’ll come visit me in mine. Oh, how sweet. Her fair-mindedness is not wasted on me. I run around like a lunatic cleaning my home, then I go to the shops to buy a couple of Christmas presents for her. I wrap them with a smile on my face; I hope she likes them. It’s obvious to me that she can’t wait to see me again and is using swapping presents as an excuse. Obvious, right?

The MILF of Xmas arrives mid-afternoon, I meet her in my car park and I’m glad to see her. I hand her the Christmas presents, but she offers nothing in return. I’m surprised but tell myself that she just really wanted to see me. I feel proud to have her by my side as we walk along my town’s high street to a quaint family-run coffee shop. She’s so cute; she couldn’t hurt a fly.

We settle down to coffee and cake and begin chatting away, but I get the impression that she has something on her mind. I use my old tactic of just falling silent, waiting for the woman to choose the next topic of conversation as it usually reveals what is foremost on her mind. I wasn’t expecting what I got.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” she begins.

I put my fork down and look deeply into her blue eyes. This sounds serious.

“I’m actually seeing someone else right now,” she says.

Her words are like a dagger in my soul, it thrusts in and slowly starts to twist.

“I see,” is all I can say, as my heart plummets to my feet and my blood runs cold. Suddenly the table between us feels as wide as the Grand Canyon and she’s standing on the other side.

“We met through a mutual friend in October. Last week I decided to go onto Tinder to see who’s out there, which is when I came across you,” she says.

Every word she utters feels like a blow from a scalding hammer. I feel deflated and disheartened, but I try to not let it show. I knew that she was too good be true. However, there’s more.

“My trip to my parents this coming week with my son includes him,” she says.

I fall silent. I don’t know what to say and it feels like I’m shrinking in my seat.

“The thing is that I find him boring. We don’t have chemistry. You and I have the chemistry I want,” she says leaning towards me with a pleading look in her eyes.

I nod in understanding because of my experiences with Busty Blonde and Sweet Thing. If that chemistry isn’t there in the beginning, it’s never going to be there. Furthermore if it wasn’t for my situation of a few months ago with Busty Czech and The Saffa, I would be hopping mad and would want to walk out of the coffee shop. However, I have enough life experience now to understand how these situations can come about because I was in one very similar. I’m sure that there’s more to it than she’s telling me.

“Have you slept with him?” I ask.

“Yes,” she replies instantly.

Why did I ask that? I guess I need to know how serious it is. We fall silent for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“What would you do if you were in my position?” I ask.

“Hmm, I would say for you to get back to me once the other person is history,” she says.

I think about it for a few moments, my brain races and I quickly conjure up a plan.

“No, I’m not going to say that. I’m a much smoother operator than that. What I will say is that I’m prepared to keep seeing you, but the longer it takes you to get rid of the other guy, the less likely I am to keep seeing you.”

“Oh, okay,” she says with a puzzled look on her face.

“I’m not going to pressurise you. I’m not going to give you an ultimatum. That’s not a nice way of doing things,” I say with a smile.

The MILF of Xmas smiles back.

What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve just given her a test. If she’s good and decent enough for me she’ll say goodbye to the other guy as quickly as possible. The right thing all along is to have ended it with him before meeting someone else, but she didn’t. I can’t get all righteous and judgemental about it because I’ve done the same thing.

The question that needs answering is that of: does she feel enough chemistry and attraction with me in order to let go of the safety blanket that is the other guy? Is she rather going to cling to a little bit of something rather than risking everything in exchange for a shot at everything else she’s ever wanted?

I decide to go on the offensive. She’d asked me a question on Saturday night that didn’t sit well with me.

“Why on Saturday did you ask that if I lived where I did that it meant that I was a high-income earner?” I’m concerned that she has gold-digger tendencies. Some of my friends say that all women are gold-diggers, it’s just the extent that varies. I’m curious to see how she reacts to my question.

“I asked because I’m a very low earner. I can’t keep up with you if you are. You’re used to the finer things in life and I can’t afford those,” she says without a moment’s hesitation.

I find her answer charming. It’s nothing like what I was expecting. I remember that on Saturday she told me that she thought that I was posh. I thought it time to dispel any misconceptions that she had about me and to see for myself whether or not her actions matched her words.

“After we’re done here we’re going back to my place. Then you can see how modestly I live. My place is nothing special and it’s quite basic. Then you’ll see that I’m not posh,” I say emphatically.

The MILF of Xmas smiles; she seems pleased with that.

She pays for our cakes and coffees, something that I would have been uncomfortable with in the past, but her news makes it easier for me to let her pay.

Back at my place I show her around and she doesn’t say a word nor does she show any kind of reaction to my home. As she stands next to my sofa that I have fucked countless women on, she looks so different to all of them. She looks so cute and wholesome. I find her irresistible.

I walk over to her, stoop down and start to kiss her as slowly and gently as I know how. I hear her take deep breaths in through her nose and her eyes are closed. Our lips lock and we slow kiss; I can almost hear her heart beat. After a few seconds our tongues touch and we tease each other. It feels like we’re high-school teenagers kissing for the very first time…and it feels good.

We stand there kissing for several minutes and I can’t help but to start kissing her neck and throat. She loves it; the guttural sounds she lets off tells me so. I push my hands under her coat and she doesn’t resist. I wonder how far she’d let things go if I pushed my luck. Her body feels small and tight; it also feels good. I resist the temptation to feel her breasts.

I stop, not wanting things to get out of hand. I can envisage her laying naked on my sofa with me on top of her, dwarfing her, fucking her, making her cum with a scream that would startle the neighbours. No, that is not the right thing to do here. I put her coat back in place and offer to walk her to her car.

At her car we kiss passionately once more and she drives off. An hour later she sends me a message on WhatsApp: ‘Thank you for meeting me.‘ I’m not too sure what to make of that. I respond with ‘Thank you for being honest with me.‘ She replies ‘It’s the least I could do.

The fact that she felt the need to come clean with me counts as a good thing in my book. It shows some moral decency while also showing that she’s taking me seriously. Nevertheless, I feel uneasy about her now.

Christmas Eve
I wake with a familiar empty feeling inside me. The MILF of Xmas is not everything I thought she was. I’ve made a fool of myself again. I believed what I wanted, based on the little I saw on Saturday. I should know better by now. I’m just going to leave her alone today.

Am I doing it again? Am I pursuing someone who just isn’t right for me? How do you ever really know until it’s too late?

Is she perhaps appealing to my White Knight Syndrome? I think not. I just find her so damn cute.

Xmas Day
I decide to withdraw a little. I don’t want to pressurise her in any way. I also don’t want to let myself get carried away with someone who, in all likelihood, is putting on some kind of act that I’ve seen so many other women do. I know that I should phone her, but decide to merely send her a WhatsApp message. She responds within minutes with a positive and enthusiastic tone, thanking me for her presents. I then send her an email with a link to the Lily Allen video of ‘Somewhere only we know’. A quarter of an hour later she responds with a message saying, “That was beautiful, thank you :)

I leave it there, letting her get on with her day. I wonder if the boyfriend is there; probably.

Boxing Day
I send The MILF of Xmas a WhatsApp message wishing her bon voyage. She responds with a polite thank you. I decide again to leave matters there. I’ve initiated the last three interactions. Let’s see how long it takes before I hear from her again.

A couple of times over the week that she’s gone she posts a few photos on Facebook. Yes, I found her on Facebook and her profile is totally wide open. Her son looks like a happy little guy. The photos on there are mostly of her ex-husband. He’s about my size, so she likes her men big. The guy she’s with now is a younger, scrawny version of me. Other photos show a normal, wholesome, family-oriented life.

Shortly before midnight on New Year’s Eve I get a mysterious message on WhatsApp. It’s from a number I don’t recognize, but it’s from a Spanish phone number. There’s no salutation or signature. They wish me a happy New Year and promise to “chat soon”. I can only surmise that it’s The MILF of Xmas, but it feels so generic. I latch onto the idea that it might be the boyfriend who has checked her phone, seen my number and is trying to pose as her to glean information. I have no idea why I came up with that idea, but I think it’s because of all the shenanigans over the last few years that has lead to being able to think like that. I respond the next day with a courteous “Thank you, you too.

New Year’s Day
The MILF of Xmas is getting back home on New Year’s Day. I’ve decided to not make contact, but to instead see how long it takes before I hear from her. As I write this, it’s going on for lunchtime on Friday 2nd January 2015. I’ve still not heard from her. I’m actually not too fussed about hearing from her. In the past week I’ve become increasingly uncomfortable with this situation. The central thought that comes to mind when I think of her is her child. I’m not sure I’m up to the task of being involved with a single mother.

If matters were to proceed, then my preferred scenario that I would want is to hear her say that she told the other guy about what is going on and he didn’t go to Spain with her; but I know that he did. A slightly less acceptable scenario is that she went away with him and at some point came clean with him. Anything other than that is unacceptable to me. Anything else just reeks of weakness or, worse still, just using him, deceiving him.

I wonder how this other guy would feel if he knew what was really going on, what she truly thought of him. He was blissfully ignorant of himself being in one corner of a triangle, she’s in another corner of her own making and me, well I’m on the other side from them both. Perhaps bliss is ignorance.

I know that this situation isn’t what I want and that I should let it slide. Letting it peter out is the smoothest course of action.

To this day I have not heard from her.

I’m left feeling disappointed, surprised and slightly bitter by this turn of events, but I think I dodged a cannonball.

Lessons learned: 1) Things are rarely as they seem. 2) Life as a single mother is complicated and it takes a special kind of man to become involved with one. I am not that kind of man. 3) My ability to read women is not as developed as I think.

1927 -The other side

Date #51 – The MILF of Xmas

I swore to myself that there would be no more dates this year. The experiences with The Cockaholic and The Saffa has left me uneasy with dating. Worse still I’m starting to give up on the fanciful notion of love. In a fit of boredom one night before switching the light out, now a week after ending things with The Cockaholic, I go onto Tinder and within minutes match with someone who is five years younger and ever so cute. I think about it and decide to do nothing. Why bother? I think I know how this will end: either being ghosted or disappointed. The next morning, I realize that I’m in no position to let opportunities pass me by.

I fire off a message and not long afterwards she responds. She seems to want to discuss things, which indicates a cautious nature, but could also indicate a combative style of relationship, constant adversity is what she gets her kicks from. How do I tell? I can’t, this mindset is brought on by my recent encounters, I know this but I can’t help it.

On Friday she suggests a place to meet the next day and asks me what time suits me. I respond within minutes and I don’t hear from her for almost a day. It could be Tinder’s shit notification system not working again. It is also a busy time of year, less than a week before Xmas.

I send her my phone number and half an hour later she puts in an appearance on Tinder and sends me the same message on WhatsApp. We agree to meet on Saturday after lunch in a town halfway between each of us. Christmas is on Wednesday, but maybe it’s come earlier for me.

Could she be The One?

She suggested that we meet at a cake and coffee shop and I get there first. It’s busy and there’s a queue, but no sign of her. I send her a message on WhatsApp saying it’s busy and she responds saying that she’s parking. I go wait outside in the cold for her. There are too many noisy children in there for my liking. It’s one of the reasons I don’t want children i.e. the noise factor. I like peace and tranquillity. This isn’t a great setting for a quiet getting-to-know-you chat.

I like the look of her from the moment I see her. She’s prettier than I expected and despite wearing very high heels I could see that she’s quite short. She tells me that she’s five foot three inches tall. A nice height; I like petite. Surprisingly a table becomes free as we go inside the coffee shop. She takes her Winter coat off and I sneak a peek at her body which is slim and trim. I like what I see so far. I develop an almost instant appreciation for her hair; it’s in the 80s Farah Fawcett wavy tresses style that I love. She’s not a blonde, but fair enough for my liking.

We’re sitting at a cosy table for two and instantly hit it off. She tells me that she’s a speech and language therapist at her local primary school. I find that endearing as it hints at what kind of person she is i.e. caring and supportive. Conversation is easy and I sense that she likes the look of me too; her naughty smile and sly eyes tell me so. She orders a lemon meringue sundae and I have a chocolate cherry waffle. We tease each other by sharing spoonfuls of each other’s choice. I can see that she’s enjoying feeding me. I sense a naughty side to her. It isn’t long before the conversation turns sexual at her instigation, with her starting to talk about 50 Shades of Grey. Yip, she’s thought of sex with me, but so have I. I fancy her and it’s a good feeling.

It doesn’t take long before I get a long-forgotten feeling: she feels right. There’s chemistry, there’s witty banter, there’s physical attraction. I like everything about her so far. I haven’t felt this way since Baltic Babe.

Have I finally found The One?

After about an hour things are going just swimmingly when she lands the bombshell on me: she has a kid. A little boy who is eight years old. I feel so deflated but I try to not let it show. I decide to soldier on and keep being interested and interesting. I think of her as ‘The MILF (Mother I’d Like to Fuck) of Xmas’.

Until now I have deliberately avoided meeting women with children. That kind of relationship isn’t for me; it’s too complicated. The child’s needs will always come first, which is natural, but I fear the times when it puts a brake on proceedings. Another man will always be on the scene and there’s no telling what effect he’ll have on her, especially if she sees him on a regular basis, not matter how fleeting. Making time to see each other will always be a challenge, so the planned nature of things is counter to my free-wheeling idea of romance.

As the afternoon wears on we engage in serious topics of conversation, something that few dates have had the guts and honesty to do with me. We talk about our respective divorces, lessons learned, outlooks on relationships, hopes and fears for the future.

I start to get the impression that she likes intense emotions, it makes her feel alive, perhaps even turns her on. I notice when I become serious and intellectual that she starts playing with her hair, an age-old indicator that she’s liking what she’s hearing. I suspect that she’s a sapiophile, a woman who becomes physically turned on by an intelligent man.

The table next to us is a birthday party for a toddler and it’s a rowdy scene. She’s used to the noise but it’s bothering me, so I suggest that we go sit in a quieter part of the restaurant. Luckily there’s a sofa for two free and I make a beeline for it. We sit side by side but turned askance to look at each other, our knees are touching.

The MILF of Xmas says, “Well, this is cosy,” and gives off a nervous little laugh. I feel myself becoming more attracted to her by the minute. She has a feminine way about her that I can’t resist; in fact, it’s what I want.

If it wasn’t for the kid, I’d consider her perfect so far. We can talk to each other about anything. She gets my sense of humour. I fancy her and am imagining myself making love to her. I can almost hear the sounds she’ll make when I kiss the inside of her thighs. I want her, not just for her body, but because I’m getting the feeling that I crave, that feeling of oneness, of rightness that I’ve only felt a few times in my life, such as with Baltic Babe.

We chat away happily and she tells me that in the Summer she came out of a three-year relationship. I immediately do the maths and, yes, it’s about six months – she’s gagging for it. By now our interaction has taken on a flirtatious nature, largely because of the way that we look at each other. I decide to up the stakes. I start telling her about my being colour-blind. She asks the usual questions about it, then I make my move.

“I can’t tell what colour your eyes are. Could you come closer?” I say.

Without thinking about it The MILF of Xmas complies. Her instant obedience tells me that she is very comfortable with me and might have a submissive streak in her.

“I still can’t see, the lighting’s bad. Come closer.” I coax.

She does, seemingly suspecting nothing. The MILF of Xmas is a bit of an innocent. If so, I can provide her with a lot of fun.

Her face is now very close to mine, so I lean slightly forward and our lips touch. She doesn’t pull away and just closes her eyes. We kiss and it feels good.

Her lips are quite thin, so I don’t feel them so well, but I know that she can feel mine. We kiss slowly and I sense her stiffening her spine.

I pull away and she is rooted to the spot, sitting upright, her eyes still closed. After a couple of seconds she opens her eyes, smiles at me and sits back in her seat. As first kisses go, that wasn’t too bad.

We make some small-talk, as if the kiss never happened. I let her get her composure back, for her breathing to return to normal, then I lean over and we kiss again. This time she’s more active and opens her mouth wide, inviting my tongue in, but I resist the invitation. I move my head to the opposite angle and we remain locked in our kiss. Neither of us give a damn about anyone else in the restaurant.

I sense that her tongue wants to play, so I touch it with mine and that brings her body to life a little more. Our tongues slowly, gently twist and turn, like two otters entwined, spiralling in water. I remember my mouth-pussy test and let my tongue roam in her mouth, something she’s happy to have happen. Her mouth is a little on the small side, so her pussy might be too small for me. However, she’s had a kid and if the delivery was natural then she might be able to accommodate my cock.

I withdraw again and we smile approvingly at each other. This feels so good. I’ve forgotten how this should feel. All the other girls I’ve kissed in the past year or so didn’t give me this feeling. This feels right, so very right. My blood is warm and racing around my body; I can feel an erection coming on.

The MILF of Xmas tells me that she’s flying out on Boxing Day with her son to go visit her parents who have retired to Spain. They return New Year’s Day. The sense of family is a good sign in my book. I feel that I missed out on that in my life, so it’s nice to see in someone else’s.

We talk, laugh and kiss for hours more. We talk about movies and music and watch YouTube videos on my phone. I’m having a good time and it seems she is too. It’s now after 8pm and I decide it’s time to end the date, otherwise we’ll end up spending the night together. She stands up and I grab her coat and hold it so that she can put her arms in. Once it’s on I pull her hair our from under the coat and fan it out.

“Ooh, I could get used to this,” she says.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” I say.

“You don’t have to,” The MILF of Xmas says.

“I know that I don’t have to, but I want to,” I respond and we leave it at that.

Outside in the cold air I turn to her and say, “Tell me something, do you like chicken?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Take a wing,” I respond, offering her my arm.

She lets off a little laugh and couples her arm with mine. Like that we walk a few blocks to where she has parked her car.

As I walk The MILF of Xmas her car which is a few blocks away, I’m struck by just how tiny and petite she is. That appeals to my protective nature. At her car we stand and kiss some more in the cold Winter’s air. I close her car door for her, she reverses out, stops to give me a cheery wave and smile, then she drives off.

We made no concrete plans about when we’ll see each other again, we don’t need to, we know that we will. I drive home with a lovely warm, electric feeling shimmering all over my brain. I haven’t felt that in a long time.

The thing that surprises me is how proud I feel to be with her. That’s another feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. That pride is driven by a variety of feelings, such as sensing that I might just have found the type of person I’ve been looking for. I know already that she’s a remarkable person, her goodness shines through and that makes her special to me. I feel like a victor showing off his prize. She is a prize worthy of the best of me.

Bad Company – Feel like making love