21 posts tagged “tom”

I was kind of hoping that Leo would invite me along on his tennis trip to Edinburgh, but no. (Mostly because I haven't shagged anybody in Och Eye Land... since the last time I was there.) Turns out my gorgy boyfriend doesn't love me that much. He mentioned about meeting up with one of his old school chums who moved to Edinburgh after college and then getting pissed with him in some pub they went to last year.

Well, that's just fab. He can do what he likes. He's his own person, certainly. I don't own him or anythin'. I can't stop him from drinking with old friends- and I wouldn't.

Because I am a very good girlfriend. Always have been.

But still. Leo hasn't been my boyfriend that long. I'm not sure if I trust him 100% yet. What if he shags some Highland Goddess and decides to stay there and continue to shag her because she's got that whole Highland Goddess thing going for her.

Well, it would be his loss. I could have the whole Highland Goddess thing about me, too, if I wanted. But I don't.
It just makes me mad, that's all. Almost mad enough to go to Tom's sleepover orgy thing... that I wasn't exactly invited to.

I don't understand it. Tom invited various friends for an all-night shag fest... and he didn't invite me... just because I made some harmless comment about his penis being small.
Really. He's such a child. I'm thankful to be with Leo now, instead of Tom. Leo is a man while Tom is just a boy.
But how can I be with Leo if he's off shagging some Highland Goddess?!

I swear, Bert is acting so weird ever since I started dating (i.e. ravaging the magnificent body that belongs to) Leo. In his poor, strange (and very mistaken) mind, he likely thinks we're dating or something because we shagged once while drunk. (Well. If I dated everybody I ever shagged, I'd have a much busier life than I do, that is for certain.)

And what is it with Tom, too?! He keeps ringing me up, asking me when I'm available to come over and do something naughty in his kitchen. (I swear, the man is obsessed with kitchen sex. There are other rooms in his flat that are just as good!) He was none too pleased when I told him I had a boyfriend now.

"And he's fabulous." I grinned. "And... large."
"Large?" Tom asked over the phone. "...How large?"
"Quite large."
"...Bigger than me?"
"Oh, Tom," I said with a teasing laugh. "Most men are."
And then he hung up on me. My God. He can be such a baby sometimes.

Apparently, Fran's got herself a new job. Well... a job. She seems to be having a hard time of it lately though. First, her apartment is shrinking because that pervy landlord of his put in a new room beside hers and now she's got a job where she has no idea what's going on. When she was over last night for a chat, she told us about it.

"And there's this guy there... who does nothing but play with his balls all day!"
I stared at her. "Wot? Out in the open? Where everybody can see?"
"No, no," she said, taking a drag of her cigarette. "He puts his hands in his pockets and plays with them."
Bert winced. "That is disgusting."
Elle looked at him, her eyebrow furrowed. "I caught you doing that just last week, ya silly bugger."
Bert shrugged. "Well, I was in my home, wasn't I? I wasn't at work."
Elle rolled her eyes. "My home. And you don't have a job."
Bert crossed his arms over his chest- not an easy feat in one of my camisole tank tops. "I do too have a job. I have a gig at a comedy club tomorrow there. So there."
I glanced at Elle. "It's karaoke night at that creepy comedy club he made us go to last week."

Leo took me to lunch today. It was brilliant. The restaurant was nice, not too expensive but not cheap, by any means. We went for a walk around Piccadilly and took some photos like some daft tourists. Then we drove in his fancy car to his fancy flat in fancy Notting Hill and made love.

That's right, I said. "Made love."

There was wine, rose pedals in the bath tub, brand new satin sheets, candles, the whole lot. And he even bought me some sexy lingerie to wear while we made love.

Needless to say, it was completely fab. Also, Elle is completely jealous... and, if I'm not mistaken... Bert may be jealous too. But I'm not sure who he's actually jealous of- Leo or me.

I winced painfully into the hot sun, shielding my eyes with my hand. I was wearing my new designer sunglasses (that I stole from Tom's place- his man-girlfriend must have left them there) and a tennis frock that matched Bert and Elle's. Bert was wearing a wig and Elle hadn't even brushed her hair that day.

The only reason I was okay with this whole dressing-alike-in-public thing was because I knew I looked the best of the three of us... Although, I had to admit that Bert's legs were probably nicer and more feminine-looking than my own.

Especially in two-inch heels.

He was going to go with the five-inch but I reminded him that we were playing tennis this afternoon, not tarting around for sex partners. Only then does one wear ridiculously uncomfortable shoes.

Elle had been busy doing something with the sewing machine that morning. I didn't even know she could sew. Turns out, she'd sewn a little pocket into her tennis outfit- just big enough for her flask to fit into.

I rolled my eyes at her and looked at Bert. He sweating like a kettle but seemed quite excited to start.

"Why couldn't you have signed us up for swimming...? Or diving?" I asked Bert.

"Oh, get over it," he said with a shrug. "Tennis is fun! It'll be great! ...As soon as our instructor gets here, we're good to go... Oh, I think that's him now."

I looked over my shoulder... only to see A God In Tennis Shoes walking towards us. My mouth dropped open a little and my breathing stopped and my heart was pounding and knees were weak and my pupils were dialated- all of those reactions a body makes when one wants something. Or, in this case, someone.

His name was Leo. And he was magnificent.

I spent the afternoon trying to impress him with my skills, all the while flirting with him, pushing my chest out and trying to make myself look better in my frock than Bert. Making myself look seductive, cute and attractive has always been easy for me. But Bert and Elle were not making it easy for me. Elle even stuck her foot out and made me trip once! JEEZE!!

Thankfully, Leo was there to help me up. And by the way he looked at me as I brushed asphalt off my knees, I knew he wanted me too.

Really. Men are so easy to read.

Maybe it was the tennis court. Maybe it was his rippling muscles. Maybe it was the intense heat. I don't know. But if Elle and Bert weren't standing right there, I could've tackled him right then and there. With my thighs, that is.

After our tennis lesson, Bert was quite happy with his improvement and Elle's flask was empty. I told them to wait for me while I used the loo.

I found Leo by some vending machines, downing a bottle of water. Sweat was trickling down his forhead, arms and neck. It made my toes curl just looking at him.

I pretended to be looking at the water bottle machine. "So. What should I get? ...Water, water or... water?" I smiled up at him.

He grinned. "They also have water-flavored water," he said. "It's got a nice, rich... water flavor to it."

I laughed loudly, like all women do when a man they are attracted to makes a lame joke. They always laugh louder than what is necessary. Must be one of those human nature things- like batting your eyelashes or rifling through a man's wallet while he's asleep.

 He took a step closer to me. "Do you have some place you're supposed to be this afternoon?"

"Yes, actually," I said. "Your flat."

 Okay. So, I didn't get to tell Bert and Elle that I wasn't going home with them. I'm sure it was fine. I'm sure they didn't wait that long for me anyway. Leo signed out early, said he was feeling unwell, and we drove to his gorgeous flat outside of Notting Hill. (It's always nice to go home with someone and then find out they have loads of cash. It's comforting.) On the drive to his flat, he told me that his parents wanted him to become a barrister but he enjoyed tennis far too much to finish law school. Turns out he's on the brink of turning pro. He only coaches as a hobby.

That's right. He works as a hobby. He plays tennis as a career. 

If there's a better way to get a woman to strip all her clothes off and shag you seven times, all in different places (and positions) in your apartment, I don't know what is.

And guess what. Leo wants to see me again. He wants to take me out on an actual date.

Could life be any better? I think not.

While Elle (who was quite pissed about the me-and-Theo thing... and the fact that her gorgy boyfriend just CAME OUT) and Bert (who was being quite nice about the whole me-being-preggers things... and the it-might-be-Tom's-or-Bert's thing) waited in the kitchen, I squatted awkwardly with the pregnancy test between my legs, yet again. This time, my bladder was full, as I'd just downed two litres of orange juice.

Never thought orange juice would be so awful to drink without vodka in it...

I leaned against the bathroom wall while the plastic, pee-covered stick did whatever it is that pregnancy tests do. I was reminded of that American movie with the teenage girl who got pregnant after having sex just once.

Poor thing. Can't believe she didn't win the Oscar for that movie.

After two and a half minutes, I slowly approached the counter and looked down at the stick. One blue stripe stared back at me, mocking me. I immediately burst into tears.

Elle peered in. "So?!"

"I'VE GOT A BLUE STRRI-I-IIIIPE!!!" I wailed. I sunk down to the floor and sobbed into the top of my knees. "This can't be happening!! I'm not ready to be a mum! I've got my whole life ahead of me!! What am I going to do?!?"

Bert pushed the door open and saw me on the floor. He frowned. "What if we got married?"

I stared at him, my vision blurry from the tears. "Wot?"

"Elle said that Tom wouldn't be..." He hesitated. "...the good dad. And who knows, it's quite possible that it's mine, you know." He shrugged. "I mean, we did shag..." He swallowed, a shadow of fear passing quickly over his face. "What if... I married... you?"

I almost considered it. Good GOD, I almost considered it.

Elle plucked the pregger-ancy test from the garbage and read the back. "Two blue stripes means you're pregnant. One stripe means you're not." She looked down at me. "Stop crying. No need to marry Bert this time."

I have never been so relieved over anything in my life. I just looked at Bert and smiled. "Let's not shag again, alright?"

Bert grinned. I think he was more relieved than I was. "Agreed."

 

I celebrated that evening by getting pissed at the pub with Elle, Bert, Manny, Fran and Bernard. Elle, fresh from her recent break-up, was back to being uncomfortably chummy with Bernard. I was happy to see Manny flirting with the waitress (who seemed quite uninterested and repulsed by his drunken advances). I've been told a few times that it can be quite hard to get over me, but I was glad to see that he was on his way.

Bert was still feeling a little awkward about what had happened earlier and he made an early exit. He said something about going to some comedy thing later and meeting some friends.

As for Fran, she was pissed before we even got to the pub. She ended up snoring away, her head down on the table for most of the evening.

I called Tom from the pub. I told him about my pregnancy scare and told him that there was no baby in sight. He picked me up in his car and we had a celebratory shag in the back seat.

Life without a bun in the oven is quite nice, really.  

What a right mess.

 

Before Bert shared his doubts about their…romp…, I hadn’t even considered the information he had just presented.

 

“The baby’s not Tom’s, is it?!” I asked, slightly astounded.  Elise gave me a distressed look, before she pushed Bert out of her way and ran up the street.  “Elise!” I ran to the door and out onto the street, shouting after her.  It was useless.  There wasn’t even any point in running after her.  She was probably half-way to Russell Square already; she didn’t win every track meet she’d ever been to for nothing. 

 

I heard a strange gurgling sound behind before I remembered that Bert was there.  I whirled around to face him…well his chest anyways.  I looked up at his face and pointed an accusing finger at him.

 

“This is all your doing, you…you promiscuous tranny!” I blamed him.  I stomped away from him, but stopped myself.   I turned back around to say something, but Bert’s face was completely blank.  I waited for a few seconds before I tried to get his attention.

 

“Bert?” I ventured, stepping slowly towards him.

 

“Is she really pregnant?” he asked me suddenly.  He sounded concerned.

 

“I dunno,” I replied, sighing.  “She hasn’t taken the test thing yet.”

 

“Oh,” he replied softly.  Seconds later he asked, “So we don’t know for sure if it’s…it’s mine…or…?”

 

“No,” I replied, trying to understand what Bert was thinking.

 

“Even if it’s…his…,” Bert started.

 

“If there even is an ‘it’,” I pointed out.

 

“Yes, if there is…a baby…he wouldn’t stay round, would he?”

 

“He’d probably be on the first ship to Amsterdam,” I replied.  Bert nodded.  He rubbed the back of his head in thought.

 

“I’m…I’m gonna go see if I can find her,” he said quietly.  I nodded, unable to think of anything else to say.  Just as he headed out the door, I thought of something.

 

“Bert!” I called.  He stepped back inside. I ran for her coat and handed to him.  “Could you tell her…tell her I’m not mad or anything?  I’m just…you know…worried about her?”  He nodded, taking the coat and holding to his chest.  “I just wanna be there for her, that’s all.”  Bert left quietly and I was left with the empty, cold and dark shop.

 

Then it was “later” and Theo came round.

 

“Hey Elle,” he called, coming into the shop, just as I was clearing up the remnants of this afternoon.  I hid the Clear Blue boxes as quickly as I could, without him noticing.

 

“Look Theo, I’m not really in the mood for going out tonight…” I started.

“Ah…that’s alright,” he replied, hunching his shoulders.  “I wanted to talk to you about…something, anyways.”  The hesitation in his voice caught me off-guard. 

I sighed. 

The end was coming soon.

 

“Yes?” I prompted.

 

“Maybe you should stay away from the cutlery…,” he chuckled nervously.  My stomach felt sour, knowing what was coming and my throat felt thick.  I just looked at him, feeling the blood draining from my face.  “I…ah…don’t really know how to say this…but…and I feel really terrible about it…” he babbled, words streaming out of his mouth in disorderly confusion.

 

“But what?” I managed to say.

 

“Well…you were right about me,” he sighed heavily.  I blinked. 

 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

 

“Are you sure?” I asked, realizing milliseconds too late how stupid I sounded.

 

“Sort of?” he replied, shrugging.

 

“Sort of?  How can you be “sort of” sure that you’re gay?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice level.

 

“I…I dunno.  Simon and Julian told me to make sure that I was absolutely positive about being gay…so…so they prompted me to get a girlfriend,” he explained, staring at the ground.

 

“And so you led me to believe that you were straight as an arrow and lied to me point-blanc when I asked you if you were?!”  I couldn’t believe it.  I could not bloody well believe it.

 

“I didn’t know how you’d take it…”

 

“I was ready to except it if you had of said yes!  But then you lied to me!  And I even had sex with you!!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms in the air.  I tried to calm myself down.  Pinching the bridge of my nose, with my eyes closed, I said quietly to him, “Maybe you should leave.”

 

“Yeah,” he shuffled to the doorway.  Before he left, he turned around.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, before slipping out the door.

 

“And so is the fucking Pope for being Catholic!” I yelled at the closing door. 

 

I screamed some more, before grabbing my coat and heading to the door.  Maybe I could jump off a bridge.  No, no.  Too drastic.  That’s it!  I’m giving up men and sex!  I’ve had it!  I fumed as I slammed the shop door shut.  I began marching up the street not noticing that someone was approaching me.  It was Bernard.

 

“Where you goin’?” he asked, staring at the sidewalk as he walked next to me.

 

“Pub,” I grunted.

 

“Can I come?”

 

“I don’t care.”

I leaned against the bathroom door, staring at the pregger-ancy test in my hand.

What if I am preggers? What if there's a little baby inside me?

More importantly: What if it's Bert's? I will not have my little baby girl (or boy) see her (or his) father wearing women's clothing! No! I won't have it!

Thus, I'll say she (or he) is Tom's. And that is that.

But having a tiny baby in my life might be quite nice, really. Name it. Dress it in cool little outfits. Be all motherly and whatnot. Maybe Elle could get preggers too and we could get matching strollers and then the babies could grow up together and be best friends. That would be so fab.

But what if Tom bolts? I'd be all alone. A Single Mother. No. He wouldn't do that, not to me.

...Would he?

Oh, God. He would. I know he would. He can't even stay loyal to me when we're just having a casual thing! He would go sodding bonkers and leave the country if he knew I was with child!

I wiped furiously at a stray tear that escaped from the corner of my eye. No. No, no, no. I cannot be pregnant. I can't be. That's all there is to it!!

I sat down on the toilet and stuck the pee stick between my thighs. I was all nerved up and anxious, I couldn't even make myself go pee. I slapped the dry test on the counter, marched past Elle into the kitchen and reached for the wine.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Elle shouted.

I pulled the cork out of the bottle. "Wot? I can't pee!"

"Liquor might hurt the-the-the..." She gestured to my abdomen. "The thing! You sodding twit!"

"Oh..." I put the wine back in the cupboard. "Right." 

It was a little ironic, in my mind: Liquor had gotten me into this mess in the first place.

"I'll have to go buy some juice or something," I said. "I'll be back in a minute."

I ran into Bert on my way to the door. Shit. I dared not meet his eyeline.

"Elise, I remembered something else about last night..." he said. "...Did we or didn't we use a condom?"

I stared at him. Oh, fuck.

I turned around. Elle's eyes were as big as saucers. "What the..." She looked at me. "The baby's not Tom's, is it?!"  

Oh, double fuck. 

What a horrible, wretched day.

 

After I walked in on Bert and Elise in their couch of love (which I’m never, ever sitting on again), I started screaming.  It must have been a reflex.  At least I didn’t throw up. 

 

Bert and Elise seemed to be quite beside themselves.  Elise pushed Bert off the couch, while she was screaming.  He fell, completely starkers, onto the floor.  He tried to be quite casual about it.  I guess I kind of guess stared.   But then two days of drinking caught up with me.

 

I bolted upstairs and hurtled into the loo.

 

Two hours later, I was surprised I wasn’t dead.

 

I felt like I had thrown up most of my vital organs. 

 

I struggled to get up from the floor, using the toilet to boost myself up.  Then I wobbled downstairs to get the awful taste out of my mouth.

 

I was having a long, cold drink of water, when I turned away from the counter, to see Auntie Madge’s couch, with the blankets still strewn everywhere, making me remember what I had seen this morning and I gagged on my water.

 

I wobbled out into the shop, shielding my eyes from what little amount of sunlight shone through the windows.  Elise and Bert were no where to be seen and I could feel a headache building.

 

Like sodding hell I was opening the shop today. 

 

I went to pull my sunglasses out of the desk drawer, but they weren’t there.  Just a mouldy sandwich, half-eaten chocolate bar and…a full package of rubber johnny’s.  My stomach began churning again as I slammed the drawer closed.

 

Maybe Elise has them, I thought, getting up.  I stumbled back into the kitchen and nearly did a face plant into her door when I stopped short.  She was talking on the phone to someone.  I’m not completely sure what I was thinking when I did it, but I grabbed a cup off the table and stuck it against the door, and my ear against it.

 

“Tom,” she was saying, “we have to talk…”  She’s breaking up with him?!  ‘Bout bleeding time.  “I think I might be pregnant.”

 

I dropped the cup on my foot in surprise.  My stomach began heaving again, but there was nothing to come up.

 

I was surprised.  But…at the same time I was surprised that I was surprised.  I mean it is Elise, after all.  The way she spends her free time was bound to have this kind of outcome.

 

I threw Elise’s door open.

 

“You’re WOT?” I exclaimed.  She turned around on her bed, still holding the phone, to glare at me.  She muttered something into the phone and slammed it down.

 

“Extremely pretty?” she prompted.  I stumbled down the stairs to reach the foot of her bed.

“Are you?” I asked.

“Of course I am,” she said, frowning.

“No, you know…pregnant?”

“Well, no…I dunno, it’s a possibility,” she replied carelessly.

“You just told Tom…”

“I tell Tom a lot of things,” she said pointedly.

“Yes, but…c’mon,” I said, dragging her off the bed and into the shop.

 

 A quarter hour and 50 complaints later, we headed back to the shop with at least 10 Clear Blue pee sticks and five bottles of iced tea and Fanta.  When we got back in I had to force Elise to start drinking at least half of one bottle.

 

Then the phone rang.

 

It was Theo.

 

“Hey luv…can we get together later?  I wanna talk to you about something.”

“Ah, yeh, sure…,” I replied, watching Elise expertly down an entire bottle of Fanta as soon as I moved away from her.

“Say seven?”

“Yeah, sounds gear.  I gotta go, Theo.”

“Right.  Later then?”

“Yes!” 

 

Elise was pulling the thing out of the box when I hung up.  She made a face.

 

“It looks like a thermometer,” she commented, holding it at different angles.  I pushed her towards the stairs.

“Just go piss on it, Mother Duck!”

When Elle got back from shagging her quite attractive boyfriend, she burst into the shop. She started screaming like the lunatic that she is. She woke me up, actually. I was uncertain where I was at first. Yes, I have woken up with someone else's foot in my face, but never in the shop. (Come to think of it, I once woke up with my own foot in my face... That was an interesting night...)

I started screaming with Elle when faint memories from the night before crashed back into my mind. Bert. Wine. Search for condom. Giving up on the search. Wild, mad, rabid, drunken shagging.

Oh, good God.

I pushed Bert's leg off me and he toppled onto the floor. "Oy. What the..." He winced around, the mid-day sun hitting his sleepy face. He looked at me, looked at himself, looked at the blanket that wasn't doing a great job covering his skinny, naked body.

"No," he said suddenly. "We didn't."

Elle wasn't saying anything. Her mouth just hung open. She looked a bit like a fish, really. I just wanted to shove a sandwich in her big open gob.

I didn't say anything. I knew for a fact that yes, sadly and unfortunately, we had. This is me, here. Pissed or sober, I do enjoy shagging. But as I was blind drunk, I would want to shag anybody... and in this case, it was Bert.

Bert the Trannie.

Bert slowly rose to his feet, holding the blanket around himself. He glanced at Elle. "Morning."

"You two shagged!!" Elle shouted. "On Auntie Madge's couch!!"

I cringed. Oh, what an awful thought.

 

That afternoon, I called Tom. Some guy answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi. Is Tom there?"

"Yes, baby. Just a sec."

Jesus. I shag a trannie and Tom goes gay? What on earth is wrong with this day?! ...That rhymed. Fab.

"Hey Elise! How are you? Get into any trouble last night?"

Yes.

"No. Just sat home watching EastEnders... Who answered the phone just now?"

"Oh. That was Billie."

I blinked. "You've gone gay. Fab. Could this day get any worse?"

"Billie's a girl, you twat!"

"Yeah, I bet." I scratched the back of my neck. "Tom, we have to talk..." I bit my lip. "I think I might be pregnant."

Yes, call me a bitch, whatever you like. At that moment, I didn't care. I didn't even know if I was preggers or not. However, I would much rather say Tom is the father of my pretend baby than recognize Bert The Trannie as the dad.

Although, a little baby might not be so bad...

  

Well, this day started off fabulously. I woke up with the worst hangover I've ever had- thanks for that Elle. And then I realized that it was sodding Valentine's Day. It's lovely when you've got someone but it's shit when you don't.

Last year, Mark and I went on the London Eye and had dinner at a romantic restaurant and got champagne and shagged about thirty thousand times.

I called Tom, just to see if he wanted to get together, but he says he's got a date with some trollop he met online. I bet she's fat. Fat and ugly. And I hope she's rubbish in bed. Or, better yet, I hope Tom suddenly becomes "unable" and she laughs at him.

Ah, yes. That would be fab.

Well, sod it. Sod this whole day.

Elle is off with Theo tonight. God, he really is quite cool. And pleasant. And polite. And charming. And sodding gorgeous. I still have yet to figure out what he sees in her... and not in me.

I found Bert in the kitchen, slowly sipping at a bottle of cheap wine. I ruffled his hair.

"I thought you had some gig tonight," I said. "Some anti-Valentine's Day poetry thing."

Bert glanced at me and scowled. "It got cancelled. The MC got a date at the last minute." He bleched. "The fucking nob."

I sat down across from him and held his hand. "Oh, Bert. I'm sorry. I know you were really looking forward to it." I smiled weakly. "You were going to borrow my nicest outfit and everything for it."

Bert sighed loudly, his shoulders dropped. "Plus, you know... Elle's out with Theo tonight." He looked at me. "He's such a prat, i'n't he?"

I nodded. "Yes." No, not really. "He certainly is."

Bert finished off that bottle and pulled another one out of a paper bag. "Here. Drink up. If I'm going to have a shit Valentine's, I might as well be pissed."

So, Bert and I drank several bottles of wine, laughed, watched a little telly... and then ran out of wine. So, naturally, we stumbled out of the shop, hunting for more wine.

"That'll be twenty pounds please," said the liquor store clerk with a raised eyebrow.

I laughed and looked at Bert. "Fuck. I don't have any money."

Bert waved a hand at me and slapped twenty quid on the counter. "Keep d'change, eh? You're a good man s'ya can keep d'change!"

"Er, thanks."

So, we stumbled back to the shop, which we had accidently left unlocked- oh well. We drank a couple more bottles of wine and fell onto the floor in front of Elle's desk after dancing around to music on the radio.

"I could be a singa!" I exclaimed, bottle in hand. "See? Watch." I sang into the wine bottle like a microphone. "So, if you're lonely, you know I'll be here wai'in for you! I'm just a crosshair! I'm just a shot away from you!"

"You know," Bert said, interrupting my jam session. "You're actually quite pretty! And sometimes I feel so bad, Elle treats you like rubbish sometimes and you don't deserve it."

"I know I won't be leaving here... wiiiiiith yoooooou!!"

Bert stumbled over to me. "I'm gon' kiss you, zat alright?"

And then he did. And it was actually kind of nice... well, nice for being a drunken kiss. Not too sloppy or dribbly.

Everything after that is a bit of a blur, unfortunately. I do remember that there was some removal of clothing... and I sang some more, but I was in my knickers... and then there something about looking for something and then giving up.

Oh, my God. I know what we were looking for before we just said "to tell with it". Oh, my God.

We were looking for a condom.

Oh, shit. 

Shagapatra. Cor. She's got some nerve. She thinks she's so funny. Well, she's never had to sit in a SAA meeting before, 'as she? No, she has not. She should be going to AA, really, but I would never make her do that because I'm caring, selfless and loving. All I do is give, give, give and she takes, takes, takes. What's wrong with a little addiction anyway? It's more of a hobby that one can be really passionate about. People who read a lot don't go to Readers Anonymous. They're given cute nicknames like "Bookworms" or "Intellectuals". Well, sod it. I hate them all.

The meeting was absolutely dreadful. The room smelled of homeless people, likely because one of the Sex Addicts in attendance was just there, pretending he was a Sex Addict so he could get a free cup of tea and a biscuit or two. His name was Frank. I bet writers would do well at a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeing. The people you meet at those things are the strangest characters a hero could ever meet in a book. The people at this meeting were:

- Myself, obviously. I enjoy sex as a hobby, not an addiction. I'm really healthy, I just have a horrible sister who hates me for some reason. Meanwhile, she's busy shagging some Theo person. It's quite strange.

- Frank, the aforementioned homeless person. Smelly. Claims to have sex far too much. Says he mostly enjoys humping his neighbor. (I suppose that means she lives in the cardboard box across the street.)

- Jon, the teenager. The poor kid is eighteen and he said he likely "flogs his log" about five times a day. I won't lie- this peaked my interest.

- Carla, lawyer. Claims she can't keep clients because she ends up shagging them. Poor girl.

- Jude Law, the actor. (I'm completely serious, by the way.) Apparently he's back to shagging his childrens' nanny. For a person who should be keeping his private life to himself, he's awfully vivid in his descriptions.

Oh, and I was right. It was run by a dirty old vicar. Father Chris, was his name. But he probably belonged there more than anyone. (I'm sure you know the whole thing about priests and alter boys... so we won't get into that.)

But we all mingled for five minutes before the meeting began. I ended up having a nice little conversation with Jon, the teenager. He was quite good-looking for someone so young. He didn't even have any spots, unlike most boys his age. Poor lamb, gave me his phone number, like I would actually call him. He's far too young for me, I'm afraid. I like a man with more experience.

After about half an hour, I tried to bolt. Jude was talking about shagging the nanny (on the set of his new movie) and it just made me want to call Tom. So, without a word, I got out of my seat and headed for the door, running into Elle on the street. Shit.

"Alright there Shagapatra?" she asked, smirking.

Ugh. She's so annoying. Why the bloody hell is Theo shagging her- and not me?!