Boys with Girls.
The wife has been in contact with a lad she used to go to Primary School with quite recently. Now… this lad has a girlfriend, and he knows that Emma knows this. And yet over the past week he has continued to bombard her with overly-nice and flirty text messages. If she doesn’t reply within a 5-10 minutes, he’ll send a follow up text “Is everything ok?” or “Oi, you not talking to me?” Does he literally spend no time with his woman? And why put so much effort in when it’s clearly never going to get anywhere??
In situations like this, I would never say that she is in the wrong for replying to his messages or even for flirting with him. At the end of the day, he is the one who has chosen to be commited to somebody else, whether or not he keeps his word on that is not my wife’s problem.
Having never been cheated on, I don’t know the feeling of having somebody go behind your back. And because of this I find it unreasonable for the women in this situation to hate the women their men are cheating with. The men were the one’s who promised to be faithful… But to us, all’s fair in love and war.
I’ve had a couple of ‘Takens’ on the cards since the Break Up. But the point is, that these men are a lot more attractive to us because the likelihood of having to actually do anything we say to them is very small. Still, it makes me wonder why they bother doing it in the first place. And should we feel bad for playing along with them even though they have another woman on the sideline?
Dan started talking to me on Facebook a couple of months ago. We casually chatted about how we would make a bang-bus movie together (direct, not star in), the size of our porn collections, and the like. He had introduced me to his missus once when we were out about a year ago, and I knew (from what he’d told me) that they were living together and had been together a few years… The Facebook chatting turned into texting. He’d text me when he was at work (obviously when she wasn’t anywhere near) discussing what outfit I was wearing and whether or not i was bending over a desk. He started to tell me how much he liked me… Instant bad sign. I told him I liked him too but that this was just fun, he had a girlfriend who he was happy with, and there was no point in ruining that. I didn’t want to go out with him, it was all just a bit of fun. The texts became more frequent during the evenings and weekends, until one night he rang me up saying she’d been through his phone and that he was really in the shit. I had no sympathy. Like I said, if they chose to break their word, that’s their business. If it wouldn’t have been me, it would have been somebody else.
But is the thrill of the chase actually more exciting than the catch? And not just for lads, for girls too…
There’s a lad who I’m currently half-bedding. Meaning, the opportunity is there, I’ve just not decided whether or not I want to take it. I completely made all the effort to begin with. He’s younger than me, and one of Emma’s mates so it wasn’t instantly set up to be a pull. After I had put forward my flirty efforts with military precision, I have truly bagged him, but now he want’s it, I’ve gone off the idea. I’m such a lad.
Friend-Zones and Headfucks
This is a long one I’m afraid. And this is the shortened version. Haha!…
On New Years Eve 2008, I was in a relationship with ‘him’. I’d arranged a house party at mine with him and the Banter Brigade because I cannot stand going out on New Years, it’s ridiculous and shit… The midnight bells came and went, and I noticed ‘he’ had drank a little too much, so I sent him to bed (we’d had issues in the past regarding his drinking, so I didn’t put up with any drunken nonsense). I retired too an hour or so later and as soon as I’d lay down received a text message from Corbett (who was downstairs in my living room) which went along the lines of “He’s a lucky man getting to sleep next you tonight”. I deleted it straight away, passing it off as a drunken one-off. This lad had been my mate for a few years, and that text was never mentioned afterwards – I didn’t really want any complications. Especially with someone I was out with almost every weekend.
When me and ‘him’ were going through our break, I sent a text out to a few of the boys saying “Looks like I’m single now boys. Let’s all get it on. Haha Xx”, and then got one back off Corbett saying “I wish you were being serious”. A conversation ensued where he basically said he liked me a lot but he was worried anything happening would ruin the friendship we had – which I totally understood. And although I didn’t understand why he had told me in the first place, we agreed to leave the issue and carry on just being ‘mates’.
When I was newly single, and therefore acting all footloose and fancy free, every time we were out and I found myself dancing with another lad, I’d notice Corbett standing on the sidelines looking over as if he was about to kick off. I found myself doing it too though, I hated seeing him dancing with other girls. If that situation ever came about I’d just go and girate myself behind him until his attention was diverted then leave him alone… How mature… I really did like him. And the fact I knew he liked me just made it worse, wanting what I couldn’t have. Blah blah blah…
This all carried on for a few weeks and then I met Matt. When we went out on a date one Saturday, the gang all went out to Burnley and I arranged to meet them there afterwards. The story I got from the Wife was that all night Corbett was asking where I was, who I was with, and when I was coming out. Every time Emma got a text, he was asking if I was on my way and what I was doing… When I eventually did arrive, Emma told him she was meeting me at the entrance and he said he would wait at the side for us to get back. However, once we got there (and after a quick trip to the toilets so the Wife could tell me the entire nights events) he was gone… A few minutes later he appeared from nowhere with some peroxide blonde polyester dressed horror of a bird’s hand in his, and giving me a quick wink he led her to the dancefloor where they started getting off with each other and dirty dancing. I went for a fag and sent him a text saying “I’m almost embarrased for you”… I saw him 15mins later, he said he thought I’d ”fucked off home” already, I asked him why I would have and that it should be him going home, and a verbal fight began between us. I clarified that he had done it deliberately, and if he had stuff to say to me, he should be saying it, not playing silly games and ignoring the issue. He shrugged it off.
The tension was always there afterwards, we both just kept our distance until the Thursday night in Burnley where we both got wankered and ended up getting off with eachother outside his house (mentioned in a previous blog entry). And to clarify again, HE initiated that kiss, not me. I gave an innocent enough hug and cheek kiss to which he replyied “Is that all I get then?”… The necking commenced.
Before Mexico it was all hyped up that we were gonna be shagging on holiday because “What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico”. And that was true, but the secrets we shared sadly don’t involve a night of passion. We both pulled other people in front of eachother there and we pulled eachother on a couple of nights too, and it wasn’t even an issue. We were all there to have good time and enjoy ourselves…
When we got our alone time, rather than spending it strapping up and smacking up, we spent it talking about our past, present and future. He made a schoolboy error and told me that he basically wants to be a bastard. That if he likes a girl, he’ll let her know, but as soon as they show any interest, he turns it off and acts a dick with them. He’d been hurt in the past, big time, and admitted outright that he didn’t like failing. If anything serious were to happen with a girl which then messed up, that would be a fail, so he just didn’t want to bother. It wasn’t worth the hassle and the hurt etc etc.
We stayed up until 6am the next morning just talking. In a way he’d made himself more vulnerable, showing me his weak points and telling me his game plan. Walking back to the rooms he said he liked me (again) but that we were mates and that made it weird for him to deal with… then he gave me a good snog and groped me for half an hour in the corridor. We were in separate rooms and both had our mates inside. If there would have been somewhere to go we would have slept together that night. It genuinely felt like the perfect time to do it because we’d already shared so much…. I just sound gay now. Haha.
Coming back home and back to reality, we now have had no resolution to this issue. 6 months on and there’s been no getting it out of our system and moving on with a clear head. The tension and feelings are most definitely still there; both positive and negative ones. And the games are being played from both sides more than ever. However… I’ve decided to keep my distance now. He told my Wife how fit she was on Friday night after we got back from Mexico, and how everyone liked her. Then he made out like all he’d ever wanted to do was be my friend and that I kept on pushing the issue with him to make it more. I know his game, but my other mates don’t. And I don’t want to be made out to be some desperate mug who is following him around like a lost puppy. We’ll just have to see what comes of this one I think. But I just want this over and done with to be honest.
Why must boys play games with us? And why do I love to play along?
Air Force One.
Dunny and I went out on an impromptu Burnley ‘do’ last night. Dave, an old friend we both knew from high school came too. Neither of us had caught up with him in a long time, and as we used to be so close, we all figured the best way to re-bond would be to go and get pissed in Burndoggs… All the other lads had shit out because they had work today - Gayarses.
We went out at about 11pm, but I made the responsible decision to drive, and not drink. I’m one of those people that can quite happily go out and not drink, but still have a good ol’ dance and have the banter till the early hours. Lastnight was no exception; we hit a few bars, ending up in Ignite, obviously.
As the night went on, even though I was having a good time, there’s only so much of Dunny’s drunken antics I can hack while completely sober i.e. the ”I’m going to kick the shit out of you” look (aka ‘Stone Face’) he gives to every poor bastard that so much as brushes past him on a dancefloor, or his general perving on middle aged mutton/lamb catastrophes… We’d met some of Dunny’s mates while we were in the first bar, one of which I totally crushed on, Loz. However, through sober and sensible eyes I soon saw that he was alright but he was not as fit as I had hyped up in my head (I hate it when that happens), and I soon diverted my attention to his HOT mate.
Steve was super-hot, I’m talking about ‘the wife would be proud’, way out of my league hot. He was 27, about 6ft4, buff but not too massive, good hair, good fashion sense, and he was in the Air Force (I think I just came in my pants). He had to have a girlfriend, and if he didn’t, he was clearly a serial killer or child molester. I didn’t care in any case. I was on the flirt 100% from the offset.
Met up with them later on in Ignite after Dunny had received a text from Loz saying “Stevo wants Jeni’s ass”… The upper hand was mine. As soon as they arrived I was on him like white on rice. He got me a drink and we stood at the bar talking for a bit. Wondering if I was maybe wasting my time, I gave him a brilliant, if not completely loose ultimatum. He had two choices; I could leave him alone and go dancing with my mates, or I could stay at the bar with him but he had to give me a kiss for it. He chose the latter.
We spent the rest of the night together, blatantly flirting, sucking face, and making ridiculous innuendos at every given opportunity. He was too fit – there had to be a catch. I decided to investigate more but ended up wishing I hadn’t…He leaves for Saudi Arabia tomorrow afternoon, and he’s going to be there for 3 years working for British Aerospace. Hahaha.
Just my fucking luck eh. The first one fucks off to Zante for 5 months, now this guy to Saudi Arabi for 3 years. What’s next?? I’ll get off with someone and then find out they’re going to visit the moon for eternity?!?! Why don’t the decent men stay in the country?!… Or at very least give me a decent time frame of which to bed them before they go. Selfish.
Still… It’s better to have lusted and lost than to never have lusted at all.
Xx
Socialites?
As a spur of the moment idea, me and the wife decided to get ourselves all dressed up and go out into Manchester for the night. My network of flirt buddies had let me down, and as a refreshing change, plans were arranged through Emma’s network of lustiness.
No matter how much I do love going out in Burnley (God – that sounds quite sad saying it outloud – haha), it is what I like to think of as a safe-hold for me and the wife. It’s cheap and it’s close to home, but the same people go, we all drink the same drinks, and we all do the same things week in, week out. I think every now and again you need to pull yourself out of your safe routine and do something a little bit bigger and better.
Last night we met up with Steve, a friend of Emma’s sisters boyfriend(!), in the Living Room. His mates were all hot, and the girl out with them, Chrissie, was a lovely blogger/socalite from LA/Yorkshire. Big fake hair, nails, tits and tan; I loved her instantly. Shockingly, this group weren’t like the frequenters of Lava-Ignite, Burnley, and I think that’s what I liked about them the most.
A job as a socialite? How much fun would that actually be? A person who makes their living going out to fancy places with fancy people, entertaining and being entertained all the time? Fuck it… I would love that. I would buy myself some massive new boobs and get some botox in the ‘perma-scar’ frown line i seem to have adopted from my ‘hard hard life’… Yes. I think I could cope with that sort of thing.
What a shame I’m far too content with my ‘simple’ Lancashire life! Xx
Messy.
Thursday evening : Text message received from Corbett – “Fancy Burnley tonight bud? X”
I was already dressed, made up, and straightening my hair. I had already made the decision that, even if the Banter Boys bailed on me, I’d find some ‘partial’ to tag along with for the night. I wanted to get wankered. We made a plan to meet at the pub at half 8… There were a few others who met us there for a pint, but they were all working the next day so drove home afterwards. The sambuka shots started there for me and Corbett.
The wife wasn’t on it, she was out on a ‘sex date’ but I presumed she’d be meeting up with us afterwards. I presumed this because we both share the same theory that sex shouldn’t be long and drawn out like the type most people seem to go on about… Like the one’s who say “I can go for hours”… Why the hell would I want it to last hours?? Just get it done! To clarify, it’s not like I don’t enjoy it, but sex should be like an explosion, like a big bang (so to speak), and after hours and hours it just gets sore and uncomfortable.
I somehow managed to enroll Dunny into the night which was a rarity because when we usually go out, he’s working on the doors. Tonight, however, was a Thursday… All bets were off.
Sat in Wetherspoons in Burnley, I’d approximate that me and Corbett had half a dozen shots, and 3-4 drinks in the space of an hour and a half. I remember feeling alright until the wife walked in, then as my excitement got the better of me, I seemed to have moved myself into an ‘uncontrollable drunk’.
From there the night was a blur of general abuse towards my sober Wife, some admittedly shameless flirting with all and sundry, the pulling of a practical minor (haha), chatting up some woman so that I could scab a fag off her outside Isabar, being sick on three separate occasions, and busting some fantastically large moves on a half empty dance floor. Apologies to all. And to top the night off, I also ended up getting off with Corbett, who is one of my very good mates, after having to drop him to his door due to his incapability to walk alone without dropping to the ground and falling asleep. “Fuck it, we’re both pissed”… Messy. But I’d do it all again.
