Oh Internets, it's been so long I hardly know where to start. With the hot Columbian who appeared at my door on a Sunday evening or with the ever so eager 21 year old former virgin? Yes, it's been one of those months. I've been run off my feet with work, trying desperately to create time for myself and yet somehow, men are everywhere.
Maybe it's a summer thing?
Clearly, Operation: Hold Out Until I Meet the Love of My Life hasn't been going well. Am I any closer to meeting a leading man? Well, I would like to think so. At least I've figured out that I definitely want one. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I'm very distractible and not good at waiting. I was always one of those kids hunting for Christmas presents and spending hours under the tree trying to guess what the they were. Delayed gratification is not something I do very well.
And I confess I have been somewhat hesitant to share my recent exploits on this blog lest a potential suitor read it and become terrified/overly judgemental. But, as a friend reminded me recently, I have to make a choice. A choice between possibly offending the potential love of my life, or offending my small yet exceedingly loyal readership, who have come to depend upon the tales of my single lady shenanigans.
The reality is that lately I have been totally preoccupied being a very busy and important career woman who contemplates the future. How a woman in her soon to be late-twenties, fighting for equal pay and other feminist-y and social justice-y things is ever meant to find the time for writing between all of her sewing, cooking and shagging, I will never know. But I shall continue to try.
Of course, none of these rambling excuses changes the fact that life has once again served one Miss Anne with a remarkable sort of man-flood. One that will no doubt dry straight back up the minute I hit 'publish' on this post (actually, a week after I began writing this, it already has). But there is one little gem that cannot go unrecorded.
May the world know that during November 2010, a not-so-young Miss Anne had sex sober for the first time. And what a time it was. All thirty seconds of it. The gentleman's visit was so brief, I was not even sure I should record the event in my iPhone period tracker ap*. I did. And the little love heart that appears on that day to signify my experience of being "intimate" continues to mock me.
And as for all the potential loves of my life reading this feeling mildly horrified/judgemental, you should probably know that I'm not sorry. Why have a blog if it cannot be used to record one of the more ridiculous moments of casual sex known to man?
And as for my lovely 5 – 10 readers, I never stopped loving you. I'm sorry I've been gone for so long.
*Yes, that's right. I have a period tracker ap on my iPhone. I love it. It's like having a diary for my vagina. I can program in my moods, my food cravings, my acne levels. And! It's really, really cute – the background 'flowers' when I'm fertile.