Hello lovely people… You know this whole dating malarky is going to get a little cringe-worthy… If you are the type of man who likes to wear leopard skin ‘budgie smugglers’ then I suggest you stop reading because the below may offend both you and the smuggled budgie. What’s more, if you believe that posterial jet propulsion across a swimming pool is okay then I would like to ask you to leave my website…. Just saying… We clearly don’t agree.

Other than that, those who get where I am coming from please share all these dating disasters with your friends, family and pets. It may well please and entertain them during dark winter’s evenings. God knows I sit at my desk writing this stuff with tears streaming down my face… Before we go any further I would like to admit I laugh at my own jokes and that is why I write these books. It is like literary mental orgasms where I simply lose control and fall about laughing while writing. I don’t do that during the ‘act’ actually maybe I do… I have done this in public too – not orgasm… Oh God… I mean laugh at my own jokes in public. Right I think we should get on…  Well I thought I would make these little confesssions because if you are reading this then you know why this has to be shared… It makes you feel a lot better about yourself and gives you permission to wet yourself laughing at all the ridiculous situations that you endure in the name of love…


Hello Eva,

I am between calculations at the moment. I thought I would rapid type just a quick elaboration on what I realised about my relationship approach while I was away. It seems I have been seeking out a man for a long-term relationship based on all the things I ‘should’ want. Do I really want them? Where did I get these ‘shoulds’ from? Then I realised that we are all set Hollywood criteria and fairytale ‘Happy Ever Afters’. Why? I have a sneaky feeling it is to do with the fact that it controls society. People stay in shyte relationships for economic reasons and fear of being alone. Also women don’t want to be the source of scathing gossip from fat, bitchy women whose husbands gain more pleasure playing with a small train than having passionate intimacy with them. Dark eh? All these comments about single people having something wrong with them. All this bitchiness about how they spend so much time on how they look and what do we see from the other side of the single coin? People who have become complacent of the person they fell in love with. Where there was once passion, now there is child vomit and flannel pyjamas. No wonder they resort to gossip. I hope I never take for-granted any man that I fall passionately in love with.


I came to the conclusion that lust is beautiful because it takes you into the body and drives you towards desire. Why are we made to feel guilty about natural instinct? Passion comes from somewhere – it is life force and there are times when a woman simply needs a bloody good snog and a pair of pectoral perfectus to caress. They will often belong to a younger man who is not nasally hair challenged like the older ones… Some people might say this is a bit ‘cougar’ yet while I was laying on a sun lounger being massaged by a rather attractive young man – it dawned on me. Who said it was right that stinky, hairy men with cash had the right to date young totty because they have wealth? Why do people sneer at women with younger men when those younger men are searching for learning and understanding on how to truly love and honour a woman’s body? Who is there to teach men properly about how to respect and truly pleasure a woman’s body? How many of them actually know it takes around twenty minutes to bring a woman to a heightened sexual state and there we are Boom – a blown out sausage wonder in less than a quarter of that time! Amazing. Someone needs to get porn off the internet and provide proper learning to both sexes about the pleasure of the body rather than diagrams of where to shove a tampon given by a female teacher with a moustache!


In the meantime, some clever nostril-hair-clad rich old bloke got all the old boys together and got them to ‘cash in’ on the stupid idea of female beauty exchange for old fart finance. ‘Let’s persuade women to tolerate all our dull unfulfilling chatter and arthritis because we can pay for a decent meal. ‘We will set the rules because we pay and they will admire us! It is fair exchange chaps! Tally-ho!’

 I thought about the rich idiots I dated who believed they had power over me because they had money. I explained to each of them that I assumed that wealthy men would be of high intelligence and provide great insight. I did not need their money because I have money so there is no power dynamic, so why do I have to play by these shyte rules? I am sure that impressed them.

 So I came to the conclusion during the massage that for a woman to truly be herself she must love herself completely and not allow herself to tolerate that which does not make her heart shine and glow. She needs to connect to her true femininity and embody it. I was reading a book about embodying the sacred feminine along with another book about ignoring fairytales. It then got me thinking about how we are fed fairytales of wealthy princes. Clever isn’t it? Persuasion from the beginning to be saved by a rich prince. If this does not happen then you fail. Earn your love by being beautiful. In the meantime, someone with a persuasive voice advised women ‘you know you can get really nice shoes if you tolerate an old man because he can buy you stuff. Both sides were benefitted – nice shoes in exchange for rancid nostril hair tolerance. And so the dynamic continues – the old financial fart exchange. Both parties know the financial fart exchange stinks but both ignore the smell because money is involved! All these ideals make me go – Grrrr!!!! Rant. Rant. Rant!


While I was by the pool, I watched a prunesque old bloke with white chest hair and leopard skin trunks flaunt his bustily-modified girlfriend who was definitely twenty years his junior. She strutted while he surreptitiously passed wind. He had no control. It was so weird when he was doing breast-stroke in the pool and a trail of bubbles rose to the surface with every kick. The air was filled with the aroma of intestinal sulphur. And she had to put up with that in exchange for cash and body modification. She was his status symbol and he was her income. Errch… I just realised ‘in come’ there we are – there is the fluid financial exchange!

 I will send you the LUST list shortly… I have realised something big. It seems that youth is exchanged as a commodity. What a superficial world. Does no-one truly know how to love in the deepest sense? What has become of the value of maturity and wisdom? I realise that I am superficial in some ways; although I have been out with people sixteen years my senior and ten years my junior. I love the insight from the ones who were actual gentleman and the advanced conversations. The unfortunate truth is that I am too energetic for them and they often nod off before anything amorous takes place. The younger chaps are fun and full of energy and you can do lots of activities but lack the maturity to provide insight. Where is the happy medium without the baggage? After all of this reading and massaging I realised I like being single and having freedom. This whole dating lark is an adventure really. It provides a great deal of learning about others and myself.







Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: