My first blog reader Lillian, has made an impassioned plea for assistance in looking for appropriate wedding favours, so I felt compelled to help. (I also like looking for stuff online, dunno why.)

While I was looking for a nice dress for Lillian I came across these dresses, which titillated me immensely. They were designed by a bloke called Ian Stuart, who seems to think that a bride is destined to end up in a barn with a dashing disrobed cowboy on her wedding day. I guess I can’t argue with that suggestion! (more…)

I know I haven’t blogged much about my love-life lately, partly because I’m not actually dating anyone, and partly because it’s a bloody mess despite that fact.

At the moment I appear to have 3 suitors:

1. A guy who reads this blog, so I can’t say much about him. He doesn’t live in the UK, so nothing much can happen with him for now. (And it’s not Dr Monkey! )
2. A guy I met in Jamaica, who recently informed me that he wants to impregnate me! Like that’s ever going to happen.
3. Dirk Dastardly. He came to my workplace recently and told me that he still wants me (again). Yet again I said no. He told me that he’d had some doubts about me because someone had told him that I’d made a gesture referring to a blow job (WTF!), but he’d since decided that they were lying about me. He wouldn’t tell me who it was in case I decided to unleash some vengence on the lying prick.

I often said to myself that going to Dirk’s cafe was like walking into an episode of Eastenders, only set in South London. There were the gruff old men with hearts of gold hidden beneath their rough exteriors, a wise old woman who is sharper than she looks, a guy with a limp, a family business and a lecherous married git. I’m not eighteen anymore, so why did I think I was playing the role of Stacey, getting mixed up with a married bloke who had no respect for me other than as a sex object?

I haven’t blogged about this for ages, and my regular readers may have thought that I’d come to my senses and stayed away from Dirk, as I’d intended. If only.

We have shared two more interludes, but we did NOT shag. Of course he wanted to. Part of me wanted to get him out of my system, and the other part of me just enjoyed the attention of an attractive man. There was no chance of us having a relationship, for not only did he have no intention of leaving his wife, but there were no common interests between us except that of the physical. As I said to Veg the other day, this was no meeting of the minds.

And yet, it is over. And I’m glad. My only regret is that I didn’t end it before. My dear reader, you may ask, why should I believe her now, she obviously can’t keep her grubby hands off him? Well, he has succeeding in offending me, which is quite a feat if you know me at all.

Basically I saw him on Friday at lunchtime. He said that he hadn’t been as persistent with me recently as he wanted to “get to know me”. Fair enough I thought, though I hadn’t noticed much change in his predatory behaviour. Then he went on to say that he felt that he didn’t know me so well and claimed to be wondering whether I could have some sort of Sexually Transmitted Disease! Then he said that he thought that I might shag for England in Jamaica, and that he was concerned for me! Such knobbery – if he doesn’t want a STD I’d be happy to cut it off for him!

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I’m glad to say that I have another suitor waiting in the wings. He reads this blog sometimes and it’s early days in our friendship, so I won’t embarrass him, but is a lovely guy who I admire so much. Watch this space!

So I saw the Tempest at the theatre on Tuesday evening. Patrick Stewart was great, so expressive that he showed up the actress playing his daughter. She was strangely bland and lacklustre. There were some funny moments, but it dragged a bit after a while.

Yesterday I met up with Ahmed for a chat and a cup of tea. He asked me to write my ideal man wishlist. I told him that I’d already blogged about that, but he wanted to compare notes with me. I discovered that he wanted a man who was “loaded” with nice lips, a nice butt and plenty of ambition. He’s into that cosmic ordering malarkey so he’s going to wish for this man to materialise. We’ll see how that works out for him.

I bought this lush pen yesterday. It’s by Jordi Labanda, is in zebra print and has an Audrey Hepburn-esque logo on the lid.

And look at what the postman brought me today!

I’ll write a full review in a few days.

I think I need some romance in my life in order to get over the married guy. I need a nice single guy to sweep me off my feet.

I saw him again today. (I’ll call him “Dirk” from now on.) He apologised for taking advantage of me and offending me with his advances. However, in the next breath he told me how much he was still lusting after me…

I’m not asking for that much, so I wonder why I haven’t met anyone suitable in the last 26 years. My ideal guy would be:

• • 26-33 years old
• • Taller than me (I’m 5ft5/165cm)
• • Intelligent, but preferably not too intellectual (my time in the uni put me off intellectuals!)
• • Creatively minded, or at least tolerant of my creative urges
• • Slim or slightly muscular (I’ve dated overweight and skinny guys in the past, but I prefer something in the middle.)
• • A bit adventurous (it would be cool to go on foreign holidays, maybe try out rock climbing, horse riding, skiing, and other fun things together)
• • Open-minded with a quirky sense of humour (cos I’m rather strange sometimes)
• • Working with means to support himself (cos I don’t want to be on Judge Judy some day suing his ass!)
• • Thoughtful, generous, romantic, a gentleman
• • with a cute face and squeezable ass!

I’m not asking for much, am I?

Just realised, I may have to adjust my criteria slightly as Daniel Craig is older than 33… oh well, rules are meant to be bent…