Sunday, September 21, 2008

Well, it's desperate times as I outstay my welcome on the various couches of Paris.

With actual couches being at a premium (Parisians don't tend to have lounges; they use each room as a bedroom in order to save space), I'm reduced to the bedroom floors of "so-and-so who I met at such-and-such an apèro", and tonight I sleep in a bathroom.*

Thankfully though, I have just finished the most pressing of my rhyming couplets and associated Pony work and now have time to ponder what an all-consuming abortion of a situation this is.**

Meanwhile, an anonymous reader has come forth with some excellent advice for Mariella and her dilemma (see last Monday's post).

Anonymous sympathises with Mariella, "a victim of deceit trying to put together an incomplete puzzle. "

Anonymous disagrees with me on the point of the level of honesty of Mariella's young man, because he is off dishonestly dallying behind his girlfriend's back, no doubt with what Anonymous evocatively calls a "fuck-focused dick of deceit".

In response to Mariella's question, namely “do you think he will dump his girlfriend for me?”, Anonymous offers this handy adage:

"If it walks like a fuck and quacks like a fuck, it is probably just a fuck."

Please do go and read the fully highly entertaining and informative post here. I do not know the identity of Anonymous, however I think we can safely divine his or her nationality by the use of the word "douche". This is a word rarely used outside of France (where it simply means "shower") and North America, and I don't have a clue what it refers to there, though I've heard it used many times on television.

A "douche" is certainly not a feminine hygiene product that think I've ever used, but then again I see a great many strange and inscrutable products lurking in that area of the supermarket that I dare not try to comprehend.

* Update: I had a last minute reprieve from said bathroom when it was agreed that there was enough room in Xav's bedroom for 3 people.

** A situation that rather reminds me of the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I'm eating people's porridge, sleeping in their beds, (not to mention the fact that I have blond hair), and bound to eventually find myself menaced by a sleuth*** of bears.

*** Yes, that is in fact the collective noun for bears.


At 3:43 pm, Blogger Mariella said...

So I dumped my bloke a few days ago, thanks to your advice, and now I’ve had sex with his younger brother a couple of times. I feel quite guilty but I can’t seem to stop.

His younger brother and parents live in the same road as I do, so I’d met them now and again. It was his birthday last week, and we were invited.

My ex’s brother is 17 (I’m 25). He’s a smoker and so am I, and we were well tanked up at the party and we both went outside for a ciggie. It started to rain so we took cover in the garden shed.

The conversation was very risqué and he said that he’d fancied me for some time. I said, “You’re far too young to be talking like that,” but he asked, “What’s age got to do with it?”

He slid his arms around my waist and kissed me. I felt flattered, sexy and attractive. Things went a bit further and before I knew it, we were having a quickie in the garden shed.

I felt so bad but a bit naughty at the same time.

I went to a works do a few days later (after breaking up with aforementioned douche). We ended up at a bar in town, where I ran into the brother who was out with some mates.

I was drunk again, but he was driving and offered to give me a lift home. I couldn’t wait for us to get out of town so that I could ask him to pull over.

We had sex in a lay-by this time and it was magic. I know it’s wrong but I can’t get this guy off my mind.


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