Perfectly shameless

1. People of blogland, I hope that if it’s not the same thing for you, then it means that you’ve found something even better and I wouldn’t mind paying to know what it is; but to me sex is the most absorbing activity I have discovered in adulthood. I feel about it the same way I used to feel about building a house up in the chestnut tree or trying to get my younger, more vulnerable friends, naked and tie them to a pole then dance around them like a demented, starved cannibal. Or the way I used to feel about Lego, too, but that was more for the winter months. I could forget where I was, who I was and what I would have for dinner, or the fact that there’d be no dinner. And sex is like that; curiously, perhaps a bit disturbingly, it’s the only grown-up thing that can make me feel like an 8 year old. Naturally it wasn’t always like this: ignorance and lack of self-confidence had to be conquered, and that stomach sucked in, you know? Perhaps I had to hit thirty to come to the point where confidence and enthusiasm finally merge, and I realise I don’t have a stomach to suck in..so where’s my point.. where did I leave it.. oh here it is:

2. I finally know what I am doing and can utterly lose myself in it. I have punched the Shopkeeper in the face and while he’s recovering I am surrendering to unmitigated, all-consuming lust.

3. The multi-way, possibly opportunistic dating is still very much on. Each contender has been informed of the competition. Sometimes I feel bad…

4. Last weekend was a perfect example of my newly-acquired juggling skills. Last weekend was perfect. Trendy, grimy Shoreditch and Regent’s park in bloom; sun and murkiness; galleries and picnics, new bus routes and Camden Town beer gardens.

5. There is someone else I really, really would like to meet. This morning I got a message asking me out. Can you see my grin, bloglanders?