Living

I didn't think it would get so out of hand but this relationship - I am indeed allowing myself to call it a relationship - is causing me to be unable to report on my favourite details on this blog. It's awfully tricky. There's Richard, there's sex, there's work, friends, chores, more sex, cooking and shopping to do. It's a tricky part of the year. But what a treat to have someone to spend it with. Not one of those desperately sad Christmases where I spend one day with beloved but small rest of family (I do miss seeing my brother and he only comes down for the holidays) but the other, usually Christmas day itself, there are so many parties but always a someone attending his own family party, replete with children and wife but not lover. No more married men. Never again. They're an absolute drainer and though they always give you a good gift to make up for their necessary absence, you never get to give them what you want.

The first year, when I finally turned 18 and had prepared my body and the metres of red satin ribbon, my teacher bailed when his wife declared that she would accept him back home as long as he could remain faithful forevermore. As far as I know he has been.

This year will be different. I'm sure of it.

Also, not quite sure what the point is of buying me new pairs of panties all the time, when every morning I seem to wake up without them, whether or not company remains till morning.