15 July - pole dancing queens

Some jumbled up entry today… Finding it hard to focus as there’s always too much happening. In fact this is truly an eye opener in what constitutes a diary. There are many people/events I do not mention here at all, some are actually best friends or major time consuming activities and don’t get written about. Which must mean that when you read someone’s autobiography or blog, what you get is a really limited highlight. Necessarily so if you don’t want to read 85 volumes of something! I digress. So then… Notices on women’s toilets about not throwing sanitary towels/tampons down them, clogs up plumbing etc. I mean, how many years have we read these? Why won’t women remember to put the items in the bin provided? My guess is that a number of people out there can’t bear to touch the thing and just throw it straight down because it’s gross? Discuss. Then again, don’t.

This diary can be a bit boring I guess if we just wait for things to happen to me so am going to start relating more stories told me by friends. Here’s one about Ed losing his virginity and the time after that. He says that… oh, will have to save it for another time. One is funny, the other one is gross too so not in the mood. The third time he didn’t tell me about as we were having brunch and I couldn’t take it. Surprisingly though he seems a well rounded human being and his girlfriend seems happy enough to have let him finally move in (only to take half his possessions to a car boot sale the day after - wonder if he realised the regime he's let himself in for!)

Ok, here’s one instead from Alison who started a pole dancing class last week. We are a bunch of ‘almost first with the trends’ kind of friends me and mine, it has to be said. Maybe it’s a London thing but very often when we read about some new tribe/thing in the Style section of the Sunday Times, that’s us they are talking about. But of course once it’s in the paper it means it had already been brewing for weeks/months and is about to be a dead trend (journalists cannot get their editors to just agree to features that fast) by which I mean that none of my friends can be said to be the trend starters but then what do you expect at 40 plus?
Hey, scary thing I read about Saga readers (you know, the new affluent or not so affluent pensioners). The incidence of sexually transmitted diseases in their age group is on the increase! Which must mean that they do it… on those cruise holidays and solo exploring trips etc. which is great. Not the fact you get an infection obviously, but the fact that taking pole dancing lessons at 40 something means you can still do a routine for years to come. Do men prefer to watch strangers or do their partners turn them on if they do it in their living room? Back to Alison. In the general search for new fitness trends (the last one I know of is the exercise ball one so that’s a bit ancient) it seems you can now do pole dancing classes which are held variously in clubs or gyms. She wanted to go last Summer but couldn’t get it together so for all I know half of London is already doing this. Men included, there are classes for straight guys too. But, you get a studio with a few poles and a professional to teach and hey presto. Everyone has to wear high heels (the higher the platform are, the easier the tricks) and mmh, if you are inhibited in shorts well… don’t go, you have to have bare legs. So, her class was a mixture, but mostly v. young women (maybe these ones want to learn to actually work in the business?). I probably would have liked to learn in my 20’s but back then (oh dear, I said ‘back then’) it must have been just the usual seedy business and you only went there if you wanted a career in it. So, mostly young, mostly well proportioned but thankfully there were also some much larger sized women (that Dove advert has done wonders). All white though. An Australian 24 year old was teaching, extremely tall and long limbed. Basic rules are that you have to hold your arm pretty high up on the pole and to gain any momentum in the move you have to throw yourself away from it and totally exaggerate your movements. This obviously will not be easy to do till you act out the dis-inhibited part. To this end anyone with long hair was told to let it down. Hair flicking is of course a major distraction from you tripping up ungainly. Apparently it will take a year or two to do tricks up the pole. Great strength required. And even then you will get bruised by slamming into the pole with your not so soft parts (shins etc). But the teacher said she was a size 16 at some point and now obviously a size 10. This could make it into a top fitness activity then, promising weight loss is always a winner. Maybe in Oz you could get supersized pole dancers? What happens if you start as a size 8? Do you go down to Nancy Reagan proportions? That must be if you do it for hours on end though…hardly Alison’s case. She says some women definitely had a facility with the sexy facial expressions as well. I wonder if you can do it at all w/o adopting the 'come on you want me' expressions. You could end up looking totally stupid like Victoria Beckham in some video I saw her in, writhing about but failing to excite anyone I would think. I shall report back as Ali gets on with it.

13 July - lists

Bored, so making lists (I know it’s a childish and peculiarly female trait)
Top ten things I hate:
1. Having shaved/waxed legs and pussy and then not having a sexual encounter till it’s grown back a bit, just that bit that makes it felt to the touch and ruins the effect.
2. Not ever getting through all the possible permutations allowed by my extensive lingerie department with just one man. They don’t last long enough. Or I have definitely acquired too much in that department. Must switch to … belts or something.
3. Sale items not being really that marked down. £10 off does not constitute a sale. 70% off does.
4. Bored, will think of something else later. Or maybe another list:

The noises I like:
1. the click of computer keys
2. the sound of expensive cars' doors shutting
3. the whoosh that air-locked doors make on spaceships (in movies, have never been in one of course)
4. pages of a book being turned, possibly by someone lying next to me as they read aloud from Anais Nin or something.
Bored, will think of something else later though it has to be noted I must be feeling horny as mmhh, half of these bored thoughts are to do with sex.

9 July - two days after the bombs

This diary is not concerned with real life events on a bigger scale so it will not mention the bombs except to say that it was curious to realise which names came to the fore as one did a mental checklist of who to call to find out if they were ok and similarly who called me to get the same information as I travel/work near one of the explosions. The official ex boyfriend’s name only surfaced in my consciousness a full 48 hours later ( he didn't call either). And I was miffed not to receive a call from Toronto. Ok it was 5 years ago but how many people does he know in London?
Later that day I walked to the house of the most recent ex instead of going home (wanting not to be alone seems a standard response in these situations and was enticed there with ‘terrorists may have poisoned the water supplies, come here for wine!’). The distinct lack of relief in finding each other alive was a clear reminder of having made the right decision there. I don’t even think we gave each other a significant hug. For two people who like dramas and movies, this was a very under-whelming moment. So I went to get a bus home and he walked into Soho to see it dark and silent.

6 July - JC

‘Are men dogs?’ discuss.
Had a drink with the charming (but incredibly self-aggrandising and arrogant) successful ex boyfriend of a dear friend. J spent the evening bemoaning the fact that he doesn’t want to date young women as ‘They don’t know about the Vietnam war’ (wow, I thought I was the only person who cared about such things!) and he has nothing much to talk to them about, but at the same time he needs to date young women as he wants children and his contemporaries, at 43, can’t really have them. Or, shall we say if he starts dating one now, by the time his mother thinks the woman in question is good material, it may be too late. Yes, I said mother as he’s half Italian/half Brazilian and his mother makes his big decisions. Well, she brought him up single-handedly and so I guess marked her territory more in depth. In recent years he has relented on his criteria and at least does not require that his women should look like his mother or have the same taste in jewellery and accessories (she’ soon to put all the vintage Prada and furs on ebay), which is progress of a kind. Anyway, he’s in a bit of a limbo as not seeing anyone, desperate for sex and as we know chasing some does require some effort/expenditure. As he’s clearly too lazy to go seek some, he’s cleverly thought that he could source some from people he knows ie. friends of the ex. I admit to finding him handsome and interesting though slightly loathsome too, and I sort of appreciate how upfront he is.
As I was showing considerable reluctance to agree to see him a few days later for some ‘naughtiness’ (he may be lazy, but I’m not so why do I need to ‘go there’ and be also sure to upset my friend when/if she finds out?) he thought of being even more upfront and confessing that all men are dogs, he’s one and he’s always fantasised about me, we are adults, we can do what we want etc etc so why not give it a try? (uhm yes, I guess if he’d paid for dinner that would have been ‘a special offer?’ Am sure the invitation to a Greek villa in August was a further enticement. When I recovered my speech I pointed out that far from this being flattering, it is mistaking me for some bone or scrap of food that said dog is prepared to eat just now that he’s hungry. There’s nothing wrong with admitting to basic urges but truly… as I said before, go pay for some. Thank god my friend didn’t pass his mother’s test and is spared a few years with this individual. And shame I can’t even tell her to rejoice in her lucky escape as she probably still has strong feelings for him. All this passed on a Wednesday and I still got calls the following days to see if I’d changed my mind!
I told this to a friend and she said that no, not all men are dogs. A few minutes later a text came through from another g/friend saying ‘You’ll never guess what I just did to X?’ (X being a 50 something famous person and this being early afternoon). I replied ‘Gave him a bj in an unusual situation?’ (must admit was thinking geography here). She replied ‘Yes, bj as he was on the phone to his wife’. Charming. Now you could say it’s not just men who are dogs but that my friends are bitches but………this particular one never ever does this sort of thing and before we criticise her we still have to consider a married man who is on the phone to his wife whilst etc etc. Any more stories on this subject, you’re welcome to pass them on.

5 July - paul

Went to the b’day of a recent ex lover (decision to stop the relationship being sexual is of last week, hence had gone to the singles night at LRB - really, believe me, am not so duplicitous). This was a surprise I had organised with the help of one of his best friends (the event was disguised as a flat warming party for her new pad) but I was a bit apprehensive as to why he never mentioned he’d see me there on Sunday. Was convinced this was because he was going to unveil some new lover to his friends (not being one to waste any time himself). Eventually this was not so, though another ex was there S, whom I know of (we all seem to want to mother him afterwards and to want to find him a good woman – that’s because he’s got a pretty good personality – I myself had met him at a b’day drinks for another of his exes).
It was proving impossible to get him out of the lounge long enough to set up the balloons, cake, banner and so on. So I was instructed to try and lure him into a bedroom and ‘make out’ with him. Which I successfully did, so much so that he wanted to go through with it, not questioning for a second what degree of female instability would possess me to change my mind a mere few hours after our momentous decision ‘not to just do it’. I said something about this not being fair to the hostess. He said it could be processed in a few minutes to which I had to reply, maybe for you dear, but I’m not in favour of that much of a quickie today. He came out of the room exactly a minute after I exited and his previously h uge er ection was under control so for all those times we were told (when much younge)r that if we refused to satisfy the e rection it would physically hurt the man in question, or would take forever to subside, well frankly it’s not true. A good time was had by all after we went ‘Surprise!!!’ and the crowd then went elsewhere when one of his other ex lovers (early 2004 to… early 2004) was also having a b’day. I’m not sure what that makes me, but possibly I would eventually figure as late 2004 to mid 2005 - with major gaps, hence my availability for other escapades. I will give him a graph next time I see him.
An interesting psychological thing I’ve noticed is that I was reluctant to mention him here whilst there was some chance it may turn into a long lasting relationship and I would not exploit him for anecdotes and stuff but now that he’s soon to be history, such delicacy does not apply. I also had to reflect on our readiness to have sex all the time. I’ve read somewhere that men have a sort of 5 day cycle and women a 10 day one. Meaning we kind of naturally want sex at that regularity. I’m led to believe that if you actually live together etc that regularity further stretches into longer cycles and goes out of the window somehow (work out the initial flow in the ‘system’) but for us singles, no such thing perhaps so, in the presence of a lover, we are still responding to the frequency of early, non solidified relationships, you know, when you want it all the time and would spend a w/e in bed etc. A sort of perma-lust state driven by pheromones. Either that or we’ve skipped some developmental stage…
Ah, pheromones, by the way, a friend has discovered a pheromone bloking device if you can call it that. She recently spent an evening with an ex lover she always found tremendously difficult to resist, pure raw lust would overwhelm her as soon as his knee touched hers etc. Well, these two managed a few hours in very close proximity without her so much as having to resist any urges. A cheeky white line is all it took. Think about it, nasal passages go totally numb, you can’t really breathe in any scent, hence, pheromones were defeated!

At the surprise b’day on Sunday, was also another friend of his, Pam, who told me she went on a date with someone from Craigslist (if you need to ask, go google) who turns out to be the very same boring Frenchman who came to the Caravaggio exhibition with myself and F a while ago. Boring Frenchman (she only chose him because he was French and she is from NY and she fancied a change) was also left disappointed by Pam who understood a first date to be a sort of interview and not necessarily resulting in a lustful night as he’d obviously hoped for. What is it with these guys? If they want it that fast, what’s wrong with paying for it then? Ok, so he’s a lawyer and doesn’t want to kerb crawl, but what about all those escort things, he has the money (bored both of us with what superb apartment he owns, car, bike etc)? He ad also replied to an ad her friend S had placed so that’s a bit indiscriminate, as though the women are friends, their respective descriptions have to be very different. It’s a jungle out there clearly. I could write another story about another Craiglister and Portugal, but I’ll save it.

3 July - live 8

A more congenial crowd was backstage at Live8 and I nearly asked Trudy Styler if she had any more Guy Ritchies up her sleeve (as she sorted out Madonna’s life by introducing the two at a dinner party). I then remembered that I’m not Madonna. Oh life does suck sometimes.
My observations of the day are not to do with the event (plenty of coverage and reviews everywhere you care to look) but just colour. If you’re ever standing next to Faye Dunaway, be sure to have some sweeteners in your bag. She was desperate for some for her coffee and sadly we had none to offer either.
Jemima Khan looks great in pics but in real life she’s a skinny stork and if you cut her hair short you’d have a very, very ungainly and unattractive girl for sure. I never liked Liz H. but don’t see what the national Hugh sees in this one… Rock wives and rock kids are well schooled in handling the boredom of backstage and easing in and out of checkpoints. The kids are so well behaved, so used to adult company, so hunting in packs with other celeb kids. We were trying to match them to the parents but you don’t always get a gorgeous kid even if you’re Jerry Hall. Actually wrong example, hers are gorgeous. Rock wives in general are skinny unless they are Mrs Jonathan Ross or Dawn French. And I mean painfully so. Is it some sort of peer pressure or do they run around a lot more than mere mortals? They did seem to tuck into the burgers offered by the Hard Rock Café’. Now, that was a problem, I hate that place but this was the only food available .. and free. And their cocktails were v. well made.. and free. Life is hard, I may have ended up with a Starbucks if that had been the only coffee available. I cleary have no principles. I didn’t pay for my ticket, but my girlfriend worked for it and also sent about ten texts to get one in the draw. Somehow our vips tix were paid for I hope.
My friend was also useful in explaining one of the great mysteries of rock. As I stood next to Elle McPherson and hubby taking pics of themselves in the audience like a normal couple, using their mobile phones (aaahhh), I asked ‘But how can she be wearing dark sunglasses at night????’ (even w. good ones you clearly see a lot less, I have some prescription ones) and R. said ‘Ha! but have you noticed that celebrities never walk or stand alone, they always have a friend with them (well not Faye Dunaway) who HOLDS THEM BY THE ELBOW and guides them?’. How very true! But SIR Ian McKellen didn’t need dark glasses! He was happily in the crowd, though also with a friend. I think celebs need friends to be ready to hide behind in case mad fans ask them something. So we think it’s only a certain kind of celeb that needs the glasses (rock or models). Thespians (or tv interviewers like Sir David Frost) know how to use their eyes and if they don’t want to make eye contact with fans, they won’t! We were very dismayed the next day to be asked by various people ‘How was Robbie Williams?’ Why would we care for that clown we replied, when there was real talent on that stage? Angels my arse.

2 July - lrb dating

More tales from the dating world whilst am still single and can tell you this stuff.
On Friday I went to the London Review Bookshoop for their first singles night. The food was great so was the wine, so was the music but the guests were a sorry lot. A bearded tall man told me ‘You’re the most attractive woman here’ and I replied w/o even a second of censoring myself, ‘You know what? You’re right and I can’t say there’s a male to match’. And there wasn’t, apart from one of the guys on the door who clearly had a g/friend somewhere as he didn’t take the opportunity to talk to me beyond me talking to him for a while (or he was a 30something who doesn’t fancy 40somethings, not everybody seeks a Mrs Robinson.

I felt sorry for the women over 50, a decade I’m now heading towards (hope I die before ...). Very slim pickings for them. For example, I had brought along a male friend who is in fact 50 but, he was on his way later to a real date with a sales assistant at Foyles who is in her early 20’s. He can still do that quite easily. I got him to talk to some women my age whilst there, but he was just being polite. I saw the crows feet around their eyes and I just know he’d run away – plus people by and large dress according to the time they were at university. Old and slightly leftie looking is not a good look. I hate big beads so maybe I’m biased. I talked for a while with one of the new interns at the LRB Magazine and asked him who their readers are and he said people with two degrees and a PhD perhaps. I said there wasn’t much point in spending all that time cosseted away with books and study if you’re then alone like everybody else. I wonder if anyone really did match off after the thing but I left asking no numbers, giving none away and texting on my way home a couple of errant g/friends ‘You didn’t miss anything’ so that’s er… sad. Still, there were lonely men who stood lonely by the shelves. I know some people are shy but… you cannot be shy at 35+ and what’s so difficult about saying ‘What do you like to read then?’ at a singles night in a bookshop for god’s sakes. Want to talk to women? Just try! These are probably the kind of guys who sometimes discover salsa dancing or some other exotic thing and embrace it as they think it allows them into cultures that have so much more ease of striking up conversations and friendships.