5 February - Tulum & Punta Allan

Men always want to go explore but they don't always know why..... the fruitless trip down the road to PA.

and horny I. in his red underpants on the beach being uncharacteristically leery lad on beach or leery old man more likely.

tbc

19 July - City Boy & Jimi Hendrix

So one night you go see young and hip artists and their hanger-ons (god, I’m a sort of Sadie Frost ...minus the kids, the famous ex husbands, the money, the fashion business, the house on the Hill, the young MTV/TV/musicians lovers… but we’re the same height I think) and the next you go see…. my first tribute band! Are You Experienced - who play Jimi Hendrix tunes.
Guess which one I enjoyed the most? Well the one that allowed me to play air guitar, shake my mane and generally kiss a few friends in town from their country pile. Shame I had to leave… am told that reprobates N. and S. spend the rest of the night out. But then they’re a couple of pirates and at the last look they didn’t have a job to go to in the morning.

Earlier had gone to Babs' garden thing in aid of something I didn’t quite understand, and met City Boy (Geraint Anderson) and his new g/friend (Noelle?). He’ s very into her, met at some festival off his head. He’s sooooo GAY! So elfin and un macho looking, he wears beads round his neck. What a disguise! Not decided what I think of him yet. No desire to read his book. I think it’s got to be 20% real and the rest the usual common city myths of drugs and share dealing and Jacuzzis with prozzies etc. I can’t possibly learn something I don’t already know though may be wittily written and fun, but in that case I should get on with Seb Horsley’s bio which is a witty line a paragraph. Forgot to say that had gone to his paperback launch and this was very entertaining indeed, he belongs to the stage. Though he was upstaged as the event was graced by the presence of mighty handsome Gavin Rossdale who seemed to know Seb’s girlfriend. This being before the weekend where he was getting apoplectic watching Federer loose at Wimbledon. Bless, Sebastian is very open about how much he wishes he’d been a rock god but it was not to be. Gavin instead must have fallen into it. Remember when nobody here bothered with Bush and the buggers went stateside and started shifting tons of records? We were stunned.

Anyway, where was I? Don’t begrudge City Boy cashing in from his silly column, but… when he described his forthcoming ‘charideee’ single I had to barf. Also met the docu director of Battyman (great premise, one day West Indians may grow out of gay bashing though I don't hold much hope) and a forthcoming docu on Hutch Hutchinson (lover or Edwina Mountbatten AND Cole Porter, wonder what common ground he found in them). Interesting. My very own docu director friend who had invited me, had to retire early as tired from filming but told me in the taxi that he had been wearing his whitest, bestest boxer shorts as was subconsciously hoping I’d take them off him. That was a good previous life…. He did dare me to feel his hard on on exiting the cab. And did I?

16 September - FUG, Agent M & JR toyboy trio

Darn, it had to happen. I have not really been on FB (facebook) much but a friend led me to another and to another and found an old lover FUG. Couldn’t help but poke him and no, he accepted me as friend w/o recognising me (have different name on there don’t ya know and with a misleading photo so flying under the radar in my own Jason Bourne fantasy world. But very diplomatically he called me ‘lovely’ and asked for more information. Which I gave. This led to a long exchange during which I found out he’s not married (I read a message from Jade Jagger no less which I thought was congratulating him on said marriage but was mistaken).

I did mention Toph straight away but the exchange went down some memory route where if you basically had a good time and your heart was never in danger of being broken, then you have happy memories which can easily be re-activated. But bear in mind that I had deleted his number a couple of years back because he’s always been unreliable. I blame the pot myself. Anyway he’s sorry he can’t read my blog (yet), nor contribute to my adventures (yet). I did say I live by proxy these days as can’t stupidly endanger uplifting, totally wonderful life with the BF by just following some desire for danger. That ‘yet’ is telling. Here’s someone who knows me very little but knows instinctively he’s in the presence of mischievous person much as he is… still. Anyway, he set me thinking about the fact that he’s many years younger than me and a Friday soon, am also invited to the b’day of another of my ex toyboys, agent M. I didn’t think there were many but it’s surprising how I never went out with anyone older than me, always younger. Maybe went out is the wrong term, these were never proper relationships, more … part time bouts. I am especially fond of JR who used to leave me notes thanking me for leaving him money for the underground or for lunch when I left to go to work. No, was not cradle snatcher, more like he was 28 year old unsuccessful musician hence no cash to speak of. Lived in a squat type situation, which is the only time I ever found myself in Stratford. I know it’s soon to be Olympic village and so on but 7 years ago it was on a par with the moon for all I went there. The utter squalor was somehow a bonus. There were no drugs involved but I figure Pete Docherty’s flat looks the same as JR’s then.

And these few, are 7/8 years my juniors. I should ask FUG what his best memory is. For my part, mine is not sexual. It’s the night we sat outside his house in his brand new first expensive jag and he had an advance copy of the new Primal Scream album (or was it something else) and it was thrilling to sit there cocooned in the leather interior and just bliss out on the music. Before ipods folks! I know which one M’s is as I know he plays it back from time to time, perhaps when he plays golf. It was no more outlandish than a fuck on my kitchen floor (a dark shade of cherry read, varnished, very nice) and against the washing machine, but I guess in his many rock ‘n’ roll years, he’s not done many floors. In both cases I guess they liked the fact I’d just call a taxi and leave and don’t phone for months. I liked it for the same reason, it’s kind of refreshing to realise you don’t want anything further. Not even dinner. Though by the same token should they, or me, drop dead all of a sudden, we’d not know for just as long. The surprising link am able to make now is that these two share more than one characteristic with the BF. Physical and personality wise. They’re doing much better than him financially though… but money isn’t everything in my life so that’s just a neutral observation. But if you lined them up… they could swap clothes… if M. is in a skinny phase… What does it mean? I never had anything against rugby player built guys , in fact there was one, sweet personality though, a graphic designer, who was the only person able to f uck me in missionary position but, check this out guys out there and see if you can do it, would use only one arm to prop himself up, and with the other arm scoop me up under the bum and pull me up and down on his cock. I was weightless! Magic!

God, and to think am such a nazi when it comes to Toph’s life. If I read the above in his blog I’d be seriously f ked off but… for myself it’s totally ok to wax lyrical over the past…

12 September - Famine & Feast

So, there’s M.this 30 year old I know who hasn’t had a boyfriend for, oh, say years, and precious little sex outings in between. She’s attractive and outgoing in a sort of size 16 way. She’s fretting about what to wear to some sex industry award that her boss is sending her to as his company is in that field. It’s her first time to such a ceremony. She opts for some Vegas showy type dress. A few days later I ring to ask how it went and get told that the day after the show she came home in the afternoon. So of course I enquire as to ‘Who’s he?’ and get told sheepishly er…. ‘They’.

Turns out my large not so shy flower took a little tour of the after awards ceremony and found that many people, fuelled no doubt by booze, or maybe it’s just de rigueur, were copulating here and there. What fascinated her though, was a woman who was being spanked in view of an audience in a room. She watched it for so long that a man next to her told her ‘If you like it so much, you should step in and get spanked’. Cue much ‘No, no, no, it’s my first time here and am shy and .. ok then, I’ll do it’. So off she goes and quite likes it. As she comes off, another woman replaces her on the ‘stocks’ and this woman’s friend starts talking to M. whilst they watch. When his companion returns the conversation carries on and before you know it they’re on a sofa somewhere else getting it on. Before you know it, it’s chucking out time and the woman suggests they carry on in her flat which is not too far. Which they do… Am not exactly speechless but am trying to reconcile how one goes from nought to threesomes with no warning.
So, naturally I ask, ‘Which was better, him or her?’ and M. replies enthusiastically ‘Her!’ And she's sober now.
Blimey, that’s a bit of a fast forward to kink she’s done there and the rest. I ask what she’s doing this w/end and she answers ‘Going back to their house for more.’ Ok, can't make myself ask for more details, not yet. What do they look like, how old, what was best part, postion etc.

Darn, she’s making me hot just listening to her and she’s also off purchasing all manner of other clothes and accessories as there’s some Rubber Ball coming up and some Torture Garden and so on. This is it, this is her new social life now. I find myself just warning ‘Hey, if you’re off with strangers, do call me, text me who/where/as much information. Can’t stop them killing you if they’re psychos but at least they’ll get caught and as you’re 30, trust your instincts, don’t get pushed into anything you don’t want etc etc.. Then I suggest she keeps it quiet with her new flat-sharer, a nice Indian girl who works as trainee lawyer in commercial property and has just moved in. I say beware of letting her on to all these shenanighans as you’ve only just met and she may feel uncomfortable and she has a boyfriend and may view you as potentially dangerous/predatory. She breezily says ‘I’ve already told her, she’s fine!’
Oh dear. I relay all of the above to Toph who has previously not paid much attention to M. but now is mentally rewinding, and as he’ s not met Indian girl and is right now picturing some stunning beauty (well uh, what do I know, I guess she is and thin where the other is voluptuous but of similar height and both dark sinned, black hair, so yeah, great fantasy material) and oh shit, we’re driving, quick talk about Sainsbury shopping and get him to watch the road more closely. Er, I want to go out more! This never happened when I went to those clubs, though there's that time in Vegas...

25 April - Pub Quizzers & Millionaires

Am considering re-naming this blog 'Lisa goes out, practically every night even whens she hadn't planned to'. Once again the evening goes in a different direction from the planned one... as we go to a pub quiz in leafy West London street.
We rescue the sad team of three that we’ve joined and dazzle them with our knowledge which allows us to end at #2 with a bottle of wine - the winners had three times as many in their team so er… more chances to come up with answers, but shame on me for mixing Peaches and Pixie Geldof up. How could I? I mean it was bad enough back in the days having to see mum Paula in the papers every other day but right now the family has multiplied and so there’s no escape. Or I should just avoid ever picking up those stupid free papers. Anyway, our efforts see us invited next month. We’ll do a bit of revision by then.

We lose one member of the team but the other two ask us along to drinks at the Electric. They’re in their fifties and pretty good company. One is a lawyer for Katie and Peter. Notice it's Katie with an ie. so er no the model who did not design her range of clothes for TopShop. He tells us they how much better/smarter than the Beckhams they are, but sadly does not divulge any other details. He’s very good (and on coffee rather than tongue loosening alcohol), doesn’t have a bad word to say about any of his clients, says there’s one he can’t get rid of.. I wonder who it is, maybe it's Corinne Bailey Rae? This year's Dido? Surely he must yawn each time he has to have a meeting with her? He, not saying, but am sure we’ll meet again.
His pal is a Holland Park dwelling venture capitalist (I buy him 2 drinks, he doesn’t buy me any… charming) married to a well known political Times journalist She’s a bit right wing for me but have found myself agreeing with her on a number of occasions which is er, worrying. Anyway she’s very prolific and as usual am awed by how much some women write. Miss Snark, the literary agent who blogs, said in one of her Moses style edicts that ‘blogging is not writing’. I totally agree and never confuse the two. But it hurts.
So… the husband is intent on creating mischief by throwing little questions into the mix, one being ‘How many secret relationships do you think one can handle?’
I answer two, (aside from the official wife/girlfriend) there can comfortably be only two and of those two, one mistress must be aware of the other secret one. And oh, if one is in another town/country that helps tremendously.
But I don’t have direct experience of that. My instances of affairs are minimal . I was the other woman a few times but never myself had two on the go. Loyal like that… Or actually maybe briefly, memory fails but think it was when the boyf in question was not that steady.
Another round tabler asks VC if he’s counting prostitutes into the equation and right on cue some immensely unattractive man walks past closely followed by two tall black girls wearing belts in lieu of miniskirts. All the men around the table say the can only be prostitutes given he’s so old and ugly but I’d wager that every single one of them is probably thinking ‘Wish that was me having to toss those two around tonight’. I am the only one saying that maybe the girls are his PA’s or some such and probably only there for a drink and not for orgy later but am shouted down. VC asks more questions and I have the presence of mind to say ‘Er, this is turning into a psychological forum that I’m not comfortable with’ given the BF is suddenly interested in my answes (ah, how I go about using legalese knowing a lawyer is present) and we drop it. We change the subject and I start talking to this clearly mad girl who works in Hatton Gardens and who mistakes my Swarowski for a real diamond ring. Granted, it’s pretty good and suddenly I don’t think she’s that mad as I wouldn’t mind being given a little tour of her shop. But it’s midweek and time to go.

15 April - Spring & Horny

Poor Kate Middleton. Well, not really. It’s a bloody lucky escape and she knows it but it’s Spring, what did she expect? It’s hardly the time to ask for commitment. The prince wants to shake it about a bit. Everyone does. Dear John and I share a few wistful email exchanges on the subject. He’s finding it hard to stay faithful. Wants to do something ‘wild and secret’ Prince William could probably manage to keep something secret but actually no, he’s not old enough to know how to manage it. DJ could, so could I. But, but there’s always a small chance it could blow up in our faces so best stay put. That ‘How would you feel if it was done to you’ little voice can be persuasive.
Thing is.. DJ and I could probably get over it, if it was done to us I mean. Or could we? Tempting.. The only cure for it is to make your current lover perform non stop, till you’re exhausted by too much sex. I can do that, though the boy doesn't have the relentless gene I or DJ have, but DJ’s girlfriend is pregnant so she’s probably not up to it. That’s why we’re talking about it, to find some kind of reassurance in the ‘We’re not bad, we’re just very horny’ mutual support group.