Saturday, 5 January 2013


The truth is I am very independent. Yesterday my sons were saying I had to get a boyfriend. A real boyfriend, one that would cuddle me, look after me, be loving with me. One that would take over, a real man. There are lots of men I like and very few I have loved. I have left men for always expecting me to pick up the bill, for rolling cigarettes at the table, for talking on the mobile telephone. I have never left a man for infidelity. This is not the worst offence. Sex is a very tricky thing and I have often had better sex with men I have hated than good sex with men I have loved. In any case I can honestly I say that in my 52 years I have only ever loved three. They know who they are. One of them I never made love to at all.
I would like real romance, roses, sweet little notes, dinner made for me. A romantic holiday. I have never ever been on a holiday with a man and liked him at the end of it except with my favourite man of the moment. I spent twenty one days with him and never had an argument. I also like men who do not like arguing or having hissy fits over nothing.  I like this particular man because he says there should be no fighting at night, none in the morning and none on Sundays. I like that.
The last one I refused to see anymore  has at least sent me a check for his teeth so he can feel free to kiss another woman.  He has supposedly sent me a check for his clothes too, so that he can look the real deal. I like men who pull themselves together quickly and contribute.  He even wrote a bitchy article about me and encouraged his friend to do this too.  A man does not need to be rich, but a gentlemen, a real men.  Opening a door costs nothing. A bunch of flowers is not expensive. Cooking dinner wonderful. When I was ill in hospital I knew who my friends were.  The ones that came and were kind who sent me messages.
I find it so dreadful that because I am supposedly wealthy, that men feel they do not need to be romantic. I can imagine it is intimidating. However no more frightening than being asked away on a private jet for a week end the first time, when it not really your scene.
I want old fashioned loving romance. I will put up with being a mistress rather than being left at a table with the bill while a man smokes a fag. Of course I would rather I was the only hen in a cage. Caged love sounds very attractive these days. If one more ponce turns up I will turn a gun on them.. I am warning you all. STAY AWAY.

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