Friends with Benefits (part 2)

Lucy has a 'date' with Peter, her new Friend With Benefits.

To find out how on earth a woman as utterly-crap-with-men as Lucy managed to bag herself an actual FWB, click here (this takes you back to the very beginning). Or click here to catch up on what happened last time.

Lucy and Peter have only met a few times, but already they've settled into an entirely practical arragement which is only nominally about Friendship and mostly just about the Benefits.

So when Peter texts and asks Lucy if he can take her out for lunch this time, she's a bit confused.  Does he want to actually take her on a date?  Or is he just hungry?

They meet on a Sunday.  That morning, in preparation, Lucy has been to the gym, washed her hair, and epilated her legs and bikini line.  For the uninitiated, this means using a device containing a rotating wheel of about a thousand pairs of sharp tweezers to violently rip each hair out by the root from the most sensitive part of her anatomy.  It sounds like a plane taking off and probably wouldn't be out of place in a torturer's toolkit.

This might make it sound as though Lucy is hard as nails (and yes, it fucking hurts), but honestly choosing to epilate her bikini line is mostly about laziness.

After The Ex left, and she was thrown back into the dating pool, Lucy worried about what she was supposed to do about her lady garden.  She came of age in an era where women were actually allowed to have body hair.  Back then, a bikini line was so-called because you only needed to remove the bits that peeked out around the edges of a substantial pair of bikini bottoms.  Certainly none of the men she dated in her 20s or early 30s ever commented or complained.

But in 2015 times had changed.  Women were going crazy with Hollywoods and Brazilians and Vajazzling and God Knows What Else that made Lucy deeply anxious.  Was this the sort of thing that single men were expecting now?  Would they run for the hills when she stripped off in front of them and they discovered that she had actual pubic hair?

She even consulted a couple of single male friends on the subject, who assured her that by the time a girl is getting her knickers off, the guy is probably so delighted he doesn't even notice.  So Lucy went back to her low-maintenance tactic of just grabbing the epilator once in a while and nipping out the strays around the edges.  It's far cheaper, less messy, and less time-consuming than going to get waxed.   Even if it does burn with the pain of a thousand knives.

So this is what she does the morning of her date with Peter.  Well, you've got to tidy up before inviting visitors in, don't you?

For the first time, Peter is punctual.  He bounds up the stairs like an enthusiastic puppy and gives her a proper, serious snog on the landing.  It's been a while since Lucy has had one of those; it makes her (and her lady bits) wish she hadn't agreed to go for lunch.  She'd much prefer to spend the restricted hours she has with Peter doing the sort of things she currently can't do with anyone else.

But he wants to take her for lunch, so lunch it is.

They head to a gastropub round the corner.  As you might expect, the menu is full of typical sturdy pub meals: burgers, Sunday roast, sausage and mash.  Lucy, who hasn't had any breakfast, is starving.  She's about to go for the roast before she realises that immediately after eating she is going to have to take all her kit off and get physical.  Don't they say you're not supposed to eat just before exercise?

This is a Dilemma. Yummy Sunday roast and a food baby, or salad and a flat stomach?

But Lucy's not really one to let anything get between her and food. Fuck it, she thinks, and orders the roast.

Over lunch, Peter asks her about how the dating is going.  Lucy finds this a bit odd.  Yes, they are supposed to be Friends as well as With Benefits, and certainly neither of them is under any illusion that this is an exclusive arrangement, but all the same... It feels a bit inappropriate to talk about other guys with a man whom she is about to take home and get frisky with.

"Why do you want to know so much?" she asks.  "Isn't this a bit weird?"
"Oh My God... is it?" Peter asks.  Lucy's noticed he says Oh My God a lot. "I just want to know how much longer I'm going to have you for before I lose you to someone else."
"Don't worry," she assures him.  "There's nothing on the horizon at the moment.  Of course if I did meet someone who was going to become a boyfriend, this would have to end.  I wouldn't sleep with more than one person at a time.  But you're safe for now, and for the foreseeable future for that matter. Is that ok?"
"Hundred Per Cent." Another of Peter's little catchphrases.
"If I did meet someone, would you be jealous?" she fishes.
"Actually... yes.  I would be jealous if you sleep with someone else and ditch me."

But he doesn't ask her not to.  So Lucy lets it go.  She doesn't want to be in a relationship with Peter anyway: he's the perfect fuck buddy, and she wants to preserve that easygoing, hassle-free arrangement for as long as possible.

She pops to the loo, and when she comes back he's requested and paid the bill.
Cute, she thinks.  Lucy likes it when a guy does that. No debates, no arguments, just decisive and chivalrous in one stroke.
It's also about bloody time.  Lucy would normally never sleep with a man before he's bought her dinner.  Things have been all about-face with Peter, but happily order is now restored.

They head back to hers, where Peter starts removing her clothes before the door has barely even shut behind them.  Lucy has to concentrate on holding her stomach in but the roast beef and potatoes are making it even trickier than usual.

But she has a cunning plan.  She kneels in front of him and gets busy with her mouth.   Guys like this - and the flattering angle will mean he won't be able to see her belly.  Lucy makes a big play of looking up, making eye contact, and pretending to be sexy.  Hopefully the distraction technique will do the trick.

It seems to work.  Peter responds perfectly, making appreciative noises and telling her how amazing she is.  Lucy has never been entirely sure about this, so it's nice to have reassurance.

Lucy's actually fairly ambivalent about giving blowjobs.  It's not exactly her favourite thing to do, but she doesn't mind as long as the guy has washed and trimmed.  The beauty of the arrangement with Peter is that because it's all planned, he always arrives fully prepared - no messy spontaneity or inconvenient surprises.  So she's happy to reward him with a little treat - he's been extremely generous in that department anyway, so it's only fair that she returns the favour.

He pushes her onto the bed and starts getting down to business.  But first he has a request.  He'd like to - just briefly - have a go without using protection.  Just for a moment, he says.  Just so he can feel the connection of skin on skin.

Lucy isn't a huge fan of condoms either.  To be fair, they have their uses - obviously the no-pregnancy/no-STI's thing is a big plus, and also they make sex a whole lot cleaner and tidier, which for a practical girl like Lucy is a great advantage.  But the issue is with the chafing.  Go at it for a while with a condom on and a girl can soon start to feel the sort of raw that would have a marathon runner reaching for the Vaseline.

So Peter's request is tempting - but it's also frightening.  Girls have it drummed into them from a young age that you can still get pregnant even if the guy doesn't, you know, finish.  And Lucy definitely doesn't want to get pregnant.  She also doesn't want to catch anything, and she doesn't know where else he's been.  Can you catch an STI from just a few seconds' condom-free penetration?  Probably.

It's a risk. But Lucy's a little fed up of always being well-behaved.  She's never done anything remotely naughty or dangerous - and she's thirty-fucking-eight. It's about time she found out what all the fuss is about.

So she lets him - just for a moment.  He's the first man to have done this since The Ex, and it feels gooooood.  But much as she's enjoying the connection, there's a problem.  The annoying little goody-two-shoes voice in her head - the one that always bloody ruins the fun - is nagging that she shouldn't be doing this.  

Lucy tries to tell the uptight little sissy to shut the fuck up, but as usual the preachy voice has already ruined whatever fun was to be had.  So Lucy stops Peter, reaches for the bedside drawer, and safety is restored.

He gets back down to business with renewed vigour.  If anything, a little too much vigour - after all, it's been a while for both of them so he's particularly energetic - and for a shorter guy Peter is surprisingly generously endowed (proving that you never can tell).  Lucy starts to find his enthusiastic pumping rather bruising.

Amir is short.  Lucy finds herself wondering if there's any correlation.  Probably shouldn't be thinking about Amir right now, though.

But it's too late. The moment is lost.  Now all she can do is wait for Peter to get to the end, hopefully as soon as possible before the chafing starts.  She starts making encouraging sexy noises, and in return Peter resumes his running commentary - a blow by blow description of what's going on punctuated with frequent 'Oh My God's.

This isn't how it's supposed to be.  Maybe Lucy is not cut out for the carefree FWB lifestyle after all.

To be continued...?

Friends with Benefits (part 1)

With all the goings-on with Al and Amir, you've probably forgotten all about Peter, the guy who works in radio who was only interested in Lucy for One Thing.

If you're new here (in which case, welcome!), or you'd like to refresh your memory, you can read from the beginning here.

Lucy is absolutely fine with their relationship being only about that One Thing.  Peter, as it turns out, is quite good at it, and certainly wasn't at the back of the queue when endowments were being handed out (if you know what I mean, nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more).   And since Lucy seems to spend her entire fucking life going on mediocre dates that never lead anywhere, or lusting after men that aren't interested, or going on promising dates with guys who then vanish before things can progress to the getting naked stage, it does help to have a safe, skilled pair of hands (and other body parts) to fall back on when she's got an itch that needs scratching.

So while she's waiting to see if things might go anywhere with first Al, and then Amir, she's stayed in touch with Peter.  Just in case everything goes tits up and she needs a consolation shag.  Hey, don't judge, we all have needs.

Peter is the perfect Friend With Benefits.  He's nice but definitely not future husband material, he's enthusiastic in bed, and when they're not together he leaves her alone until she calls on him.

Though sometimes Lucy thinks its a bit strange how completely he vanishes for weeks between hookups.  And when she chats to Lily about it, it occurs to her that maybe there's a reason for that.

Could it be that Peter isn't single after all?

As Lily points out, it's a bit suspicious.  For one thing, he always comes to Lucy's.  He says this is because he rented out his flat for a while and is currently staying with his mum until the tenancy expires - but what if it's actually because he has a wife at home?

Also, he only ever visits in the afternoon and is gone by 6 pm.  His excuse is that he works very early shifts and needs to go home and sleep - but again, what if that's a lie?

Lucy doesn't want Peter for herself, but she's totally Not Cool with shagging another woman's fella. So after a couple of weeks of silence, she decides to challenge him.

Is Peter actually annoyed that he spotted her on a dating app?  He's never made any suggestion that he'd like to be anything more than just fuck buddies, so it's a strange thing to bring up.

They arrange to meet the following weekend.  Lucy is looking forward to it - it's been ages since she had any action and she's starting to feel like she might have some sort of embarrassing public outburst for no reason if she doesn't get some physical contact soon.

So when he cancels on her a few days later, she's pretty fucking pissed off.

It's poor English (and spelling) like this that is exactly why Peter is definitely not husband material.

But Lucy is also intrigued by his comment that he may 'lose' her (not 'loose', Peter you fuckwit).  She's made it clear to him that she's dating other guys, and that if she meets someone their happy little arrangement will have to cease.  So could it be that Peter is getting just a teensy bit jealous?

Regular readers of this blog will correctly guess that the mate in question is none other than Amir, with whom Lucy is still embroiled in a weird situation where she has to carry on acting as though they are just good friends who gossip about their dating experiences, even though she would actually like nothing more than to be having those dating experiences with Amir himself.

'You do really respect me?' Lucy thinks. What the actual fucking fuck?  Does that really need to be said in this day and age - like there might be some doubt that a man could respect a woman just because she wants to have sex with him?!

Happily, a sarcastic tone of voice doesn't translate into texts:

However since Peter does respect her after all (Yay! Go Peter the Modern Man!), and since he swears he's definitely single, they rearrange the 'date'.  But this time Peter has an unusual request.  He wants to take Lucy out to lunch. 

This is odd, since until now their previous encounters have been rather functional.  Peter turns up at Lucy's house in the early afternoon, they have a drink and a chat, then have sex, and he leaves by 6pm to go home to bed ahead of his 5am shift.  Lucy, meanwhile, can have a shower and go out for the evening.  It's all terribly, satisfyingly practical.  

But now he wants to take her out for lunch.  Is this an actual date? But why?

The only possible conclusion Lucy can come to is that her genuine lack of interest in Peter as anything more than just a fuck buddy is like a red rag to a bull.   She's entirely chilled around him, she tells him about the other guys she's dating (so he knows about Al and Amir), and she doesn't make any kind of effort when he shows up.  Apart from a minimal defuzzing of her ladybits, of course.  Lucy does have some standards.

Clearly this don't-give-a-fuck attitude is what's now attracting Peter.  And it's probably what first attracted Amir, back when they were just mates and she was able to be herself because she wasn't hoping to get in his pants.

Lucy makes a note-to-self to try to recapture fake that same attitude in her future dealings with guys she likes.

As for Peter, it remains to be seen what his intentions are.

(To find out what happened next, click here)

The Booty Call (Part 2)

Lucy's had three dates with Peter who works in radio.  (To read from the beginning, click here.)

The third date wasn't really a date - more an entirely unapologetic and surprisingly acrobatic sex session, after which he vanished completely into thin air.  

Lucy was just about start googling for news of Peter's death, when he resurfaced and invited himself over again.  How romantic, she sighs, starry-eyed.  It's just what every girl dreams of. 

But Lucy's decided that since Prince Charming is taking his sweet time showing up, she'll have to take what she can get in the meantime.  So she's accepted Peter's terms of engagement. 

He rolls up in his flashy white Porsche and climbs the stairs.  Lucy waits for him at the top.  It's just like that scene at the end of Pretty Woman except that Peter is shorter and has far less hair than Richard Gere.  Also Richard Gere brought flowers, while  Peter has come empty handed.  Nice to see he's made an effort, she sighs.

When Peter reaches the top of the stairs, he goes straight in for a full-on snog.  They kiss in the stairwell for a while, until Lucy realises that the family who live opposite may be watching through their peephole.  She ushers him inside before they scar the young children for life.

Lucy and Peter sit on the sofa.  Lucy has a large glass of wine.  Lucy is sure wine makes her sexier.  At least, she thinks it makes her sexier.  Which is kind of the same thing.  Peter has orange juice.  Clearly he will not be staying the night.  Sex AND a good night's sleep, thinks Lucy.  Win. 

Lucy and Peter both know he is only there for one thing.  But they pretend to chat and be interested in each other's lives.  

"How has your week been?" she enquires.
"Pretty stressful," he replies. "Work has been extra busy because of that disaster that's been all over the news in which dozens of people died."

Peter needs to work on his chat-up technique.

Lucy wants to tell Peter how infuriating she found it that he didn't reply to her messages last time.  She also wants to know why he sometimes sends enthusiastic replies but then vanishes for days, and why he's so hard to pin down to a date.

I'm literally offering no-strings sex, she thinks.  You should be chasing me, not the other way round.

But Lucy knows that if she says any of this stuff she will come across as needy or nagging.  Instead she must pretend to be cool and sexy and a little bit hard to get. Guys like that. 

So she puts her glass down and takes off her top.

They have sex twice.  Despite having been hard to pin down, now he's here Peter seems very enthusiastic - and he's also extremely chatty.  He seems to like describing what's going on in graphic detail, narrating what he's doing, what's going where, how it all feels...  Lucy finds it slightly offputting.  It's nice to have feedback but she's not sure she needs a running commentary.  It's a bit like what watching the horse racing must be like - if horse racing was on a porn channel.

Lucy only knows three positions, but Peter seems keen to try out several more. Lucy's fine with this, although she's not too keen about being on top.  It means she has to remember to hold her stomach in.  I must start doing more sit-ups, she thinks.

She tries sitting up tall and running her hands through her hair like they do in the movies.  Is this supposed to make her boobs look more pert?  It might work if you're a movie star with unfeasibly round breasts, she thinks.  Sadly if Lucy is like anyone off the telly, it's Monica from Friends. 

Afterwards, they lie together on Lucy's bed.  Lucy idly strokes Peter's chest.  She notices that he has quite a lot of body hair, but he has completely shaved his pubes.  Lucy panics: was she supposed to have shaved hers?  Is this what the etiquette is these days?  Lucy doesn't think this is the sort of thing she can ask her friends.

"You're quite hairy, aren't you?" she observes.
"I'm actually hairier than this really," he replies.  "But I trim it with a body hair trimmer."
Lucy has never heard of such a thing.
"It's like hair clippers for your head, except for your body.  You can set it to any length you like and then you can just trim all over."
Peter seems to have gone for Grade 3 or 4 for his legs and arms, and Grade 1 for the pubic region.
That's an awful lot of hair, she marvels.  How on earth does he keep his drains clear?
She hopes she never finds out what he'd look like without the trimmer.

Lucy goes to the bathroom, and catches sight of herself in the mirror.  Her nose and chin are rubbed red from Peter's stubble.
I look awful, she grumbles. How come this never happens in the movies?
Lucy wonders if she should put some more make up on to cover it up. Then she remembers she's supposed to be not giving a fuck.  So she doesn't bother.

Lucy tells Peter that she thinks they should just use each other for sex, regularly.
Peter says he feels violated but clearly he's delighted.
"What, so we're going to be friends with benefits?" he asks.
Lucy's not sure they are really friends.
"We could be friends too, but we might have to keep our clothes on for that part."

They decide to just do benefits.  That's assuming Peter doesn't just disappear again.

(To be continued...?)

The Booty Call (Part 1)

Peter, the radio guy who slept with Lucy and then disappeared, has resurfaced.  He wants to know if Lucy is free to meet up this Saturday.  

It's a tale as old as time, she reflects.  No sooner have you decided not to bother with a guy any more, he starts pursuing you.  The lack of interest is like a red rag to a bull.   But why the hell does it not work when I try to fake disinterest with guys I really like?  They must have a ninja sixth sense.

Though clearly in Peter's case it's because he's got an itch that needs scratching.

Lucy's cross.  The cheek of it!  He doesn't reply to messages, he pretends not to have received them, he won't answer a question or agree a date to meet up... She's wasted far too much time and energy on this guy already.  She should tell him where to go. 

Problem is, she's really tempted to say yes.

Lucy is a pathological over-thinker, so she decides to draw up a list of pros and cons.  It looks like this:

Pros:

1. She doesn't have any other plans on Saturday.
2. She's already invested time and effort in Peter, it wouldn't be that much more trouble to say yes.
3. She's already slept with him once, so that awkward first time is out of the way. 
4. And it was really good.  Or at least, certainly better than no sex at all, which is the current alternative.
5. She's already decided she's not that fussed about him, so there's little chance of her getting hurt. 
6. She definitely hasn't had enough sex in her life so far, so now's her chance to make up for that.
7. She wants to, and saying no would only be denying herself something based on principle. But principles only get you so far. Lucy is fed up of having principles.
8. It's been sunny all week so she won't even need to shave her legs - they're already done. Win!

Cons:

1. He's messed her around and she doesn't want to reward his bad behaviour.  Or give him the satisfaction.
2. He'll probably disappear again immediately afterwards.
3. It'd be a bit slutty.

Lucy wonders if point 3 should really go in the 'pros' column.

Anyway, it's clearly a no-brainer.  She accepts.

But this time, she's determined not to make too much of an effort. She's not even entirely convinced he will actually show up.  So as a way of showing how entirely unconcerned she is about this whole thing, she decides not to wash her hair.  That way, if he cancels, at least she won't have wasted her time.

This small act of rebellion delights her. That'll teach him to mess her around.

Nevertheless, when Saturday rolls around, she's nervous again.  She's barely spoken to Peter since the last time, and he still feels like a stranger.  She hopes he won't be late - it's the waiting that gets to her.

Who is she kidding?  He's been late on all of the last three dates.  Lucy decides she'll be happy if he just bothers to turn up at all.

This is how they win, she grumbles.  Get you to lower your expectations by being dicks, so that you're grateful if they do something even the tiniest bit nice.  Like showing up.

Even though she knows this, Lucy still spends 10 minutes deciding which underwear to put on.  She goes for the (obvious) red ones with the push-up bra.  No point in owning this stuff if you don't wear it, she decides.

She spends a further 10 minutes in front of the mirror practising being sexy and trying to work out if red underwear makes her thighs look fat.  If only I had bigger boobs, she reflects, maybe my life would be different.

Then she remembers that she's too old for this shit.  She should be married by now to someone who is so grateful that she even owns red underwear that he doesn't give a fuck about her B-cups.

Peter phones.  He's running late.

Lucy pours herself a large glass of wine.

(To find out what happened, click here)

Radio Ga Ga revisited (Part 3)

After what seemed like a never-ending dry spell which looked like it would only end when our heroine shrivelled up and died from lack of human contact, Lucy has finally had sex with Peter, who works in radio.

(To read all about it, click here.)

He texts her the next day.

Mind-blowing, eh? Lucy gives herself a high five.

But later she wonders if she should have paid attention to the number of exclamation marks.   Peter seems to have a tendency to overuse them when he's being insincere.

And it's not long before the enthusiastic responses start to dwindle...

Lucy is aware that guys don't like to be chased.  As much as they protest that it's the 21st century and they like the idea of equality, she has plenty of evidence that's not true.  Guys like girls who are a challenge.  Lucy thinks she was a challenge when Peter wasn't sure if he'd get to have sex with her.  But now he has, the attraction seems to be waning. 

Lucy does try her best to be unavailable and hard to get.  She's read all the advice that says that she should wait days before replying to messages, and be enigmatic and mysterious.  She knows what she's supposed to do.  The problem is, she's shit at it.  Lucy is prompt, efficient, and organised.  She doesn't do failing to reply to messages.   And she's a planner.  She likes to have her diary neatly organised in advance so she knows what she's doing in the week ahead.  If she waits too long to reply to Peter's messages, she won't know whether they're meeting up again or not.  And Lucy hates that.

The problem is, none of that is sexy. 

But Lucy is 38.  She doesn't give a fuck any more.  If a guy is going to be put off by her being herself, then so be it.  He wasn't worth it anyway.  So she ignores the advice about playing hard to get and tries to pin him down. 

Maybe one day she'll learn.  But not today.

Clever, thinks Lucy.  Makes me sound busy and in demand, and maybe now he'll actually pick a date.

But of course he doesn't.  So Lucy tells him she's moving to Brighton.  Surely that will make her seem hard to get and have him eating out of her hand?

It seems to have the desired effect.

She definitely does, but she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being too keen.  Not after he's been so sporadic with his texts.  So she replies, but plays it cool.  Surely now he'll come back with a suggested date?

But she should have noticed those seven exclamation marks - which more than ever seem to imply that what he really means is the exact opposite of what he's just said.  Days pass, and there is no word.

Any sensible girl would have given up long ago.  Lucy knows she should do the same.  But she can't. She starts making excuses.  Maybe he really is busy with work.  He does work long hours and have a stressful job.  And he did say she was 'mind-blowing' and that he wanted to 'ravish' her again.  Why would he say that if he didn't mean it?  So she tries one last time to get some clarity.

Lucy has no fucking clue about men.

Well at least he replied.  But for fuck's sake!  Why bother to write two texts making his excuses instead of answering the fucking question!

And there are those exclamation marks again...

Now he's forcing her to wait for a WhatsApp message.  But why not just send a text?  Lucy just doesn't get it, and annoyance boils up and spills over like the bubbles in a shaken can of coke.  She doesn't even like the guy all that much.  Bloody car salesman.

And yet even so, part of her still hopes that when he does message, he'll finally tell her when he's free to meet up.  If ever there were proof that treating 'em mean keeps 'em keen, right now Lucy is it.

But when the message finally arrives, hours later, she is still none the wiser.

Nine exclamation marks.  Clearly it's all over.

But Lucy's fine with it.  She could never be with someone who misuses punctuation so appallingly.

(UPDATE: turns out it wasn't all over.  To find out what happened next, click here)

Radio Ga Ga revisited (Part 2)

Lucy's had two dates with Peter, whom she met on Bumble.

(To catch up on the last one, click here).

Peter is attractive and a great kisser, but it's clear he's only interested in one thing.  Lucy feels she ought to be outraged by this, but it's been months since she last had sex and she's decided she needs to live a little while she's still on the right side of 40.

So when Peter invites himself over to her place on Sunday night, she accepts before she has a chance to change her mind.

Lucy's aware that the kids these days are shagging each other left, right and centre without giving it a second thought.  But having a man she's only had two dates with come round to her place is not something she's done before and she doesn't know what to expect.  So she does what any sane British woman would do: opens a bottle of prosecco to steady her nerves.  By the time Peter turns up, she's sunk several glasses.  It's definitely helped.

Lucy's afraid that the whole thing will feel very functional and transactional, but it's not that way at all.  In spite of her embarrassingly cheesy music taste she manages to find something socially acceptable and puts it on.  They sit on the sofa and chat, and Peter is polite, charming and full of compliments.  It's just like being on a 3rd date - except they're not being ripped off by London bar prices or crammed in, standing-room-only, with hundreds of other people.  So she relaxes, and when Peter kisses her, it doesn't feel awkward at all.

He starts taking off her clothes.   Lucy's wearing her second best underwear.  It's from Marks & Spencer's posh range and is green silk with flowers on.  She dithered for ages about which knickers and bra to wear and finally decided that her best set - which is red - might look too obvious.  Lucy never normally bothers to wear matching underwear and is delighted to have a chance to show it off.  But Peter barely even glances at her bra before it's on the floor.  She's peeved. What a waste.

In Lucy's relatively limited experience of sex, she's generally found that the first time with someone new is not all that good.  It normally only gets better with familiarity and practice.  But with Peter she's pleasantly surprised.   That great kissing technique turns out to be an indicator of other interesting skills.  Lucy decides she should definitely keep Peter around for as long as possible.

He has to get up at 4 am for work, so he doesn't stay.  Which means that not only does Lucy get to have sex (and not just any sex, good sex!) for the first time in more than 6 months - but she even gets a decent night's sleep afterwards.

She's pleased with herself.   She wonders if she might just be cut out for being a little bit slutty after all.  Better late than never, right?

(To find out what happened next, click here)

Radio Ga Ga revisited (Part 1)

It's late May, and a sunny bank holiday weekend is looming.  Because of the weather Lucy has epilated her legs and painted her toenails, so now she wants to put the pain and effort to good use.  She needs to find a date. 

She decides to message Peter, the radio guy.  They'd met up just once and he'd seemed keen, but then vanished.  (You can read the full story here).

Lucy wonders if Peter can be resurrected.  So she drops a casual text.

Lucy knows she should be pleased, but is actually rather annoyed.  He seems to have no clue how pissed off she was about him vanishing last time.  No apology, no contrition, nothing.  How bloody presumptuous.  But still, it looks like she might have a date, which is, after all, what she wanted.  Those smooth pins won't be wasted now.

So she hides her annoyance... at least as much as she can.

The promise of a snog is quite exciting.  And he was a good kisser.  

So they meet, and it goes well.  There is sunshine, and prosecco, and kissing, and some good chat - though Lucy still thinks Peter reminds her of a pushy car salesman.  As the date goes on he gets pushier - or rather, filthier - whispering suggestive comments in her ear and letting his hands wander considerably further than is appropriate for a Sunday afternoon in the middle of Chiswick surrounded by yummy mummies and daddies and their toddlers.

But the smug marrieds and their spawn can sod right off.  Lucy's enjoying it.  And although Peter leaves at 6 pm (he has to get up stupidly early for work), from his messages afterwards it seems he had quite a nice time too. 

Lucy is really not sure what to make of all this.  It's quite clear Peter is only after one thing.  Lucy feels she ought to be outraged and offended.   She's a nice young lady (well she still feels young, even if 38 might not quite count) and she should be treated with respect.  At the very least he ought to pretend to try to charm her, and offer to buy her dinner first. 

But Lucy hasn't had sex in months.  In fact, she's spent most of her life not having sex.  In her twenties she never had that slutty phase that she's heard girls are supposed to go through.  Now she's in her late 30s and according to articles in Cosmo and Marie Claire that means she's in her sexual prime.  She wouldn't want all that prime sexiness to go to waste.  And she certainly doesn't want to lie on her deathbed regretting not having had more bedroom action. 

So before she can bottle it, she tells him she's free the very next day.

The next morning Lucy is super nervous.  She tidies and cleans the flat from top to bottom.   Does the same to herself.   Wonders if Peter will be expecting food.  Do you need to cook dinner for someone when they've invited themselves round for sex, she wonders.

Hates herself for being 38 and still not knowing this stuff.

Wonders if Peter will be gentleman enough to bring a bottle of wine.  If he shows up without one, that would be bad.  She's not sure she should put out for a guy who would turn up at someone's house without a bottle.  His next text suggests the odds are not in her favour.

By the time Peter turns up - in a flash white Porsche - she's sunk the best part of a bottle of prosecco to steady her nerves and is a bit tipsy.   Happily, he's brought wine.  Thank fuck for that, thinks Lucy.  Now she's psyched herself up for this she didn't want to have to call it off.

Lucy is perplexed by the car.

Why did you drive?  she asks.  That means you won't be able to drink. 

She wonders if it's because he wanted to be able to make a quick getaway if necessary. 

Then she realises it might be because he'd been hoping to stay the night.  Tries to take her foot out of her mouth but it's too late. 

(To find out what happened next, click here)

Radio Ga Ga

Lucy discovers Peter on Bumble.  He has a great smile and an interesting job in radio.  Lucy is also happy to find that unlike at least half of the lazy fucks on the app, Peter has actually managed to find time in his busy and important life to write a few words about himself - and

what's more, they are all correctly spelled!  Clearly Peter is a cut above the rest.  Lucy wastes no time in arranging to meet him.

The would-be lovers meet on London's posh Chiswick High Road on a mild Saturday afternoon in March.  Lucy arrives first at the pub - which is rammed with sports fans watching a rugby game.  Oh shit, she thinks.  This'd better not be a sports date.

Peter calls. He's running late.  Lucy is actually quite impressed that he's bothered to phone rather than just text.  He's chatty, and by the time he arrives the ice has been well and truly broken.  Peter is equally horrified by the rugby fans and suggests they go to a different pub.  Good work, Peter.

In the pub conversation flows, though Peter has the manner of a car salesman, with a slightly pushy confidence that seems a bit false.  Lucy imagines that when he smiles, she'll see a sparkle flash from one of his very white teeth.  Still, he's entertaining, so Lucy has more wine. 

Peter seems quite taken with Lucy.  He repeatedly tells her she's gorgeous, and midway through the date he announces that he can't wait any longer to kiss her, and goes for it before she has a chance to react.  This has never happened before and she's rather taken aback.  Where is the nervous walk to the tube station?  What about the bit when you can't quite look the other person in the eye?  Surely you're supposed to wait to say goodbye, so you can have that are-we-aren't-we? moment where one goes for the cheek and the other goes for the lips?

Nope. None of that.  He just went for it. 

Immediately there is embarrassment.  Lucy doesn't know what to say.  Peter is mortified.  Lucy thinks that's rather sweet.  So she invites him to try again, and this time it's better, and less awkward.

Then Peter asks Lucy when he might get to have sex with her. 

For the second time, Lucy is speechless and blushes furiously.  For a 38-year-old woman she really ought to be a hell of a lot better about talking about this stuff.  But around boys she fancies and boys who fancy her she still behaves like a teenager.  

Lucy needs a slap.

The rest of the date goes well.  There is copious kissing (very good) at the bus stop, and Peter asks when he can see her again.  Lucy decides he's probably not Mr Right, but with a kissing technique like that, he can definitely be Mr Right Now.

Peter WhatsApps a few days later. 

There is silence.  Lucy wonders if Peter was texting as he crossed the road and got knocked over by a bus.

The next day, she tries again.  She needs to know if she should send a condolence card to Peter's mum.  It's two days before Peter finally replies.  But at least he's not dead.  Lucy is sure both he and his mum are pleased about that.

"Forgot to hit send"?  Lucy isn't quite sure she believes this.  Especially since he made the same excuse twice.   Bit suspicious.

She's also not at all convinced by a man who addresses her as 'hun'.  But he DOES seem keen, so she gives him the benefit of the doubt.   She tries some of her best flirting. 

Lucy is really not sure how she feels about being called 'horny'.  She's pretty sure that's not something someone else can judge about another person.  

Peter needs to go to charm school. 

The day of the date arrives, but things take a turn for the worse.

Lucy panics that Peter has gone off her because she rebuffed his clumsy flirting, and is disappointed that the date has been cancelled.  But mostly she is pissed off because she got up early and washed her hair specially and now she is all dressed up with nowhere to go.

For days there is silence.  Maybe the fever was something more serious.  Lucy googles Peter's name to see if his death has been reported.   Nothing.  So she messages him. 

It's starting to look as though the number of exclamation marks Peter uses is inversely proportional to the sincerity of his replies. 

He seems interested, but he won't be pinned down to a second date.  Lucy wonders what the fuck is with that - and whether bingeing on chocolate will help her figure it out.

Maybe the North Koreans have hacked WhatsApp and Peter genuinely isn't getting her messages.  Lucy wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, so she sends a message via the Bumble app.

Lucy is even more suspicious.   A man who claims not to know what ghosting is?  Twice.  But it's men that invented ghosting.  Lucy suspects Peter is protesting too much.   

Nevertheless, she resends her previous message, and Peter immediately responds.  

There's no reply.   Lucy has no fucking clue what the hell is going on, but even she can't keep flogging this dead horse any longer.  She pours herself a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and starts swiping for someone new. 

(To be find out what happened next, click here...)