A tale of two boys

(NSFW and TMI warnings) (Real NSFW warnings) (If you’re just here for the inspirational weightloss stuff, skip to the end. Seriously.)

This time last year I was living in my house in Longford, with no idea where my life was going. I hadn’t been with a man in over a year and none of my big plans for living in my cottage had worked out. I was lost and unsure about a lot. I didn’t know where my life was going. In fact, it wasn’t going anywhere. How things have changed!

Man of Tuesday

After work on Tuesday it was time for my second date with my French man, the boy from the platform of Stratford Train Station. (You can read about him here and here.) I came straight from work and he was at the station waiting for me when I got there, looking adorable in a three-piece suit.

We got to my room and I closed my window, so it wouldn’t be quite as noisy for my flatmate as last time. I was so taken with his suit, that he insisted that I take it off him, rather than him taking it off himself.

What ensued was wonderful. I really like this boy. It’s rare that anyone is so invested in my pleasure. I’m used to viewing my purpose in the bedroom as being someone who’s there to make the other man happy. Some guys do try to make sure I’m enjoying myself. But this guy tries harder than anyone else ever has. It’s magic. He can make me feel crazy things and I find myself making noises with him that I don’t make with anyone else.

And it’s just so nice to be liked that much. After 36 years of being single, it’s very easy to think of yourself as someone who it’s not possible to like. My mindset is changing on that, but it’s a slow change.

And he’s lovely to talk to. Well, he’s weird. He is a little bit like a walking, talking sexy Filofax. He likes organisation and planning and diaries and schedules and terms and conditions. He’s on the rebound after the recent end of a long-term relationship and is seeing about six men at once.

But that’s not a problem. On our tightly scheduled meetings, he makes me feel very, very special. It was so good on Tuesday that I actually pulled a muscle.

He stretched me out and massaged me better.

We arranged to meet again on a Saturday evening, so we can have more time together. He asked if I’d like to have dinner first, but I decided that that would just reduce our bedroom time. He said that he’d make sure not to shave, as I’d enjoyed his stubble so much on our first encounter.

He really is very sweet.

Man of Sunday

Today it was time for my second date with my Newcastle man, who I’ve also written about before – here.

It had taken a while to organise this meeting. I’ve been very busy. And I was very nervous about him. I knew he was nice. On our date in the park, he’d been an absolute gentleman.

He lives miles away. Sunday mornings have been busy for me recently. I have to film my One Direction YouTube newscast and get my laundry done. His house is in the very south end of zone 3. I live in the north end of Zone 2. I got a bus and two Tubes and another bus and after an hour and forty minutes I was at his house.

His flat is amazing. It’s so big and so grown-up and I was full of envy. So, so full of envy. I have to admit that while he was kissing me, I was mainly thinking about how much I wanted to live somewhere like that.

It was simultaneously more civilised and less civilised than with my Frenchman. It was more civilised because we were in a beautiful home and he gave me a cup of tea before we got down to business. He’s a great guy. He’s literally been chasing after me for years. (He had contacted me on BiggerCity when he had a holiday in Ireland a few years ago.) He follows me on Instagram. It’s all a lot more grown-up and real than it is with the Frenchman.

But, it was also less civilised. We had to be relatively quick, because his boyfriend was finishing work at 2:30 and I couldn’t be there when he got home.

And also, there was the kink. I have to admit, I’ve been sending this guy very mixed signals, claiming that I didn’t want anything kinky, and then sending him all kinds of naughty filth when I’m in the mood. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know what I want. “What are you into?” is one of the most common questions I get asked on Grindr/Scruff/Growlr/Chasabl/Tinder/BiggerCity and I still really don’t have an answer.

Anyway, once we were upstairs in his and his boyfriend’s bed, he took a chance that today would be one of the days that I was into kink. I felt like Anastasia to his Christian Grey.

Readers, he had a whip.

As I was lying on my back, with his testicles in my mouth, while he used the thin strip of leather to whip my testicles and thighs, I lay there wondering whether I liked it. This isn’t unusual — a lot of sex is for me is me pondering “Do I like this?”

I’m still not sure.

Unlike with the Frenchman, we didn’t set a date for our next encounter. He took the condom out to the bins so his boyfriend wouldn’t find it. I got the bus home.

On the bus, I took out my phone to add him to my list. I’ve been with so many guys since I came to London that I’ve begun to forget their names, so I’ve started to keep a list on my phone.

WHO EVEN AM I ANY MORE? My life has changed so damn much.


After my week of men-who-love-men-to-be-fat, I’m a bit less fat again. I’ve been busy and it’s been the first week since I started this diet that I’ve felt sticking to my calories was a challenge, but not a big challenge. I promised last week to drink less Diet Coke and more water, and that has being going OK. The gym’s been great. I’m now hopping on unfamiliar machines “just to try them out”. As above “WHO EVEN AM I ANY MORE?” I was buying a t-shirt to work out in this afternoon and the 5XL was too big for me! Imagine! I bought a 4XL. Smugly.

I wasn’t expecting a great weigh-in. I just wanted to lose one pound, so I’d be at the two stone lost mark. Instead, I lost 4 pounds this week. That’s 31 pounds down in a month. Boom!



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