Rather forlorn today. I’m fighting a monthly urge to clean and tidy everything within three hundred feet of myself, coupled with a deep seated impulse to growl at innocent passers by like an angry mongrel bitch while trying to gnaw my own foot off because it’s annoying me. I knew immediately when I woke it was going to be one of those Mondays. I could hear the water spinning off the tyres outside, dripping off the window frame and bubbling in the drain. I turned over and put my forehead against the warm, soft skin on the back of SbH’s neck, enjoying the sub-duvet denial of daylight. He murmured something sleepy and reached for my hand. “Ah,” I thought, “How sweet,” ...until I realised he was just trying to manoeuvre my digits into position around his customary early-morning erection.
Today I saw:
- A 90 year-old lady with stud heels, a pink Chinese umbrella allowing her haughty Chihuahua to piss on someone’s bicycle.
- A bald-headed man with a ‘coil’ comb-over like a cinnamon swirl
- A woman who I am 98% convinced had three buttocks
Having forced down the tepid, bitter washing-up-bowl brown excuse for a coffee I decided to have a peek inside SbH’s package. Peeling off the sticky tape and rummaging within I withdrew the first object and surveyed it disbelievingly. How thoughtful of him. And now, here I am in the middle of a busy freak-infested coffee shop proudly, if inadvertently, brandishing a purple double-ended dildo for all to see. Fantastic.
Three buttocks gave me a sideways glance so I hurriedly returned it to the box.
Think how disappointed he’ll be when I tell him what time of the month it is.