Pre-date: The Hairdresser

It is exactly 36 days since I last had sex. As a sex blogger by night, normal civilian by day – this makes things hard. My black book has lost pages I kept reading and turning the corner over on and circling key words; now the cover has torn off. I’ve had some very odd experiences recently: being stood up, ghosted and let down are only supposed to happen when you are dating. This is just fucking, isn’t it? I have even turned down sex, blanked a fuck buddy and had a man in my house who I’ve slept with many times hugging me. I could easily have put my fingers in his mouth or on his belt and things would have turned out differently.

But here I am, in an hour and a half I’m meeting a new one. We’ve had a stilted conversation on the phone and have arranged to get a coffee together. I haven’t planned what to wear but I found myself on the bus feeling horny for the first time in forever, and in the swimming pool touching myself. I am craving a mouth on my pussy, fingers and tongue all over my body. But I’m nervous. A new lover is delicious, but I’m tired of new lovers. Regularity is horny. The expectation, the build-up is everything. Wish me luck.