Living with the bear child

My strangest relationship is very recent.  This guy is a great businessman working for a world beating chemical company.   So presumably, at work, in meetings, when travelling abroad etc he follows the general rules of conduct in that he acts in a relatively normal way.  This goes out of the window when he’s with me and presumably when he was with his wife who died some years back or past girlfriends.  He likes to refer to himself in the third person.  As a bear no less!  “The bear likes this”, “don’t ask me I’m just a bear”.  He likes to say one particularly word with great frequency – “Baboooooo”  Yep, with the drawn out oooooo.  This will be said pretty much constantly at times. 

He is a consumate farter.  I’ve never met anyone who enjoys breaking wind quite as much as this guy does.  He can’t just let one go from time to time.  He embraces the whole experience to the point of orchestrating the expulsion of air.  He likes to build up to a crescendo.  Fortunately, they are generally of the non smelling variety but when they do smell it lingers like some vicious air pollution, hovering just at nose level.  It seems to stay for hours and no amount of Febreze or other air fresheners will counteract the noxious fumes. 

He’s prone to not washing or cleaning his teeth enough, but does have the saving grace of being quite interesting and with a good sense of humour.  However, his strangeness doesn’t end there.  He informed me several weeks into the relationship that he owned a pair of great men’s boots!  Cool I thought as generally I only ever seem him slobbing around in a polo shirt and track suit bottoms.  Five minutes later after informing me about the boots he came into the bedroom wearing them.  Nothing else, just the boots.  The boots were knee high stiletto’s.  Really thin stilettos too!  Now we all know that men fart.  Women do to although probably not as much as men.  But men in stiletto’s!  Now I was getting scared.  What type of new boyfriend did I have here?  To make things worse he also told me about being fellated by a pre op transexual.  ‘Apparently’ at the time he didn’t know the she male was a bloke.  When he was informed of this he decided that the blow job was too good to waste (he being on the receiving end) so he allowed the she-male to  just carry on.  Warning bells were now going off in my head with the same intensity as Westminster Abbey during the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. 

Do I have an unerring ability to pick odd balls?  Or are most men just a bit weird? 

Did I mention his smelly feet yet?  How can anyone have feet that smell so much that even the owner of said feet find them a bit disgusting yet not want to do anything about it?   I recommended amputation but that didn’t appeal to him.  My second suggestion was to see a chiropodist but that fell on deaf ears as well.  He seems to have formed an attachment to rank, stinking bishop cheese feet.  Sadly, he seems to expect his girlfriends to accept living with a man who smells as if he is walking about with his feet firmly implanted in wheels of gorgonzola that had been left out in the sun a bit too long.  It’s all a bit off putting don’t you think girls?


how to blog!

The Blog

After moving from New York City to Chicago and getting married, Rachel Bertsche realized that her new life was missing one crucially important thing: a local best friend. So she decided to go on one friend date every week for a year, and she documented her quest on a blog at

But before Rachel even started the blog, the 27-year-old writer put together a book proposal based on her search for a local BFF, and successfully pitched it to agents, and then editors. She says, “After I sold the proposal, I decided to start a blog so that I could have a place to document my journey and some of the research I was finding. I also wanted to start building a community and to engage with readers.”

It’s now been over two years since Rachel first launched So did she accomplish her blogging goals?…

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Is it still there?

Is it still there?

Men and their trousers. Are there any men who don’t spend most of the day rummaging around their trousers. They take a particualar delight in playing inside their undercrackers searching for little johnny, or lost treasure. Yep I can get that it must be nice to have something soft and furry to play with. But that’s why I’ve got a cat. I don’t feel the need, in fact I’ve never met a women who felt the need, to constantly check that her vagina is still in situ and somehow or other hasn’t vanished in a cloud of smoke or been stolen in the night by one of the Borrowers to be used as a indoor water feature or bog garden. Men’s willys have little interest to any Borrowers who may be hiding under the stairs as they would make for very smelly pillows and it would be more comfortable to lounge around on a space hopper than some of the misshapen dicks that wander the earth.
No matter what age men are they have no inhibitions when it comes to scratching, fondling and fidgeting with or re-adjusting their manhood. If these appendages were a humungous size I could understand it. But to be honest as most willy’s are about 3″ when they are soft and the two testicles are about the size of a couple of walnuts, I can’t see what the problem is.
Guys… if you want to play with your dick please do it in private. Do us girls really want to hold your hand after it’s been down there! No we don’t.

Jim the Aussie

Jim the Aussie

Ahhhh Jim what can I say? A sharp executive earning shedloads of money none of which was ever spent on me ! Married but getting divorced. Kid in tow. Great hands on committed dad. Unfortunately when it came to women his attitude was ‘it’s all about the dick’. Hence he didn’t know that his tongue could be used for something other than talking and eating.
we had lots of chats about being together when his divorce was over and then suddenly he went off the radar only to reappear with the information that his divorce was through and he was now living with another woman who he also wanted to get rid of! Apparently she had an annoying kid and his kid hated him. Whatever! He wanted to start seeing me again but secretly. He didn’t want his family or kid to find out. Yeah I know. what he wanted was just a fuck buddy. Thankfully, I had my full senses about me and i said thanks but no thanks. Some residual pride was still hanging around at that point.
I’ve been told several times that Australian men are chauvenistic and selfish. having only ever met one I can’t really comment but if it is true then Jim was certainly carrying the flag for Australia on that issue. He actually sent me a text once wanting to make a bet with me. The bet was that if Australia beat Wales at rugby then I’d give him a blow job! laugh??? i thought my pants would never dry out! Giving that Wales weren’t playing particularly well at that time I thought it was probably not a good bet. I’m sure he was fairly positive that he would never have to do the ‘honours’ to me. Never having shown any interest in that area of sexual shenanigans he probably thought he was pretty much going to be guaranteed a good time. Again, I dug deep and said ummmm NO! THRICE NO!
Apparently he has now managed to get the rebound lady and annoying brat out of his life again and is rooting around for some company. No doubt he’ll find it.
jim was probably one of the least tactile people I’ve ever met. Never occurs to him to hold hands or hug you. I think both his ex wives left him due to neglect. Not because he had a brilliant job that took him all over the world and gave him a phenomenal income. I just think that on his return he showed no sign of actually having missed them at all.
I remember one rather interesting thing happened whilst we were actually having sex. There we were all sweating and getting ‘jiggy wit it’ and his phone rang. he picked it up and started having a business conversation. My ego like his dick deflated pretty rapidly.
I’ve heard of girls showing the same inconsideration though. My guy i knew told me how once, when he was banging away at this girlfriend of his, she reached over to the bedside table, picked up a bag of crisps and started crunching on the cheese and onions while he was trying to go for gold! The smell alone was enough to put him off his stride. The girls mistake was to choose cheese and onion. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so put off if it had been just plain crisps or a prawn cracker.

Men are Weird

Men – WTF are they about?

Well it’s come to this! I am now so amazed at the various weird but not wonderful relationships I’ve had that I’ve decided to Blog them all. Feel free to ad your twopence worth! Chats with my daughter lead me to believe that it’s across a huge age range that men have ‘issues’. Sexual disfunction of some sort of other seems pretty common as does the believe that sex ‘their’ way is the norm when actually its kinda sooooooooo not the norm. Well at least not in the way us girls would like it. We’ve all read or heard about the Women are from Venus and Men are from Mars book. It’s just got to be true! Guys are all seriously fucked up.
Boyfriend number one after separation from husband. Max – a south african guy. Turned out to be a bit of a gold digger – not that I have any gold but you get my drift. Moved in with me only to tell me two days later that he actually didn’t have a job, shouldn’t have been in the country and wasn’t entitled to any benefits! Day 3 he crashed his car whilst drunk. Was arrested by the police, refused to do a urine sample and got detained courtesy of Her Majesty’s prison service! He failed to pick up the stuff at my house so I threatened to bin it all. Three weeks later he still hadn’t collected it all so it got dumped in the local marina. I used his own personalised bowling balls to weigh down all his belongings. The kerplunk as it all went into the oily waters was very satisfying. Who on earth has their own personalised bowling balls! what a loser. He could also snore for the olympics – cliche I know but my goodness. It was like being next to a jet aircraft on take-off every night. Good riddance number one.

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