So before i upload the last installment of the 'f's, i am going to write a little update of my life. With a little bit of help early on last week, I added myself to a dating website. I know, I know...what was I thinking???!!! But after giving it a little thought I came to the conclusion that this was not a completely bad idea...when am I ever going to meet anyone otherwise? I mean yes I do have to fish through all of the weirdos and delete all the highly endearing messages that open with 'hey babe' etc (euuugh, whhhy??) As well as this, I think I have persuaded Mark that going speed dating is a good idea...I have now received numerous emails about this...so maybe one day soon I will embark on this adventure.
In the meantime, I have been on a whole 2 dates! amazing, admitedly they are with the same person, but that is better than nothing - i mean, I very much doubt him to the the 'love of my life', but at least it is a good starting point :)

umm so yes I do believe that is all, must go and be productive now before returning to work, booo! x

‘F’ number 5:

‘Fuck’. Well, there we have it. I think I prefer to call it ‘sex’, but obviously that would not start with an ‘f’ and then we would have all sorts of problems. So ‘fuck’ it is. Everyone gets to an age in life when they realise (or have been told) that their friends have ‘done it’ or are planning on ‘doing it’, and you hope against hope that you will not be the last lone individual who will be destined to remain forever untouched and inexperienced and live with a house full of flea ridden cats, in a virginal zone of misery. Instead, you pray someone will want to remove that stigma from you, and fast, before there is no-one left to take it. Thankfully this did happen to me, eventually, at the modest age of eighteen. Man 1 was my very first and to my surprise I was told, some years later, that I was his first as well, which now I think about it, is not so much of a surprise considering the acts of poking and prodding and all else that went on at the time.

I remember going to his house, half hoping that this would be the day but also dreading the fact that THIS WOULD BE THE DAY. I said hello to a family member or two and we headed off upstairs for a ‘chat’ and to ‘listen to music’. I vividly remember The Calling being picked as the album of choice and then ‘F’s 2 to 4 preceded to be introduced to our ‘chat’ until we ended up on the bed. Now, this is where my memory fails me. I cannot seem to remember whether this bed was a bunk bed or just a single bed which looked a bit strange. Either way, it was a bed made for a child and I remember thinking that really we should not be doing such things in a bed made for a child, but I also had more pressing matters on my mind which took precedence over this issue. I was asked ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ and I must have mumbled some sort of response which correlated to the word ‘yes’. I did not really have time to think about this answer, The Calling were playing in the background, Man 1 was practically lying on top of me (condom in hand, no-one can say he was not prepared), my clothes were largely askew and he was certainly in the mood for more. So it happened, if a little erratically, it certainly happened. Parts of the male anatomy had to moved into place and with the look of utter agony on my face it was certainly easy to see that I had not ventured this far ever before. I don’t remember it lasting very long but the first thing I thought of after the ‘deed was done’ was how I was going to relay this incident to friends via text message. I did not regret what happened; I never will regret what happened. Everyone has a first time and I’m very glad he was my first time. We did repeat this event during the following months before we went our separate ways, not too often though, as my lasting memory of ‘fucking’ with Man 1 is the pain I was in during and afterwards and the other ‘F’s always proved to be just as good.

Man 2. Well, again, it is very hard to put a finger on when our first time was. We go back to that time in May where all sorts of things happened. This was certainly our first real night together without other people getting involved or being around us and getting in the way. He knew what to do. This always struck me in all that we did together, the way he could say what was good and what was bad and knew all sorts of things which at the time I was very clueless about. In my opinion we did ‘fuck’, but we also ‘had sex’, ‘made love’…all of these things I did for the first time with him. With Man 1 and our joint experience of, well, nothing, we never ventured further than the limited excitement of missionary, but with Man 2 I think I have tried pretty much everything going, except any weird acrobatics. In fact it never really hurt with Man 2. I think that is the problem with being Man 1, he will always be associated with pain and pointless fondling which meant absolutely nothing. What I can say about Man 1, however was that at least we were adventurous with our choices of location. Man 2 and myself rarely stepped foot off the bed and then, when we did, we largely secluded our ‘fucking’ (I must be blunt) to the confines of the house.   

So, that was ‘fuck’. I think I will leave that there as I’m getting into the realms of the unnecessary and the potentially sordid, although bondage was never on my to-do list.

Well, we are almost at the end. One more ‘F’ to encounter, a situation that once you find ‘the one’, this 6^th ‘F’ will hopefully be made redundant but until then you do have to put up with it…

‘F’ number 4:

Fingering. My, my. If that doesn’t’ conjure up all sorts of
dodgy pornographic scenes in various individual’s minds, I don’t know what
would. But here goes nothing…I suppose the moment in the field with Man 1 could
be classed as a mild fingering of sorts but as time went by we became more
adventurous and hand motions gradually became second nature. A particular
event, where fingering did not go unnoticed, was the evening on the cliff face.
As I say, we were adventurous and had decided to go for a ‘walk’, which by this
time in our ‘relationship’ had come to mean more than merely a stroll along the
road, but I guess was more of a booty call. We had been wandering along the
cliff path when we came across a badger sized mud track which ran down onto the
edge of the cliff, where there was a small clearing of grass, stones and
several boulders. Well, I’m fairly sure you can guess what came next. I think
that these were my most audacious relationship moments (you can tell I was
‘young’), but I do want them again. I want to re-experience that feeling of
excitement when absolutely anything could happen, when you are lying on your
back on the edge of a cliff, jeans all in a twist, wind blowing at your face,
hands fondling and (dare I say it) fingering you in places that have never been
prone to poking. I was regularly shocked by these experiences; cliff faces,
beach, rocks etc. and when I look back on it, I wish I had been more
knowledgeable about what on earth I was doing, or what I was meant to be doing
in return. Thinking about it now is almost cringe worthy, realising that I must
have looked like a lost little girl who randomly ended up on a beach with a guy
who expected something in return for his, well um…finger.
Anyway, there was also Man 2 with whom my first experience
of ‘fingering’ is surprisingly proving very hard to remember. There was the
Easter Break where we did a lot of walking, a lot of talking and a lot of
flirting until we were forced upon each other by our respective friends and spent
the rest of this exciting evening largely in each others mouths (in the nicest
sense), until we came home and stayed at mine, cuddled up on the living room
floor. I’m sure a few fingers broke lose on that evening and if not then, I’m
positive that come May and my imminent return from University, I was exposed to
some rather adult experiences from Man 2. We stayed together in my half hearted
excuse for a bed in the halls of residence, not getting an awful lot of sleep
but having a lovely time. Fingers exploring all sorts of orifices; but in a
good way, it’s not like we were making videos. Experimenting with different
things and different ‘moves’, not just the different ways of fitting two people
into a single bed. I have a feeling that by May I was more aware of what to
expect from a person’s hands, which suggests that we must have had similar
moments leading up to this point but I guess these were just not as memorable!

F number four was certainly more pleasing with Man 2, who
evidently had a lot more familiarity with this sort of thing. Up until then I
had really only experienced this sort of thing with a boy who knew not what he
was doing and a relatively unknown individual who I had gone home with on a
drunken night out at university. Man 2 and I had many hand related occurrences,
I don’t think I can really remember any bad times; Man 1 was obviously the
practice run.

So, here goes nothing. The part of the ‘story’ I have been
dreading, opening up my little story-telling heart to tell the tale of F number
5….

so, bad day for me however due to me deciding to pull my life together a bit, i will not go into this and will leave all life issues in my mind.
in other news i am about to eat my second lasagne (not a whole one mind) in two days....good job i quite like lasagne!
I went to legs bums and tums...always reminds me of my mother going to keep fit classes when i was little and reminds me that i have little sense of rhythm when i comes to moving both legs and arms at the same time! anyways, i will now add f number 4... xx

F number 3:

Feel. This ‘F’ seems to encompass many situations. I
remember one particular incident with Man 2, during our Easter escapades when he
merely held my hand for the first time and I suddenly realised that a person
could fall in love right there, on the spot without so much as a warning. I
still get shivers down my spine remembering that first touch, a touch which
meant something and left a smile on my face that not even a nuclear disaster
could wipe away. However, I do not think the ‘F’ scale is all about holding
hands, I presume the third ‘F’ is largely more sordid and adult-like.
To feel somebody; meaning to feel somebody in places that
not many other people have been allowed to venture near. To feel somebody
underneath their clothes; this is what my 18 year old self wanted to do, this
is what my 18 year self believed would grant me entry into adulthood, and
eventually that time came. I could no longer put off what was inevitable.
Man 1 and I had gone over the second F again and again, it
was obviously and inevitably going to lead to something more. One evening,
after an afternoon of cider drinking and manic dancing, we ended up going off
together on our long walk home. This itself filled me with feelings of anxiety
but also excitement and anticipation with the realisation that this was
potentially going to be my first adult experience. The night was dark. In fact
it was very dark and by the time we got to the darkest field in the history of
man and a tongue was unexpectedly flung down my throat my anxieties were
realised…this was going to be an ADULT experience. I had been drinking, I was
alone (except for the obvious) and I had no idea what I was meant to be doing.
For all I knew I could have been taken advantage of! Anyway, like I say, my
mouth was starting to dry up due to slightly aggressive tongue waggling and I
was about to suggest we walk on further, when I was pulled in closer and suddenly
was faced with an abundance of hands venturing in all directions underneath my
clothes. They were going everywhere, and without my say so, yet in my moment of
complete and utter panic I remembered that, at times like these, such actions
should probably be reciprocated. My first moment of feeling the male anatomy
was probably far more peculiar than arousing and whilst I naively fondled his
manly areas at the same time as being poked at in the dark, I came to the
conclusion that this was not exactly my idea of a ‘good time’. But, it was my
first time. I was not frigid, I was not a freak, I could turn someone one.
Unfortunately for him I grew bored of this bizarre experience rather quickly,
wanting only to get home and relay this moment to my closest friends. So I left
him wanting more (so to speak), without too much realisation about what just
happened.
Such experiences did grow more frequent and perhaps not
quite as frustrating for Man 1, but I was still naïve and, to be perfectly
honest, so was he. Man 2 however became quite a different story. The first
three ‘F’s actually all occurred for the first time on that same fateful evening
of New Year. The specific act of ‘feeling’ happened whilst in bed that night
when wandering hands made their way across the top half of my body and then
slowly up my thighs. Having had quite a lot to drink, it took all of my effort
to grab the hands and push them back towards their rightful owner…once again I
had managed to leave a man in a state of tension, I was obviously cut out to be
a bit of a bitch!
But moving on…feeling is fun, once you know what you are
doing. It actually remained to be one of my favourite things; that whole
lingering and wanting but not quite getting have been some of my best
relationship moments, which I actually appreciate much more than the following
‘F’s. Maybe that is strange, maybe I’m odd, but these few pages of words are
meant to be about me describing what I want, doing what I want and being who I
am, so I do not care about my innocence in believing that the first few ‘F’s
are the best, that is just me. Just me.

Well, before I start a rant…the next ‘F’. I’m not exactly
sure how I will go about explaining this ‘F’ to you because (as you can
probably guess), these sections are steadily growing more scandalous and
although I do not wish for this writing to become a relationship guide, I would
also prefer for it not to become erotica either (although I may prefer the
latter). But here I go, to follow ‘feeling’ (and maybe the odd bit of fondling)…

well i decided that this would be a good time for confessional number three. However, before i delve into that there are a few events that have occured which i believe are entertaining enough to be blogged...

firstly went to gym today and then joined my mother for a swim in the pool. after a while we decide to get out to use the sauna, there were two girls in there with a mother or family member or similar which is fine - my mother liked to make small talk with this other mother and all was well in the world of allowing my mother to talk. However, after they got out a young man got in. Im assuming he was in his twenties, he was not offensive to the eye - although his accent had a slight bristolian twang - he was generally rather pleasant. Hang on there a moment...his accent you say??? yes his accent, my mother decides she must also make conversation with the nice young man...I have no hope in life.

anyway, that is one little story for this tuesday afternoon.
Secondly, my mother's friend deb. Well, if we think my mother a tad on the oddside then well (my mother who is currently singing mozarts requiem along to youtube...???!), anyways... deb has a son called josh. josh is currently in mexico (so far so good), he is in mexico with a 40 year old high priestest druid - certainly not your usual holiday partner of choice. Apparently there is "no sexual activity between them" - mother, this is not what i want to be discussing in front of the nice young man!

well, they are the stories...i will now move on to the real point as to why i am on here!

x

and so i am here again, with my heartfelt message of the day. I am deciding whether or not to venture outside as it does look quite warm but the wind is ummm 'windy'. I do think i need a bit of fresh air in my life, maybe i will open the window, and leave you to disect installment number 2:


F number 2:

The second F is not, as I first thought, Flirt (which, I
must add, I was rather good at in my youth). Flirting is something I now need
to get back into. Something that I should practice once again. It is something,
I discovered, that gets lost along with moments of unadulterated passion,
feelings of pure pleasure and moments of spontaneous ecstasy, when a relationship
starts to fall into the category of the inexplicitly boring and monotonous. Now,
I’m not one to say that my relationship experience has been boring; I’m merely
hinting that it was becoming predictable. Some people may think it is ‘cute’,
to put aside every Tuesday evening for a half hour slot of missionary, before
rolling over and getting on with ‘watching that TV programme, you know, that
one about houses’. However, somewhere along the line the odd flirtatious
comments, those which create a slight pink colour in a person’s cheeks can be
quite beautiful. But I digress.

F number 2: French. This term is referring to the kissing
formation of tongues and head gripping, and more tongues etc etc. I suppose
most of the time such an event will only occur following a small flirtatious
pursuit, unless of course one is in a club and has drunk 10 pints. My
experience of ‘French’ is rather endless. During my first year of University it
became quite a habit of mine to kiss as many living and breathing males as possible
within the space of one night, I’m sure you can guess ‘finding’ was quite
short-lived and I must add the following F’s disappeared without too much
thought.
As I have previously stated, I did not need a ‘real’ boyfriend to practice this particular
‘F’, yet it always feels so much better, when your face is being sucked off and
your tonsils are reverberating, to know that this man could potentially be the
love of your life. Man 1 and I would revisit this F quite regularly. This sort
of action could actually take place in a public setting, albeit with a few
hollers and the odd ‘get a room’, so we made the most of it.
I also made the most of it with Man 2. After the New Year’s Eve experience, things between me and Man 2 began to get more heated and he was definitely experienced in the
French area of life. Come Easter, I was enjoying more and more moments of
passionate kissing and was beginning to wonder whether I had been missing out
on something during my pursuit of Man 1. I must remember to add here that
things between me and Man 1 had fizzled out by this point; I do not wish to be
referred to as a wanton philanderer. Overly, this was one of the best times of
my teenage life. The constant feeling of being wanted and the knowledge of
desperately wanting this yourself was enough to put me in a state utter bliss
for most of my time. On the other hand, there were also the days when I was
often told that this could never work and it was during these times that I
moped and pondered, utterly confused as to what was going on. Unfortunately for
me, Man 1 and 2 were (and still are) rather close friends…trust me to make this
far more complicated than it ever should have been. But, as I say, ‘French’ was
fabulous. Who knew those Europeans could create something so orgasmicaly
wonderful?!
Already I miss these moments. I’ve become slightly desperate
in my need to feel the force of infatuation engulf my longing lips, but
hopefully, this will soon be rectified. I am determined to rediscover my
ability to entice a man into wanting to kiss me within an inch of my life. But,
I must remember, at the age of 24 I am in no hurry to find ‘Mr Right’, I am
ready and free to explore many of the fish in the big, old, mighty ocean.

Very often in the moments of
‘French’, I found myself being drawn into the wily ways of ‘F’ number 3. During
a few of these moments, particularly with Man 1, I clammed up, got scared and
very quickly withdrew any wandering hands ensuring that, for quite some time, I
did not have to venture down the dark and dangerous road to true
adulthood…despite my previous desire to get there as soon as possible…



number three will be on its way soon...you can probably guess where this is going, do feel free to stop reading as soon as any of this becomes a tad x rated!

x

the first ideas...

so here i am... a little on the tipsy side (which im sure is not new...) i have decided to share with you the '6 f's', which im hoping will be at the very least amusing if nothing else... this is my story of the moment...an epic if you ask me:



The Six F’s


Before I start to write what could go on to become a
‘best-seller’, I thought I should type a small introductory of my life as it
stands and a brief note of where ‘The Six F’s’ came from; for those who don’t
know.
I am currently a 24 year old ‘girl’ (no-one likes the term ‘woman’)
who has spent the last 6 years chasing after a man. Following on and off
relationships, love, sex and arguments, the man breaks my heart for the
hundredth time and I finally, after a lot of thought and tears and ‘the world
is against me’ wine evenings, decide to take my life by the horns (ooer) and
sit up, grow up and begin all over again. Despite being only 24, the last few
years have pressed me to think about house buying, marriage and even babies.
This is not the time for ‘settling down’, this is the time to be alive and
kicking – I will not crumble into an incomprehensible state of a human being
anymore (unless absolutely plastered and doing an Ozzy Osbourne impersonation),
I will ignore the pangs of despair and the feeling of failure and the belief
that I am ‘over the hill’, beyond the ability to find a suitable man/ future husband,
and I will grow into a person much more ‘me’ than the person I have recently
become.

The last couple of days have got me thinking, what has
happened to me over these years, and more importantly, where the hell have my
friends gone? Suddenly everyone is happily coupled up - long term partners,
engagements – and for what? We are young but all of sudden everyone seems so
concerned about growing up. And I was one of them. I was worried that time was
creeping up on me from around the corner and something had to be done to stop
it – coupledom, marriage, babies – bloody hell. However, I am no fool. I will
get over this and in the mean time I will write about the ‘Six F’s’, a phrase
that used to have such a significant place in my life before I reached the ripe
old age of 20, but was lost with the development of ‘grown up’ relationships,
dinner with couples and reading in bed with your boyfriend. It is now time to
get my life back on track, so here it is; I present it all to you…

The Six F’s

I would hate for this to be referred to as a guide to a
relationship, as it most definitely is not that. The Six F’s are so much more
than merely what happens during the coming together of man and woman and the
whole relationship cycle. They are, in fact, comical, humorous, a light-hearted
way to view the term ‘relationship’, which oddly enough does not contain the
letter ‘F’ whatsoever – it just goes to show that girl on boy relations can be
had without all that extra baggage…
The Six F’s are something I should have wanted to experience
again and again, they encompass that feeling you get when your stomach is all
churned up and you feel like a child waiting for Christmas and they should not
be cast aside after just ‘round two’. This is what I am searching for; this
will push me back to normalcy and prevent me from doing something ridiculous,
such as becoming pregnant, in order to beat my body clock…

F number 1:

The first ‘F’ on the list is ‘Find’. In order for the fun to
start you have to find a man to have the fun with. I spent a long time
‘finding’ my first real boyfriend (when I say real, I mean it wasn’t merely the
holding of hands, a quick kiss with tongues, and a stunted conversation),
someone I actually cared about, someone who I progressed with through the ‘Six
F’s’ without too much hassle and hardly any veering from the rules. By the time
I was 18 I was still without a boyfriend, and still without sex. To me, this
was verging on a small disaster (my fear of getting old had already started to
set in). I was clinging onto the edge of reality, whilst my feet dangled into
the tomb of a mini life-crisis. But thankfully Man 1 came along and was found really
without too much trouble; through the friend of a friend of a friend. I
remember that first night after initial finding as though it were yesterday. I
was so excited, so full of happiness that I was not going to become the little
old lady with a house full of cats who had never been kissed. I had been
kissed. My stomach had flipped with the excitement, my mouth was sore at the
edges from an overly keen tongue and my back was developing a large bruise
where I had accidently fallen onto a snooker cue in my first true moment of
delightful passion. He had been found. Like a long lost pair of favourite
underwear, which had got caught between drawers several years earlier and had
finally been released from its entrapment– the sense of relief was unbelievable.
Unfortunately at the same time as finding Man 1, I had also developed a liking
for Man 2 - shit. They were like a bloody bus. However in my new found state of
passionate ecstasy, and during the incident with the snooker cue, my feelings
for Man 2 were overridden and Man 1 won by (be it a fairly short) mile.
However, like I say, Man 2 was also ‘found’. He was always
there. Teetering on the verges of my life and gradually, gradually he enticed
me like a black widow, into his grasp…ok, ok, I may be overemphasising his
snake-like dexterity and fox-like cunning. But he was there. And I always
wanted him.

6 months later, my thoughts remained the same. Man 2 was
still there and Man 1 was on holiday…this was my chance. After a large
selection of alcoholic beverages, several games where drinking heavily seemed
to be the key rule and a small sing-song to welcome in the New Year, I finally
got around to properly ‘finding’ Man 2. It was brilliant, fantastic, my stomach
was churning and I came over all dizzy and this was not just because of my
excessive alcohol consumption. He was found. Life was beautiful. But Man 1 was
returning and he was returning soon, and this could not work. I was soon pushed
aside by Man 2. He was already telling me this could not work and we were not
yet even on to F number 2. Little did I know that 3 years down the line he
would have done this again and again and again and still I kept pursuing. The
‘F’s’ had become unstuck…I was sleeping with a man who I liked, I was chasing a
man who didn’t really want me, and I had to fairly quickly work my way through
the remaining F’s in order to get what I wanted. And so I continue…



(but that will be installment number 2...) xxx