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January the 23rd 2014


I was doing some chores the other day when I noticed several guys following me on the street. Firstly it was this guy who followed me in a local business where I had to join the queue hence having enough time to meditate on the psychology of a ‘opportunist street follower’ and what tactic I should follow to easily get rid of him. Of course, following the usual routine of walking fast I managed to escape him in order to notice at a traffic light another guy who was trying not only to follow the same pattern as me but to make eye contact. I was thinking: ‘blimey, look at you, a guy in the mid-late ‘20s with nothing else to do in the middle of the day than to follow a woman on the street as if, what? We have nothing in common!’ Sweating from my rapid walk I popped in a pharmacy to buy the super now expensive Euthymol toothpaste when I had to remove the bolero I had underneath my thin cashmere coat on top of the sleeveless dress, proof that I was sweating too much hence my heart beat must have reached very light levels. But as soon as I was back in the cold I noticed another guy, from the same background as the previous two guys, shouting loudly in his language at another guy on the phone and following me in the myriad of little streets I knew like the back of my hand for so many years. He was struggling to keep up with me when eventually he jumped into a car waiting for him, so I hoped these Sherlocks would give me a break and understand that not women are that easy or prone to their charms……

But all this chase made me meditate on the recent guys, all decent, top professionals that were doing the same kind of chase but at a different level, or the other end of the spectrum as one would say. The end of last year I finally saw the end of the harassment I kept receiving for quite some time from some guys who would not take no for an answer. What they all had in common was the fact they all came from a military career with the exception of a guy I only met once. To my surprise though in December he sent me a message saying briefly: ‘hello’. Remembering our meeting when I really fancied him with his gorgeous looks and I can honestly say he is one of the most gorgeous man I have ever seen but having not heard from him, apart from seeing him in my neighbourhood, which was completely out of his way, plus following me from the distance, I assumed he only did it to convince himself that he does not fancy me. I let him be and only recently I have learned via the social media sites that he has been involved on and off with a doctor from a background which I could have predicted is going to create some problems for him. But on our earlier meeting he said he has been involved before with a secretary of Latin origin and he also got burned. ‘Ah, you like getting burned’ I assumed. After all, we all know that some men like getting burned and they simply fall for the first woman who manages somehow to fiddle her way into his bed. Since this has never been my way, I got used to always think: ‘easy ways for easy people’. But why on earth this guy, ‘THE GOOD’ wanted now to get in touch with me? As I said, remembering how much I fancied him, yet how easily I can get depressed over a guy like him, I chose to ignore his message. One man once told me: ‘if a man fancies a woman he will move mountains for her’. If this guy really fancied me, he will find a way to get in touch with me once again.

At the same time, I met a guy for a quiet drink and I liked that he was very tall, well dressed, well spoken and had a certain style about him. He offered to take me home and I quickly pointed to him that I cannot invite him in. We kept in touch though and he kept sending me messages from his skiing trip in the Alps early January. Then we met again in January and exchanged ideas over another drink followed by his insistence to take me home once again. Probably he got annoyed when, again, I pointed that he cannot come in but after all why should I have done that? Is having a drink bought by a man a free passage to a woman’s place and instant shag? He kept saying that he is separated but we all know what that means: a flat in central London where he works Monday to Thursday then off back north where the family ignorantly awaits for him to arrive and indulge in his huge City salary, because he is worth it……. due to his contacts. I have not heard from this ‘BAD’ man, well not that he was bad as such, but he just thought that he would groom me into getting into my knickers. Because I cannot think of any other reason, what he would have liked to do at my place: have a cup of tea? Hmmmmmmm

THE UGLY, yes he was ugly or simply not hit with the ‘gorgeous gene’. But he had plenty of style and I could see that in the split of a second when I passed in front of the restaurant where he was waiting for me. I was simply looking for a cash point to put some money in my empty wallet when he came running after me in the street, maybe thinking I did not fancy him and I will do a disappearing act. I am too straight forward to do these kind of things and after accepting to have a cocktail he quickly asked me to go to the table he booked in this very posh Kensington restaurant. He was tall, very slim, extremely well dressed and very confident despite his older age and lacking the good looks. But I guess the birds falling for him who simply wanted his money managed to build up this confidence and present himself as the ‘desired man’. I really dislike that: an ugly man is an ugly man. You might oversee that if he smiles a lot or makes you laugh but to be pompous at the same time and keep repeating the number of cars in his courtyard or how his poor daughter keeps telling him: ‘dad, no one younger than me, please’ shows how deluded he was. After all, between the lines, I was able to understand that all these girls throwing themselves at him, all coming from some third world countries, un-educated and who simply came here to make a buck before their student visa expires, or marry a local, then divorce him since they look so funny as we all know how tiny these women are!!!! You feel sorry for them but then you feel sorrier for yourself after you learn about the bullshit they have been feeding these men who now assume that all women are bad and you feel a bit responsible to mend their trust into the minds of ‘international women’ to whom they seem to be constantly attracted to. I always disliked this though and I always tried to keep the distance from such men though. One thing I liked: the little these women bring to their friends’ houses when organising the New Year’ Eve party. However ‘poor’ they are (after shagging every single soul in the UK) they contribute with bits and pieces to enjoy the arrival of the new year together with their ‘friends’ although the next day they will sell their soul to the Devil to make more money than their friends. And of course, THE UGLY shagged most of these friends, hence him feeling like a king when they bitterly argue in front of him in their language how one woman ‘stole’ him from another woman.

I will not be surprised though, if either the good, the bad, or the ugly or even the guys who stopped harassing me will make another appearance………..must be something in the air around me that tells them: ‘try again, maybe next time she will fall for your tricks’. Try to imagine this in a scenario like out of 1001 nights with Alladin and the evil wizard. Well, you have to see the amuxing side of things, right? Life goes on for the time being………




December the 27th 2013


I was admiring my gorgeous Christmas tree with the stunning baubles I keep collecting for so many years surprised the ever green Nordman Fir kept delivering it’s mesmerising scent that filled my lungs for so many days when I started meditating about the high number of ‘non-believers’.

I am not talking about the religious non-believers, after all, due to my Science background and having travelled the world from a very young age, I never cared too much about one’s religion……..although it’s interpretation by some people in our time and age matches the interpretation our own religion had to pass through during the Inquisition years.

But what I was thinking is about the fact that lots of people chose not to believe in good anymore. There I was at Heathrow, having just arrived minutes earlier and deciding not to waste a moment later in getting lost, me, the one used to find directions almost instantaneously and walking from A to B in a straight line, so I decided to approach this guy close to my A to B trajectory. He looked as having a very low paid Heathrow job, maybe a cleaner or baggage collector, with a very poor command of English language, probably due to his background belonging to a third world country and as not having the brains to follow a further education in order to improve his life existence. I decided there and then to ‘temporarily enhance’ his day with a smile and quickly asked him for directions. As soon as I made this mistake, I could not believe how rude this ‘little’ fella was. Despite trying to make eye contact with him, I was permanently witnessing a drop in his eye sight from my eyes to my breasts. With 90% of his time spent on my breasts as if he was having a discussion with them I decided that enough was enough, and still lacking directions I thanked him and went on my way.

Just like the charity I was helping some time ago by doing some office hours trying to identify new financial potentials for some products I was developing for them, I was shocked to discover that some people not only do not appreciate the good they receive but they also target you with their negativity. A lady working for the charity and coming from the same background as the Heathrow cleaner decided one day when I was in their office to throw lots of papers and rotten apples or half eaten ones near my bin basket when she could have very well put them in her empty bin basket. Jealousy? Stupidity? Nastiness? Failure in appreciating the positivity I was trying to spread? Just like with the Heathrow cleaner I was so disappointed that some people cannot comprehend our world, our little time on this planet and how we should surround ourselves with spreading the good.

I will not even commence on dedicating lots of space to the people trying to hurt me purely because of the long hair I have or the way I wear myself: from the usual comments ‘is your hair real?’ as if saying ‘I am such a negative person but let me ask you this silly question anyway’ when they could have said ‘what a beautiful hair’, comment normally only little girls seem to pass after running behind me on the street.

But most annoyingly I cannot forget the people I have helped so many times, only to discover they have not only lied about me in order to favourise and present themselves in a good light but some even benefiting out of this in a great style. Think of the un-imaginable and then you will be very close to the proportions of their lies. But the conclusions I am drawing, in order this to happen so often, is that time and time again I hence have proven that I am a very nice person and they assumed that: ‘let us abuse this fool, she might have a short memory and will forget about this’. One day I might make the painful effort to disclose all these though…………..

Scientists formulated a new theory recently according to which we have a version of us in parallel universes. Meaning, that say, here on earth if you are an office worker, on a different planet you might be a rock star, maybe a bit taller or with more hair or on another planet you might be the president of a country. Somehow I do not believe this, but I believe that our time is here and now or the way Belinda Carlisle put it: ‘Heaven is here on earth’. There are seven billion of people on earth at this moment in time, but just like with cells that form a part of your liver for example, there are the cells part of your cerebellum that ‘know’ nothing about the cells that form your liver. Yet they all co-exist and function in parallel just like the little cells or ‘little workers’ as I call them, that are hard at work when you scratch your finger for example and try to make your hand heal as fast as possible.

What I am trying to say here, is that other civilisations are in our vast and undefined universe and the only wish is that the inhabitants might have happier and more appreciative co-existences than here on earth.

Religious or atheist, tall or short, hairy or bald………..try to make ‘the good’ and pass it on to others.




December the 4th 2013


Having just arrived in Paris some 20 minutes earlier, I was now leisurely walking the streets of my favourite ‘quartier’ in Paris, Saint Germain. But as I was walking in the morning cold I couldn’t keep noticing the men in cafes who kept looking at me from behind the glass changing from the absent look on their faces to the ‘I am interested’ look, or one very mature guy even winking at me!!! ‘What is going on?’ I immediately thought. Are French men worse than the Italians at following women on the street and talking all the sweet nonsense, us women got so used with?

It wasn’t my first trip to Paris, an ex with an almost lost French ancestry used to drag me every single year either to Paris or Cote d’Azur and sometimes to both locations and I assume I have not noticed how crazy French men can behave purely because I was with my ex!!! But now, dressed in a hip long waist coat, knee length boots and black trousers I assumed that no one will notice me and everyone will think how to walk faster to a warmer place. To my surprise, even passing near a demonstration, the men decided they had nothing to keep themselves occupied but to comment about me in French. ’Qu’est que c’est passe ici?’ aka ’What da fuck?’ I would have liked to say, but instead I kept my mouth shut, quietly enjoying that moment that was building up since I was a child and I started studying so many languages whilst understanding what people are talking about. Although, trust me, this can be a curse when you realise that some ’little’ people try to run you down and say things that only an ignorant mind like theirs could say………

Later on that day as I decided to once again visit one my favourite museums in the world, I could not wonder but how much we disregard the monuments or museums we have on our door step! Wherever I travel, I keep visit almost everything a country has to offer in terms of culture and history, giving me an insight into their mentality and why their civilisation developed in a certain way, yet there are several museums here in London which I never visited, probably because I know they are so expensive and they are always packed with crowds…..

Yet, here I was in my favourite Parisian museum and I noticed a very well dressed guy in his ’50s being around the same places where I was, and even returning to my area if I was staying longer to admire a painting or a statue. ‘What da fuck?’ I was thinking, as this repeating occurrence, proof that my follower is not going to give up required some action. So I approached two security guys in their late ‘20s, early ‘30s with whom I had a brief conversation earlier about all kind of things and they promised to resolve the situation for me.

Thank God I have not seen the oldster anymore but as I was descending the grand stairs in order to go to a different wing of the museum, one of the security guys I spoke with earlier on approached me as if wanting to direct me once again for the best way to reach the other wing which had some passages closed. I noticed he kept looking at me as I said ‘merci beaucoup’ and moved on quickly, as if he would have liked to have a longer conversation. I followed the myriad of stairs and rooms, ascending and then descending again when another security guy saw me coming down the stairs and with a tone you would never hear from a security guy in a major London museum he said: ‘oh, la la, la Princess viens’. ‘These French guys are really on heat’ I thought to myself.

OK, there was nothing I could do, plus I was in Paris for a short while so I decided to only smile and after visiting the second wing I realised I was too tired an I need to brave the cold weather and the rain and cross the Seine to reach my hotel. I was about to get out when somebody said to me: ‘are you leaving already?’ As I turned round, I found the other security guy from the initial two security guys posted right behind me. We exchanged some further pleasantries, then extended my umbrella and I thought that my little Paris escapade will be a memory. ‘Can I invite you for a little café?’ my follower added not taking a quiet no for an answer. ‘Sorry I am tired, plus tomorrow I am going back to London’ I said to him. ‘But London is not that far, anything is possible’ he added. ‘What on earth does he mean’ I was thinking.

I was wondering about all this and how in London people would not behave in such a manner unless they are under the influence of alcohol or a ‘different kind of blood’ runs through their veins, when I noticed that finally no one was following me in the cold dark. But the following day, when visiting another historic location, I realised that some tourists were following me around. ‘They could be French’ I thought to myself, or the could be ‘tourists on heat’, I further assumed, so I decided to ignore everybody and remain taciturn to avoid other crazy men.

Thankfully my little Parisian trip ended just the way it started, with a cold shower and return to reality when queuing with other Brits returning from their trips to France. A bit rude and most surely sarcastic, with an attitude ‘I know it all’ and looking at me curiously from the distance as I was one of the very few to simply have a weekend bag and not a suit case. As people were running to jump in front of me in the queue, a very ‘charmant’ French guy said with that delightful accent: ‘after you, Madame’. ‘Ah, so is possible, some people can be nice’ I concluded mentally. But as if the British virus hit me too, I simply nodded as if saying thank you, without even looking at him. Well, I did this partially because he smelled of garlic…… despite being so good looking. ‘Darn, why cannot French learn the good habit of chewing gum like the Brits’ I thought. ‘That is a very good habit to have after a meal and not only’.

Altogether I really enjoyed my trip, and immediately I decided to return to Paris and explore it once again on my own: fatty and super sugary crepes to be devoured, shows to be watched and criticise other’s nudity, painting to be admired and meditate on their longevity when none of us will be alive anymore…….

But one idea I will probably meditate on for a long time and only partially get the right response is about the bust I saw in one of the exhibition halls about a famous philosopher that by our standards looks like a drunken idiot compared to the philosophers of our times that look intelligent due to different facial features: ‘how is possible such an ugly fucker to be one of the most influential philosophers of the antiquity?’




November the 6th 2013


We are taught from our very first steps about communicating our ideas. If you want to express yourself musically you have to start by learning about Do, Re, Mi and how to write the key notes on a piece of paper. If you want to communicate verbally with other people, you have to learn a language, mind you a different alphabet if you are to communicate in Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, Greek etc. Even in Science you cannot get away without learning first to add, multiply or resolving complex mathematical equations or in Chemistry by learning the Chemical table of Mendeleev.

But what escapes lots of people is the opposite and what the lack of communication represents, whether is in the shape of ignoring, blanking or simply avoiding the others. These people have not learned that no means no or that the other party is simply not interested.

I was rushing, as usual, with a very high heart beat with sweat dripping on my back, not sure whether from the heat in the underground or the coat on me with the extra ‘hairy’ coat represented by the insulation produced by my hair when I noticed this guy, rather good looking in a rugged way with wavey hair and dressed in jeans following me from the distance and my initial thought was: simply coincidence. But then he chose to jump in the same carriage as me instead of choosing the one closer to him and come all the way to the end of the carriage to post himself right in front of me. I was a bit puzzled, especially since the carriage was almost empty but innocently I thought: maybe he liked the draft that comes from between the carriages.

I started reading straight away from my little book that always saves me from intertwining my eyes with other passengers, when I felt him staring at me. I though that he might take a picture of me, as it happened so many times in the past by some very strange people taking pictures of the hair, or shoes but then I noticed he was covering everything with a newspaper. ‘Is he masturbating?’ I thought for a second and imagine my relief when he stood up as to get out at the next stop. But before getting out to what seemed to be a busy station, he dropped the newspaper on the seat next to mine. ‘What the heck?’ I thought. ‘This was one very strange dude’ I mentally added and I decided to ignore the newspaper. But with so many messages around us asking to check packages and everything, I thought: ‘OK, let’s have a look at the newspaper’. And there it was, staring at me, written in big letters, his name and his mobile number. ‘Blimey, how audacious’. I was so furious!!!!! I was wondering whether to laugh at this and put his number on all social sites or do something similarly naughty, but my anger overtook me and I threw the newspaper towards the door. There I was, having my calm and peaceful journey destroyed by a man who assumed that everything that has wings must fly!!!!!!!!

I never enjoyed being aborted by strangers under different pretexts and I thought that I saw it all…….. In India where a young father kept running after me with his young child in his arms to pull my hair, which indeed he managed to do in the end, or in China where they thought that taking un-authorised pictures by hundreds or thousands of people should be my only delight or in Kuala Lumpur where even trying to eat in the famous eateries of the Pavilion on Bukit Bintang came with being stared at by the chefs and sellers of the restaurants. I remember they were looking so insistently at me, I though that somebody famous or super gorgeous might be behind me and subconsciously I turned to look at an empty space: then I realised they were smiling at me while I was trying to enjoy my food…….. ‘Crazy fuckers’ I thought.

The funniest and strangest moment probably took place in Tokyo where this mature guy kept following me near the busy area of one famous shrine, as it was national holiday, and in the end I became annoying with being followed so close and pointed the fingers at him as if saying in a mute language: ‘you have been noticed, now go away’. Surprisingly the guy came to me saying: ‘sorry’ and then he left. Only in Japan!!!!I did not wonder if any of his friends were following me as my schedule was rather busy and I was not going to worry about somebody crazy in such a far away land.

But surely you will agree with me, you might have been followed to by some nutters and you always wondeedr: ‘what is it they want?’ Do they want to rob you, to dragg you in some con, to attack you? Us women are a bit concerned about these issues but I bet, even if you as a man were to be followed by a woman not exactly gorgeous, for example, you will think straight away: ‘what da fuck?’ Of course your fantasy as a man, is to be followed by a gorgeous, elegant woman in stockings and suspenders, heels and on top an elegant coat, of course all of the best quality. Well, dream on babe, that is never going to happen. Unless you paid her or is part of a scenario, or worse she is in an organised con. In which case you might have to worry……..

Some years ago, I met a guy in his later forties, early fifties in a bar of a well known Mayfair hotel. Not far from us there was this famous Hollywood actor, who my date said, kept staring at me. I turned my head and then indeed I recognised the famous face. And briefly I thought: ‘why my date did not make the effort to look better?’ But then he started telling me about a movie where the main character played by a well know actress was part of a con run on trains where she identified married men that could be drawn into affairs with her and then be conned money by her and her partner. ‘What?’ I thought. This ugly man who chose to show off by meeting me in a posh bar and who, I later discovered, does not have even a place where to live, dares to assume that me, the younger and shorter than him I could participate in his fantasy dream where he could be robbed at a place he chose to meet me? ‘How delusional’ I thought.

Well, you cannot fight with one’s fantasies, as Marie Antoinette said: ‘let them have cake’. Meaning, let them have what they would like to have. After all, what would be nights without dreams or a life without dreams of achievements. Bottom line, we all have our own dreams but most of the times they involve other people, so make sure you communicate your wishes………

But if you chose to dream of them, make sure you don’t eat cheese before going to sleep, you might end up having nightmares……….




October the 23rd 2013


I was looking at his face and I knew instantaneously I did not fancy him. OK, he was well dressed, presentable, in a suit, ‘durable’ shoes, the kind that men not in exactly top positions wear in order to travel fast between meetings. He even brought his heavy bag and did not smell of perfume and I was wondering: ‘how on earth is he going to make me fall for him?’

I chose to meet him in a gorgeous bar not far from my gym where in the past I met another guy who turned out he simply wanted me to sleep with him purely because he bought me a drink. Every single time I meet a new person that cannot be read straight away I think: ‘please, let him not be the type who expects a woman to sleep with him because he bought her drinks’. Yes, he was slim, athletic, in a good suit and rather good looking and while I was waiting for him to turn up, several guys from the next door were hitting on me and I thought: ‘well this is just my luck’. But yes, we had a great conversation and he kept pushing me to have more drinks, probably hoping me to get drunk and take me to his nearby ‘well appointed Soho flat’ as he described it. And judging by his presentation and business interests which were related to property and design, I am sure his flat did him justice. When we decided to leave he asked me to wait while he went to the toilet. But then I realised I needed to go to the toilet before going back home. ‘Where are you?’ I texted him when I came out of the bar? ‘I thought you left me’ he replied, ‘but I could come back if you want to come with me to my flat?’ ‘Sorry babe, this is not going to happen, I do not shag from the first meeting’ I replied and we left it to that.

As I never heard from him, I was wondering, as many times in the past, why aren’t men honest and save a woman’s time by saying: ‘babe, I want to meet you in order to shag you only’. This could have saved my time and his time too, in order to find somebody easier than me for this procedure. God knows, I have been told on so many occasions by good looking men or not how easy some women are. Whether lawyers, doctors or teachers, nurses or simply students, there are lots of women out there who would shag a man purely for buying her a drink, the promise of a further meeting or more………..

But as I am not lacking my own ‘harassing group’ I wonder why certain men only target me: Take the good looking and tall writer I met some years ago and despite only meeting him the second time this year, hoping his circumstances have changed, what I got in return was more emails and texts together with the pictures of his penis, that yes looks amazing, but eventually gave up in chasing me until probably one day he will start again…..

I asked him though if I can use the picture of his penis to send it to another member of the harassing group in order to leave me alone, who I never met but now keeps sending me even videos of him in 007 type of action and he replied: ‘yes, why not?’

And most recently another member of the harassing group who I have not met since last year, texted me saying: ‘this is the third time I am trying to reach you’ despite telling him to leave me alone from the first time as I caught him flirting with another women besides doing other things….

But coming back to the object of this meeting, the guy I did not fancy, yet I was trying to enjoy our meeting in the bar which now became full with some very gorgeous guys, we started talking about women he met in the past and why it did not work with them in building a relationship. ‘There was no chemistry’ he said. ‘With none of them?’ I questioned him further. I mean, come on, from the number of women he met, surely there was one or two that could have been that desperate for a shag that would have fallen under his spell.

‘We will see if we have chemistry too’ he said to me. ‘But are you having a great time?’ I asked him. ‘Well yes, we are laughing, the conversation goes well’ he admitted. ‘Ah, then…….’ I said. But some one hour later as I was tired after the long day and a gym session I told him I had to leave. He looked at me confused and a bit upset. ‘Sorry but I am really tired’ I said as I excused myself and went home. Several hours later he sent me a message that encompassed his whole mental strategy: ‘you see, we did not have chemistry’. Basically what he was trying to say, without realising, was that all along he wanted to meet me, get me drunk and shag me for some 5 minutes leaving me unsatisfied, then go home thinking: ‘what a clever boy I am’.

I felt a bit sorry for him but then I realised that he must have been playing this trick for quite some time, hence there is no reason to feel sorry for people like him. He could have been honest from the very beginning saying: ‘I want to meet you tomorrow, shag for 2 or 3 hours’ and then I could have told him if I am up for this challenge or not.

But no, he chose the complicated route which would have left me feeling guilty if I was to meet him when I was the green 20 years old woman. I went to sleep then and had a good night sleep. You cannot worry much about things you have the answer for after much repetition, right?




August the 15the 2013


I recently returned from overseas and after previously having had so many unpleasant events upon my return, I was waiting with my heart on the sleeve the same to happen to me. We are not talking about one, two or three events when I was bullied or spoken in a nasty manner due to what I call ‘a holiday glow’ that makes certain women, with nothing else to do to jealously disperse their venom, but lots of events.

My poor heart was so small fearing the anticipation of such bad occurrences, when I was hit with some very beautiful acts of generosity that made me question once again the percentage of decent people out there, wondering at the same time: ‘so not everyone is that bad’. However all these acts of generosity came from men and secretly I asked myself: ‘why women cannot be as great as men?’ In their defence, I always assume that women are nicer to men whereas men are nicer to women, just the way media, Hollywood movies and daily acts continuously showed me that seems to be the case. No wonder call centres prefer to have male employees deal with female customers and female employees with males.

My battery operated watch decided to stop in the morning of my return to London and annoyingly I concluded my first trip in London should be to find a replacing battery. I checked with several shops in my area but as either they could not open the watch or did not stock any batteries, that unwillingly led me to a major top department store where I knew something like this would not be difficult to find. The first place I tried had a woman employee stuck in front of the PC and not paying attention to the queue quietly forming in front of her. ‘How typical’ I thought and quickly I went to the second place which was absolutely empty. I went to the nearby shoe repair place and asked them about the lady who used to work at the watch repair place. ‘She has retired’ a long haired employee said to me but immediately offered to help me. ‘I can see a glow around you’ he started his chat and I easily remembered the sarcasm of an ex-boyfriend that negatively declared that was a good chat up line if somebody else paid compliments to me. Yet my ex was never able to pass any beautiful remarks, due to what I now conclude is his insecurity.

I easily chatted to my watch repair man who not only cleaned it but also replaced the battery at no extra cost. ‘I feel so guilty’ I said to him when he refused to take any money from me on the promise to return. I could not say anything more as already two customers were waiting for him to repair their watches and full of positivity I left the premises. The street was packed with lots of tourists respecting no rule on walking the road when I tried to buy some fruits from the usual street vendor I keep going to for many years when I am in that area. The smile and warmth in the voice of the lady who now sold her fruits made me conclude: ‘must be something in the air’.

The next day, the security guy in my building said: ‘I tried to reach you several times, I have a parcel for you’. As I did not expect anything, I kept wondering if that is a mistake, when I opened the box to recognise the brands where from ‘a not very secret admirer’ who spoils me for quite some time with so many sexy and very naughty items that could make me open a lingerie and toy shop. What could be more wonderful and somehow restoring the faith in human nature when you encounter such great human beings! Not only is the lingerie always amazing, but top quality and I made a rule to always keep it in it’s original packaging for safe handling. OK, OK, you might call that a bit OCDish but what is wrong with looking like out of the box every single time you put a sexy outfit on you just out of the shower, smelling great with the hair freshly washed and styled, gorgeous shoes brand new looking from being equally kept in boxes between delicate tissues and feeling your suspender attached to some stunning lace suspender belt matching the gorgeous bra and tiny knickers. Perfume, matching jewellery, nails looking like I just left my manicurist, delicate make up to go with my delicate tan on my skin and what might bring you down would be a woman who looks at you as if she knows something you do not know when your knowledge that her ignorance from staying home all day long, un-educated but with pretences does not entitle her to the dirty looks she gives to you.

‘You look stunning’ a professional guy in his ’40s run after me to tell me whilst I was hoping my knee length thin coat would properly cover all the above and I would raise no suspicion from anyone including ’strange women’ I was determined not to look at.

But you see, whatever you do in life, there will always be people to comment or be nasty or simply satisfy their inner desires that leads them to make all kind of comments. What you can do is to ignore their presence or stay away from them: when did you last see successful, decent people with many years of education bothering to throw rude comments at other people? Never…… unless they are drunk!

‘I suck cock for gold’ a gorgeous fairy said to the guy who stole the gold from the Irish leprechaun in a movie I saw recently emphasising everything sexual that we are taught about by Hollywood movies in the last decades. This made me conclude that is much easier to deal with a man that fantasises about a long haired fairy, smiling and looking innocent whilst offering sexual services for his benefit, rather than try to logic with a woman that ’dislikes’ you for whatever reason.





July the 29th 2013


I have been helping several charities for a number of years and when one of the charities asked me to help me foster a cat for a short while, I simply jumped, full of enthusiasm, at the idea of having a cat near me. After all, I have been rescuing lots of kittens when I was a child, although my dear father used to give them away as soon as they were older. I remember in one occasion, I used my father’s brush he kept for cleaning his hat to brush one of the kittens. ‘Why do I have more hair on my hat than when I started brushing it?’ my father said in exasperation. Until now, I keep giggling when I think of this incident…..

I received the cat in a cloudy Thursday afternoon and straight away I noticed how shy she was but coming alive at night and waking me up every single time around 1 or 2am. You see, this was a feral cat, more used to sleep during the day and run after mice and little birds during the night in the countryside environment she was used with. The charity worker only told me the cat had a patchy coat as they had to shave the dirty bits that could not be brushed and this should have raised lots of question marks as to the provenience of the cat. But as I was used with city flat cats it never crossed my mind this cat would actually avoid her litter tray and chose to relieve herself on the floorboards in the hallway after having jumped again on the mantelpiece and near the window as she did the night before and bringing China vases down. I had to open the window in my bedroom for some fresh air after cleaning as much as I could in the hallway and then tiredly I went to sleep.

But the next day, walking around like a zombie from the repeated night awakenings and with a huge headache, I realised the cat has disappeared. I checked every single corner she used to hide in and then I concluded that she did what a feral cat would do: perform a kamikaze jump to the garden. Until now, weeks later I keep putting signs with her details in my area, but secretly I wonder: why didn’t the charity worker tell me the truth about the feral cat? Was it that no one wanted to help them? Was it that no one wanted to have a feral cat?

It wasn’t the first time that I helped people who were not truthful to me and had a different agenda, using and abusing my trust and simply behaving in an un-acceptable manner but I came to conclude: this is simply human nature. Some people are better than others, whereas others are only good at using others………

Several months ago, I met this guy who was shorter than me but as I always had a soft spot for Japanese guys and especially since we realised that we liked the same parts of Tokyo of which we spoke in great details, I decided to meet him for a meal, followed by a short stop at a lively bar and then a long walk. I found it a bit puzzling the fact that he wanted to walk all this way towards my home, but our more than one mile walk was so interesting that I concluded he is a person I would like to be in touch with. I never heard from him though immediately as he had an incoming business trip to Japan, but recently he got in touch with me. ‘Ah, aren’t you that guy……….’ I said to him in my message, after trying to remember who he was. ‘Yes I am that guy who took you to the restaurant’ he said with an angry tone. He was becoming so rude I had to terminate the conversation. Basically what he was saying, was that purely because he took me to a restaurant, I should have slept with him!!!!!!!! Wow, I did not realise that nowadays accepting to go to a restaurant with somebody it implies that I have to sleep with him. Where are the gentlemen of the world? Why did he have come back to me and destroy the good memory I had of him of a guy who insisted to take me close to my home and only me taking a taxi to get rid of him?

He is not the only person who was chasing me with bad memories. Some time ago I was exchanging lots of messages with a guy, I now came to call him ‘my stalker’. I concluded that we are different as one day he said: ‘normally are the women chasing me’ so I decided to keep the distance from him. But months later, he still messages asking me to meet him, telling to what restaurant I could come to meet him and being so confusing with the way he perceives me. One morning I woke up with a message he sent saying: ’good morning sexylicious’. But as I have not responded he sent another message saying: ‘you fake bitch with fake hair’. As I have never met him and probably he fancies women with long hair, he wrongly assumed that having long hair is more important than other issues. I thought about reporting him to his superiors, as I remember everything he disclosed to me in the past but secretly I hope that he will stop with all these messaging and I do not have to take such a drastic step.

I mean, how many dramas does one need in one week? Only the other day I was quietly doing some research on my PC when it decided to switch itself off. I switched it back on but again switched itself off, followed by a small explosion and release of an acrid smell. As I remembered the case of the laptop that exploded at a conference in Japan, or people having had flats or housed engulfed in flames because of the PC, I quickly disconnected everything from the wall, trying to contain whatever might happen. But no, it was only the power box that short circuited and the cable that needed replacing. Of course it wasn’t my fault as I always been so careful not only with the electronic stuff, but electric or even mechanical, trying to keep them in mint condition. But tell this to your overseas computer guys. They will try to blame you for not being in warranty anymore and even being sarcastic to you. The delights of being a woman!!!!!!!!!!!!! They think that you necessarily have to be weak and they can treat you as they wish!!!!!!

I was eating a small bite when probably I chew harder than I should and the outcome was me destroying a part of a pre-molar. ‘Now you can cut a penis in two with this’ I jokingly thought to myself, as it was so bad I was really hurting my tongue when speaking with my dentist to organise an immediate appointment.

Now, several days later, I can only look at all these events and analyse them from a positive angle. ‘Cos you cannot give it in to all these nasty events that happen in your life’. Life is a struggle and despite lots of rich people saying that money does not bring you happiness, I concluded that actually it helps to have the money when you book your emergency dentist appointment or have to repair your PC……..or exchange messages with people who chase you because they are some nutters who perceive the reality in a distorted shape that suits their deranged minds.

And this is only a short period in my life......... You might have more or less events than me on a weekly basis, but boy, isn’t it tiring to have this all the time?

Who needs movies with chases, explosions and kamikaze jumps when you can star in your own personal thriller? I wonder what’s next?




July the 9th 2013


Some years ago I was living with some girls and as you imagine, when was getting hot we used to strip to our underwear, some even not being embarrassed to show the ‘downside hair do’. There was this girl, all cute with her tiny proportions with curly black hair and sweet looking until she used to open her mouth. She used to talk so much nonsense and pure rubbish, even her best friend did not want to live with her. I guess it was my task to listen to her ‘motor mouth’, ignorant and rude and even have little items stolen or perfume depleted in my absence, which I was able to smell on her upon my return.

But why do I remember this girl? Purely because of what she represented: you see, she pretended to be virgin, despite her friends saying otherwise and everyone concluded she should ‘get shagged’ in order to become more mellow. We used to call her ‘curly’ because she was not embarrassed to walk around showing her doll like body proportions of her under five feet tall frame with small breasts and her ‘downside’ shaved only to have a longer, under 2 inches curly piece of hair, which she fondly used to twist when we used to ask her to put some knickers on her. Several moths later, after managing to move away from those premises, I came across ‘Curly’ and some girls and everyone commented that indeed ‘Curly’ came down to earth after she met a guy she was shagging regularly. Well, later on, I learned that even he disappeared……..

Whenever there are too many incidents in my life that drive me mad, I always question if I became a ‘Curly’ or indeed these are pure incidents that happen to anyone who lives in a crazy place like London?

Take this past weekend for example: beautiful sunny days, with the sweat dropping on everyone’s back and in typical style I remembered to stay away from the mad masses. I only headed to a market located several miles away from home and decided to walk to the local park noticing that even the women that could be described as fat decided to wear short dressed barely covering their massive behind and forming some four rolls of fat: shoulder to bra, bra to waist, waist to knickers, knickers to legs. And when you see this on two young women walking nonchalantly on a Chelsea street, passing ignorant comments onto other women looking more decent, you not only realise their background, lack of education but also what they do for living most of the time. Not that I have a problem with how people make their money, but I guess we all appreciate people who know how to be more discreet, don’t we?

I decided not to upset myself with these two women and I was about to cross the road that separated me from the park when this American lady looking disorientated pushed onto me only to go the opposite direction, following her husband and daughter and throwing a ‘sorry’ over her shoulder. ‘Bloody hell’ I said under my breath, noticing the scratch she left on my leg. ‘What did you fucking say?’ her husband jumped at me, ‘she said sorry’ he continued. As if sorry covers the fact that my scratch could get infected…… He continued to swear at me and simply showed me two fingers. ‘Nice Sherlock’ I said to him ‘show this to your wife’ I continued. I could not bear to upset myself on such a beautiful day. And only one hour earlier I was giving directions to some lost American tourists, like the good Samaritan I am. I decided to post myself on a quieter side of the park, away from the crowds, noticing that only some 10 minutes after I arrived, a family of four made camp some 30 metres away from me. But soon after, a guy coming from a ‘Taliban area’ decided to move from a tree located in the distance to a tree located some 10 metres away from me purely to stare at me. ‘What the fuck’ I thought. ‘What is the pleasure in looking at a woman’ I concluded. I decided to turn my back onto him and munch on some cup cakes I bought earlier on and thank God he got tired watching my back and he left probably looking for other preys.

But only 20 minutes later, a group formed of two guys with bleached hair in their twenties and the type who use the expression ‘Oh my God’ in every sentence in a very affected way, together with some three massive girls decided to land only 4 metres away from me. ‘WTF’ I thought loud. That area of the park was still empty, so why on earth did they chose to run their stupid discussions near me, instead of enjoying the peace of that quiet corner. Do I always have to attract these idiots abusing the calm façade and persona that I represent? Sometimes I wish I was able to snap my fingers like in the movies, and out of nowhere to drop some massive friends that would scare these people. I know, I know, day dreaming………

I honestly had enough and decided to leave the park I was quietly wondering if I am ‘Curly’ or otherwise put, if I demand too much on such a day and quietly enjoy my surrounding when I came across a group of rockers: all dressed in black due to the concert they were heading to, all quiet and polite, although smoking like chimneys and leaving a trail of cigarette behind them. I concluded: sometimes the most decent people are those you least expect them to be!

My day of pain did not end there though: I had to take the public transport to reach home and have my legs scratched on two further occasions by people who did not know how to manoeuvre their massive supermarket shopping, but again surely these people do not know how to manoeuvre even their own lives.

I concluded ‘Curly’ I ain’t, it is my pure luck of living in London. If I was a massive bloke, all aggressive and in your face, surely no one would have dared to behave in such a manner. But indeed I was in a desperate need of a shagg, all dripping and salivating with a vengeance……..well, not me, but my body………

A shagg I managed to have in the end, realising that my personality has not changed over night, I am still the same calm and patient person, but hey, just like a model asked why doesn’t she get out of bed for less than 10000 dollars a day she replied: ‘I wish I made 10000 dollars every day’, I said to myself ‘I need a shagg every day’.




June the 23rd 2013


I was trying to be positive and look at the situation from a humorous angle but then it hit me when a male friend who lives outside London and does not put up with rubbish, said: ‘so basically you have to put up with the male pervs and bitchy women in your gym - better change it!’ Come on, I thought, is not that bad, you get this attitude everywhere you go in central London………..

I changed gyms in the past purely because the aggression coming from the same ‘group’ painted the whole gym in the dark colours of abuse and did not represent a relaxation and getting fit location and with every experience I learned to distance myself from the ‘high liability’ group which I knew might target me for reasons known only to them, but every single time I have a new bad experience it takes me by surprise. On this last occasion, I just returned from overseas, my skin was slightly glowing from the several days in the sun, I was a bit more relaxed than usual when I realised that a pair of new shoes left their red marks on my tights and feet, so with my gym kit in the corner of the bench in the changing area which was completely empty I rushed for some 30 seconds to the bathroom to clean my feet. Upon returning with the wet feet and tissue on my hands to clean them, I noticed this foreign girl who put her stuff on top of my stuff. I remembered that in a previous gym a foreign and very mature woman used the same technique of covering my stuff with hers in order to steal a concealer from me, which, however cheap it was, it made me buy another one as a replacement.

I politely asked this lady to allow me to seat near my stuff but I wasn’t finished repeating myself when she started swearing at me: ‘get the fuck off from here’ or ‘shut the fuck off’ or ‘go away mad woman’, repeated so many times, it really shocked me how angered and nasty some women can be. As I hardly make eye contact with people, I did not remember much about her from her previous visits apart from noticing her hair extensions and how some guys commented on her big bum. ‘Big bums’ are fashionable nowadays I thought, taking her side……… Some guys who were attempting to talk to me in the gym for quite some time, managed to get me with my guard down and I disclosed to them the abuse asking them if this ever happens in the gents’ changing areas? Imagine, fists flying, hot bodies sweating with anger, swearing words being passed with different accents, ha ha……. Nah, this never happens to the guys, lucky beings!!!!!!! To top it up, the reception guys who I thought I was friends with as I made so many little presents for them in the past only said: ‘OK, you keep the distance from her and she will keep the distance from you!’ What? I have to put up with that ‘lady’ swearing at me and what I get is this kind of ‘equality’? The only damage I have done that day was on the punching bag and probably I was really upset as my shoulders and arms were really hurting later on……..

I was having weights attached through a suspension system to my ankles which helped my train my behind, when this guy started grunting so loudly it made me burst into laughter: ‘come on, where is Barry White?’ I thought. And this comes from a great lover of Barry White. Barry White could have recited the telephone book and you would not have found a sexier voice!

Later on the very same guy, revealed his majestic body with only a white towel around his waist as if he had no underwear in the sauna. His muscles were really defined on his very dark skin and facially he was not bad looking either…… ‘Where is my friend who only likes this kind of guys?’ I thought. ‘You have nice legs’ he said turning towards me. ‘Wow, and you have nice feet too!’ All the guys in the sauna started laughing at how flirty this guy was with me and how un-ashamed he was about it. ‘Would you suck them’ my kinky mind thought, but instead I chose to say something funny and non sexual to avert from being the main topic of the minute. ‘Why was that women who abused me earlier on not as relaxed as this guy? I thought.

But I could not stop wondering, as in the past I witnessed how gyms were used as grounds for flirting and chasing boyfriends or girlfriends, why am I so reluctant to participate in this whole charade. The worst case I have witnessed was when a foreign blonde girl started using the PowerPlate machine in some sand volleyball shorts that revealed half of the bum. Did she fancy somebody and expect that guy to be attracted by her fit body? What was she thinking? And most importantly did she remotely feel embarrassed when the Gym Manager asked her to leave and come back dressed more appropriately?

I had guys trying to speak to me in the gym and noticing my reluctance into being launched in a conversation by saying: ‘oh, my girlfriend is not with me today’ or ‘why are you alone in the sauna’? Every single time I thought: ‘duh, I believe you mate!!!!!!!!’ At the same time, my cheeky side thought: ‘you cannot stop a man be a man’. But why is it that always that gorgeous, intelligent looking, clean cut man you fancy simply stays there like a muppet and pretends to be busy sending a text to some friend. Does he write in the message: ‘I am busy looking preoccupied in front of the woman I fancy but I am too shy to approach her because I prefer to look gorgeous, intelligent and clean cut?’

‘Oh excuse me, I am so sorry’ I said to this guy I was just about to put my behind on his face as I entered the steam room and decided to sit near the entrance. I have never seen a happier face in a steam room and he simply said: ‘do not worry, that is OK’. I kept smiling imagining what he would have told his friends, if I was to sit on his face with my whole weight: ‘guys, today another bird sat on my face in the sauna!;. Some men do it deliberately, don’t they?

Coming back to my gym, I guess I will still have to give it a go for a bit more time until one day I will have enough of the bad things happening to me there………and probably lots of other ladies, and I am not doing this because the gym instructors seem to be having killer bodies and keep flaunting in front of me whilst trying to chat me up with some lines that make me think: ‘oh come on guys, you were discussing about me in your changing rooms, weren’t you?’ And knowing how easy some guys are, sometimes I can hear them thinking whilst they stare at me: ‘I would shag you’. But the problem is that not, I would not shag any of them: you cannot mix business with pleasure, right?

Thank God for the PowerPlate machine - properly used you can come every 30 seconds. The question is: ‘how do you hide your facial expression when you come?’




May the 23rd 2013


I doubt the security guys of the People’s Republic would have seen the funny side as us, in the West, if I was to have some shagging ideas in the large toilet of a plane I was travelling from Beijing to Shenzen, just north of Hong Kong. The toilet was the largest I have even seen, I mentally baptised it the ‘disco toilet’ as could have easily accommodated some 5 or 6 people. Nevermind having a disco at 50000 feet, what about a tight orgy with some gorgeous, fit bodies?????? The next step would have been a military plane straight to one of the North Korean military bases for indefinite restrain for upsetting the state and it‘s values…….

You might have already joined the 50000 feet club, but unlike you, despite having so many chances I never took this option. What deterred me was probably a combination of the tightness of the toilet cabin that does not allow one to chose many positions or maybe the fact that I am always concerned about the hygiene. Is not like after somebody is going to ask me: ‘excuse me madam, is that the direction towards the toilet?’ with me responding with a blow job breath: ‘yes, that is correct’. ‘Cos with these new 100 ml rules, you might be able to sneak some toothpaste with you but on so many occasions you think: ‘yes, I need that mouth wash to make me feel even better’. I know, I know I am a bit anal now, but hey, that is me and the way I feel about hygiene……… trying to achieve perfection!

I was travelling back to London from an European location when two check in queues opened at the same time and I noticed that very close to me there was this very tall gorgeous guy with dark looks and an impeccable suit and shiny shoes. I saw him smiling and I thought: ‘shiny teeth, shiny shoes’ but I could not stop wondering: ‘who on earth travels so immaculate? Looks like James Bond in the first class’. I did not think much about this encounter, but I only realised that he kept quiet when I mentioned to the check in desk about the seat I have reserved. I then proceeded to the security queue and as I got busy removing the jewellery and the other noise producing items, this young but very tall guy kept very close to me. I was about to say something about keeping the distance when he approached me with a smile on his face saying with French accent: ’is this your real hair?’ This is a something I really dislike and I normally tend to ignore people asking me this negative question who could say instead: ’you have beautiful hair’, but given his young age and smile I decided to be polite. To my amazement and the security guys who kept watching us, the young guy started bombarding me with questions, introducing himself as a student who was doing his PhD and now was ending his summer vacation and was about to take his plane to Paris. He was really getting close to me and even insinuated that a trip Paris-London is not out of the question for him. ’This is one very fast moving youngster’ I thought and for a second I wondered if I should even try to discover more about him. Yes, he was gorgeous, yes, he was very bright, yes, he had a great body and mostly disarming he had a great confidence and given his background I knew he was circumcised, which yes, I always liked that, but the question was: was it all worth it? The security guys were the ones to save me from all this as they retained him over some items in his luggage and off I was to board my plane.

As I was walking to my seat, I noticed the very tall guy from the check in queue smiling at me positioned near my seat of the two seats separated from everyone near the emergency door. I must have blushed as I felt all warm, or probably I came as I normally do when I see such guys - who needs a shag anyway when you can come a million times per day, ha ha - and he said to me: ’hello…….again’. ’So you heard me telling the check in lady about this seat?’ I said to him, which he immediately confirmed.

But only several months ago I was travelling from Egypt to London when a gorgeous but more mature blonde guy seated near me started his questioning which made the young cabin crew lady ask us several times: ’are you sure guys you never met before?’ You see, our conversation kept flowing for so many hours, it shrunk the distance from hours to minutes. I sensed the cabin crew lady fancied him but then she made the mistake of revealing her geographical ignorance, despite being in the travel business, that he ignored her and kept asking me questions not bothered at all that I was attempting to read a book. Probably because I tend to be quite cold he did not attempt to ask for my number until we landed in London. Yes, we met and travelled around his truck in London but then I sensed that he got upset that I would not even kiss him, so I concluded that he wanted a ’delayed 50000 feet shag’ as I never heard from him again.

With this memory, I was pondering if I should allow this tall dark guy seating near me to spread his arms on my chair too, so I put a book near the arm of the chair to ’understand’ the boundary. ’Silly girl’ you might say. Yes, the guy was looking like a model or a perfect killing machine with his disarming smile, so I said to him what I though when I saw him at the airport: ’shiny teeth, shiny shoes’. I guess he did not like that. Poor him, until now I feel so bad!!!!!!! He took his laptop and chose to go several seats behind us to squeeze his long legs and do some work. I later saw him asleep, twisted in an uncomfortable position and I felt even worse. ‘Silly me for not keeping my straight talking mouth closed’, I thought……….

But truthfully speaking, I would only ‘harm’ myself should I ever consider a 50000 feet shag. Most surely it will have to be a quick one, hence giving me a head ache for not being able to release all the ‘energy’ with a man I like and worse case scenario, there are high chances we might get discovered by the cabin crew. Not many people know but these guys have a key which can open the toilet door from the outside. How do I know? I was travelling from Delhi to Bangkok and as I went to the toilet before reaching the destination, I was about to remove my summery onesie which obviously removed would show me in my bra and microscopic knickers I tend to wear, when the door of the toilet opened and this gorgeous young Thai cabin crew looked at me as I was shouting: ‘toilet taken, toilet taken’. I think this guy got his cabin crew job purely for his model looks, as he was quite tall, good looking and had this amazing hair which he styled it with lots of gel in an upwards formation which is so fashionable nowadays. ‘Well, he has masses of hair anyway’ I thought, if I was a guy with his hair, probably I would do the same thing.

He young Thai cabin crew guy did not apologise, nothing, and I have not seen him at all until the plane landed. Probably he went to his friends to tell how he missed seeing this Caucasian girl naked in his plane!!!!!!!!! I could have very well reported him but I chose to see the funny side of the things and concentrate on having a positive trip in a new city.

So are there any chances to join the 50000 feet club? I doubt it, even in a private plane, is it worth doing it in the toilet if I was to have the whole plane to myself? ‘Cos in a small 2 seater plane, again you can do probably only a hand of positions and everything would be so tight you could easily press some buttons by mistake. ‘Eject button pressed’? ha ha, imagine that, let’s hope the parachute is attached to the seat, ha ha

I think I am going to stick instead to having many hours of sex on the land, not only is safe, hygienic, but imagine how sweaty, ‘dirty’ and kinky you can get without feeling guilty…………




May the 9th 2013


I was just about to jump in the empty underground when I saw this little pigeon following another pigeon, both trying to get out calmly from the almost empty carriage and for a second I thought: ‘yeah, we heard of foxes, dogs travelling in the tube with no ticket, now we have pigeons in love following others’. Yes, the bigger pigeon was chasing the smaller pigeon and probably there was a male pigeon - in heat - following a female. But I cannot keep wondering: ‘what is it with men in this season?’

Just like the pigeons, I was walking home from the underground, dress simple but elegant in a knee length coat covering my body and white and black shoes with a bit of a heel matching my bag when I heart a guy in a van on the other side of the road travelling the same direction as me shouting several times: ‘excuse me, excuse me’. As there were several cars behind him who kept beeping him to move on, I only looked briefly to understand what was the commotion about and I realised this van guy was not lost or suffered from something but was simply in heat and was trying to speak to me. ‘What for?’ I was wondering. Is this the right way to approach a woman? And even, let’s say we might have something in common as I noticed on so many occasions some gorgeous professional guys in the tube staring at me, and trust me I kept thinking: ‘damn, the tube and the fact that you cannot talk to a stranger in this country’ unlike so many other countries where people easily talk to you despite, indeed not having anything in common.

I kept walking faster as the man in the van was really creating a huge problem on this otherwise rather expensive, quiet leafy road trying to get rid of all this attention when I passed two short legged girls in their mid twenties who were simply staying at the corner of a street talking and I thought: ‘why don’t you notice them and start a conversation with them?’ Surely they will not be as difficult as me…….. Yes, I always am, ha ha

But as I was getting closer to home I noticed another guy who stopped his car almost close to me and could have easily caused an accident on this busy road so I decided to cross the road assuming that was my imagination on being followed by another guy. To my deep surprise I noticed this guy turning right towards my side of road and waiting close to my house! I was so annoyed with all this that I decided to get the phone out of the bag to be prepared either to take a picture or call the police if something strange would happen to me. Thank God his eyesight was good as he decided to drive his car upon seeing me doing this manoeuvre.

I had all kind of strange events happening all my life as I am sure happens to everyone, but I wonder: ‘do these guys realise how annoying is for a woman to be chased like that?’ I reached a point in my life where I hardly socialise as I cannot be bothered to go out to meet somebody only to be cornered by some group of guys who pretend they are deep into their conversation but only to move onto you to almost cover your bag maybe to steal it, or worse have your drink spiked. For what? Some money? Or do they get the kick out of messing with other people’s lives?

I met a friend for a brief drink when I decided to go home. As I was looking for a taxi I arrived in front of this bar which reminded me some good and bad memories and I decided to get in for a drink. I was standing at the bar for less than a minute when this young guy I later learned he was only 23 years old and only moved to the UK to go to University and now he was working for this exclusive company in Mayfair came to me saying: ‘everyone is staring at you’. ‘No, they are not’ I politely said turning my back onto him. But he just took my hand and said: ‘come to my table, we have lots of drinks here’. I could not believe that a youngster can be so aggressive in such a short period of time. Laughing I walked the 10 feet to his table but as he was speaking with a friend, I left him and returned to the bar. Probably I only made some steps that he was back dragging me by my hand saying: ‘let’s go to this nearby place’. As this is a busy part of the town and I knew the place he wanted to go is rather well designed and a bit of a high brow, I thought: ‘OK, let’s give him a chance’. He got a table straight away in a quiet part of the bar, drinks appeared as if by magic but I found the conversation to run on a dry territory purely because of his young age. OK, I started shaking my body whilst he was watching me as if analysing it with lots of eye contact but besides the external policy of his country of origin and things I remembered from documentaries or visiting the countries nearby his to which he always said: ‘how do you know this, no one knows this’, I realised how immature he was. Don’t most of people know about internal and external policies in this time and age?

Really bored I told him that I want to leave the place and as he was waiting to get his office bag I got approached by different guys who asked me: ‘can I get your number?’ He got so jealous when I told him this and once out in the street he asked me to go to a disco. I declined but he kept pulling me to a corner as he said: ‘come to my place’. As he was becoming rather aggressive, I preferred to have an easy escape by making me memorise his number and trust me, until now I remember his number. But to call him I never will. After all I remember when I was at University I made the mistake to go to a party with guys from his country and ended up talking to a guy who seemed to be very sweet. We sleept in the same bed for the few hours before he had to go to school but nothing happened between us. I was about to leave the flat when his flat mate arrived saying how much he fancied me the night before and why did I speak to his friend and not him? But then he pushed me onto the bed and opened my shirt revealing my beige bra. Still shocked from his aggressively I pushed him aside when he made a huge ‘offfffffff’ looking at the ceiling but then with the clothes in a huge mess I managed to get out of his flat. I know, not everyone is the same, but I always remember this story when I come across people born around that part of the world. Better safe than sorry, I always say.

Safe from leaving the youngster and fresh from memorising his telephone number, I reached a bus stop where I decided to change my platform shoes to some another walkable pair I had in my bag, when two gorgeous guys in their thirties started talking to me, moving away from the front door of the posh private club everyone knows it. I found the conversation to run so easy, so stimulant and so funny so I mentioned to them I was invited to this private club I kept avoiding for quite some time. ‘Come with us’ they said and straight away they called a taxi. I quickly removed the one low heeled shoe I was in by now and off we were to another central part of the town. I sensed they both fancied me, yet the blonde guy seemed to be polite in allowing the tall, dark one with a rather posh pronunciation to make his advances onto me. As I was not drunk, I could not allow him to carry on by putting his knee between my legs whilst dancing or to drag me so close to his body making me feel all his bits. ‘Come to my place’ he said. I tried explaining that I was past my Cinderella time and I needed to go home to sleep but he kept coming closer and closer. I am not a big fan of one night stands so I told the guys to stay in the club and try to find some girls. ‘Wait’ he said, as he caught me in the nearby room as I was about to leave. He looked at me as if he wanted to say something but was too embarrassed, so I gave him a hug. Only when in the taxi I thought: ‘damn, I should have taken his number’. I must have had some sparkle in my eyes as after an interesting conversation with the driver he even gave me a big discount.

But looking back at all these events I summarised: ‘it must be something in the air affecting men this time of the year, so girls stay out at your own peril’.




May the 3rd 2013


I don’t know about you but I grew up around some great personalities that made me think that every man should be a strong figure, confident, demure, reliable and is the one to be there to give you the incentive to ‘move’ in life and achieve more; and a woman should be delicate and sensitive, sensible and with a desire to learn all those womanly things……….

But recently I met some male characters that are nothing as described above, despite, surely perceiving themselves as such. And what is even more interesting is that all these men are rather tall, mature, extremely successful if you consider a person to be successful by the number of digits representing their capital. I ‘met’ these guys through friends of friends who were either in long or short term relationships and they mentioned me, the singleton with a positive approach on life, yet moderate in everything and very discreet, despite having tonnes of energy and positivity. So as you imagine, we started by exchanging emails, although having never met them, then we realised that we have something in common and moving onto having several telephone conversations before assuming that we are going to meet one day, maybe at the weekend, or in the near future……..

What is interesting is that all these guys call themselves ‘social butterflies for whom only the best would do’, yet to my surprise I discovered they are rather easy and would just throw themselves at any woman willing to raise her skirt and then they use the ‘best’ term to associate it with restaurants, global locations etc but they do not even bring a bouquet of flowers, never mind chocolates if they are to meet a woman as if everything is about ‘how much can I get feely, or milk because I bought her a drink’.

I was in a ‘texting episode’ with a guy who came across as very impressive with his 6’4 frame, maturity (I thought) due to his age and outlook on life, but we managed not to meet for several months due to his busy schedule that required his presence for several projects outside London, until one evening he texted me out of the blue as I was walking home. As I have not heard from him in weeks, I replied asking him what made him contact me now. It was a polite message that did not imply anything else but what I got in return as a mountain of abuse I could not believe that could come from a man was behaving so politely only several weeks earlier. I knew he could be stressed due to terminating a job and trying to move onto something else, but shouldn’t he be more polite to somebody he never met and exchanged so much information? I tried to bring him to his senses but then he started calling me all kind of names and I realised this is why he might have avoided to meet me all this time as he had a funny nature that destroyed his previous relationships and made him a huge liability near a woman.

‘You cannot live near men, you cannot live without them’ I thought, and with this lesson in mind I concluded I might be able to spot a ‘faker’ in the future. But no, another incident happened afterwards when again a mature guy with a daughter at University kept texting after moving from emails and as he sounded nice on the phone we even considered meeting in London. However he always turned out to be busy with meetings, whether in London or close to his home in Cheshire and in the end he asked me to go there. But to my surprise, all the texting stopped one day so I assumed he changed his mind and I must have said something that upset him or is something wrong with me…….

Just like in the past, it was him who reached me again, after several weeks, asking me all of a sudden to go to Cheshire. Politely I told him ‘this is not going to work’ and to my dismay I received tonnes of abuse via text. I did not want to upset myself and whilst I was trying to delete his message, I could read the first line: ‘you are an idiot, I am a very rich man…………….’

So basically what he was assuming, that due to the fact that he was so rich, every single woman should fall for him and do as he pleases. Probably he temporarily stopped being in touch with me in the past because he was messing around with another women and after he got tired of them he threw them away. And now it was my turn to ‘fall for him’ and be his toy for as long as he desired.

But this is a mentality I never understood. If we were to live in a society where women are un-educated and stay between walls all day long cooking and taking care of the children, that would make sense. But in our society where women are sometimes even better educated than men with a long list of qualifications attached to their curriculum vitae, speaking lots of languages and being better travelled than some men, why would men consider a woman to be equal only when going ‘Dutch’ and splitting half way a restaurant bill. Especially since we know that women doing the same jobs are sometimes paid less than men…..

OK, not all men are bad, I was fortunate to have met some great guys and I seldom remember them wondering how life treated them and how they might look these days. But why am I unlucky to come across some very bad people recently and what have I done to deserve this? Is it me to be blamed, is it the destiny, is it the way I look and act or………….is it something wrong with them?

Questions, questions, questions. One thing I hope, is that I might not come across bad people again. Can God please put an invisible sign on the forehead of these people saying (even via text message): ‘Bad boy, run away from him’.




April the 10th 2013


‘Lithium, Sodium, Potassium, Rubidium, Cesium, Francium’ then ‘Beryllium, Magnesium, Calcium, Strontium, Barium, Radium’ then………. What was I doing? I was simply reciting the Periodic Chemical Table of Mendeleev not to check my memory, the way I do it since I first learnt the ‘table’ but on this occasion purely because I came across this ‘naughty’ channel.

I was playing with my TV remote control after getting tired of the news on different channels and I was looking for something to relax my mind when I came across some girls scantily dressed and speaking on the phone as if addressing an imaginary person whilst looking at the camera with what one would call ‘dirty looks‘. For several minutes I could hear their voices: ‘and I am going to do this to you’ or ‘you came to the right place babe’ but afterwards their voices were cut only to hear this repetitive music which was not sexy but more like ‘some noise has to be there in the background’. A friend of mine quickly appeared in the room and we both burst into laughter wondering if this is supposed to be sexy or worse, what if some young kids will come across this on their TV?

After looking in shock for several minutes, I started reciting the ‘table’ and we were both wondering how funny it will be if we were to move our bodies on our all fours speaking over their voices: ‘lithium’, then moving a leg in the air revealing a good area of the crotch saying: ‘sodium’, you get the gist. The situation was becoming so funny and since both me and my friend have a great sense of humour, sometimes laughing at the tiniest of things, we were now laughing with tears and had to quickly change the channel. It was all becoming too unbearable, since she does not know about my secret life, preferring to reveal only the professional, friendly and easy going personality everyone knows me for.

But I could not wonder for a minute, this is now the norm for a modern person. I am not talking about the extreme, people leading double lives, but what became the usual: to have a different approach for a situation or behave differently in another situation, keeping our secrets just that - secret.

I recently had an encounter with a very good looking guy I first met some two years ago: he was very tall and with a mature gorgeous body his well cut clothes were doing only favours and despite telling me that he was an accountant, somebody could have easily taken him for a guy who was in the military or a sportsman. No wonder women were falling over him as he was telling me so innocently about some experiences that deep inside made me be even more aware of him and his powers. But now, two years later, whilst waiting for him in the bar of one of London’s top hotels, what I call old school yet trendy and discreet, there I was wondering if he will produce the same impact on me he produced the first time I met him in a beautifully decorated bar in a cold December.

He was still gorgeous and confident, with that confidence that comes with the age, not with that cockiness he said he used to possess as a youngster and of which apparently his son in his twenties is now a keen practitioner. But after some 45 minutes of relaxed conversation he started telling me how much he fancied me the first time and why did I agree to meet him again? He was so nonchalant telling me that he likes being dominant and of the hundreds of women he slept with, I was wondering: ‘oh God, he slept with more people than me, never mind about being as fussy as me’. He then told me that he would have liked to keep in touch with me, take me out and concluded: ‘I bet you give a good blow job!’. ‘What?????????’ I was thinking. For such a posh guy he surely had a ‘dirty mouth’ and I did not know whether to be thrilled that he tried to get in touch with me again or to once again keep the distance from him as he was a huge liability? You see, he is gorgeous, he has everything going for him, but there is no future between us as he is married with mature kids as he honestly told me, which I truthfully appreciated. He simply wants to shag as many women as possible.

But I have never been the adept of a cheap shag, so why should I change who I am now?

As I arrived earlier in the bar, I had the chance to talk to a very friendly woman who was seated at a table near mine, rather old looking and a bit funnily dressed. But her curiosity and the way she was running the conversation made me question if indeed she was a person who stays in this expensive hotel for business some 20 times per year when she comes from overseas? I chose to give her the benefit of the doubt and be polite although my senses are correct most of the time.

‘Is she a prostitute?’ my male friend asked me when he noticed her moving around a lot and looking at her with curious eyes probably because she was looking at him and smiling behind my back. I did not care if she fancied him and might make a move on him if I was to go to the toilet but my mind questioned the situation: here we have a man who admitted to me that he shags everything as often as possible besides shagging his wife 3 times per month and a woman who indeed might not be a business woman staying in a top hotel but just somebody who is trying her luck in finding a rich guy in a top hotel. So who is the bitch? Most impressively, as I arrived at the hotel, there were several guys who positioned themselves closer to my table before my date arrived, ignoring the ‘business woman’, looking insistently at me or smiling as if they wanted to start a conversation. They quickly disappeared when my date arrived though.

The morale of the story is: never believe what you see or do not judge a book by it’s cover. We are all human beings with all kind of wishes and desires. As long as we do not harm anyone but being truthful with our feelings, why accept a temporarily ‘ perfect’ person come telling us: ‘I am better than you’. We only live once, right? So do as you please with your life.

I did not tell him though, if he was my partner, I would shag him all the time, he will not have time to mess around with other women……




March the 13th 2013


There I was in my taxi taking me and my companion from our hotel, Nacional de Cuba passing near the tumultuous sea and admiring the beautiful neo-colonial architecture with houses in deep need of a re-paint featured in so many movies and heading towards Piazza San Francesco where our restaurant was located. This was a location recommended to us and having been the previous evening to a family run restaurant situated on the second floor of this amazing building yet so destroyed as if some parts of west Beirut after the war moved to the Caribbean. We recognised though in the pictures on the wall taken by the family, the faces of some top Hollywood actors and we thought if they can do it then us mere mortals will be doing even better than them, should not be scared of the ’environment’ and really enjoyed our food reaching under 30 pounds. But we knew on this occasion, at this expensive and pretentious restaurant near Piazza San Francesco, our meal will reach close to 100 pounds which was a small fortune for the then Cuba so the restaurant should be more ‘high brow’.

The place was empty, so the old waiter took as to the best table telling us he used to work in the best restaurants of Madrid and Paris and looking with the acquired superior eye at us, who could have easily been the age of his grand children, yet there we were in Havana, having previously enjoyed several days in Varadero in a scenery as if taken from the Pirates of the Carribean, truly unspoiled and with a sea as calm as a big lake every morning. But half through our meal, two ladies came over and sat at a table not far from ours. They could have been mother and daughter with an English provenience but as they spoke so quietly we could not understand their accent. What we could both see though was the eyes the old waiter rolling when looking at the back of the younger lady. You see, despite the heat and the fact that she was on the big side or rather plump, she had a pair of black tight trousers that were revealing the beginning of her ‘crack’ and some poorly looking cotton baby pink knickers.

As me and my companion were always making the effort to look decent, of which our waiter was so approving, we could not stop the smiles coming on our faces realizing the cultural shock the poor old guy was experiencing, whilst shaking his head constantly. OK, he might have had the same shock I had when moving to London, I decided one day to take an empty bus to my City school and there he was: a builder with the stereotypical huge bum sat himself in front of me revealing a good portion of his crack. Did he do it deliberately or was he simply not aware or did he not care that we could see his massive behind? I never found that attractive but I was beginning to understand the expression: builder’s bum.

Many times you see men in the gym or on the street in their tight jeans, great body, cool face not necessarily good looking but inspiring confidence, intelligence and sparkle in the eye and you think: ‘God, what a man’. Or, ‘give me a piece of that’. But did you think of that when a builder’s bum, huge and with some short curly hair trying to escape from the crack reveals itself one foot in front of you? Or sometime you even see that guy with his Calving Klein or Ralph Lauren knickers predisposed to some early cellulite and jeans up to his knee thinking he is Mr Cool. In situations like this, believe you me, I always thought, naughty me: where is some water to drip from behind to see his reaction or simply to run away laughing.

Some men do this deliberately and I guess they want to see women’s reactions or simply are high in testosterone. I will never forget when as a youngster who just started travelling the world, I made the mistake to travel with an airline I was not a member and they put me in the middle row between two people. As soon as we took off, a mature professional, although very good looking decided to lower his chair and even forcing it to becoming almost horizontal with his head almost on my lap. Until now, so many years later, I wonder what on earth possessed him to do such a thing? If I was an older, larger woman with a big bag would he have tried that without not being scared that he will either be punched or being hit repeatedly with the bag on the head: hit, hit, hit, hit……..

My second builders’ bum experience was when a rather good looking 5’10 - 5’11 tall plumber came to my premises to repair the boiler. There he was with his cute curly blonde hair bending to pick up something when he revealed the beginning of his crack. Amazingly on this occasion, I did not experience the disgust I experienced the first time, but I was rather turned on. I quickly decided though to go to a different room, as I found it deeply embarrassing that a guy who came across as intelligent as him could be testing to see my reaction or maybe he was that silly as to not realise the fight conducted at the back of him between his tight jeans and his buns to expose themselves.

My third builder’s bum was even more controversial: a plumber came to my premises to repair my sink and this was his second visit as the first time he did not achieve much. I thought that now we know each other better so I told him about my wardrobe giving up on me and I said: ‘let me show you’, meaning that I will go to the bedroom to pick up a piece of wood that was creating the problem and bring it back to the kitchen. But there he was following me and despite me turning half hallway realising he was heading towards my bedroom and trying to avoid an embarrassment I said: ‘leave it’. But no, he was in front of my bedroom and kept staring inside for some good 5-10 seconds. Don’t get me wrong, he was a very good looking guy, tall, great body, great face - but I simply do not do these kind of things. Plus the black dirt underneath his nails made me humorously comment in my brain: ‘no one is putting such fingers inside me’.

Even the second time he did not manage to properly deal with the sink, I had to text him to let him know of his failure but not surprised, he never replied back. Thank God, a new plumber, older, uglier and big family man with very poor command of English came and successfully drained my sink telling me nothing surprises him as if kitchens as clean as mine have to put up with this, I simply have to see the kitchens of people who cook all the time and never bother to keep anything tidy.

These are my experiences with builder’s bums ranging from shock, amazement to being turned on or almost ‘please take me on your bed’ proposal and I always wonder why is it that we never see women revealing their crack, but always men? As a teenage girl I used to love a man in his tight jeans covering those firm bums only men can have and us girls we have to train so hard in the gym for. You see a man’s perfect, round bum and sometimes a cracking pair of legs from playing too much sports, then a chiselled torso and you think: ‘God, I could come……… well, I came……… well, never mind, another pair of wet knickers, no surprise. At least I did not have to shagg him, ha ha’. But now I am developing a new passion. Don’t get me wrong, I still like men in a tight pair of jeans, although there are so few nowadays, most preferring to keep their jeans up to their knees. But for quite some time, I prefer my men in well cut suits. Bless the man who likes investing in a gorgeous suit and then when removing his jacket, you look at his bum trying to imagine how he would look naked? Not that a long look is required, a split of a second look can create a long memory remaining there in your mind until he comes back and you nonchalantly talk to him about all the crap in the world to test his ‘strength’ and see if he is a real man. I guess is just the way men would prefer their women in well cut dresses with the legs firmly poised in some amazing ‘pieces of movement’ aka shoes. But only when removing her amazing attire and reveal some beautifully sexy lingerie you realise it was all well worth it after conquering her great brain. ‘Cos a cheap, pretentious brain has never been attractive, right boys?




February the 25th 2013


I was walking towards home in the dark on this large road when I noticed something moving at the base of a tree. I am not a person to easily get scared so I curiously realised this person was a man who I thought he either was too drunk or maybe he had a worse experience and needed some help. As I approached him asking ‘are you OK, Sir?’ I realised he was indeed drunk with his decent clothes and knee length coat a little bit worse for wear. I was trying, with his accord to bring him on his feet but his weight was really creating a problem, when I noticed a well dressed guy, in his late ‘30s and the physique of a rugby player coming towards us. ‘Can you help us’ I said whilst he removed his headphones. ‘What do you want?’ he said with a very rude tone and a pulling a face. Realising that I was speaking to a man who despite his good education and upbringing, he was behaving in an opposite manner, I just said to him: ‘never mind’, after which he quickly he put back the headphones on.

The drunken man was really heavy so I only apologised for not being able to bring him on his legs as every single time he kept falling back, I left him but I could not stop thinking of the contrast our daily encounters expose us to. Only hours earlier I was in a new gym where the previous week the cleaner gave me a transparent bag to put my wet swimsuit. I noticed her bad wig, poor command of English but I could not forget her helpful attitude, so on my following visit I brought her a chocolate.

But on this specific day I realised that I run out of one pound coins for my locker. Since they are returnable I asked her if she had any to which she produced something she put in to close my locker. However she produced this in such a slow motion and with such importance as if she was about to give me one million pounds for free!!!!!!!! Upon me leaving the area I heard one girl laughing with her and I quickly thought: ‘why people do that if you look like a sensible? Why do they never do it if the person is rough looking or tall and mean’. Most importantly when I returned to my locker the coin wasn’t even of one pound but one of these coins the gyms give to their staff to lock their items and probably to save their money since they have such low wages. And there I was, initially feeling so guilty for asking her for one pound which anyway was going to be returned to her as I do not like being indebted to anyone!!!!!!!!!

I always felt a bit ‘up’ if I made a good effort to help somebody, or what is being perceived as being charitable, but on most occasions, sooner of later I realise that a huge percentage of my good deeds have been taken for granted, and just like our ancestors, I always thought: ‘where is our world going to?’

A friend of mine recently told me the story of a girl he was involved with and describing her as very astute as she managed to fool him so well. She was the typical gold digger, some 20 years younger than him but one would say the entire fault lies with him: as a person who lived so much overseas he only returned to the UK to go to University, whereas she has never lived but in the UK. Coupled with her lack of education, he could have easily assessed there are remote chances for their relationship to succeed. The fact that she never finished anything really and always losing interest but dreaming of a world or a job for which she made no effort, she reminded me of so many women like her I met before!!!!

A person I used to consider a friend once took me by surprise with her statement: ‘I want to be famous for something, I do not know what, but I want to be famous’. And all the time I was thinking: ‘whaaaaaaaaaaaat?’ That was a person who was looking for a ‘sponsor’ to support her lifestyle, but never made the effort to go to a school or even have a part time job in a small shop - who told her that even by having a Degree your life becomes easier?

And every single money she made out of different encounters by somehow evading her ‘permanent reality’ of a life fuelled by different substances, she was running to buy some designer gear she saw in a magazine or newspaper or in the shops she was frequenting in order to cheer herself up. I never understood such people who do not want to accept they were never born rich and based on actual circumstances probably they will never be, yet they prefer to buy designer staff purely to show off. I remember as a child I used to ask me mum: ‘shall I buy that’ or ‘shall I cut my hair in such a style’, to which she always used to reply: ‘you have your money, do as you please’. Maybe because of this independence from such a young age, it never created a dependable addiction for me. Don’t get me wrong, I have probably the largest wardrobe one would ever see but I would never bother to buy something which represents 90% of my budget. More like the other way round. And it looks like I lost interest in buying stuff for myself long time ago……..

Coming back to my ‘pre’ friend, I do not blame her for being so deluded as she has some younger friends who in their late teens realised the only way to succeed was to find a guy who could be their fathers and quickly become pregnant then divorce him and thus having their future and paper work assured. What happened to the gold digger ex-girlfriend of my friend? Well, he had to take her to court as he got tired of her coming and leaving of their relationship in order to have flings with guys even younger than her, but most importantly she stole a whole six figure sum from their joint account which in the end the recouped something. He even had to go for a restraining order as she decided to smash his car as punishment.

‘You and me’ I said to him as he seems to suffer from the same disease as me, the one that makes our ex-partners keep coming back despite of the extremely long interval of time since I spoke to any of them. Now, what would have happened if we all were to be mean, demanding and rude to our ex-s, would they still come back after depressing us, leaving us disappointed and messing with our times and money?




February the 5th 2013


Your breasts might become ‘humengous’ and might overflow over your bra, giving you itchy nipples you try to scratch delicately when no one is watching only to discover that a man in heat caught you with a smile on his Cheshire cat face about to lick his invisible milk…… or you might have some annoying headache, a bad back which only a visit to the local massage therapist might release it and finally you are able to sleep all night and not be awake for 2-3 hours turning from one side to another and being so hot. Yes, they are all my symptoms before my monthly present, mother nature gives me more often than ‘monthly’ and I learnt to be resilient and simply put up with it. But recently, a new symptom started and this is the most annoying: I now have my ‘monthly’ cry, as if I need to do this to release some kind of pressure. OK, I always have been a very sensible and sensitive person, but crying for no reason over a movie or Opera or ballet? It looks like I cry over ballet interpretations, or Opera fantasies or movie ideas. Is it fair? Of course, the subconscious idea is that I do it because it resonates with something in my life, but aren’t I suppose to be tougher by now? Which tells me how fragile us women are, despite all the world travelling or kicking bags in the gym………..

As time passes I am more and more convinced you cannot change who you are, your family background or your first years of school, just the way mature men will never change, even for the person they love. They might make small changes in their lives but the big picture always remains the same, which is an interesting contrast as I know so many women who changed for the man they loved!

We might deviate a bit from our ‘initial’ values but eventually we will come back from the ‘bad’ we did and we will say: ‘this is not who I am’. I wonder if the baddies think: ‘shall I change my ways and become a better person’?

I thought I was exhausted after an amazing afternoon of passion in one of London’s top hotels with a wonderful lover, and trust me, as a person who stayed in all kind of establishments around the world, this hotel was simply amazing; so I decided to take a bath and relax for a while in a beautifully scented bubble bar bath covering my nipples and the area between the legs as if a secret camera was in my bathroom, when this guy called me pressurising me into going out with him on a Thursday night. ‘You claim to be spontaneous’ he said to me with his sexy voice of a very mature man. I have never met him before but I knew how he looked like, plus I put some minutes into research to ensure he is not a nutter. Somehow my headache was gone so I agreed to meet him.

‘These are for you’ he said, presenting me the largest bouquet of flowers I have ever received. ‘They must cost close to £100’ I thought, as I have several florists near my place where I keep practicing several foreign languages. We quickly put the flowers in the back of the car and he was very insistent in opening and closing the door of the car for me. I always like old school gents, so yes, I was impressed, well minus the drama he kept making when we were positioned at the bar of this well known central London hotel. It was a bit embarrassing as I like being very discreet but I guess my stretch knee length beige dress with platform beige shoes and beige fur coat were emphasising my body as a guy from a group of guys near us who kept watching, sent me a glass of Champagne. I did not make any eye contact with anyone, hence I decided not to encourage this guy and simply thanked everyone. I guess my ‘escort’ was a bit annoyed, so we decided to move to a nearby bar where he was a member. Probably he was trying to get me drunk as after meeting some of his very rich friends apparently with some ‘dubious’ interests, we quickly moved to one of the London’s top members’ club, so discreet and sought after, even I never heard of.

As soon as we stepped it, I recognised some faces one sees regularly on TV, plus the usual young girls ‘look at me, please’. I could not believe that a girl was really into reading this 500 years old book they were keeping in the beautifully decorated library upstairs where stunning furniture and fire place were located and where she could have clearly enjoyed such a book. I know I would, listening to the noises of the crowd in the distance. Instead she seemed to be interested in positioning herself in the busy lobby area, asked by everyone what was she reading?

My companion decided we need to eat something, when I noticed this guy who kept looking at me. Since he was with a girl and I was a bit drunk I thought it was pure coincidence that every single time I was turning my head he was looking at me. But then the fire alarm started so we had to evacuate the club and he positioned himself in front of our table. I then realised he was Mr Drone I mentioned in a previous story. Even now, thinking back I am wondering what did he expect? That I am going to run after him saying: ‘please put me in rubber and spank my bottom?’

My coat remained now in the club where fire fighters arrived in minutes, together with the papparazis, so my companion deposited me in the opposite restaurant in order to find a car for us to go to another club. I was really impressed with all his efforts, I do not know many men to have went to all this extent and after a bit of dancing I decided that was the time for me to go home. He might have been a night owl, but I got used since I was a baby to sleep at least eight hours every night.

The flowers did not even bloom when he started calling pressuring me discreetly to have sex with him. The problem is not me being wet or enjoying sex but why should I have sex with the millionth guy who takes me out purely to have sex with me and then disappear thinking ‘wow I am so clever!’ I never found that attractive.

So eventually he stopped calling but I would not be surprised to hear one day from him. ‘How are you’ I received a text message the other day and when mentioning that I do not store numbers, hence asking to identify himself, I never heard from the sender. But interestingly Mr ‘00 whatever’ started texting me again, he is one very persistent person. And within an interval of 24 hours my two ex’s got in touch with me. Well, one apparently sent me a link by mistake, so I had to block him via email and the other by phone.

Am I enjoying this attention? Not really, as I said, is before that time of the ‘month’, probably in several days I will start crying for no reason, so I decided to do some good instead: several bags of sweets for my building’s security guy’s daughter who probably will appreciate this more than the ‘homeless’ guy I used to give stuff to, only to discover the tricks he was doing during the day whilst at night he was positioned in front of my local supermarket and never be happy with the money I used to give him but asking for more and more…………

Are there any ‘permanently happy solutions’?




January the 21st 2013


I was reading an article the other day about how much women fancy Mr 007 and how much men would like to be like him and this idea always left me puzzled. The ‘real guys’ might call the civilians ‘idiots’ for dreaming of personifying a womaniser - alcoholic - travelling killer but do the 9 to 5 people really ever learn? Just like when you hear people talking about the ‘romantic times’ of the 18th or 17the century when damsels in distress were ‘stolen’ from their parents who always turn out to be aristocratic and live happily ever after, you hear women whispering: ‘how romantic’! But their dreams stop at accepting those ancestors of ours had to walk in the middle of the night or cold to a dirty toilet located outside the house, or live in a house which was cold most of the time, damp and producing life long illnesses. No wonder their lives ended around late thirties or forties and in your fifties you were actually an ancient. I wonder if Metusaleh or Matusalem called in different cultures really reached the hundred years old or was merely a guy in his fifties who decided to never cut his beard and indeed was wiser purely because he saw more things in his life than the youngsters who always think they know better than anyone?

My own and very charming ’00 whatever’ indeed had a deep voice, good looks and that lovely wavy hair I like so much. Well, at least that is how he looked in his photos and he looked like a guy with very long legs, otherwise I wouldn’t have burst into laughter when I saw him well positioned on a donkey on some foreign land and my first impression was if the donkey was fully erected with Mr Whatever on his back. Looking closer, I realised it was simply Mr Whatever’s long leg!!!!!!!!!

We spoke for hours on the phone that we lost track of everything and starting doing all the homely chores: me watering the plants for example and him cleaning his flat at the quarters he was living. I will not lie, his deep, mature, relaxing and sexy voice made me wet on so many occassions, but since he was trying to woo me, of course no such information has been disclosed to him. But then he made a mistake: mentioning how many events he had to go to, he admitted that he was in touch with several women he then criticised for not being a perfect match.

Life is not perfect and our parents put through thick and thin and never divorced, so I never understood why some people only accept perfection? OK, OK, I sometime say I am a perfectionist myself, but I am aware that I make lots of mistakes and in life you always have to make compromises. But finding the perfect companion? What was he thinking about?

I really had a great respect for him, just the way I have towards all those people who achieved things I did not achieve: he was able to fly a plane, a helicopter, an expert in tanks……… I bet he was good in bed too, but enough was enough and I told him that we should stop having all these telephone calls. He accepted defeat and I thought that was that and I will never hear from his again.

But several months later he started texting me again and as I was having a good day I politely replied to his message. Several messages later he decided out of the blue to call and expose me to his very sexy voice and asked me if I wanted to meet him that weekend. ‘Let’s meet in Chelsea’ he said proposing as meeting place a very well known restaurant where he met a girl earlier on. ‘What?’ I said. Was this place his usual meeting place and I was next in line now? Remembering all the reasons why I decided not to meet him in the first instance, I asked him to go to his ‘babes’ and leave me alone.

I thought ‘OK, he is angry with me, so he will leave me alone’, but several months later again he started texting me. It was just before Christmas and said he had several weeks of holiday, so it would be good to go somewhere together. The fact that he kept my number made me realise that a huge percentage of men never really delete a woman’s number, as I had similar problems in the past, unless something drastic really happens. But then he stopped texting me and I assumed that another woman has fallen in his temporary trap. After Christmas he called me out of the blue and after exchanging the pleasantries I had to tell him that I found all this a real turn off and to really leave me alone. ‘It is the other way round’ he said. ‘It is me who I tell women to leave me alone’ he admitted. It is then the penny really dropped. So basically, just like a huge percentage of men, he liked playing tricks with lots of women, having them waiting at the end of a line and him playing: ‘eeny, meeny, miny, moe; which girl today is for I - o’?

I refuse to think that all men are bad, maybe because I had such a huge respect for my dear father contributed to me putting men on a pedestal, thinking they are better than women. Although too often one sees nowadays men who spit, swear or talk rubbish on the street never mind being not able to stand on their two legs. Sometimes I think men are the new women, bitchier than the real bitches……….imagine if men were menstrual! The world would be on fire, ha ha

Coming back to Mr Whatever, well, I hope now he really deleted my number, he will not make anymore the n-th attempt to reach me and probably drag me to his bed, although I am pretty sure we are going to have a smashing time. But again, I can get this almost anywhere, so why bother with something so complicated?




January the 8th 2013


‘Come see my drone’ he said, learning that I am interested in all technical and scientific geeky stuff. ‘I find that very sexy’ he added. As he was brought up overseas but with an English background I knew he is going to be different and not like the mainstream that assume a slim, elegant blonde with long hair is a bimbo but could actually be proficient in the most diverse of subjects.

I will not lie, I did a background check on him to ensure he is not a nutter who will put me in his helicopter and whisk me away to some crazy destination. Plus his huge 6’4 muscly frame it was not one to mess around with as my punches could have been like a light breeze when he showed me how he kicked. And yes, he was trained in several martial arts and fighting techniques which combined with his amazing body and good looks had women drooling over him. He was even begged to donate his sperm to some women on the lookout for potential ‘non committed’ fathers. And then I was wondering: ‘why me’?

‘I am late’ he texted me and asked me to come to his apartment near this central London hotel where we were supposed to meet and after paying for my taxi I followed him suspiciously to his flat. I was hoping he will not make a move on me as I am not the kind to meet a person to sleep with everyone who invites me out, I was hoping to just have a decent conversation, maybe go to a private club for a bit of dancing, thus taking me away from the routine daily chores.

He showed me around his flat and yes, he was a techie just like me, actually a bit worse than me, plus with a huge collection of porn DVDs and S&M screensavers on his several computers. ‘He is not embarrassed with all this’ I concluded, as we finally took a taxi to his nearby private club. He looked rather cool and everyone seemed to know him, the women staff were smiling at him, so I realised he must be having lots of fans. ‘It takes me much more than that to fall for a guy’ I secretly concluded and I was pleased he started digging in some smelly sandwiches as this was a perfect excuse not to allow him to kiss me if he tries. Which yes, he tried a bit later and I was a bit scared that with his big muscles, as big as my legs, he might pin me in the corner to forcibly do it. I managed to put my head down and then I realised he is a real gentleman. Normally these big men with everything ‘to go’ for them, top jobs and excellent physical condition, plus lots of female followers to be the ones that will take a no for an answer……..but it does not mean though they are not simply waiting for you to give them a small sign and there they are taking the full advantage of everything.

I thought we are going to drop him to his place and continue my journey home, but surprised I discovered that he already paid the taxi and now he was taking me by my hand back to his place. ‘I am not going to sleep with you babe’ I told him a bit mellow from the two drinks he encouraged me to have at the club. ‘I want to show you something’ he said with a smile on his face after he put me on his living room sofa listening to the relaxing tones of Massive Attack. ‘I asked somebody to bring this earlier for you’ he said showing me this latex dress with a belt underneath the open bottom, explaining I had to put some talc on my body to get in it. ‘Hold your horses’ I thought as the drunken fumes all disappeared. He even produced a very expensive leather whip, apparently sent especially to him by a Japanese artist. ‘What do you think’ he said as he positioned himself near me producing some vapours from something that gave me a headache. ‘I don’t know, I have never been to a party dressed like this’ I said, asking him to open the window and give me some water to prevent a ‘coming’ headache. ‘I have some latex trousers I am going to wear’ he said trying to convince me to come to this party with him, as he started whipping me delicately with that massive leather thing, when secretly I was wondering how my delicate skin is going to look the next day. ‘No way he just bought this stuff for me’ I was thinking, ‘this is some stuff from a previous girlfriend and he is simply lying to me‘.

He seemed to be a bit upset that I did not share his enthusiasm in this S&M but I mentioned that I had some amazing corsets and leather crotchless clothes I bought as a fantasy. Probably he assumed that I needed some encouragement to be converted to his world and did not realise that all this Christian Grey thingie is all too much even for a person like me. Just because one is not an un-experienced virgin, does not mean that will not adhere to the same standards taught early in life during many years of education in a safe environment. You might do some naughty things but eventually you come back to what you know best and the environment you feel most secure……….

I felt his massive shoulders as I came near his PC to look at the imagery taken with his short range drone and I realised how tired I was when I put my head near his. ‘I must go home’ I said to which he quickly replied ‘OK’ probably annoyed I did not easily fall for him. But he was too cosmopolitan and sophisticated to even attempt anything and gallantly he excessively paid my return taxi.

He texted me again as I arrived home and I realised he would have liked to be his convert, and he clearly calculated my grooming. What he did not calculate was that us the ‘science geeks’ can be a bit strong headed and just because we are a bit OCDs and like walking naked in the house, does not mean we are going to show our bums to some strangers in a crazy environment.

What do you do the morning after such a crazy encounter? Well, you do all the homely chores that relax you and balance your life and in my case was picking some numbers for the lottery. You see, I always carry a lottery slip in my wallet and I remember some time ago I met a guy who had a peep in my wallet and later laughed at me while we were at one of his clubs: ‘checking your vouchers?’ ‘Let him laugh at me’ I said to myself, as once again I concluded he kept taking me out in order to groom me for sex with him. Of course one day he disappeared assuming he cannot be traced if an angry woman with lots of skills wants to take her revenge. Thankfully I am not such a person, I prefer to work on building my ‘security wall’ and not be an easy prey, despite people trying to thin this wall……..

So yes, I played the lottery on that occasion, but just like on so many other occasions I did not win anything. I must go play the lottery in the deprived areas I thought, as according to statistics there are higher chances to win something there rather than playing the lottery in London or in the South east for that matter.

My question is, even if I win the lottery, how do I find a decent guy with great sexual potential, ‘cos picking up a guy in a bar has never been my thingie.