It wasn't meant to turn out like this:

I’m not supposed to be sat in the remnants of my life,

I’m not supposed to think of this as my swan song.

I’m not supposed to cry every time I get in the car,

Coz I’ve got time to think of all the things that went wrong.

I’m 26 and I have time to live, not sit here and dwell

On all the things I should have done and how to came to hell.

I’m not supposed to be looking through photos and cards,

I’m not supposed to be reading my diary from when I was 10.

I’m not supposed to be boxing up everything I own,

Even the good times look bad, everything from now till then.

I work hard and try my best and I never ever quit,

So why is it so hard to sleep, my head’s about to split.

I’m supposed to be happy in my job, I’ve worked so hard and long for,

I’m supposed to be with JP, we were in love and belonged together,

I’m supposed to have my own little house, I’ve saved my whole life for,

I’m not supposed to feel this vulnerable, when I’ve only been hit with a feather.

It seems so simple, so stupid and so small,

I really did think I could have it all.

This year I’ve lost the world I knew, all expectations I had are gone,

I really thought I did everything right, I thought I played the game.

With Mum, JP, now losing the flat, I’m back where I was years ago,

I thought I knew better and I’d learnt my lesson, clearly life didn’t think the same.

So now to start over and try to get it right, remember you’re over the worst bit,

Whatever happens now, it can’t get any lower, so shut up and get on with it!

The Secret to Good Sex (?)

I like to class myself in the 'normal' category when it comes to my sex life.  I'm not the biggest prude, I'm not the biggest whore - as Andie McDowell said in Four Weddings, "less than Madonna, more than Princess Di, I hope".  However, I recently had a conversation with my sister that made me very concerned, not particularly about me, but about her.  We were on the train heading for a night out with a girl I used to work with when she turned to me (still sober, I must add) and said "you'd be amazed what people do".
I replied with, "I doubt it, I went to university!"  This was prompted by my flatmate sending me a text that apologised for her not saying goodbye to us, but she was dressed "a bit slutty" and she didn't want me to see her.  This fascinated my sister - what on earth was she wearing.  I explained that we'd all done the sexy underwear and long coat routine, it was probably that.  The problem being, she never had.  We then got chatting (still sober) about her friend who performs a particular act on her husband, which completely freaked my poor sister out when she openly/drunkenly told her.  My sister turned to her other friend for conformation that she was correct in her shock - her friend agreed.  This led me to seriously worry about the state of her sex life, as sadly, the act in question was pretty basic (for fear of offending, I shall refer to everything indirectly or euphemistically).

Later in the night and after several cocktails (I really do mean several), my friend posed the question "so, what's the worst sex you've ever had?"  This made my sister spit her drink out in a water-feature-like manner at the shock of such a question.  As drunken girlies do, we compared stories - I must point out that this was not in a derogatory way, more like sharing comedy stories of situations we've found ourselves in.  We also got talking about the best and the most memorable sex.  One story in particular was when my then boyfriend and I got a little bit film-inspired and as he lifted me up and swept me into the bedroom, he smacked my head on the doorframe.  Another was when he over-dramatically ripped my phone from my hand mid-text, threw it across the room and passionately kissed me - sadly the phone went straight through the open window and he had to climb out and get it.  Incidentally the same boyfriend; he was fun.  It turns out that my antics were shocking to my sister; I don't think she judged me as a complete trollop, but I'm fairly sure it was an eye-opener, and no doubt she regretted posing the initial question on the train that day.

I've had boyfriends, but I've always been in a relationship and I've never had a one-night stand.  I'm always safe, I get regularly checked out, and I draw the line at anything that compromises hygiene!  The aforementioned ex boyfriend was probably the most memorable one, because he was so much fun.  My ex before him was very (very) intense and everything had to be perfect.  He used to use the term "making love", which is, of course, lovely when it happens, but he had to make every time special.  It was way too much pressure (he then stalked me for six months after we broke up, so it wasn't the best relationship in the world).  This one came along at the perfect time, I really needed to be reminded that sex can be fun as well as romantic.  He was also strangely athletic, so it was much cheaper than a gym membership too!  There are several variables to a healthy sex life: location (that covers a range of towns as well as rooms), clothing (again, covers a range of costumes/underwear/colours/heels etc), positions (see Cosmo for more information on that one), styles (romantic, fast, gentle, athletic, experimental - there's lots of options).  The most important thing is feeling comfortable and confident.  You should never do something you don't want to do and I am a strong believer in doing what feels right with someone it feels right with; I guess that's the reason I couldn't answer my friend's earlier question as to what the worst has been.  I've never had bad sex (touch wood - please don't curse me now).  I watch Sex and The City and laugh along with the moments of bad kissing, monotonous/repetitive/non-responsive action, bad hygiene, cringe-worthy boyfriends, but I've never actually experienced one for myself.  I've always wanted to be with the person, I've always been sure, I've never been intimidated or felt under pressure, I've always been intune to what they want and clear about what I want.  Maybe it's because we've always got to know each other first (I don't follow the three-date-rule, I follow the when-I-know-you rule).  Maybe that's the secret to good sex...

Given my sister's shock (please remember she's five years older than me), I had to consult my other older sister who is much more like me.  She agreed.  I'm normal.  As is she.  Now she is worried about our sister's sex life too!

How do you re-meet a stranger?

I feel like I’ve just been in a synopsis for a romantic comedy – I’m currently being played by Jennifer Aniston.  After a looooong day out and about in London, Mum and I collapsed onto the train at Waterloo, luckily we found a table so we could spread out a bit.  Well, we did until Mr Hottie stepped up and sat in front of me.  Being a hottie (potentially played by Robert Downey Jr – don’t ask why) I was absolutely fine with sharing our table!  Then another guy joined us and our little quad was complete as we rolled out of the station.  Mum and I were tired and as usual got a bit giggly and funny in our stories.  So we started nattering and I couldn’t help noticing just how hot Mr Hottie was…  sports gear (no idea why), random tattoos on inner left bicep and inner right forearm, black geek glasses, spikey dark hair, tanned and flippin’ beautifully toned!  Ok – so it’s 50mins from Waterloo, I had time to inspect!  The ticket-man came round and I noticed he also had a ticket going to the same station as me (Mr Hottie, not the man).  As he handed me back my ticket, he said “thank you mum”.  Thinking I’d heard him wrong I did a double-take and looked straight at Mr Hottie who was also stifling a laugh (as was our latest table guest). 

“Did he just call me Mum?”  I asked Mr Hottie.

“Yes – I was really hoping he’d call me Son.”

I turned to Mum, “what did he call you?”

Random man: “Nan, I think”

This led to a series of funny comments showcasing the wittiness of me, Mum and these two lovely gentlemen. 

Mum and I then got talking about other things and every now and then Mr Hottie would interject with another funny comment, when necessary.  This continued for the whole journey, so just to add to the list of positives: Me Hottie has a good sense of humour (and, more importantly, he’s not completely put off by mine).  As the train drew nearer our destination, I really wanted to openly flirt and some how get/offer a phone number; how this was going to happen, I have no idea, because it appears that I’ve lost all flirting power (it happened yesterday too).  Sadly with Mother in tow, flirting was never going to be an easy task.  So instead, I made sure he knew where I like to go out in town, that I live with a flatmate who’s away, that I teach at a local school and that I’m going to the rugby on Saturday.  If he doesn’t track me down, then at least all nearby passengers know where and when to rob me…!!

So, the big question is, how do you track down a complete stranger?  How do you recreate a once-in-a-lifetime chance encounter?  Personal ads are a no go – that’s just weird.  Same goes with local radio – that really is a rom-com only tactic.  Hmmm, such a shame, he really was lovely!