To play or not to play…

That is the question……

I have spoken before about life or love being a game, one big fat fucked up fucking game.

From Pawns to Rooks, from Rooks to Knights and Knights to Queens, and Queens to…….

Like the musical number in Chess ‘Nobody’s on nobody’s side’.

I am so sick and tired of playing or trying and failing to play with others, is it nurture or nature that enables us to bond, to mould, to work and play nicely with other people? Maybe a bit of both, maybe we are pre designed to be a player or be played.

Or neither, why should we allow people to walk heavy on our souls and change how we feel.

It’s like looking at someone who has their fingers hold slightly the arm of a vinyl turn table, they are looking at you, straight in the eye as they lower it onto the record which is your life, now they could just drop it, hurting the record damaging the needle, they could place it slowly, delicately, with tenderness and let the music play, then again they could grind the needle into the grooves, fucking up the whole fucking equipment.

What do you do?

You look them back in the eye and take back the turn table which is you.

Play your own tune.

It is hugely easy to do, it’s how you see yourself.

One second I could be a pent up frustrated old crone, or perhaps underutilised at work, or even not being listened to at home, then the next moment I’m sitting back and gaining control. It has taken such a hell of a long time to do this, it might not even last, but right now I feel able.

It’s not meditation, it’s seeing the whole world as a game that needs playing.

One giant SIM’s universe that’s been left.

For us.




That was wild, very wild.

From nearly being sold in a brothel, falling off a moped, Thai whisky, too much dope and some major soul searching Thailand spanked my very being.

It was an amazing journey.

Got through the terminal, sat at the bar, a guy came over, American, older, cute and a personal trainer, I got chatted up, balls deep and blazen he asked for my number, the sheer gall made me give it to him, he was flying to San Diego, to see his children, who pulls after ten minutes, I do apparently (It turns out he is married, the wonders of modern technology)

So my travels stared before I even left the UK, got to Thailand, the heat, oh the heat, sweat trickles down to depths unknown, and how good it felt, it felt dirty, even after a cold shower you never felt truly clean, or perhaps that’s just me.

First night we drank like the end was near and danced in an open aired club, the pulsing beat thrusting itself into you, nothing like it, shots of tequila, laughing like children, smiling just because you could. We ended up getting a moped taxi, not to our hotel but to a brothel, a brothel and it wasn’t for us to use, he tried to persuade us to make some money….I’m blonde and blue eyed and Thai men like that….We walked in….We were drunk and slightly naive, it was all gold and marble, very beautiful, we scarpered, and demanded we got taken back.

Nights getting stoned, lying naked and hot on the bed, watching a thunderstorm, burnt shoulders and building a friendship which will stay forever, kissing a beautiful policeman on the beach while the lighting echoed across the sea (he had a gun I shit you not) That’s life’s all about, just do it, and I did it.

Hell if I can do all that, I can do fucking anything.

Sleep, I can sleep:)

To lose ones self

I went and still am in Thailand, I threw caution and probably self respect to the winds and booked a flight, with a girlfriend of course, I’m disaluisional not stupid.

Ok so I left my mother in charge of the kids and the cheating ex in charge of the dogs….and I went.

I have been having texts with the married man, sad, but true, there was a moment when we actually got each other and things could have been amazing. So I fucked it up, it was and still right thing to do, I can’t do that to another woman. Who am I kidding, of course I could, with ease and not another thought about it, I’ve done it, many times, I use these married men as much as they use me.


They go back and cuddle their wives, the sex is problaby better, for them, not me, I’m the crux, the no one that doesn’t matter. And I get off on that, it’s self harm in it rawness form. I make them feel glorious and I make me feel worthless. Win win.

I came to Thailand to have a blow out, lose myself. But I found myself instead. I need to cut myself some slack, there isn’t anyone to look after me or my kids. I need to woman up, grow some tits and just chill the fuck out.

If England can say we are out then so can I.

Emotional Flesh.

I have spoken about using love and sex as a vehicle for self harm.

I’m doing it now, this minute.

I’ve fallen for someone I shouldn’t.

Congratulations, you are now officially on the road to fucking up all the good that’s been completed in the last year.

I was in bed this morning, waking up alone is the norm, well, I say alone my two dogs keep me warm and protected so it’s not all bad, so while I lay there it dawned on me that I am allowing myself to have emotional and thought provoking feelings for a man, a man I have no claim on and can’t have one either.

No he’s not a Catholic Priest or Gay.

He’s married.

I know.

I know.

I also know that this is my way for fucking things up when they are going well, it’s almost like I’ve been so used to feeling down and rejected that I have to find someway of replicating this, to feel something, anything. I can understand it why people self harm, as in to cut the flesh, please don’t get me wrong I am not saying this is right, I can just empathise.

It’s quite interesting to delve in to background of why we do things, what compels and how you can stop yourself (if you can) from hurting the one person you never should.


I had hoped it was a crush, that I was looking to be looked after (he’s older), that maybe if I found someone else he wouldn’t be in the forefront of my waking day, but it’s not, it’s darker and more sinister than I want to admit.

Is it an internal power struggle to win someone over? To have the hold over someone else? But the only person in this that would lose is I, and my self respect. It’s not fair for me to chase this man, to possibly ruin his marriage, why would I do this, just so I can get off on feeling like shit, perhaps.

So I shall continue dating, I shall force myself not to think of the other man and sum up the people I’m around according to him, and I shall try to analyse the reasoning behind why I’m doing this and break the chain of bad behaviour, having gone through a massive bout of depression recently, it is not wise to slip back into the fog of gloom.

Perhaps I should try Tinder again…….Or……..

Perhaps I should just stick to wine. Much safer.




Love is a losing game they say, and can’t you lose at your own game. Or can you?

Surely you write your own guidelines, the boundaries, the direction you wish it go and come from……

So why does it never feel like that, do we give ourselves over to chaos and disarray on purpose as our lives are so regimented that we need a fluid force to push us along? or shove us when we least expect it.

Its not always love in the sexual kind, though that type is the most enslaving, it can be any other type of love that makes us think and feel differently from person to person and scenario.

The most pure kind is of course parent to child, the bond so fierce that even the sea itself would part if it could, it’s a raw and unyielding beating heart thumps so hard just to unnecessarily remind you it’s there.

There’s friends who’s potency gives us the right thoughts at the right time, that type of love is earn’t and comes with time, shared attention and hopes, anguish and betrayal.

Limerence is a favourite of mine, ok perhaps it’s not love in a complete sense but it’s close, Limerence is the first blooms of love, the attraction, the feeling where you drift off thinking of someone else when you should be writing a report.

It’s this feeling that keeps the world going round, it’s the wistful need to be with someone, to feel that closeness whether it is real or you just want it to be.

I’m slowly starting to have these thoughts, and I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t but I like it.

It’s the tingle up the inner thighs as they get closer, the way the eyes droop when their name is mentioned, it’s the heavy weight pressed into your chest. Now I could ignore these feelings, barricade them into a basement vault or roll with it, it won’t go anywhere, it can’t go anywhere. Doesn’t mean I can’t bask in the Limerence of the moment. Play loves own game.

So whatever love we are feeling now, we should be thankful for it and it should be thankful to us.

As without a host a parasite can not exist, and love needs to live.