This thing called life

I'm just about to switch off for the day. And I know it's been all about being a bad girl today. I'll rephrase that, today was all about the bad girl I once was. I like to think I'm a better girlie now, perhaps not entirely good, but better. What happened was never planned. I'd been the girlfriend who'd been had, the fiancee` who'd been had. And I know what it felt like. Bad. And I vowed it would never happen again, and it didn't. I am not going back on my latest blogs though, what I said there still stands because it is what it is. Life is tough, marriages break up, mistresses will still be all over the place as will be male lovers. Funny, they're not called masters. Masters are something else which would require whole new entry here. And then I'm not so sure it would be good to write about Masters because I'd also have to write about slaves. And s and M, which would raise too many a bushy eyebrow, most of them very good candidates for a sadistic wax. But all that happens is good for the economy. Many hotels would go bankrupt and have to let go of their employees were it not for affairs. That in turn would put a family in financial difficulty, and most times it's the beginning of the straying. It's one circle. I wonder what it would be like for a married woman to stray. But it would also be good for the economy, as long as she isn't brazen enough to use her own matrimonial bedroom which is the subject of so many jokes; the husband coming home from work and she has to hide her lover bla bla bla. It could also turn ugly I guess. But I will never know. Because I will never do that. There are some things in life that we just have to experience, some other thing we do not have to. And while remembering hot Lolita me at 25 still makes me smile, well, it was also the case that love never came easy. Love, not lust. As little girls we do not plan on having our own black book and counting how many came and went. At least I didn't. But I made one mistake. I thought everybody was just like my dad, my lovely nice dad who never got angry, always smiled and made me laugh, my dad who thought I was his little princess and who was so proud of me that his bragging sometimes embarrassed me. Poor dad, he was just so proud, and I thought everybody was just like him. And I know this is a hard one to swallow, but right up till the age of 13 I didn't even know that marriages splitting up were possible. I remember being very confused when one classmate announced her dad had gone. Gone? Gone where? I thought single families where only possible through a sad death of a parent. My dad had so wrapped me up in the cotton wool called extreme love that I was not in tune with the world outside the cotton wool. Seriously. And it's not as if I were slow academically, musically or anything. And yet I didn't know anything about life except for love. I thought my first boyfriend would be just like my dad. Geeze I couldn't have been more wrong. And the first breakup hurt so much because I thought things like these rarely happened. At least I'd never seen anything like it. Because mum, with all her funny ways had been lucky enough to meet someone like my dad at first go. I wasn't so lucky. It took a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, until I lost count. And I became none the wiser. And I know just why my affairs with older men hurt my dad so much although he never said. He thought I was looking for a father figure because he'd been bad at it. When it was so very much the contrary, I wanted a father figure because I wanted a man like my dad. And no, there's no hanky panky incest thoughts involved. Anybody knowing my dad would know he'd never ever think about something like that. And I'm sad now because dad's a 61 and if I'm lucky I'll get only 20 more years with him around. He has been the greatest dad life could have given me. Life may be tough but it blessed me by such a gentle dad who has been an inspiration all around. At first I wanted to be just like my dad, then I wanted someone like my dad. And finally after 20+ years of looking, I think I've got my man who is a lot like my dad. I owe so much to my dad, who still looks great (because if he knew I was writing about him he'd want me to underline that out of vanity), still helps me out of my scrapes. It has always been easy for me to think of a loving God as a father, because if God is anything like my dad, then there really is none other like him. And I have to thank the thing called life for that.

The D.I.Y.

I am still thinking about the bitch in me. There is a bitch in all girls. But the worst you can get is when you actually manage to find a bitch in a man. Then, it starts getting very dangerous because there is no known antidote to date. But right now I am trying to feel sorry for all my actions done as a bitch, and what's making it worse is that it's bringing no tears along with it, rather I smile and laugh. Because there is another thing I do not understand. My mum. That's no new news. The problem is that this time, a lot of people think the same as my mum. Affairs... big sigh. People who marry in their early twenties will always condemn affairs. Just as my mum screamed her lungs out, "Heyyyyy he's married, you should be ashamed of yourself!" Why? A married man is just like any other man. And since married men do not go about with a married name tag; and yes most are coy enough to remove the wedding band, it's not my fault. But people like my mum think that I cannot even so much as take a look at a married man because for some unfathomable reason I have a duty to protect their marriage. Yeah, says who? It's their affair, just as I have had my own affairs. I have never expected anybody to protect my things, it's D.I.Y. And it works in the same way as with straying married men. I do not have a duty to protect marriages and families. And yet another thing I could never understand was that I have somehow a duty to protect a married man's kids. How? If a girl is getting on with it with a married man, should she think of his kids before orgasm or what? In what way does sex with a married man mean protecting or not protecting kids? It's X-rated, not suitable for children. They do not come into it. Plenty of marriages are a sham, and plenty of marriages are good solid ones. A bitch like me would immediately pick up on the difference between a man who stays and a man who strays. And since I have no rights then I have no duties to do anything. And for us who have been left on the shelf, albeit imaginary, because Homemate has run out and anyway I would have to have it on special order because of the size, we are not issued with a list of all married men so as to know which ones are ripe for the picking or not. Because as it also happens, sometimes married men are very very ripe. Most of them are living in shambles but since they do not have the guts to go their own way, they are just waiting for us girls. Also because it works both ways just like a seesaw. Perhaps married men also have a duty not to go off with young girls and thus seal our reputation as sluts. And that's ok, because sluts are not boring. But perhaps married women also have a duty to take a club and bash their own men to their senses. And another thing I will never understand; why are married women so angry at us girls lying down on a bed with their men? It's their men who promised for better or worse, we weren't there were we? And why do they threaten us that they're going to tell our mum and dad? Mum and dad? So what? Where do mum and dad fit into the picture? It's not as if we're doing kneeling-down jobs in for mum and dad to inspect are we? Do married women who've been had think that we're silly girls who mum and dad will punish and make go without watching TV or what? Hell, it's so jumbled up. It's all in the past now. And it still makes me giggle. Am I not sorry for all the marriages I ruined? No, because I didn't ruin them. And I will not go into whether they were ruined in the first place or not. I don't care. I was just a girl, looking for some excitement and I depended on nobody, I just was a dab hand at D.I.Y. And just as I didn't have any duty then, I don't think anybody has a duty now to protect my and my Mister's relationship. Because I finally chose wisely; he's one of those who stays. It's all D.I.Y.

Affairs

Face book is a brilliant idea of connecting people. It is addictive, and you're never the same after your first logon. Sometimes it's a good giggle, sometimes a good laugh or an outrageous scream as I look at photos with my 80's hairstyle, which, was still very pretty may I add, pretty for the decade it was in. Looking at the "about me" sections are also funny sometimes. Some people blow up their nothingness to big nothingness. They become experts in this and that. And it doesn't take one university, just a face book logon. So cool. But just when I think I've become a seasoned old gal, one photograph has stopped me in my tracks. An old face which reminds me of an affair I'd clean forgotten. It reminds me of the bitch I had in me, the bitch which was then working overtime. Somehow I didn't think so then. And it's taken Face book to make me think so now. Oh dear, the affairs. And what's even more puzzling, I remember the faces swear that they would never again return to the wife. They wouldn't have had I stayed. But I didn't. The minute they left the wife they somehow looked bland, uninteresting, unexciting. I'm a queen bee, and wasn't about to become a worker one. It is the phase called, let's-see-how-powerful-I-was as in being the mistress who was also a bitch. Should I pity them now? I do, but I shouldn't. Because now their Face book is splashed with photographs which are called 'My Family', where there is the inevitable tag called, 'my wife'. They also state that they are married. Because of course they went back to the hive. It's one big laughing stock, all the more so when I remember the promises, the statements of love. I never once asked them to leave the wife. Because I didn't want them to leave the wife. I wanted the mistress title, and I wasn't about to be the type of forever waiting mistress. No, it was just pretty exciting. I like to think of it as research, it was through this research that I discovered how powerful is a lame hand job. If a man decides to leave his family for a hand job, then it's his decision. And when you're in dire straits, then there are a variety of acts progressing from the hand job which will secure whatever you want, in my case, the forbidden, disallowed feeling of an affair. Affairs are not about love, the minute love is in, then it stops being an affair. And affairs are not of long duration, otherwise, they again stop being an affair. It's easy, you just have to behave like a man, that's all. And what is unfair although of no bother to me, it's the mistress which always is the baddie. No problem, I never had had any fun being a goody before. Suddenly the world was at my feet, and it was my world and I was going to do whatever felt good. It's a lame excuse to blame a man's roving eye on another woman who becomes a mistress. Mistresses do not force married men to do anything. They just look at them, smile at them dangerously, and they're in the bag. But we certainly don't lure them away by threats of beheading this and that. It's all in the head. We do not even text them with messages of love. That's the man's job. We just want fun, just as they want. If they end up in love and in lust, then it's their fault. Because really, they usually were men 20 or 30 years my senior, so they should have known better. But there almost always is a same reason. At 20, we're pretty, voluptuous, and also have a brain. The men think they're in control because we're so young and helpless so they think they are in control of their wife, themselves and us. In reality, we're the ones in control, we're controlling the men, the wives, themselves, us. It's a big circus where us girls know how to turn ravishing tricks to perfection. And I can understand why a man, suddenly mistressless goes back to his wife. What I will never understand is how and why there is the wife with open arms, waiting for her man who will never be the same again. I have been a mistress. But never will I be the wife who will take her husband back after he's been doing the dirty on some young 20 year old. Because I'm still the queen bee.