April 15, 2012
Absence – that common cure of love – Lord Byron
Ladies and Gentlemen, the pervy, the curious and the frigid – I’m back. For those of you who are new readers you are probably wondering who the buggery hell I am. Well…
I’m the recently absent Elizabeth Rose, one of the trilogy that is MetAnotherFrog. If we were Lord of the Rings, Skye would be the scene setting and attention grabbing “Fellowship of the Ring” (have you seen her boobs?!). Sam would be the engrossing, heroic and uplifting final part in the “Return of the King”. I would be the longwinded and slightly unnecessary middle book “The Two Towers”.
I’ve been off sick following a rather traumatic injury during a particularly inventive sex-capade. And in true oversharing fashion, the details were published soon after the incident happened in December. I recovered from my shoulder injury a couple of months ago, and the love swing has been reinstalled. So my extended absence was due to a new and somewhat unexpected turn of events…
I have a boyfriend.
I have a real boyfriend, with date nights in front of the telly and the intimacy of private jokes.
We even spend time together not fucking.
In actual fact, he doesn’t even like it called fucking. He believes we are MAKING LOVE. I am new to this, and since the concept of making love does cause me to dry heave a little we’ve compromised and now refer to it as boning.
Compromising is another new concept to me, as I am more of a “my way or the highway” type of gal. However, since I have discovered a strange new feeling that makes me care about his point of view and general happiness, we have been in a world of compromise. Unfortunately, we are both slightly overenthusiastic in our efforts to be accommodating and our first argument was the result of us debating who gets to compromise to make the other one happy.
That’s right people – I like him. It turns out that my handyman was a little too handy, and I found myself becoming accustomed to his face and his company. So much so, that as my shoulder healed, rather than returning to my slutty roots, I was donning sturdy shoes and heading out for long walks or sitting in bed on a Sunday morning mocking his choice of newspaper.
You see one of my New Year’s resolutions was to reduce my cynicism towards the mushy stuff (in particular the mushy stuff coming from him) and it’s led to a rather pleasant state of affairs.
So this is my confession, I’ve been all loved up and full of the joys of Spring and couldn’t quite figure out how to return to Met Another Frog with my new status. I don’t have tales of orgies or one night stands to tell these days, but I missed writing and I missed you all. So I’m hoping that I can source material of the more fringe in nature by plying my single friends with booze to live vicariously through them.
For those of you who’ve been around for a while, consider this your notice that I am going to change the usual flavour of my posts and instead share some of the trials and tribulations of my reformation. For example, is it normal to feel you have become worse in bed because you care about the person you’re boning???