(June 27)
P angry with me. Says all I want do is hang around with scummy friends. Play video games. Not make something of self. Like Charlie. Hotshot lawyer. Brother of hers. Dickwad, I say. And friends = good. And fun! Except Ralph. Who likes take out willy and balls. Place them on head. Often mine! While playing Donkey Kong. Asteroids. Jet Set Willy. ☺. Or Eric. Who last week stabbed man. Due to drug debt. And now man in hospital. Possibly going to lose arm. Or leg! Eric sketchy on details. Thanks to drug. And debt. Which can’t pay. Having no job. Like rest of us. Deadbeats.
P & I argue. Then make ❤️ after muggins (me) promise be better person. Man! Get job. Shower. Change pants. Whole kit + caboodle. Love P. So awesome. Won’t fuck up no more.
(June 29)
Oh man. Fucked up.
Last night messed around with Ralph. Again. Back in college Ralph and I had thing. P knows. Says like man who has feminine side. Ha! Anyways. Last night during all night Galaxian binge started with him – Ralph - putting willy on head (mine). One thing led to another and Ralph willy ended up bum (mine).
😳
Nice while lasted [3 hours!] but. You know? Guilty conscience + feelings of worthlessness + sore bum.
Fretted all day then told P. If can’t be honest what can be? Goddam liar. Like mum. Like dad. Promised self not be like them. Ever.
P angry. Threw plate which narrowly missed head (mine). Spaghetti on plate didn’t. We better than this I said P, violence, us? And she called me scumbag which accepted although thought low especially when last year found out her and Susan from make up counter had thing. Did I throw plate? Or spaghetti!? I did not.
P and I long heart to heart. Do want be together? Yes do. Do love each other? Yes do. Then go bed. Although can’t sleep. Thanks to still sore bum. Ralph is DOM TOP / BDSM. Fucked me bent over kitchen table. Smelly pants (his) shoved in mouth (mine). While called me dirty little whore.
This diary private. No need P know intimate details. But important to record for personal well-being. Look back years to come. This is man was. This is man now. Look how far come! Pat self on back. Well done.
(June 30)
Not well done. Left diary open on kitchen table. P read diary. Has given yours truly ultimatum. Get job. Stop fucking around with Ralph. Make her proud of me. Make me proud of me! Have 48 hrs. Etc. Etc. Slammed door. Left.
Dear diary. So have 48hrs. Or one week. Two weeks tops! P is woman of word but sometimes word easy to get around.
After P gone take long hard look at self in mirror.
Do want to lose P? ask self.
Answer is not, says self. P = awesome2.
Therefore don best jacket/shirt. Pants! Walk Job Centre. Great intentions! Am go-getter in making! Watch go! Watch get! But find JC (Job Centre) has notice on door – CLOSED. Fire? Outbreak of dysentery amongst staff? Staff attend work party, get shit-faced, fuck each other senseless and too sore to come to work?
Must sort out potty mind!
On way home go get lock for diary.
(June 30. Part 2.)
Dear diary. At Job Centre! Different JC. Hold horses! Explain.
While writing above entry P came back through slammed door. With brother. Dickwad lawyer. Charlie. Asshole.
P, like, aren’t looking for job? Me, like, look best pants, trudge to JC, sign. Charlie. Dickwad. Smarmy look on face pipes up. Why not bring to alternative Job Centre? In next town. In fast sports car.
Show off. Dickwad. Asshole.
Upon arrival at JC say need shit. Not caring uncouth nature of verbiage. Who do Charlie think is? Who I am? Chattel? Cattle? Object to be carted around. Like goods. Told what to do. Brought to alternative JCs on whim.
Better be with Ralph. At least consensual. Although still catch a whiff of Ralph dick / ass / balls. Where Ralph rubbed dirty pants on moustache (mine).
But am doing this for P. Who I love. Because awesome. So take a deep breath.
Act.
(July 2)
Today = interview. Was second card found in JC. New museum. Security staff & exhibitors x 25. No experience needed. Full training given. Uniform included.
Could see self doing that. Arse sat all day on chair. Minding exhibits. Go for wank in toilet when quiet. Think of P. Whilst wanking. Breasts, long thighs, soft wavy hair etc. Not Ralph. Toned butt cheeks, tiny pink nipples, tattoo across pecs. DIRTY BUGGER-FUCKER.
P excited. About job. About future money from job. Talked about moving in together. Plants on windowsill. Curtains. Getting cat. Car one day. Had car once. Some scumbag poured petrol on. Set fire. Insurance money, when came, P blew with Susan from make up counter. Took trip to Paris. Ate in fancy restaurant. Went up Eiffel Tower. I said hope worth it. She said car heap of shit anyway. Best get something good out of it. That’s it with P. Defends by attacking. Then sweet. Like now. Talking of life together. Getting cat.
Bloke who interviewed, museum boss, was big, like side of shed. Like ex-forces in Action Movie. What kind of museum is this thought. But must have spoke loud. Because ex-forces guy says, Numbnuts, it’s body part museum. Then tells me go through door. Get naked. It’s audition, he says. If pass audition, I’m in.
Naked? WTF! Throw hands in air. Naked!?
Then big man makes speech. If don’t want get naked. Plenty other young schmucks waiting for opportunity.
What can say? Through door go – huge space – many people already naked, getting naked. And think whoa, outta here. Then think hourly rate for 40 hour week + overtime available. Then think of P wanting cat, little flat above store, flowers in window, and bed in flat where P and I have just made love, which is meeting of 2 bodies in perfect unison, not drunken degrading buggering over table due to lack of self-worth / esteem etc. And so in room – huge – full of naked people – remove Adidas battered trainers, sole coming off left one - remove jeans with left knee worn through - remove Top Gun t-shirt - remove pants. Hole in crotch where shouldn’t be hole. P joking when sees these pants, That so you can get fucked up ass more easily big boy. P is potty-mouth sometimes. And maybe not joking.
As stand in queue of naked people ponder what body part museum is. Think of own body parts. Look down. Give score.
Toes 8/10.
Calves 9/10 (no car = cycling / walking / running for f-ing bus.)
Belly 5/10. (Note to self. Cut down on McDonalds. Beer. Chocolate biscuits. Pizza. Etc.)
Chest 9/10. (Have big chest thanks to Summer worked ice factory. Lugging big blocks ice around. 8 hours day. 5 days week. So result = big chest. Also result. Aversion to ice. Cold rooms. P screaming where’s the fucking cubes in my gin?)
Face 4/10. (Father called me ugly son-of-a-bitch. Turned pictures of me to wall. Said why couldn’t I look like brother? Brother is handsome. Like big-shot actor Telly Savalas. Me not so handsome. Nickname at school. Big nose. Ralph says nose perfect wedge for butt cheeks. When reverse up to me with ass. Park self. Mime putting coin in meter. 50p an hour!)
Finally. Saving best til last. Ha! Willy / penis cock.
Would like to give willy/penis/cock 10/10, 11/10 (haha!) but in reality more like 3/10.
Always hated school showers. Taunts of big nose + little dick. Jesus. Boys are cruel. Hate self. Which is why go with Ralph. Internalised hated made physical.
When reach front of naked queue asked to stand under bright light. In front of panel of four people. Am asked turn ¼. Turn ¼. Turn ¼. Turn ¼. At each quarter take picture. Then told get dressed. Will let know. By letter. Jeez. Who sends letters these days?
(July 3)
No letter.
(July 4)
No letter.
(July 7)
No letter.
(July 8)
No letter. Hate self. Feel failure + worthless shit. So have relapse. Tell Ralph sit on wedge. i.e. my nose. i.e. with butt crack. Afterwards, feeling guilt buy present for P. Box of chocolates and movie from Videorama. Legend. Which makes P hot. Seeing Tom Cruise with long hair + scales outfit. After, still hot, make love and P calls me Jack O’ The Green - Cruise character in film - and I tell her have good feeling. That in morning letter will arrive. That it will be yes. That we will have flat. Future etc. with cat.
(July 9)
Letter arrives! Good news. But…
So much for chest 9/10. Calves 9/10. Toes 8/10. Willy 11/10. (Ha! Only dreaming!)
8 hours a day will wear special trousers. No arse. Stick bum through slot in wall so only arse visible. To punters. With card under it. Anatomical description of posterior. Place in history. Purpose. Development from pre-Neolithic man. Etc etc.
Put down letter. Consider telling to shove it. Up proverbial. But then remember ultimatum. From P. They have me pants down. Literally! So ring P. Tell her have job. But when asks what doing tell her museum office. Boring admin. Money good. Chance to go up ladder. Etc. Etc.
We talk about future. Cat. Flat. Little car. Etc. Etc.
(July 20)
Sorry about absence. Work tiring. But good news. Re job. Love it. Each day place bum in slot, sit eight hours, go home. Easy money. And while sitting, face not audience-fronting, can read.
Reading = self-improvement = not being degrading sex object (with Ralph).
So far. Have read, 20,000 Leagues Under Sea, White Fang, Riddle of Sands. Next up is Man in Iron Mask. Which is huge. Person who write that, Alexandre Dumas, must have plenty of time on hands. Maybe Alexandre Dumas worked as ass in museum too!
Sometimes when too tired read, having spent all night on phone talk P re future, listen punters on other side of slot.
My favourite kids. When faced via-à-vis my ass. Dare each other to touch despite sign: DO NOT TOUCH.
Kids are cool. Want one of own. One day. With P. To take to museums. Look at bums. Laugh.
The worst punters are those that DO touch. Despite sign. One guy tried to force finger right up butthole. Security guard, Dan [hero], on him like shot. In canteen later, ‘I’ll give him asshole.’
And have made work friends. Breast Brenda used to have mascara shop. Lost all when customer poked eye out with mascara. Went to press – sued. ‘20 years of my life down the Swanee. Now shove breast through slot. Could be worse.’
Carl the Calf was former professional cyclist. Then lost all in drug scandal. Except huge calves. Still has huge calves. Therefore job. As calf.
Not everyone perfect. Charles and Caroline Feet, wearing no shoes & socks, go on + on about not leaving stuff on floor. Get it but blah blah blah et-fucking-cetera. One day George the Cock brought in piece of Lego. Dropped casually in Feets’ path. He funny guy. George the Cock. And could be arrogant having huge cock but is not. Actually quite humble. Like regular small-cock person.
Stars of show = Hugo and Lisa Face. You’d think they’d both be beautiful but isn’t that. It’s aura. When come in canteen we all go quiet. In presence body part royalty.
(August 18)
P and I moved in together today. And turning over leaf text Ralph ass no longer available. He respond text ass is on view whole world at museum so don’t be asshole. Wtf! In panic text don’t tell P. P doesn’t know. Still thinks work office admin. Then text Ralph, how know my ass? and he text recognise that ass mile off. Then he text, seen that gr8 cute ass bent over kitchen table nuff times. Didn’t know whether to take as insult or compliment. But took as compliment. Happy days.
(August 25)
More happy days. Today cat arrived. P so excited. Like child. Said should give it name and then said Jean. Hello Jean I said and went to stroke and Jean grabbed onto finger and wouldn’t let go. Hurt like hell but because man didn’t show. Hard sometimes being man. Starting not sleep at night. Like insomnia. Thinking vis-à-vis bum in slot. Am I becoming sex object? Like Bridget Bardo? Marilyn Monroe? Like bent over table with Ralph? Don’t want be sex object but then think of money from bum in slot + all it buys. Little flat with P. New underpants with zero hole in crotch. Scented candles. Cat. 😬
(September 1)
Oh shit, shit, shit.
All staff called to meeting after work. Big boss there. Face grim. Made speech. Punters down. Novelty factor of living body parts wearing thin. Radical plan needed. Luckily, says, am big boss. With big bollocks. (Put them through slot for punters, wanted to say. But didn’t. Ass already being on line. Literally.) Didn’t successfully launch hair bunches with solar panels to recharge mobile phones? Didn’t get backing from Kuwaiti royal family for sweat-free under-crackers? So have come up with plan. Museum will go on tour. And in each new place museum will be new novelty. Talk of town. What’s this? Body Part Museum? That sounds fab! Must go! Etc etc. Punters come flooding in. Cash registers ring! Beep of contactless payments ring. Etc etc. One week only. Then move on again. To new town. Repeat. Ad infinitum.
What about home? someone called out.
Home will be road, said big boss. Home equals road only. To save asses. This is plan. You have one week to decide in or out. In or out. You choose.
End of speech.
And so. Big choice. Do want to haul ass around planet? Do want to leave P, only to see her on designated holidays from BPM (Body Part Museum)? Do want to abandon Jean? [Every cloud!]
So have decided.
I’m out.
(September 2)
I’m in.
P hit roof when said about giving up BPM. What about flat? said. Cannot pay rent on own. Or other bills. Gas. Water. Electric. Food. And Jean. She needs things. Food too. And little toy mice to play with. Litter for poops + wees. And what is wrong with being on tour? Chance to see world. Experience new things.
My ass will be in slot, I said. Will see fuck all. Then realised put foot in it. Never told P about ass being in slot. Thinks works in office. Doing boring admin. So then have no choice but to spill all beans. Actually feels good to get off chest. Hated being like superhero living double life.
Sorry, I said. Should have told. About ass.
Thought P would hit roof. Again. For all lies. But instead tear came to eye, said, I’m sorry too. That I’m kind of gf can’t tell about ass. Come here. And came here and we made love on kitchen table. Only wasn’t like kitchen table incident with DOM TOP / BDSM Ralph. This loving and beautiful + bum not sore. P tells me best lover ever had. So good with hands. And tongue. What lack in penis make up in tongue. Which could have gone either way as compliment. But confident with penis today. P moaning etc. And Jean looking on all jealous. Like I don’t like what you’re doing with that huge penis. Well. Not huge. But to cat guess looks huge. Because they small. So. Huge penis. And after come I tell P will take tour offer. If she happy. I happy.
(September 10)
On tour! Amsterdam!
After work went with Breast Brenda, Carl the Calf and George the Cock to Sex Museum. Charles and Caroline Feet stayed in hotel. As did Hugo and Lisa Face. Saying needed beauty sleep. Which understand for face. But not feet. No amount of sleep going to make feet beautiful. Except P has beautiful feet. Miss P. My love.
(September 17)
Brussels!
After work Rang P. Someone answered. Not P. Another woman. Said, is P there? Woman laughed. Then hung up. Rang back and this time P answered. Told her about woman. And laugh. Said must’ve got wrong number. We talked for 5 minutes before P said had to go. Jean need feeding. Bye. Love you. Etc.
(September 24)
Oslo!
Bum in slot.
(October 1)
Copenhagen!
Bum in slot.
(October 8)
Helsinki!
Bum in slot.
(October 15)
Rostock!
Bum in slot.
Life on road not all cracked up to be.
Haha! Bum. Crack. Funny guy.
Thinking of writing metaphysical novel. Will call Bum in Slot. Will be hit initially in UK then translated into many languages. At author events will be asked how thought of such novel. So deep and profound. Many intellectual woman with glasses will throw themselves at me. I will say, whoa there, watch with the throwing. Might break glasses. And I am taken. With P.
Although P being weird on phone. Which doesn’t always answer. Here’s me working ass off, sending money home for bills etc and she barely has time to speak to me.
Perhaps missing me too much?
Painful to talk? Etc.
(October 17)
Rostock!
Surprise letter from Ralph. He got hotel list and itinerary from Big Boss. Wants to meet up in Berlin. He there for big DOM / TOP & SUB BDSM SEXATHON PARTY / ANYTHING GOES. Got something to tell me. VERY IMPORTANT. NEED TO TELL IN PERSON. NOT ON PHONE.
Why all the capitals, Ralph?
Intrigued.
(October 18)
Rostock! And two smoking barrels!
Fuck. Lots to tell.
Night before last out with George the Cock and Breast Brenda. Breast Brenda told long story about Oregon childhood. Kept in cage by father. Fed scraps of food from floor. Only let out for work in field. Picking potatoes 14 hours every goddam day. Etc. George took out huge cock and helicoptered it. To lighten mood. Could have gone either way but Breast Brenda laughed said so happy to have met you guys. Said we would grow old together. Live in Old Folks Home. Or pool resources and get cranky old bus. Travel around like Cliff Richard in film Summer Holiday. We drank to that. Too much. So woke up head in toilet + pants on head. Because of massive hangover feeling rough when put bum in slot. Why drink so much? Tell self never again. Then fall asleep. When wake up. See time. Shit. Should have finished hours ago. Why no one wake me, let me sleep here like baby? Then hear voices behind me. In BPM (Body Part Museum). Shouldn’t be closed? Then recognise one voice. It Big Boss – what he doing here? - and someone don’t recognise. French. They are talking about something going down. In Paris. How Paris BPM is to set up for business in Louvre. This is chance they waiting for.
Biggest heist in history.
Holy shit.
(October 25)
Berlin
Tonight met Ralph in leather / naked bar, CRANK. Like says on tin, in CRANK men = either leather / naked. Except yours truly. Got AC/DC Back in Black t-shirt on. P bought me. For bday. My P. Whose little face I see when close eyes each night. Say, night P, love you little face. Not that face is little. Is normal sized face. Say little as endearment. Only no more. Ralph big news / must be told in person = P and Susan from make up counter now live together. In our flat. Except no longer our flat. Flat now = lesbian love nest. Oh P. My P. Fall to knees heartbroken + still crying in utter anguish of jilted lover when bouncer from CRANK come over. Says must be leather / naked or get out. So, get naked. Relapse. Relapse. Relapse.
(October 26)
Berlin
Goodbye to Ralph. Tells me should consider DOM/TOP BDSM life. But tell him want moonlight walks along beach. Rose petals on bed. Violins playing at wedding. While cat comes up aisle. Rings attached to little collar. Ralph says conflicted. I say we all conflicted. That human nature. To love but to have dark side. Like moon.
Put bum in slot.
(October 27)
Berlin
Brest Brenda / George the Cock ask where was last night. Tell about P. About Ralph. About relapse. Then about other night. Which haven’t said yet. About Big Boss. And Frenchman. And heist! Jesus, says Breast Brenda. You’ve been busy. And dark horse, says George the Cock. Nudges me. Grimaces. Can person swallow gallon of cum in one night?
After work go Checkpoint Charlie. It Tourist Trap now but once gateway to life & death situations. George the Cock says father in army. Died in Battle of Khafji. Brought up by mum in trailer park. Has to share bed with three brothers. All older than him. Who beat him if didn’t do all chores. Mom kind but pulling hair out having to manage 4 boys on own and job in fish gutting factory which barely puts food on table.
So. Another shit life.
Feel bereft over P but life not so bad when have friends.
(November 1)
Paris
Have no friends.
Ha! Just trick. Defo have friends. Yesterday BB & GtC (Breast Brenda and George the Cock) pulled me from bed which = pit of despair & said we going out to paint town red. And so we drank wine from bottle like hobos while visit famous sites like Eiffel Tower, Champs-Élysées, Père Lachaise cemetery. So many dead people! Puts life in perspective. i.e. life only once! Going to die! So use time wisely!
BB GtC & I have big ❤️ to ❤️ and decide will foil Big Boss and Frenchman’s plan. Become National French Heroes. Live in Paris sharing attic apartment + drinking French wine and eating French cheese every day. Read complete works of Marcel Proust. Watch complete works of Jean Luc Godard. Etc. Etc.
Ring P and she answers & not Lesbian Love-Nest Lover (LLNL). Tell her know everything vis-à-vis her & LLNL & she replies knows everything about me. Ralph sent video made – WITHOUT CONSENT - in CRANK. So we are both living best lives, she said and I thought of BB and GtC and our plan to foil heist and become National French Heroes and thought she might be right and didn’t hate her.
Truly.
(November 2)
First night Paris Body Part Museum. After ushers usher out last visitors for night Breast Brenda, George the Cock + I only pretend to pack up & leave. Instead stay hidden in handy large cupboard. Wait for heist so can foil it.
No heist.
(November 3)
No heist.
(November 4)
No heist.
(November 5)
No heist.
But tired after so many nights in large handy cupboard. Which no longer seems so large. Or handy.
And why are we going spend another night in cupboard?
If heist. So what?
What the heist anyway?
Then heist happens.
(December 2)
So what about heist? Ha! Hang on.
And who are you anyway? Reading diary. Diary private thing. Like putting thumb up bum in bath.
Are you putter up of thumb in bath?
Ha!
(December 5)
Christmas in Paris! Well, not Christmas because December 5 but yesterday heavy snowfall and BB GtC and I descended many stairs from our attic apartment in Montmartre and had snowball fight until got told to stop by gendarme. Asshole. Paris is full of asshole but also many nice people like Gillette who runs small bar near apartment / gives 10% off wine because saw our picture in Le Figaro and always say to us, You save Mona Lisa, you save Mona Lisa. Heroes!
Well, not quite.
It happened 5th November. While sat bum in slot heard fireworks outside and felt sad because even though forgive P for LLNL, [[[ and self for all DOM TOP / BDSM carryings-on! ]]] still imagine me and P together, holding hands, watching big fireworks explode above heads, eat jacket potato from bonfire. Then think. Hang on. This France and therefore no firework night so took bum out of slot and put head in slot and this is what see.
Chaos in Body Part Museum.
Charles and Caroline Feet slot turned to ash, feet gone, & Carl the Calf lying on ground, blood pouring from calf.
Then another explosion. Then Breast Brenda & George the Cock rush up. In rush still have breast & cock out. Respectively. Likewise bum (mine).
Think this is heist, say. No shit, says GtC. Then Torso Trev runs past. He screaming Brian Back is dead, head blown off, and we better get fuck out.
We had talked of this. Similar this. Night before. In cupboard. November 4. Three of us. BB GtC and yours truly. How sad life is. How chance to become hero happens rarely. But even if hero would it make difference to daily life? Even shit happens to heroes. Divorce. Death. Cancer. Just last week man who discovered wonder drug, saved million plus lives found out had bum cancer. Said in interview wished had not spent so much time in lab. Looking at slides. While kids grew up without him. And wife left him. Went off with bodybuilder, Choose Life tattooed on penis. If had time again, said, would treat wife Italian restaurant once week, read books, take kids Disneyland Florida and not comment on capitalism indoctrinating bullshit.
So if Big Boss wanted to do Heist why should we stop him? Might get killed. Or injured. Spend rest of life with no legs. Or bum.
And would stop heist = happy.
No.
Had revelation.
Root of all pain = suppressing innermost desire.
BB wanted volunteer in sanctuary for disabled animals, three-legged donkeys, cats with no eyes, dogs with no noses (how do they smell?!). GtC wanted to explore his childhood obsession of stamp collecting. Loved smell of stamps. Stamp shops. Wanted to do book. Where travelled world. Interviewed owners of stamp shops and then write biographies. Not just in relation to stamps but whole lives. A collection of biographies of all these people with a single obsession. And I wanted to have DOM/TOP BDSM life but also romantic love. Find way of marrying two.
So when explosions happened had already decided not flummox heist. Leave to professionals. Men & women with guns. Training in advanced martial arts.
But life has funny ways.
Rushing to exit, escape, when there is another explosion, rubble flies through air, hitting me on head which = me out like light.
When come around lying on floor. Head on Breast Brenda’s lap. Can you walk? says BB. I think so, I say although wasn’t sure. This way, says George the Cock.
Difficult to see. Dust everywhere. Like in Carry On movie Carry On Up The Kyber.
Go through one room + another + then GtC says wtf, trips, and when is standing again has something in hands which is none other than Mona Lisa. Wtf GtC says again and dust clearing we see two bodies. One is Big Boss. One is someone else. Probably mysterious Frenchman. Both covered in rubble and obviously in some distress. Even dead.
That is how we saved Mona Lisa. The very next day our picture was in all papers. Brenda’s naked breasts and George’s cock covered by concealing square. No square needed for bum (mine) as picture taken from front and bum not hanging out. Which led to lots of questions from journalists. And what did you do in Body Part Museum?
I turned around. I turned around.
(December 7)
Sad day. Went train station with GtC. He going Nice then Peru. Those first two stops on his tour of stamp shops around world. GtC mentioned dream in interview in French newspaper Le Figaro and then next day was contacted by old rich French guy who said loved idea of stamp book and would fund it.
After seeing off GtC went with Brenda (has dropped Breast now) to new job at animal sanctuary. Wanted to introduce me to Horace. Horace is duck with no feet. Instead has these little rollerblades. Brenda said it is cutest thing and it is. I watch Horace rollerblade until I have to go to work and then I go to work.
I have job in French Gay Sex Club. As speak very little French job is just cleaning. But suits in DOM/TOP BDSM fantasy way. I wear leather puppy mask and Speedos arse cut out. (Ha!) Spend working hours picking up used condoms, crumpled tissues, wiping cum splatter off walls. Some regulars know me and have nice words to say. Although difficult to speak back. Wearing puppy mask. And not speaking lingo. i.e. French.
Ha!
Writing this entry late night. Candle flickers. Out window are lights of Paris. Happy.
On table next to me I have letter from P. It was in slot when come home from Paris Gay Sex Club. Not bum slot! Letter slot.
P is coming Paris. To see me. She misses me and wants see if can work things out. If I can accept her LLNL then she can accept my DOM/TOP BDSM side. There are new ways of thinking these days, she said. New ways of being. And we have to adapt. Find new ways around. Or will grow old alone.
And so I imagine P here in Paris avec moi. We walk hand in hand along Champs-Elysées, under Eiffel Tower, along quaint cobbled streets of Montmartre. We drink cheap French wine, read to each other the works of Marcel Proust. Make love in a fleapit hotel. It will be beautiful beautiful beautiful.
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