Wednesday, 16 September 2015

Starting Over

I'm not sure why, but I feel I need to share this post. This was the first post I'd written in a long, long time, but when the moment came to hit the publish button, I stopped myself. I just don't think the timing was right. However, I don't want the experience of my new beginning to go unshared, so here it is.....



First things first: renew FabSwingers membership, update status, upload new images and wait for mail. Within the first minute I had four messages from new contacts. I took a deep breath and opened each one in turn, checking profiles and verifications carefully before deciding on how to respond. More messages came in. So many one liners, deleted and blocked as appropriate. I take a quick glance through the last 100 that checked out my profile. One avatar catches my eye. He's 26, local and military. I take a closer look. He's new to the site and my filters block him from making the first move. I take the matter in hand, send a wink and open up the conversation. Five minutes later, we're talking. He's articulate, polite and friendly. Strike while the iron is hot - I propose we meet up. He's away for the weekend so I have to wait until next week to see him. I have a good feeling about this one but more on this at a later date (hopefully).

I went on to arrange two socials in a major town not too far from home.

Friday 28th August

My first date turned up in shorts and a lambretta t shirt. It's 9.30am and thankfully very quiet in the coffee shop so we can chat without the worry of anyone eavesdropping . He's a nice enough guy, pleasant, laid back and clearly a little nervous. We chat easily but after a while I confess he's not for me. We part with a smile and head off in different directions.

I have plenty of time before my next date.

I make my way directly to M&S in search of new underwear. I spend time browsing the entire department before finally selecting matching bra and briefs in a dark coral colour. The tone complements my slightly tanned skin and I'm delighted I can purchase a 34B and not my usual 36 B/C cup.
I make polite conversation with the check out assistant as she processes my card payment and bags my purchases.
She smiles and bids me a good day.


I head out into the sunshine but before I know it, I'm in Waterstones. I'm instantly seduced by the sight and smell of all the books on display. I browse the table tops and scan the wonderful array of front covers. I admire the artwork, photography, different fonts and all the gloss.  I run my hands slowly over the embossed covers.  I pick books up, I put them down.. I seriously doubt I shall ever concede to buying an e reader, I'm far too tactile and traditional not to read a proper book.

I move around the store not knowing what I'm looking for. I didn't come in for anything specific but I so rarely have chance to wander in such wonderful places on my own. I want to buy something. I ask an assistant to point me in the direction of the photography section. It's exactly where he said. Upstairs and to the right of the counter. I tilt my head sideways and read the spines. No. Nothing is jumping out at me. The next section is Art. On the bottom shelf I find a Jack Vettriano. Perfect. I've admired his work for some time. This will be a great source of inspiration, I'm sure. A last minute look before heading back downstairs and I spy a book in the music section that will make the ideal birthday gift for my husband. I leave feeling wonderfully happy.

Next stop Ann Summers. They've upped their game over the past few years but today I wasn't  inspired at all by their underwear range. I did however purchase lubricant and a vibrating cock ring. The assistant was petite, young and slender. She wore very dark lipstick and had two or three small piercings to her lips and nose. Very pretty. Also very informative with an excellent sales pitch.

Back in the shopping centre, I stop off at a shoe shop and purchase new boots for autumn/winter. Nothing too lavish or expensive but very practical.

I check the time; 11.20am. I wander towards the market square to find the meeting place with my next date. I can't find the street on which the café is located so ask a bus driver for directions. He's nice, tall, of mixed race and a feint Scouse accent. I walk away thinking 'mmm, yes I probably would' [fuck him].

I find the coffee shop tucked down a side street/ quiet lane but I'm way too early for my date. I wander further on intending to kill time but the heat and my heels get the better of me so I turn back.

I step inside the cafe and order a mineral water at the counter
The waitress offers to bring it over to me.
I'll be outside I tell her.

I sit at one of three tables in the shade and instantly dive into my bag to check my phone.
One missed call. One txt. I reply to the latter.
My drink arrives, served on a tiny tray.
I take a long sip which hits the spot immediately.
I return the missed call. I'm on the phone when my date arrives.
One glance at him and I know instantly this isn't going to go beyond this meeting.
However I smile at him as I conclude my phone conversation.

We chat. He's quietly spoken, new to the scene. There's one or two awkward silences. After half an hour or so I'm honest with him and say he's not for me. He thanks me for meeting him and for all the help and advice, shakes my hand and leaves. I breathe a sigh of relief.

I had high hopes of at least one of my dates coming up to scratch but it wasn't to be. Within the lifestyle there are several things I don't do and compromising on standards is one of them. This has never been a numbers game. There has to be an attraction, a connection and a chemistry.

I finish my water, exchange my heels for a pair of flats I had the foresight to slip in my bag before I left home and head back to the car.

It's home time. I had Friday night and a long weekend ahead of me.

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