And she’s back… little things & romance

No really. I plan on updating this thing pretty frequently. Will it last? We’ll see.

So much has gone on since my last post, so I’ll start off with a quick update:
N got arrested back home on his way back from our coupley holiday in South Africa. It was kind of traumatising. He spent quite a while there, in jail, while I panicked, promised to do the waiting thing and wondered if I’d get my boyfriend back anytime in the next four years (thankfully, as future posts will verify, I did). He got out surprisingly fast and was then deported. We have both since moved to South Africa, hanging around in Durban ’til we make our move to Cape Town.

Caught up? Good.

Recently I’m feeling like his servant. I make coffee for him in the morning, I make the bed, I make breakfast if he’s in the mood, lunch, dinner, get him beers, pour him wine, do the laundry… AND I still have to have sex.

… okay I don’t HAVE to, but I do and sometimes it’s tiring. And where does foreplay go when a relationship passes a certain age? You can’t just treat me like your little house-maid slave type person, pinch my nipple every now and then and expect me to be turned on. No. Sorry, not sorry.

So I’ve tried hinting, no luck. Tried the “well maybe if I do something nice for him, he’ll think about doing something nice for me”, nope. I even dressed in super sexy lingerie and posed provocatively on the bed, waiting for him to walk in.. not even.

So we had this conversation last night where I said he needs to be nicer and do some nicer things for me. Be a little spontaneous, romantic. Watch how much more I’ll want to tear your clothes off and seriously show you how I do.

So even a conversation doesn’t seem to have helped, so I turned to my good friend, Google.

After searching the term “how do I get my boyfriend to be more romantic” I came across this article:

So according to this guy I’ve been doing it all wrong. I don’t give him reward then expect “little things” or romantic gestures to happen… I have to wait for them to come along and then I can throw in his raunchy reward.

I’ve had the talk, straight up told him what I want and I am now waiting on my gesture and little things.

I’ll keep ya updated 😉



The pros and con of chocolate and sex

Last night boyfriend and I were indulging in some cheesecake to which I’d added some melted down chocolate ganache. As cheesecake is, it was rather delicious and I wasn’t thinking of much else when my hand was snatched from its relaxing point of the side of the couch to his crotch-This is probably his favorite move in the world; Driving? Hand from wheel to crotch. Swimming? Hand on crotch. Reading? Hand on crotch. Dining? Hand on crotch under the table.

You get the picture. Wherever he is, whatever we’re doing… if he can get away with it, he will put my hand on his crotch.

This is mostly irritating because a) it’s completely predictable and b) it’s usually when I’m actually doing something (driving is much safer with two hands on the wheel, darling). But, but, but for whatever reason, this time I wasn’t annoyed. Perhaps the simple presence of chocolate was enough to spark my imagination, but I took one look at the ganache, my hand still in his favorite place, and decided I was hungry for more chocolate. Telling him so instantly got him moving upstairs while I warmed up some more ganache and met him upstairs in the bedroom.

I’ve always wanted to play around with chocolate in the bedroom, why hadn’t I don’t this sooner? Chocolate and sex should totally go hand in hand. It makes giving head that much better and he was totally into it. The foreplay itself didn’t last that long and completely sent him over the edge- he came much faster than he normally does (which normally is around 45mins to and hour. Sometimes longer. Not kidding.)

A caution to this tale…  is to NOT put chocolate on your lady parts. Stupidly, I was aware of this and didn’t stop him when he wanted a taste himself. The sugar (yeast feeds offa sugar, don’tchaknow) in chocolate can cause a yeast infection and, today, I can feel the beginnings of the yeastly beast rearing its ugly head. Onward to the pharmacy… Diflucan, here I come.


Keepin’ fit n’ bein’ employed

Aw yeah.

Having been in the corporate world for a month now I’m only just starting to get back on the exercise wagon. Eating pretty nastily more often than I usually do and completely neglecting my work out routine, I’ve packed on a couple pounds and, not only can I feel it… I can see it (you know it’s bad when you notice). It’s completely put a damper on my sex life, I’ve been feeling self-conscious and unnatractive and generally not so in the mood far too frequently and have decided I need to do something about it. So here’s what I’ve been doing,  as well as a couple of mistakes I’ve made along the way.

DEEP BREATH. Here we go.

Too time-consumed to stick to your daily work out plan?
Having a 10hr working day, plus a social life, plus a relationship can leave you (me, for sure and maybe you) a little (a lot) frazzled. Here are a few things I do when I can to keep my blood good n’ flowing during the work-week:

1. Squat Just before your morning or evening shower. You don’t wanna skip your squats. Think of dat azzzzz.

2. Take the stairs when you’re willing. If your floor is too high up (like mine is), a fun game to play is to see who hits the number closest to your floor and then walk the rest of the way. This is fun in theory, but please remember to be safe: Stairwells can be dodgy places at the best of times. Make sure your wits are about you. If you ever see someone strange hanging around get to the nearest exit and don’t do this again. Your life > your exercise regime.

3. Don’t forget to drink water. This pretty much speaks for itself, work might distract you to the point where you completely forget to stay hydrated. Set reminders on your phone or to-do list to help keep track of how much you are (or aren’t) drinking.

4. Keep a day to work out. I mean really work out. The kind of work out that makes you feel seriously kick ass. Mine is Saturday because it’s my day off, but the boyfriend usually works.

5. DON’T STOP EATING HEALTHILY. Seriously, you’ll be tempted to order in to the office, or head down to the local minimart to grab a quick munch. Where I live, there are noo healthy options in the supermarket and the healthiest order-in option is Nandos. You could sit at one of the restaurants in the building, but those tend to be pricey and may be tasty and healthy, keeping you slim, but they could end up keeping your purse thin, too. Try making enough time when you get back from work to make a tasty (& healthy) meal, make a little extra so you can take some to work with you the next day or, if you get sick of eating the same thing for dinner and then for breakfast again, take it in the day after (it won’t go off that quick, but I wouldn’t suggest this for something like mussels) and alternate your meals. You can also freeze certain meals and leave them out to defrost while you’re getting ready for work and until lunchtime- simply heat in the microwave (if you’re lucky enough to have one at work)

6. Partying on the weekend? Stick to low-cal drinks like vodka & cranberry juice and use this opportunity to dance and burn off some fat at the same time. Remember not to over-do it (the alcohol, I mean- dance all you want!) as hangovers aren’t fun, alcohol dehydrates you and is generally just not too healthy a habit to get into. Nevermind the regretful moments that slowly crawly back into memory as the next day goes on… I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, so I’ll stop there.

7. Get enough sleep. Enough (not too much) sleep has endless benefits from your body, to your mind, to your soul. It’s absolutely vital.

8. Get Jiggy. Oh yeah, you know what I’m sayin’. Don’t be lazy, ladies get up on top and make yourself sweat-get creative and try different positions that work difference muscle. There are endless rumors about how many calories a session burns (I’ve heard some people say 1,800 is the general number “If ya do it right”… sorry, but no. Just no. That’s just under what an average woman is “supposed” to eat to stay healthy in a day, if couples were burning that much every night, not only would we be a skinny nation, we’d be starving ourselves if we didn’t eat like effing machines.), regardless of what you’ve read, whether it’s 1,800 or 180; exercise is exercise, so bring it on.

My time is super limited these days, so I have to make do with what I got. Oddly enough, most of it is taken up by The boyfriend and not so much work.

I hope this helps someone. I know I struggled when I first started working. I’m still not thrilled, but I’m slowly getting into things.


Here’s something I never ever thought I’d try

But I did and I absolutely L-O-V-E-D it.

Ever heard of the Oil Cleansing Method? Well if you have, I’m not surprised and if you haven’t… well I’m not very surprised at that either.

Depending on who you know and the websites you browse this is either a very well known (and usually liked) or unheard of (and usually very scary) facial treatment.

The first time I heard about it was a year and a bit ago, on a forum where natural beauty treatments are all the rage (something I love and will probably love forever) and have heard of it quite a few time since then from several different sources.

The idea is that oil breaks down oil and gently works with your skin rather than against it (Ă  la modern chemical beauty products which tend to dry out your skin). The method is mentioned in the link I’ve posted above, but generally involves part castor oil and part carrier oil (aka, olive oil/sunflower oil/other oils that aren’t so gloopy) and working it into your pores, wiping the oil off with a warm face-cloth and repeating a few times.

At first, having battled with my oily acne-prone skin throughout my teens right into my early twenties, the very thought of shmearing oil into and all over my face made me want to hide in a corner and cry, but I’ve done this twice by now and I’ve fallen in love with it. My pores are smaller and less noticeable and my skin is so, so, so very soft and happy and dewy. I plan on doing it once every two to three days from here on out. Do yourself a favor and read through the whole method (which, again, I’ve linked above), as I haven’t explained everything in very much detail.

If you are worried about your skin going crazy after an oily encounter, but are still curious and want to try this, then do it at the beginning of a holiday where you don’t have to go into work or school and face people.

I hope my readers love this method as much as I do.


‘Ello, ‘ello

So it’s been a while. I abandoned this blog for fear of repetition of bland anecdotes and boring words weaving in and out of mundane sentences.

I’ve recently realized that this, possibly, may not be the case and have decided to return on a trial period. I’m still with boyfriend, but no long unemployed (temporarily though, sadly), I’ve started smoking again, but quit only just yesterday – wish me luck.

I’m a lot more into Boyfriend than I was when this thing was actively updated. Had you asked me a month ago I would have said that I don’t think that we’d have lasted very long. If you’d have asked me a month ago I would have avoided the word “love” at almost any cost. I don’t avoid the word love anymore, but sometimes instead I might use the words “really”, “pisses”, “me” and “off”, in the same sentence. In that order. (There’s still love though).

However swimmingly things have been going, we have our tiffs every now and then; one of which took place this two or three nights ago when he poked and prodded me at four in the morning and placed my hand on his crotch. Yep, 4.00 am wake up to wood. I had to be at work in the morning and was already tired beforehand, and so declined- which sent him into a super self-pity-party (especially considering his right hand is broken from a “fall”, but that’s for another entry) and we drifted off to sleep pretty pissed at each other.

He then woke me up again at 6.00 am.

And again at 7.00 am.

My alarm was set for 8.00 am.

His intentions at 6 and 7 weren’t those of a sexual nature. No. He just can’t resist squeezing my cheeks, poking me, squeezing the life out of me with bear hugs and generally annoying the shit out of me while I tried to get some much needed z’s. He claims that I’m “just so cute” that he “can’t resist”. Right. I somewhat see where he’s coming from (I mean, I am pretty cute #cocky) because he does almost the same things to every cat he comes across and occasionally dogs too.

I’ve started getting violent and thrashing around half-asleep half-awake when he does this. Doesn’t help. Seriously considering drugging his food before bedtime.

I planned on being angry at him the entire day, but he made me breakfast in the morning, and I can’t help but reward good behavior over punishing the bad. He knows all too well I hate when he wakes me up. I’m just hoping he makes progress.

Aside from my sleepless nights, everything seems to be dandy.

My job is pretty cool, I’m a website coordinator at a publishing company, which sounded complicated and scary when I first secured the position, but I’m really enjoying myself and I think I’m doing fairly well. I love my co-workers. The atmosphere of a happy office where everyone gets along makes such a difference.

That’s about all. Hope I don’t leave the next update as long as I left this one.


Snoopy McSnooperson

I have a very unhealthy snooping tendency; phones, laptops, emails, pictures, Google history, Facebook, drawers… pretty much anything that can be snooped through, I shall snoop.

This habit stems from a painful point in time where I saw a couple of words from over (then not-so-much-)Boyfriend’s shoulder via BBM from skanky lemur-ex. My mind went into panic mode and the next chance I got, went through the entire conversation and was left semi-shattered at what I read. I’ll spare you the pathetic details of the messages and skip to the point where I confronted him, (stupidly) admitting to going through his chats and him simply putting it down to leading her on and leaving her dry. Why? He couldn’t tell me. Fast forward a few weeks to my family holiday in New Zealand where my trust was totally betrayed and he banged the lemur, which I discovered using women’s intuition and my pro snooping skills. I once again confronted him, informing him that if I was ever lied to again, rest assured I would find out and we would be over.

Things seem to have almost completely smoothed out since then, but my snooping ways are full throttle. Not because I have any reason to these days, his conversations with the lemur have lessened and are always about something completely boring and unrelated to his life, no dodgy emails or Facebook messages. In fact until recently it would appear that he is completely faultless in every way.

For some reason every now and then I’ll get particularly paranoid and un-trusting— Ironically, it always seems to be at around the same time of my pill-pack… just as they’re about to end.

Example: yesterday, I was looking through his phone to find that the bbm conversation between him and his ex had been deleted. My immediate response was to assume something naughty was said, that he’s getting clever and hiding his tracks and I ended up going through absolutely everything that I possibly could, when I came to this text:

Him: “No problem, I can’t wait. see you then”

Unsaved number: “I’m here, where are you?”

Him: “Be there in 5”

I checked the date and time and worked out that I was with him when he sent those texts… I was taking him to go and meet a “client“, I waited for him for at least two hours while he had a “meeting” with his “client“. My heart stopped and I immediately sprung to action, sending the number to my best friend and getting her to find out who it was, in the meantime snapping at him for little things-sending him into a world of confusion- and planning my “how dare you” break-up speech. Just as my very good friend (the lovely Miss Cherri Cola, don’tchaknow) was about to throw out a fake “who is this? sorry wrong number” type call/text (probably much classier and less obvious, however), did I realise I had read the text wrong. The line echoed in my mind, mockingly. It actually read: “No problem, I can wait. See you then” and I remembered that his client had called that day saying he would be late.

I said sorry for my unnecessary out-bursty snaps and strange behaviour, that hormones sometimes made it this way, I often can’t control certain aspects of my mindset at certain times of the month and sometimes he might just have to understand.

Which leads me to question if my menstrual cycle making me paranoid? Or is it just my general irrational self when approaching my period? What was it that made me add in a “t” to “can” in that little text that sent me overboard?

I don’t feel paranoid until I find something to be paranoid about… some might argue that the fact that I look through his stuff at all makes me a paranoid person but it’s really just become a habit. He often looks through mine as well, which is fine because I’m smarter than he is when it comes to this and if I had anything to hide it certainly wouldn’t be hidden there (except for those embarrassing voice notes of me singing a song that doesn’t even exist- mental note: delete, now).

In conclusion, I like to go through his things, and I know he goes through mine sometimes. In the end it boosts my trust in him when I can’t find anything and occasionally I’ll choke on a piece of humble pie when I get it wrong and freak out. I’ll go weeks without having the urge to snoop, but every now and then I just like the reassurance that things are going as swimmingly on the inside as they seem to be going on the outside.

As for the mysterious deleted lemur BBM conversation? I’m putting it down to the fact that she said something inappropriate and threw a general comment, probably assumed I’d see it and think the worst. Besides, she’s leaving for a month or so in a couple of days, hasn’t got a thing on me and coming from not just the boyfriend, but word of mouth from a few people, is shit in bed. I’m just going to trust him unless he gives me a real reason not to. Boom.


*NOTE: I do not own Snoopy, nor am I affiliated with the cartoon in any way. I don’t remember where I got the above picture from, if it is yours (and you can prove so) then kindly drop me a comment and I shall respectfully give you full credit or, if desired, remove it.

Anal is the new black

“Why is does everybody want to stick it in my ass?!” – Or something to that effect, was recently asked of me by a very close friend. The once taboo act of anal sex seems to be the trending thing these days. The Boyfriend is obsessed with it.

Since our very first sexual encounter, during post-coital pillow talk (or lack thereof as we were on an ill-equipped, pillow-wise, boat), I had proclaimed that I had no interest whatsoever when it came to taking it up the rear- In fact, I had plenty of interest in exactly the opposite: avoiding it for as long and as permanently as humanly possible. He reacted fairly nonchalantly, he’d been there and done that and it wasn’t that great. Liar.

Whilst he had been there and had done that, apparently it  was that great because I soon found out, after getting to know him better, that anal sex was indeed one of his favorite things of all time— fast forward through plenty of discussions, persuasion, encouragement, and promises of endless pleasure (“The one girl I used to do it with would squirt, it was that good”) he finally talked me into trying it out. He  was experienced and talked me through how to go about it, making sure my bowels were clean, lots and lots of lube, etcetera…

So I went and bought the strongest laxative I could find in the pharmacy (I’ll spare you the details), and headed over to my guy’s place for some first-time fun. After doing my research about it on the internet and seeing just how many people (women, men, straight, gay, young, old) enjoyed stickin’ it up the butt I had decided that this was something I was going to enjoy. I was pretty excited about my venture, considering how inexperienced I was in most aspects of sexual activities.

We started slowly; one finger, two fingers, three… getting used to things and making it easier for the final member. Lots of gentle ins n’ outs, before the big finale. Once it was in, all I can remember thinking is “ohhh gawsh, feels like I need to take a dump. Nope, now it doesn’t. Now it does.” It was like the unbearable need to go to the bathroom, followed my relief on the pull out and then back to the unbearableness, over and over again, followed by “What is that burning sensation? Why am I burning?!” I thought perhaps it was the chili flakes I’d eaten on a meal earlier, but this happens pretty much every time I have anal sex, regardless of what I’ve eaten previously. It didn’t hurt at all (it was a little tender afterwards but that’s about the extent of any form of pain I can think of), it was just unbelievably uncomfortable. My first impression of anal sex was awful. I hated every minute of it and just wanted it to be over. The second time was not as bad, but I still hated it. In fact, the third and fourth times weren’t much better.

The first time I actually enjoyed it was in Thailand. We were both drunk and, ahem, “elevated” and were having all kinds of sex all over the hotel room. He had bought some lube in anticipation that I’d be willing to try again. I don’t know if it was due to all the relaxants coursing through my blood, or the Thai air, but for the first time ever I was enjoying penis in my ass. We tried again sober and I was back to finding it uncomfortable again. When we tried again I took a muscle relaxant and once more enjoyed it.

Since then I’ve had a few more encounters. Some of which I’ve enjoyed and some of which I haven’t. Once, it even ended in our first argument with him insisting that I’m only doing it to please him and I’ve never actually enjoyed anal sex, which isn’t particularly true. I don’t know why, but anal seems to be a gamble with me, sometimes I’ll enjoy it and sometimes I won’t. I don’t know what the variables are (watching anal porn all day before-hand seems to get me in the mood), but occasionally it’s just plain uncomfortable for no apparent reason. When it is enjoyable, it’s only fun for so long before I start rolling my eyes, hoping for it to be over– which brings me to another point: It’s never over! Butt-sex doesn’t even make him come! I don’t understand what the allure is.

My most recent dirt-road adventure included one of the massive dildos he brought me from Singapore which went in the rear while he went in the front, first time double penetration, for the win– now that, I enjoyed, as did he.

Final conclusion? In my personal opinion, anal is okay. But, taking into consideration all of the effort that goes into preparing for it (making sure you’re clean, it doesn’t hurt, etc) is just too much bother for what you’re getting. The most I get out of it is a different sensation when I play with myself… if it wasn’t for my fingers or double-penetration type shindigs, anal would provide me no pleasure whatsoever. Everyone is different, though.

So those who are looking to explore away from the river and take the dirt-road, I’d say try it out. You might be one of the lucky fuckers who gets to squirt ’cause of it (and maybe someday I’ll get there myself. It’s my only real anal-motivation if I’m honest), you might love it, you might hate it and not want to try it again, you might hate it and want to try it again. Either way, I hope my experience in this field has the potential to help someone else out there. I hope you do enjoy it if you choose to try it out, the ladies on the porno’s seem to have a blast.


Back in… White?

Boyfriend is returning tomorrow! I can finally get back to a sexlife and cuddles (and, unfortunately and inevitably, endless hours of being tickled to near-gasping death).

I wanted to surprise him with some sexy new lingerie on his return, but how fucking difficult is it to find really nice undies these days? So I ended up asking him if he had a color preference, to which he was far too quick to answer with “White!”. Honestly, I should have guessed based on the few trips we’ve been shopping together on; when faced with a decision of whether the red crotchless one-piece or the white crotchless one-piece would look better on me, he went with the white, stating that he’s not much of a fan of red… This didn’t really click, as I simply put it down to probably not owning many red sexy-time pieces in the future, but actually, it’s that he digs the white.



The world’s most unforgiving color. The color you wore under the school uniform because it was the rules– When you buy a white bra, you buy it because the other colors show up underneath certain shirts or because it’s a sports bra and those don’t necessarily need to be attractive. Whatever the reason you may be buying a white bra, it’s generally not to look sexy as fuck. We reserve that right to blacks, reds- hex, even blues, pinks, yellows!

Do you have any idea how long it takes to try and hunt down a good-lookin’ white bra? Mission accomplished, anyways.

And it does look good (I think, at least). And tomorrow, after six weeks of him being out of the country, I plan on rockin’ my mans world whilst rockin’ the virginal look and some not-so-virginal acts.

Ah, it’s been a while.


Envy me: I have the world’s best boyfriend

Definitely the most exciting one at the very least.

Why, you may ask? Well today I received a couple of texts informing me that he’d stopped by a sex shop in Singapore, bought me awesome lingerie, a big bottle o’ lube, two huge dildos and a g-spot vibrator. With an attached warning about just how much I’m going to enjoy it when he returns– an occurrence which I’m growing increasingly excited about for manymany reasons.

How’d I ever get so lucky?


How to look sexy as fuck, naked.

I have a friend who once told me “I want to be that guy who walks into a bar or wherever and heads just turn; girls, guys, your boyfriend or girlfriend… I dont give a fuck – all eyes on me. And motha fuckers can’t even hate- I put in the work, their ass sat around and did nothing… so sorry if your woman wants me.”

And then a couple of days ago, another friend showed me a quote she found saying “I don’t exercise to be healthy. I exercise to look sexy as fuck naked”

Boyfriend has poked my belly a few times and said “I’m allowed to make fun of you ’cause it’s gonna be gone soon, right?”—- my very first thought to this was “asshole“, but it and the shallow truth in the above two quotes is what motivates me.

I’ve been gyming and eating sensibly for a while now and I’ve hit a plateau where nothing is happening. No matter how much work I put into it, the weight ain’t shifting. I suppose the alcohol consumption doesn’t help and I’m considering cutting out that aspect of my life completely bar big events. (She says as she struggles to function due to post-tequila stress.)

The key is to just stop fucking around. Eat less and don’t eat crap. Set yourself a goal, reach it, set another one. With each goal reached, reward yourself with a kick ass dress or some shmancy jewelry. Stop procrastinating and updating your blog when you should be at the gym.

I’ll leave you on that note.