The February Flop

So after January’s fornication it was no surprise that February continued in such a fashion.

After getting ridiculously drunk at the launch of Freddie Flintoffs Spring/Summer 13 collection for Jackamo we naturally hit Soho by storm afterwards. One of us ended up in a threesome *snigger*, the other ended up lip-locking half the club, while I ended up flaunting pics of my new body on Grindr like some kind of Muscle Mary down Gym Box. As if it was possible for our gang to actually get skettier. I’m sure the fact that we’d all been hitting the gym hard lately had something to do with it. Or it could’ve possibly been the weather, or a change in the solar system, or global warming. But it definitely had nothing to do with the 72 units of alcohol we drank that night.
So I invited a guy round for some mid-morning, totally-still-drunk fun and we got down to it in my friend’s bed (naturally). “Down” being the operative word. Question: Why do you go on Grindr when you can’t get it up? It’s a recipe for disappointment… For both parties!

I considered doing a Meryl Streep and winding him up, like she does to Bruce Willis in Death Becomes Her;

“FLAAACID! FLAAAACID!” But didn’t fancy the off chance that he would push me down a flight of stairs too. So instead, I just lay back and let the hungry bitch use her tongue for a couple hours. I mean, come on, she weren’t going nowhere with her dick.

And how did I know she was hungry? Well, that awkward moment when you slip in a finger and almost lose your arm is usually the first clue. Secondly, when they “present” like a dog does its pink rosebud.

Although to be fair, I was so worse for wear at the time and he was quite handsome, I was overly concerned with his “how to be an elegant bottom” etiquette. But still it’s only half the fun if one of you is excited right? I shoved a viagra down his throat and he still couldn’t keep it stiff. Wait, maybe it was me? HA! No, that couldn’t be it.
So we fooled around for a little bit before going over to his place to carry on for the afternoon.
We got to his, whereby he had to sneak me into his bedroom. I’m thinking, ‘OK this is acceptable… If he was 13. And I was a pet iguana’. Man up. When even Jenna Jameson would consider you loose, you can’t be that much of a closet case. And no matter how high I was at the time, it was NOT the day (nor would it ever be in the nearby future) to introduce fisting into my sexual past times. Four fingers was more than enough. And even that was daunting. I had to go back in a second time with a fishing rod just to get my watch.Then he pulls out a dildo from beneath the bed. Lord have mercy; the fecking size of it! I screamed the roof down, I thought he’d grabbed a machete and I was gonna die in his messy little bedroom. Not like anyone would find the body under his giant pile of washing anyway. But alas no, he wasn’t going to kill me, he just wanted to roger me with a foot-long sex toy. Which, in matter of fact, probably would kill me. Seriously, the thing hand veins in it the size of my fingers. And the way I squirmed away from the thing it might as well’ve been a fucking knife. But, sliding inside him was unsurprisingly easier than Taylor Momsen after a white wine spritzer. Then my phone beeps:
“Gal, where are you? I need a cigarette and I need my sister!”
So in the name of sisterly solidarity, I told the Grindr shag, “Sorry, I gotta go, it’s work.” And I dashed out quicker than Linford Christie on Microlax, leaving my charger behind. It was an iPhone 5 charger, so not only does nobody have one to use, let alone spare, but they’re £25 to replace. So I text him later that day, asking him if it was at his place. He responds, “No”. He doesn’t suggest looking for it, or apologising that it’s gone, just a simple one word answer? That’s just fucking…
And what’s more, I’m pretty damn sure I left it there. So now, not only has he turned up, under-performed, wielded a dangerously large sex weapon at me, but now he wants to jack up my charger?! Nah-uh. Let me tell you something, I don’t take it lying down… Well, I do – but not like this! Normally I would steal something even more useful to you, take a photo and then send it to you – but as I’m never sneaking into your bedroom again, I’ll just have to settle for airing the news of your impotent penis on my blog, and texting you the website address. *Files nails.What this teaches us, is a) don’t jack off me, you bucket bitch. And b) Don’t even bother turning on your Grindr when you’re sloppy and floppy. It’s pointless (and insulting) for everybody.