Saw G kiss someone last night and the image that came to my mind the next day was a cold stone sitting on a bed of wet charcoal.
I think the metaphorical significance of my imagination is fairly clear in this instance.
I almost did not turn up to a Eurovision party but Stefan talked me into it. He made the poignant argument that Eurovision happens but once a year. Lets face it, it is Eurovision so it was never going to be that hard to convince me. But he was very sweet to do so.
My foolish heart has got me into trouble again, but I have to say I am proud of how I am letting my feelings go with the flow. I seem to have a little weep now and again and a good dash of "well if he liked it then he should have put a ring on it" solidarity with my German pals (most of my friends here are German, this is not such a surprise as I am a foreigner too), but in general I am okay.
The group sex I had on Sunday certainly helped a little. I was expecting a couple, it turned out to be a threesome. I.e. they were three, they actually cohabit as a triple and I was number four.
They were a little older (the upper age limit of what I will shag seems to creeping at a rapider rate than my own age) and each by themselves werent exactly fuckable but strangely enough components of each of them added up to what might be the perfect man. Exactly one of the three had a nice face, exactly one of the three was a good kisser, exactly one of the three had a nice cock - you get the picture.
It is an interesting strategy - if I try it in the future I should find someone who looks good in a hat and someone else who is good at head because god knows I am crap at it.