Kramer Vs Dissonance

I booked my flight to sunny Spain today; fortunately I was able to get a flight that arrives roughly the same time as International’s. I did toy with the idea of being double plus romantic and trying to get on the same flight, but that would have stretched the credulity of my bank manager to breaking point. Ho hum.

International himself skated on some very thin ice today when he demurred about my done-to-death sexual health check up. Not because there was anything dodgy about the results: far from it. But because he suddenly got an attack of cold feet when, as we talked, he (to paraphrase him) realised I was quite promiscuous and he only very occasionally strayed from the True Path. Why yes, gentle reader, it should come as no surprise that I sow my wild oats. I do resent, however, being made to feel bad when I take every reasonable step to guarantee a crop failure and double check just to make sure.

Fortunately he managed to stave off disaster by explaining how he felt nervous and somewhat overwhelmed; he rarely has affairs (for want of a better term). And I’ve quite swept him off his feet.

I called International’s boyfriend Ouch not out of disrespect but to emphasise the potential for some serious-bad fallout. Even through the jolly pink fug of my dissonance I dimly perceive I’m pushing the art of the possible when it comes to my protestations of honesty, and no wish to hurt anyone. My justification? International will never be my man, I’m not going to break them up. This won’t last forever. Yes, I may well be doing wrong. But I just want it.

And if you knew International you’d want it too.

We’re going to meet on Saturday afternoon for a coffee and to talk (not Talk, note: we’re OK). And then, next week, viva Espanya! Of course I still have my date on Saturday evening – and on Sunday Academic is in London, with me, so I can make up for being Mr Moody Pants last time. Actually he’s down here all weekend but is spending Saturday night with friends so that works out just peachy.

I was told recently that my life is over-complicated; and I’m sure it must seem this way. But the truth is I’m quite happy the way things are right now. It occurred to me that my sex-life has changed from a series of assignations, with the occasional bijou-boyfriendette thrown in, to a series of regular lovers of greater or lesser intensity. Is that progress? I haven’t missed the search for a boyfriend though I am, perhaps contrarily, all the keener to resume the search for Mr Right given my recent break…. Oh yes gentle reader; dissonance spanks it hard!