Saturday

A cold weekend in Strumpetville gentle reader; I wore my favourite scarf which is universally acclaimed as very Dr Who and normally leaves me far too hot – but today it was just right. Brrrr.

I met International on the South Bank at about 2pm and we walked via Blackfriars Bridge into Soho. Along the way we discussed various things including whether or not his expectation of fidelity is a way of avoiding STIs (it isn’t) and, most importantly, what happens next for us.

Ouch Suspects, it seems. He queries, for example, International’s ever more frequent absences and visits to friends who have no apparent recollection of seeing my beau (today I was a meeting of International’s book club). To that end International has resolved to have the first of what I suspect will be a series of discussions. The theme of discussion one is Where We Are. International wants to discuss the state of play of his relationship with Ouch and what his feelings about it are. Essentially is Ouch ‘up for’ for sharing. This will in itself of course reveal much to Ouch; therefore some discussion of the consequences was needed today too.

So, then, over a lovely Japanese dinner and drinks in The Yard we talked and schemed and planned and even found time for smooches…

The mortgage will be tricky. International and I could cover it but we would be ever so poor. And I don’t ‘do’ poor. Obviously it will take time to sort out – even without the pressures of the current market. After that International wants to get his own place for a while. I’m not a huge fan of that idea, but I can’t force him to live with me. Well, I could but it would not bode well. In the meantime if things get a bit hairy I’ve invited International to stay with me for as long as he needs to.

This scenario still assumes much; but I am genuinely worried for Ouch now. I made clear to International that I wasn’t pushing him or pressurising him but International seems resolute in his wish/recognition of the need to sort things out. He says he wants to ‘do right’. The immortal words of Mandy Rice-Davies notwithstanding I asked him to keep me informed of what happens.

I love him so very much and wish there was a way I could make him happy… easily. But fool that I am, I have fallen head over heels for a manifestly unsuitable man.

So there we have it; progress of a sort. Further updates as events warrant. In the meantime happy Weasel Stomping Day.