A combination of the gloomy interior and stone walls of a 19th century miner’s cottage plus early morning light helped create a blurred, almost ghostly image.
Click the lips to see who else is taking part in Sinful Snday
A secret account.
Trying to get noticed.
Won’t take no for an answer.
A great rapport.
Built slowly over months.
Trusting too easily.
A mid-life crisis?
A request for a lunch date.
A meeting at a station.
A pleasant surprise.
Can it be the same person?
An afternoon of culture.
Matchstick men and dogs.
A definite spark.
A reluctant goodbye.
A flurry of messages.
A poem at dawn.
Too good to be true?
Bombarded with messages.
Made to feel special.
Phone calls galore.
Another meeting planned.
Statues at the beach.
Showered with messages.
Made to feel wonderful.
Secret meeting in a park.
Swamped with messages.
‘I can’t wait to see you’.
False promises made.
An illicit overnight stay.
Full of passion.
A few revelations.
Back to reality.
A notch on the bedpost?
Perhaps it’s imagined.
Another meeting dawns.
But a bombshell is dropped.
Something has happened.
A peculiar thing.
Really hard to believe.
A stressful week follows.
Then ‘ I still want to see you’
But something feels wrong.
Emotions take over.
Talking me round.
An afternoon of lust.
But something is missing.
Left alone to travel home.
No message that evening.
Feeling used and angry.
12 hours later.
‘Did you get home ok?’
Too late really.
To ask that question.
New Year passes.
Not a priority.
Conscious not to chase.
But a blunt question asked.
‘Yes, I still feel the same’.
A meeting planned.
Not sure how I feel.
Needn’t have worried.
Cancelled that day.
Contact feels forced.
This needs to end.
Blunt question again.
Do you want to continue?
‘I can’t wait to see you’.
A fool for believing.
Follow your instincts.
A new date is made.
But to no avail.
Two days later.
From a height.
For trusting and believing.
And not giving up.
Allowing such treatment.
Left wondering who the biggest fool is.
One thing that has struck me since I have been using Twitter is the number of ‘secret accounts’ that are out there. The definition of secret presumably being that the ‘other half’ doesn’t know about it. It would appear that we are all looking for something more; a new and exciting dimension to our everyday lives. ‘Humdrum’ was a term used by a fellow secret account holder to sum up their life.
Some of you may remember a BBC sit-com called Butterflies, from the late seventies, in which Ria Parkinson, a 40-something middle-class housewife, wanted to make her mundane life more exciting and formed a secret relationship with Leonard, a successful, divorced businessman. The relationship remained innocent and was never consummated, despite an obvious desire by both parties to have sex. Ria was married to Ben, a dentist, who never knew of Ria’s mid-life crisis, or her relationship with Leonard.
To me, the themes that run through Butterflies have an awful lot in common with the secret accounts of Twitter; apart from the fact that Leonard probably never gave Ria a picture of his cock, unless he went to the trouble of getting a roll of film developed by Truprint.
We seem to be looking for fun, passion and excitement; a phrase which a few Twitter friends will have heard me use before. Our relationships must be missing something fundamental if we can share our innermost thoughts, secrets and desires with virtual strangers, yet our partners remain oblivious to the people we long to be.
Perhaps it’s the thrill of doing something illicit and having a second ‘virtual’ life/dirty secret. Maybe it’s reaching a certain age, when our own mortality is getting closer. We can all no doubt remember the excitement of setting up an account and getting those first few followers. But also quickly realising that a good proportion of Twitter has a secret account, and that there are similarities between many marriages in terms of lack of sex, attention and affection. Or is it just a bit of harmless fun? After all, we only live once.
Twitter seems to provide a medium for us all to be the person we secretly wish to be. I am in my forties and was acutely aware that if I didn’t take the plunge and reveal my hidden desires and true personality, and say and do things that I may not have the courage, or chance, to do in real life, then I might never do so. A mid-life crisis maybe? Some people portray an image of being a ‘playboy’ or a ‘serial shagger’, yet in reality, they are the complete opposite and would run a mile given the opportunity to be the person they pretend to be online.
It’s interesting to wonder how many online secret friendships remain on a virtual level and technically innocent in nature, like Ria and Leonard. But is that enough for us, and will it satisfy any impending mid-life crisis? Or will meeting our Twitter crush be an anti-climax and shatter the illusion we have of that person?
None of us are in a position to judge each other for the reasons behind our secret accounts. We are all outside looking in and don’t know the circumstances of other people’s lives. Only the parties in a relationship know what goes on behind closed doors. But, of course, you never really know who you’re talking to on Twitter; could our partners have a secret account too?!
A bit shallow of me I know, but I have always had a thing for tall men; the taller the better. Maybe it’s a primitive urge for protection; I don’t know. But there’s something reassuring and comforting about them towering over, and looking down on you. My first boyfriend, when I was 17 was 6′ 4″, and they (mainly) got progressively shorter over time. However, as I keep telling myself, size isn’t always everything…
The right smell
A powerful, sexy aftershave or cologne is a huge turn-on for me. I love to have a guy pass by and leave a trail of lingering, musky sexiness behind. I can’t quote any favourites as I am a bit out of touch with men’s fragrances, but who can forget the mighty Kouros, the scent of Friday and Saturday nights in late-eighties and early-nineties town centre pubs!
I have no knowledge of, or particular interest in, motorbikes, but there’s something about a man in black motorcycle leathers that is incredibly potent and invokes lustful thoughts in me. Especially when there’s a group of bikers standing round their machines, crash helmets off, posing on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I join the throngs of people milling around, all eager to look. Except I’m drooling over the bikers and not the bikes.
I find grey hair on a man very alluring. And I don’t mean I’m into octogenarians. Grey hair looks so distinguished and suave and, for me, there’s always a bit of cheeky charm associated with it. So guys, forget the Grecian 2000! Grow grey gracefully; you never know who is lusting after you!
And, of course, if you combine all of the above…
So, why do I choose to post ‘sexy selfies’ and show my boobs and bum on Twitter? Well, there are two reasons: first, it has helped to improve my body confidence enormously and, secondly, to be frank, I enjoy doing it. I have never been a ‘skinny chick’. Far from it. But I never thought of my body in a positive way as being voluptuous or curvaceous; only in a negative way as fat, plump, overweight or one of the multitude of other derogatory terms used in society.
I was always ashamed of myself for not having a flat stomach and felt I had to profusely apologise to boyfriends who saw me naked for the first time. In the workplace, I was generally more rotund than the other girls of my peer group and I carefully avoided the ‘how much do you weigh?’ discussions that inevitably occur in office chit-chat. Even my mum reinforced the belief that I was fat by frequently telling me that I would do well as a belly dancer as my belly wobbled so much! I had to conclude that having a washboard stomach seemed to be the most important life goal for the majority of women, but I knew that was never going to be a possibility for me. Consequently, I never really believed that ‘larger’ women could be considered as desirable and attractive. A belief I held until last year.
Since around the age of around 18, I have had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, which has rarely been allowed to surface, due to my poor body confidence and less-than-enthusiastic partners. Having reached a point last year, where it was time to push a few boundaries, I decided to find out for myself if anyone really did embrace the ‘curvier’ figure and would genuinely find my body shape and size attractive. At the same time, it would give me an opportunity to explore my exhibitionist side.
I set about with my long-suffering iPad and experimented, over several days, with various images, finally deciding that a black and white filter was kinder to the flesh, which also gave me a bit more confidence that I might look marginally attractive. It took an awful lot of courage to post the first few pictures on Twitter. They didn’t get much response, as I had very few followers, but that wasn’t important. What mattered to me was that I had gained the courage to show a body that I was fundamentally ashamed of.
I pushed myself to post a picture nearly every day and I quickly began to get some wonderful comments from people; many of whom are still loyal followers nearly 12 months on. Those pictures were, and always will be, tasteful, and hopefully are considered as erotic by some. I enjoy taking the photos and I try to be creative and vary the images.
I don’t post photos as regularly as I used to but, when I do, I am still delighted by all the positive comments I receive. Reading them brings a smile to my face, and I try to reply to each one. I don’t think I have ever received a negative or nasty comment, but I know that others have and it truly saddens me that a few narrow-minded people feel curvy women should stay covered up. Voluptuous and curvaceous is sexy and curves really do rock!
So, this is my first blog post and, in order for you to find out more about me, here are 20 random facts…
I love polka dots/spots.
My favourite flower is a tulip.
I have a dry and sarcastic sense of humour, which not everyone appreciates.
My favourite colour is red.
I am not very self-confident.
I detest smoking.
I am quick-witted. Usually.
I don’t particularly like, or participate, in any sports.
I am terrified of worms.
I don’t like the wish list culture that has developed on Twitter.
My favourite film is Pulp Fiction.
I hate shellfish.
I would love to live at the seaside.
My favourite food is Thai. Followed closely by roast lamb.
I like to push my boundaries and try new experiences.
I am obsessive about eating my 5 a day; it’s often more.
I am rarely life and soul of the party, but prefer to sit back and observe when in a group of people.
I have an excellent memory.
One of my favourite songs is Higher Love by Steve Winwood.
I love Twitter!
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