28 February 2006

 

Not my best week

I’ve been putting off writing this entry for days. Normally I look forward to posting my latest escapades, but this hasn’t been a normal week.

Before I get started, there’s one thing I neglected to mention from a couple of weeks ago and that’s the result of my friend Hans’s date with “Cathy” the coffee cart woman.

The whole thing inadvertently slipped my mind and it was only because I twigged that I hadn’t seen “Cathy” recently, did I realise I forgot.

As you might recall, I’ve been coaching my friend Hans, the South African security guard in his pursuit of “Cathy”. She’s the Australian hottie who works on the coffee cart in the main reception of my office block. I helped Hans to secure a date with her and even purchased tickets to a sold-out concert that Hans knew she wanted to attend.

I wish I could tell you how it all worked out, but I can’t.

Hans has refused to tell me anything and has pretty much avoided the subject.

Quite frankly, I’m a bit put out that he won’t spill the beans, especially considering my rather deep and vicarious involvement in his chase. I guess he’s just a gentleman.

Even stranger though, is the fact that “Cathy” hasn’t worked on the coffee cart since just the before the concert. I didn’t know she was quitting and again, Hans won’t talk about it.

I’m guessing after the concert, they had one of those magic, romantic nights full of sustained, longing looks and probably some sort of sexual encounter that was more lovemaking than fucking.

After that, I reckon “Cathy” told Hans that she was leaving her job or maybe even returning to Australia. No wonder he’s not willing to tell me anything; he’s too cut up over it!

I’m hoping that it works out for him, though I still think he’s way too young for a serious relationship. And I hope he’s not thinking of trying to have a long-distance relationship with her; they never work out! Besides, there are so many hot, willing women in London that Hans should be out chasing them every night!

Now that’s out of the way, I can move onto the previous week or so.

Last Saturday week, I had one of the best punts I’ve had in a long time, thanks to my favourite website. I guess it’s not so new to me anymore.

I didn’t bother trying to find a woman through any other method; on Saturday night I went straight for the prossie option.

As you also might recall, I was waiting for the results of the paternity test when last I posted, but they didn’t arrive that week. Actually, they were in my letterbox last Tuesday, so the weekend before that; I needed a serious diversion.

I had visited “Wheeler” my office coke dealer on that Friday and I stocked up on some of his finest charlie. Actually, his stuff is not that fine, but it’s better than nothing.

I was fully expecting to arrive home that night to the awaiting envelope, as it didn’t come on the previous days. It wasn’t there. They kept me hanging a lot longer than I expected.

I could have gone to the pub on that Friday with some of my colleagues but I didn’t really feel that social. Naturally, no one in my office knows what I’m going through and as I plan on keeping it that way, I just went straight home.

I had some adverts running on craigslist and Gumtree, seeking someone for Friday night, but didn’t have any success. No luck at all, really.

I’ve since changed tack somewhat with my adverts and came up with a real winner that’s already yielded more replies than I’ve ever had before, but more on that development later.

On that Friday, I stayed up way too late, snorted way too much coke and drank far too much whiskey. The following day I slept very late and pretty much as soon as I woke up, I started scanning that website for a whore for that night.

I think I’m becoming more than obsessed with this particular website. I seem to check it daily, even when I’m not in the market for an escort. What can I say? I like to know who’s available; oh and I ordered a lot more Eretalis too.

Erectalis is fantastic; it’s my favourite penis pill on the market. It’s cheap, easy to get and extremely effective. I don’t think any other drug lasts as long; if I take one on a Saturday night, I’m still stiff come Monday morning. Yes, they are that good.

I must have looked at a couple of hundred listings before narrowing my search down to the women I would end up meeting that night.

And that wasn’t a typo; I meant it to be plural.

I do find it difficult to decide which one to meet since there are so many choices to be had. On that Saturday night, I was like a kid in a candy store and all the choccies looked too delectable to pick only one.

So do you know what I did? I went for a pair of women! Why not? I haven’t had the two-girl special in ages!

What I wanted; no strike that; what I needed that night was a debauched, discreetly dirty diversion and that’s precisely what I got!

I thought fuck it; let’s do this right, so I went for a two hour booking for a rather pricey four hundred quid. Trust me; it was worth every bloody pound I paid!

The girls, who were friends, advertised together, or rather they each had their own listing on the site, but they referenced each other and mentioned you could book them as a duo. Both of them included some “action” shots of the two of them together and they were so hot they probably could turn a gay man straight!

I should test this theory and show them to my personal assistant, Terry. Oh, that reminds me, I scored some serious points with him this week though it was purely unintentional.

The Creative Director organised one of his tedious “brain storming” sessions last week; this time to come up with some sort of clever plan to do some work for a charity.

Don’t think this was merely my firm trying to do a good deed; they had an ulterior motive: to raise our corporate profile.

Now, when we have a director’s meeting at my firm, it’s quite a big event. At least we pretend it is.

Everyone clears their schedule and we all hunker down in the main conference room and we sit around the big table. We bring two PA’s to take care of our every need, from coffees and pastries to photocopies and any other crappy little errand we can think of for them to do.

We rotate which PA’s attend and this time around, I had to contribute Terry to the proceedings. He didn’t mind, I think he likes it when it’s his turn as it gives him a chance to rub shoulders with the other directors and learn how the company runs. Well, he gets to pour their coffee, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

During the meeting, we were discussing various charities we could help out; our plan is to offer to revamp their website if they have one, create one if they don’t, then set it up so they could take donations online, that sort of thing. All we really needed was a worthy one to help.

Because of all my good work online regarding getting the “safe sex” message out, I casually made the suggestion that we should help out an AIDS charity. Knowing what you know about me, which is quite a bit really, this shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.

With the exception of one experience early on in my days as a cheater, I have been nearly religious about my use of condoms and that practise continues to this day.

I can’t stress the importance to all of you regarding “safe sex”, especially if you’re going to follow my example and live your own discreet life!

As I suggested this at the meeting, I caught an approving look from Terry. He actually seemed proud of me that I was his boss and it was me who came up with an idea that played on his interests. Bless!

Terry wasn’t the only one to think my idea was a winner, it was met with approval from all the directors seated around the conference table, including and especially, the MD.

The fact that they took my idea on board scored me some serious brownie points. So it was decided that we would try to find an AIDS charity that could use some “pro bono” help. Thanks to me, the meeting was a lot shorter than it could have been, so result!

Terry didn’t mention this again, but I could tell he was impressed with my progressive suggestion. What can I say? I’m a forward thinking kind of guy!

Since I was the one that got this particular ball rolling, hopefully my involvement in this project now will be minimal. I’ve got better things to do, like write in my blog!

Where was I? Oh yes, the two whores that came over last week!

They had a telephone number on their listing, a mobile, so I rang directly rather than booking them through the website. I actually got one of the girls; she answered her own phone!

The one I spoke to was Italian, but she spoke English well enough, though with a fairly noticeable accent. I told her how I found her number and what I was hoping to arrange and after a brief conversation, all was confirmed for eleven PM that night. Result!

Now, I should give you a description of these two hotties. As I just mentioned, one of them was Italian; not very tall, but with dusky, Mediterranean features, long dark hair, large firm breasts and a tight, shapely bottom. I’m going to call her “Venus”.

Her friend was from Lithuania, which used to be part of Russia I think, but I’m not sure. She was tall; much taller than “Venus” with long blonde hair, small, high breasts and a pert little bum perched on top of long, slim legs. I’ll call this one, “Katrina”.

“Venus” and “Katrina” arrived a few minutes after eleven, looking a bit more whore-ish than I would have preferred. They were both wearing short, short mini-skirts and low cut tops. “Katrina” was wearing thigh high black boots; “Venus” was wearing standard issue black stilettos.

They looked as good as their photos and I couldn’t wait to get stuck in between them. I was going to be the filling in their discreetlondon sandwich!

The flat was prepped and so was I, freshly Erectalis’d up and raring to go! I’d also had a couple of line and a couple of whiskeys, so I was feeling really good. We got the business side of things out of the way and then it was properly party time!

I’ve gotten into the habit of putting the cash into a plain white envelope before the girls arrive and normally they quickly tuck it into their handbags without opening it, but not “Venus”. She tore open the envelope and counted out the eight, fifty pound notes before nodding and smiling at me.

Where did I get eight, fifty pound notes?

I still get cash-back every time I shop at the supermarket and I always ask for a fifty-pound note when I do. It’s the most they’ll let you take at a time and I guess old habits die hard. This was how I used to fund my discreet fun back when I lived with my wife.

I offered them both a drink, which gave me an excuse to visit the kitchen for a charlie top-up. They asked for vodka, which I had. I mixed it with orange juice and added a couple of ice cubes and cocktail hour began!

I returned to the living room and sat between these two lovelies, handing them each a drink. Before long, they were taking turns kissing me deeply.

The blonde, “Katrina” said something to “Venus” that I didn’t quite understand and I later found out that was because she didn’t speak English! I actually think she was speaking French to “Venus”, but with her unusual eastern European accent, I couldn’t be sure.

“Venus” translated and explained that “Katrina” thought she could taste cocaine on my lips. I was briefly concerned that this upset them, but it was quite the opposite! The girls wanted me to share!

I didn’t have a problem with that, so I got a full wrap out of my stash and returned to the lounge. I’m getting quite good at chopping out lines, but that’s because I get a lot of practise and before you could say “charlie”, I had six lines racked up on the glass coffee table and ready to go.

The girls snorted two lines each with real enthusiasm and wanted more straight away. I was only too happy to provide, for me as well. Before long, the three of us were coked to the eyeballs and ready for lusty fun and games!

I thought I’d start out slow and I asked the girls for a little show, one of the many services they offered on their website. I put on my favourite radio station, MagicFM and then just sat back on the sofa as they slow danced and grinded against each other. Even though there was a bit of a height difference between them, they were able to lock lips for a long, slow, deep, tonguey kisses.

With all this visual stimulation and the Erectalis flowing through my veins all the way to my cock, I was rigid in no time at all. Actually, I got so damn hard that I slipped open my charcoal grey robe just to give it a quick squeeze!

Their routine, for lack of a better word, while hotter than hell, did have an air of being rehearsed, especially when they began to undress each other. Mind you, I’m not complaining! I guess it happens when two people know each other as well as I’m guessing these two did; kind of like a married couple when the sex gets boring!

They really did know how to move and as they gradually shed their garments my anticipation was building. “Katrina” dropped to her knees, then craned her neck to suckle “Venus’s” nipples, which were standing up straight and they looked like little bullets.

“Katrina” went lower, slipped “Venus’s” thong down to the floor and then buried her face in a little tiny corner of heaven, where I hoped to join her soon. She really went for it, no slow burn here and from the way “Venus” was reacting, she knew how to hit her sweet spot.

“Venus” came with a gigantic shudder and as soon as she caught her breath, she pushed “Katrina” down on the floor. “Katrina” reclined, with her legs spread wide while her elbows supported her midsection, so she could keep her head up and watch as “Venus” licked her out.

By now my cock was throbbing like someone hit it with a hammer, only in a good way. Soon, it was my turn!

Once “Katrina” orgasmed, I beckoned for the two of them to follow me into the bedroom so that I could be the centre of attention for the remainder of the session. I slipped off my robe and let it drop to the floor, before climbing on the bed and laying back.

The girls wasted no time in going down on my stiffy, taking turns at who could suck it down deeper. That contest ended in a very happy tie! Experience is always a welcome thing!

It was so good that I’m not even sure which one of them took my load and I didn’t really care! At that point I realised that they were really just one being, with four hands, two mouths and two very hot, juicy pussies!

Everything they did, they did in concert with each other, as if they had some non-verbal connection that kept them in perfect synch throughout the entire night.

Now that I’d cum once, I relaxed a bit and was ready to taste them both, one at a time.

I decided to do “Katrina” first and my reason for this may seem silly. “Katrina” had a Brazilian wax while “Venus” was neatly trimmed; I prefer trimmed to waxed and wanted to save the best for last.

Both of them had very clean, sweet tasting pussies, but in my extensive experience, that’s always true with whores. It’s their living, so they need to keep them in tiptop condition all the time. I’m not sure how they do that exactly and I don’t know if I want to know; I’m just glad they do!

I made “Katrina” cum a couple of times, before switching over to “Venus”. While I was eating “Katrina”, “Venus” had been gently playing with my cock, getting it hard again and all they did was swap positions. Then I gave “Venus” the full discreetlondon treatment with bells on!

By now, a good portion of my session had by passed and I reckoned I only had time to pop once more. I knew I wanted to fuck one of them, but I was having trouble making up my mind as to which one.

I went for “Katrina”, how could I not? Tall, blonde, long legged, it was the only right decision in more ways than one. Don’t get me wrong; if I’d had more time, I would have shagged the ass off of “Venus” too!

I lay down on my back again, this time, with my head near the foot of the bed and I motioned for “Katrina” to straddle me. She slipped a condom on my todger and climbed on board the DL express, next stop sexual nirvana!

She was riding my cock like it was a polo pony and our team was winning!

“Venus” didn’t waste any time; she sat on my face and let me gorge myself on her sweet cunt while I was fucking “Katrina”. The fucking was so good that I had a hard time concentrating on the pussy licking, but I did my best. The hardest part was maintaining a steady rhythm.

Life does not get much better than this. If it does, please tell me how and be convincing, because I probably won’t believe you!

Since I’d already popped once, I lasted a very long time but eventually I had another massive orgasm. It was fantastic and it took me a few minutes to catch my breath. Seriously, I was left breathless by the intensity of this!

After that, “Venus” said it was time they should go, and with that, they dressed and they went. I was left feeling very relaxed, somewhat drained, but still wanting more.

Maybe I was just lonely.

No, it wasn’t that; I wanted more sex!

The next morning, I woke up feeling rough as fuck. I had another bloody nose again and they’ve been happening more regularly in the mornings.

I think it might be the cocaine, but I’m not sure. I do know “Wheeler’s” isn’t the best I’ve ever had, but I don’t think I’ll be buying any more from him, anytime soon.

Why?

Elvis returned, but not in a way I would have hoped for.

I was coming home from work last Monday night and just as I was punching in the entry code for the front door of my block of flats, I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder. I turned around and there was Elvis.

He wasn’t alone; a rather large and burly man was standing behind him and just to the side, peering at me menacingly. Elvis didn’t look happy.

He said, “Why you no call me?”

Right away, I was confused. When I saw him standing there, initially I was quite pleased as I’d missed him and always thought of him as a mate. But Elvis is normally well spoken and his accent isn’t usually noticeable, so I knew something was up.

I quickly explained how I’d lost my mobile phone when I was mugged and it was the only place I had his mobile number. I told I’ve wanted to get in touch with him practically since then, but didn’t have any way to reach him. I knew he couldn’t reach me either, since the only number he had for me was my stolen mobile.

This didn’t seem to make a difference to Elvis. He reminded me I owed him some money, five hundred quid to be precise.

I hadn’t forgotten.

He said he wanted the money right then and there. Of course, it was a Monday and I’d just blown my stash of secret fifty pound notes on the two whores, so the only option was to go to the nearest cash point.

Elvis and his silent, but intimidating friend accompanied me to the bank and when I tried to withdraw five hundred, it said the maximum I could take was only two-fifty; the daily limit on my card.

Elvis was not pleased.

He said he’d call at my flat the following night for the balance. Then he shifted gears on me again and asked me if I wanted any of his “product”.

Of course I did! “Wheeler’s” cocaine is shite! It’s coarse and mixed with speed and keeps me up all night!

I took Elvis’s mobile number and gave him my new one, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted my landline as well.

Now it’s one thing to have your secret, second, untraceable pay-as-you-go mobile number in a drug dealer’s address book or mobile phone, it’s another to have a very traceable landline number as well.

I didn’t have a choice. I gave him my home number, so, in his words, “we avoid situations like this again”. He’s got a point there.

Though I’m pleased to get my better charlie connection back, I found the entire incident somewhat unsettling and disturbing. I thought Elvis was a decent guy, but he got very heavy with me over what I would consider a small amount of dosh.

He knew I was good for it, he knew where I lived, and he should have just called by sooner; he didn’t have to wait for months.

And why did he have the other guy with him? Did he think I would need roughing up?

Mainly, his unexpected return delayed me from my real mission that evening, to check my mailbox for that letter.

After Saturday morning’s post, I spent the remainder of the weekend trying not to think about it, knowing that the earliest it could arrive and I’d open it, was Monday night.

But it wasn’t there on Monday night.

My distraction that night was a good one. An advert I posted on craigslist that I promptly forgot about had yielded an amazing number of responses! Big result!

I posted this advert on the previous Saturday morning, with replies going to yet another anonymous web-based email account. I’d been thinking about a new way to meet women online for discreet fun and when I woke up, it hit me like a bolt out of the blue!

The advert itself was simple, direct and to the point. As well as posting it on the Casual Encounters section, I thought it would be a laugh to try it in the Erotic Services section as well.

Now I’m the one laughing, because the Erotic Services version is the one that brought me all the replies! I’ve had more responses then I know what to do with and plan on working my way through as many as I can.

The advert has been so amazingly successful that I’m going to share it with you all right now. Though first, I should say that any further emails I receive, now that I’m writing about it, will not get any response from me.

Why?

Simple. I know there are people out there still trying to identify me and I’m not that foolish.

The advert is still running, I mistakenly binned the posting email and can’t delete it.

You could conceivably track it down and reply to it, but your email will never get a response from me. Not if you’ve sent it after I post this entry.

Too late! The offer is now closed.

The advert was entitled: “help for pre-orgasmic women” and here’s the full text of it:

“I'm offering help for any pre-orgasmic women in London.

Do you have trouble achieving orgasm? Perhaps you've never had one before. I can help.

Through a combination of imagination exercises and experienced stimulation, I can show you how to reach climax, again and again. With my proven method of orgasm encouragement, you will be able to cum whenever you like!

There's no need to be embarrassed, this is a common problem, but it doesn't need to go on forever. You can improve your sex life with noticeable results after only one session!

Please email for more details. Total discretion is assured.”

Brilliant, eh? I’m a bloody genius, I am!

The first one hundred or so that emailed all received the same initial response.

Basically, I said I’d been overwhelmed by the response to the advert and I would be personally getting in touch with suitable candidates in due course. After that, I just couldn’t deal with sending any more, I thought I might end up with RSI!

I still can’t believe the volume of emails I’ve received from this simple, yet effective offer. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Even if I only actually meet ten percent of them, that will be a great result!

And it’s not like it’s false advertising; I’m as good as my word. I’ve yet to meet a woman who hasn’t succumbed to the full discreetlondon treatment. I doubt I’ll have nothing but success with all of the women I’ll meet through this advert.

And I’ll bet you are all impressed with the words “pre-orgasmic” and my use of them. My secret?

Google. It knows everything so I don’t need to!

I really wasn’t up to setting anything up last week, but this week I’ve been in contact with a few possible partners. If they play their cards right, one of them could be lucky enough to have a session with me as soon as tomorrow night!

“Jenny” and I had a chance to do a bit of a proper post-mortem on our recent trip to Manchester; I took her to lunch the week before last. She said she thought we made a great team and she hoped to accompany me on future trips and sales calls.

I’d already had the same thought, as I’ve got some unfinished business with her myself.

I know that good things come to those who wait and I’m playing such a long game with “Jenny” that it doesn’t matter how long it takes. I know it’s there for me whenever I want it and I’m going to make sure I get it when I’m good and ready!

She didn’t specifically mention having to sleep with that troll, but she did emphasise that she’s always willing to do whatever it takes to get a job done.

She really is my kind of girl!

“Ginny” has continued to impress with me with her innovative ideas and she’s even managed to catch the CD’s attention.

Basically, she’s come up with an idea for what I would describe as a pre-fab retail website that we could market to small specialist shops.

Without going into too much detail, it means designing one basic site and doing very minor tweaks to it to customise for smaller clients, so we can capture this as of yet untapped sector of the market.

The beauty of this is we can keep the costs low and the profits high! It’s simple, high volume, specialist sales and if it takes off, we’re all going to make reasonable commissions for doing next to nothing. You’ve got to love it!

Even the CD told me what a shrewd appointment he thought it was when I made “Ginny” a senior sales executive. Like I needed to hear it from him!

Elvis was as good as his word and he returned to my flat on Tuesday night at the appointed time, thankfully alone. I made sure I was home before he got there. I wanted to check the post.

Yes, on Tuesday evening when I got home, the letter was waiting for me.

It was from the laboratory that I used to do the DNA testing to show once and for all whether I’m my daughter’s biological father. It contained the results of the test.

I took the envelope up to my flat, but I didn’t open it immediately. I couldn’t, I knew Elvis was going to be arriving soon and I wanted some privacy. I put the letter on a shelf in my lounge and waited for Elvis.

He was fairly prompt and back to his old, suave self. The accent returned to smooth and unnoticeable and his manner was polite. It was as if nothing happened and we were mates again.

I had been to the bank earlier and I got enough money to pay off the debt, plus some extra to purchase his three-hundred pound deal, which is pay for six grams and get the seventh one free.

Elvis took the money for the debt, but refused any cash for the coke I got from him that day. I still don’t understand why, but he seems to prefer it this way. I really tried to get him to take the dosh, but he wouldn’t hear of it!

I would prefer not to owe him anything, but I think that’s understandable.

Elvis didn’t stay long, but then he never really used to anyway. I suppose the only real benefit to having contact with him again is the quality of my charlie will be back to its former, higher standard.

After Elvis left, I laid out a couple of lines and poured myself a treble whiskey.

I got the envelope from the shelf and put it on the coffee table in front of me. I stared at it for the longest time.

Opening that envelope has to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Inside it was a single sheet of paper with my future printed on it.

By now my head was spinning and I really couldn’t read the entire letter.

I scanned it as quickly as I could for the relevant portion and this is word for word what I found:

“The DNA tests exclude paternity. “discreetlondon” cannot be the father of “this little girl” as he lacks the genetic markers that must have been inherited by the child from the biological father.”

I read it again. And again. And again.

She’s not mine.

She’s not mine!

Does my wife know I’m not her father?

Your guess is as good as mine at this point.

Well then who is her father?

It’s not that guy my wife left me for, the doctor, he was ruled out when the baby was born. He’s Asian; it was obvious he couldn’t be her father.

So whose is she?

I have no idea.

Does my wife know who her father is?

I certainly hope so! How many men could she have slept with?

I don’t want to know!

I’m feeling angry, hurt and very sad. I can go from a blind rage to uncontrollable tears in a matter of seconds.

I don’t know what to do next. I still haven’t said anything to my wife. I don’t know what to say to her.

How about, “You stupid fucking bitch! What are you fucking playing at? How could you?” That could be a good start.

But then what?

I don’t know. I really don’t.

I’m about as gutted as man can be. I’ve even wondered if I should have had the test at all.

Too late!

Don’t ask a difficult question unless you really want to know the answer! Now that I know the answer, a part of me wishes I never asked the question.

I phoned in sick last Wednesday, Thursday and Friday; I used the old reliable “bad back” excuse. Then, I went on the bender to end all benders.

I drank copious amounts of whiskey; I snorted giant piles of charlie. I didn’t leave my flat for two whole days and nights. All I wanted was to be completely numb and I succeeded.

I spoke to no one except Terry and that was only to check in and to let them know I wouldn’t be coming to work.

On Friday, the MD phoned me. He was pleasant and charming as always and reminded me of the company’s private health insurance scheme.

He said, “Dear boy, you don’t need to suffer. Get some treatment and get back in here as soon as you can.”

It would have been good advice if I really had a backache, but absolutely pointless in helping with my heartache. It’s more than heartache; my ticker is well and truly broken!

Last weekend saw my binge continue and I’ve had a bloody nose most mornings as well as the expected monster hangovers. My nose hasn’t been just a bit bloody, but scabby too. It’s really not pleasant, but more charlie seems to numb the stinging pain.

I didn’t have a choice; I needed the escape. I made sure if I wasn’t asleep, I wasn’t sober and stayed that way until Sunday.

On Sunday I started writing this entry. I’ve deleted what I’ve written and restarted it three times now. I’m still not happy with it but it’s been too long since I’ve posted anything.

I’m never going to get it right, so I might as well just put it online.

Now I know this is going to sound odd, but it’s as if I’ve put off posting this entry because somehow when I publish it, it makes the reality of the paternity test result all the more real.

I went back to work yesterday, fended off the “how’s your back?” questions and had a fairly uneventful day. I brought some charlie and dipped into it a little bit.

Today is looking very much the same, which is why I’ve got the time to polish this turd of a posting as best I can and get it online.

Even a couple of lines this morning hasn’t helped make writing this easier. Nothing has.

I hate myself, for believing I was ever her father.

I hate my wife for this ultimate betrayal and I want the “decree absolute” now more than ever.

But I don’t hate that little baby, how could I?

I don’t love her either, I can’t. I won’t.

She’s not mine.

Comments:
I'm sorry for you in so many ways. I had a strong feeling that the baby wasn't yours. You must have had some reason to think so too. I think you are trying to slowly kill yourself. You are numbing your pain with sex, alcohol and drugs. You are going to crash physically and mentally if you don't get some help soon. For God's sake man, get yourself to a psychiatrist. SOON.
 
I've been a long time reader (from the days when it was "DiscreetLondon")and, for the most part, really enjoyed reading your blog. I must confess, however, that you should really give up the "charlie." It's going to become more and more of a problem as time goes on and will eventually kill you. Mixing it with alcohol is about the worse thing you can do. Get yourself some help before it's too late!
 
the other comments are wrong DL u are having a hard time right now so u should have as much fun as u can when u can and party and take drugs and have sex and just take your mind off your problems as much as u can because if u dont u will go crazy from it and u dont want that to happen!
 
I beg to disagree with the "u" commenter. Having nonstop sex, drinking and taking drugs will not keep you from being crazy -- it will make you crazy. It will make all of your problems worse. You need help. You know it; I know it. Now get it. You're a strong, intelligent, caring man. I can read between the lines. Go get yourself put back together.
 
DL

Top Blogging. Well written, honest, fun read.

So sorry the child isn't yours, nightmare. You will get a family sometime.

Everyone posting seems to think they know what you should do about your drug use. They don't, and neither do I, its your call.

Having said that, I know a lot about drugs, and there is so stuff thats worth saying to you.

You are a heavy user. Neither bad nor good, just a fact, judging on your blogged use.

You really don't know enough about coke. You should know what it is usually cut with, that it is most addictive in combinaition with alcohol, how to tell the good from the bad, etc etc. All the info is online.

Finally, people get in trouble with drugs when they depend on it to get through ordinary situations - work, dates, parties, etc. This prevents them from cutting back when it is clear that they are taking too much. Keep a close eye on that.

Otherwise, carry on with the fun time you seem to be having.

J
 
You should really get help for your addictions (let's face it, you are addicted). Here is a sobering summary of death by cocaine:

"Cocaine-related deaths are often a result of cardiac arrest or seizures followed by respiratory arrest. An added danger of cocaine use is when cocaine and alcohol are consumed at the same time. When these substances are mixed, the human liver combines cocaine and alcohol and manufactures a third substance, cocaethylene. This intensifies cocaine's euphoric effects, while also possibly increasing the risk of sudden death

Death caused by too much cocaine (an overdose) is not uncommon. Cocaine can cause large increases in blood pressure that may result in bleeding within the brain. Constriction of brain blood vessels can also cause a stroke. An overdose of cocaine can cause breathing and heart problems that could result in death. This is what killed the University of Maryland basketball player, Len Bias, in 1986. Comedian John Belushi also died from a cocaine/heroin overdose in 1982."

Don't risk it, it is not worth it! Get yourself some help now, while you still have that option!
 
Great blog and interesting read! This is like a soap opera on the internet. I can't wait for your next post!!!
 
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