divorcedlondon

Just stop nagging me, ok!

I can’t keep up with all your emails; it’s too many. I know I haven’t written to you, to any of you! How can I when they just keep coming?

And I am very aware that I haven’t posted anything here in a while. It’s not like this is my full time job. Just because none of your lives are as good as mine, doesn’t mean I’m living my life just for you!

My rules haven’t changed: I’ll post what I can, when I can. Ok?

I’ve been busy and I haven’t been very well if you must know.

A couple of weeks ago, on a business trip to Birmingham, I had what I think was a panic attack. Since then, my boss insisted I take some time off to rest. He says I’ve been working too hard.

Damn right, I work very fucking hard. I’m the hardest working employee in my company! I invented sales, there’s nothing I don’t know about selling. Don’t forget I’m the king of closers!

So I dropped “Annabelle” a couple of weeks ago. I had too, I just couldn’t bear her anymore and I don’t care if she reads this. She was threatening to unmask me, but I don’t really care, go ahead and start your own blog, bitch, see if I care!

All she ever wanted to do was book whores to come over for threesomes. Every night! It was just too much and too bloody expensive! You know, sometimes it’s nice to have a whore all on your own and not have to share all the bloody time!

But that wasn’t the worst bit, oh no. No the worst was a few weeks ago, some British soldiers got killed in Basra and Annabelle was with me when we heard the news.

No, it wasn’t her husband, but until she was certain of that, it was a really big downer. Listening to her bleat on and on about how her husband might be dead, for fuck’s sake that’s not really a turn on! It was doing my bloody head in!

I mean, imagine you have some really hot woman come to see you and then she sees on the news that something happened thousands of miles away and it just dominates every word out of her mouth! It was like a big glass of cold water tossed on my crotch!

If you love him so damn much, Annabelle, why were you shagging me? If he’s so damn great, why is he risking his life instead of being with you?

Of course he wasn’t dead. What are the chances of you hearing some soldier is killed in Basra and it turns out to be your husband, for fuck’s sake woman!

So go on and start your own blog, you can’t embarrass me, but I sure can embarrass you!

I wrote down his regiment, if you piss me off, I’ll post it here and then all the married soldiers in that squad will all be wondering which one of their wives was getting it so good from me and a fleet of costly whores!

So watch your step missy, two can play at the revenge game! Do you want to be responsible for destroying the morale of our boys in Iraq? Do you?

And who is going to read your blog anyway? Some cheating slutty wife-whore of a brave soldier fighting in Iraq! You’ll never get an audience! People would hate you!

I’m pissed off with Doug; we had a huge argument about the book. Ok, so it’s sort of my fault, but he was a fucking prick about it.

Ok, so I didn’t get the proofreading done on the manuscript as quickly as I said I would. I was going to get to it. Plus, it was really hard, yeah? Reading your own writing is impossible!

Like I would proofread a chapter and think oh sure now that’s perfect and then like a day later, right I would go back and read it again and it would just still have all sorts of mistakes! I just couldn’t do it ok!

So Doug is all, look the website is done, the cover art is approved, everything is ready except the book itself mate! Doug thinks it’s so easy, well its not you know!

So we had a big argument and he said he had a friend that would proofread it and I said fine, so that’s where it is right now. Once that guy fixes all my mistakes, it can go off to the printer for the test printing. If that’s all ok, then we approve it and the book is finally for sale.

You know, it’s not just the words and the mistakes, reading that manuscript is like re-living my life and that’s no fun either you know? My life wasn’t as great as it is now, back then.

Like all the shit with my wife, which I was knee-deep in when I was writing in my other blog. Not like now, with my divorce finally being nearly final. The paperwork should come soon, the decree absolute thing and then let me tell you it’s going to be partyfuckingtime!

My wife, she’s a real piece of fucking work. You see, without the final divorce thing, I can’t even call that bitch my ex-wife yet!

Everything is just so fucked! I’m glad I’m ok!

And I am ok, what happened in B’rum is no big deal really. I was up there with a bunch of people from my office, the Creative Director and some of his staff, plus my favourite employee, Jenny.

The trip was finally going to be my shot at Jenny. I’d been playing such a long game with her that I thought I was going to burst! The night before our big sales meeting was going to be the big night. We all had dinner together as a group and then adjourned to the bar for after-dinner drinks when I discreetly suggested to Jenny that she join me back in my room for some sweet charlie, knowing full well that she loves the stuff too. I went up to my room first, to make it look less suspicious. Once I got up there, I had some charlie for myself and I double-dropped some Erectalis. I even debated taking a third; I wanted my cock to be as hard as titanium! Once Jenny joined me, we really started hitting the cocaine hard, really going for it and drinking too. I could see by the look in her eyes and I am sure she could see the same look in mine that we were going to get it on, finally. We were having a great time and then it started…

I was laughing at something Jenny said, really guffawing and then it was like I couldn’t catch my own breath. I started gasping and clutching my chest and then Jenny screamed and ran into the hallway, shouting for help.

People started coming out of their rooms, including the Creative Director, an ambulance was called. All of this was unnecessary; of course I was fine. I’m always fine!

The paramedics checked me out; they wanted me to go to the hospital, but I refused. I’d calmed down and was breathing normally, my only shame the erection straining against my trousers, throughout this entire ordeal.

Because I wouldn’t go to the hospital, I had to agree to miss the meeting in the morning and rest in the room. Jenny, needless to say, didn’t spend the night, so I was left all alone with nothing but my raging Erectalis hard-on for company.

I would have preferred Jenny.

I don’t really know what happened to me, even now. I think it must have been a combination of fatigue and nerves, both catching up to me at the same time. It was very bad timing, as I was really looking forward to finally nailing Jenny and being a part of this new contract pitch.

When I returned to London, my boss, the managing director, having heard about the previous night’s excitement, insisted that I take a fortnight off to rest and recover from my ordeal. I didn’t want to, but he insisted, so I couldn’t refuse.

Since then I’ve been off work, but I’m supposed to return next Monday. The MD wants me to get checked by a doctor, but I’ve told him I’m fine about coming back and really can’t wait to return.

I haven’t been doing very much while I’ve been off. I’ve barely gone out and the only person I’ve seen regularly is Elvis. I’ve been seeing him a lot, though even that is a drag because he’s always trying to push his Bulgarian whore’s on me.

And that’s the thing, since dumping Annabelle and that abortion of a night with Jenny; I really haven’t been in the mood for any discreet fun. That’s why I haven’t been writing anything, because I’ve been worried that my sex drive is gone!

The one good thing is I’ve been around to watch the World Cup! Beckham and the boys are doing great! Go England!