01 May 2013

I used to work with a girl (woman?) we all affectionately called Beast.  This was her name. She knew it was her name and she lived up to it, in fact, i believe she had it tattooed on her arm in Thai writing on a holiday to Phuket once.  She was a career alcoholic and has been responsible or part of, some of the more... distasteful events which have ever occurred to me.  This woman drank like a man, fucked like a man, you could fry an egg on her hair on any day of the week, and generally was and is, a bit fucking foul.  But she used to be pretty damn fun to go out with, and was the person who introduced me to the concept of a 'blend'.  For this i am thankful, waste not want not.

Anyway, last year I had this dude on the go, who we called Old Greg.  Not cause he was old, just cause he was Greg.  Old Greg was nothing much - thick as a post and a bit mental, but he was pretty fun to party with for a time until one day, he opened up his wardrobe and showed me his gun.  Shortly after that, Mick Gatto's brother turned up at Old Greg's place and it was then i knew that i was in over my head.  No amount of booze or drugs was going to make any of this really ok.  I'm a nice girl from Cheltenham who appreciates irony; not Mick Gatto's brother at the door, or Old Greg's gun in the wardrobe.

Shortly after all this occurred, i got a message on facebook from Beast.  'How do you know Old Greg?!  We used to go out!"

I nearly died in my jocks, sloppy seconds from the Beast?!?!?  That's disgusting.

And it was with this; my whoring days were over.

Not even the romantic text message after i'd backed away slowly and quietly, hoping he wouldn't notice "Y can't we fuk?" would be able to win me back.

Anyway, I was having a conversation with Amazon not long ago about our official count... She's trying to get her number up, feeling ripped off - like she hasn't lived enough life yet and got enough, y'know... dick.  While i (who also feels ripped off on any number of topics), i'm trying to get my number down after what in hindsight, have been one or two regrettable scenarios.  And without really realising it, i've created a system of rules as to what 'counts' and what doesn't count.  You know, for my mind.

Basically, an (ahem) encounter, doesn't 'count' if it meets any or all of the following criteria:

The statute of limitations
This is totally a thing.  If it happened over seven years ago, it's off your record.  I can't be held responsible for this shit forever!  If the ATO can forgive sins after seven years, well, i can forgive myself also.

If it only happened once
And i mean once.  Slipped in, slipped out, no followup - that shit doesn't count.  It barely even happened.

If i dont remember it, it definitely didn't happen

If no one else knows about it, and I want to forget it ever happened... it's gone.  Off the record.  Stricken.

Sadly, I am going to have to wait out the seven years on Old Greg but other than that, i'm down to a pretty respectable number!