I’ve emerged from my sick bed and can speak briefly without coughing spasms and the thought of performing oral sex is starting to re-gain some allure. Somehow I evolved from no voice to rasping voice and I’m displeased about that — after three weeks, my untended pubic hair has grown unthwarted by illness yet I don’t even get a husky voice for a few days as compensation.

Young Lion has been sending obscene text messages and we have been trying to organise a day to catch up, but our timetables aren’t agreeing. He called yesterday to ask if I’d like to hear him orgasm, and I took evil delight in saying I was in a train carriage with a hundred complete strangers and would he like me to turn on the speaker phone? He scurried away and later sent an audio message.

Pleasure Freak sent a message about catching up and had forgotten all about the hotel dealbreaker (or I’ve met him at short notice in the past and he’d thought he’d try his luck with my inconsistency). I let him know that I was looking for someone more regular and he sent a “?” in response, as if I were verging on insane to not want to see him; a few days later he asked how my luck was panning out with my search and he was free if I was. I like him and his optimism but a couple of months is long enough for intent without sex, however, I feel weak sometimes when he gets in touch.

Mr OMG did a better job of trading in on my inconsistency without even trying. He called and I ignored the phone, but I called him back half an hour later. My resolve is growing! After receiving some excellent sympathy for the state of my voice, the conversation took a turn.

Mr OMG (while he was masturbating): So, we’ll have to talk more about what you said about anal sex.

Me: Huh? (my next job won’t be starting a phone sex empire)

Mr OMG: Last time you mentioned you were interested in having me inside your arse. You know, getting you all wet and excited and then sliding the head of my cock in slowly and …

Me: Who, me? I have a near-photographic memory but I don’t remember that conversation.

A few seconds passed in silence.

Me again: Ohhh, I remember now. You must’ve had me very aroused.

Me again: And I said I’d happily die trying, didn’t I?

Mr OMG: Yes, you did.

We finished the phone call without discussing when we might see each other. I didn’t mind. I’ve seen handballing videos with men’s arms up to the elbow in other men’s backsides so I know intellectually that taking him is possible, but the little voice in my head is discussing why I ask for crazy shit without considering the reality.

This weekend I’m meeting two of the men mentioned in the last post: the outrageous one if he has recovered from a virus, who behind the initial approach is an over-achieving, smart single man about the city and now I can’t fathom why he made contact because there are many available women outside his own door step. He’s suggested dinner and a movie which is messing with my pre-conception that he was playing a numbers game and we’d probably be a once-off event. I need to stop overthinking and just meet him for a drink — my mind is playing catastrophising tricks at the moment and making me doubt everything I do. The single man with his own place is confirmed: we have flirted mildly for a few days and I’m looking forward to meeting him, no tricks of the mind, which in my mind probably is a kind of nasty game. I think a firm spanking will help smack the suspicious paranoia out of me.