Spurt (pun always intended)

Why do lovers insist of smooching on the escalators at tube stations in mid rush hour human traffic? I suppose it’s one of those questions that has no satisfactory answer. Yes, they’re in love (aww bless), yes, I should stop being such a prude (miserable sod), but I won’t! Yes, they’ve probably had morning sex before they even left the house, yes, the man probably came and has no right to an erection moments after his morning orgasm.

So there I was, running late this morning, only to be confronted by two yukky lovers who’s job in life, I was convinced, was to make me miss my morning seminar. Why does it take two people twice as long to walk from one end of the busy platform to the other? Why does love slow everything down. Longer kisses, longer spells of holding hands, longer time spent doing nothing in between the sheets. And this is what we’re all supposed to aspire to. Ugh. I don’t know.

And once I was travelling up the escalator, they decided to take up the left hand lane and form a lip union. Yes, that’s correct, blocking the left hand passage down the escalator in rush hour traffic. For those of you who live in London, you’ll appreciate my anger.

Rant over.

Now that I’ve swum over the initial ocean of long drooling lust that was last Saturday, I’m able to sit down and dissect the French couple and their relationship. This idea of sharing another man and spreading out the excitement for each party to the relationship to enjoy separately strikes me as being rather strange. For a couple who have claimed to have a threesome prior to our little flurry, the requirement of doing it where the other couldn’t see seems rather baffling.

As I discussed this with M earlier this evening, we were left with the question:

‘Were they secure enough to open their relationship and invite in a play boy in to spice things up, the way you might purchase a dildo, or a subscription to a porn network. Alternatively, were they greedy, hedonistic insecure people who understood each other’s cravings and wanted to cheat because neither felt satisfied with the other at that moment in time. And the formation of an open relationship is always such a tricky thing. Allowing your partner to do things which you can’t see, which you’ll know happen but which you’ll forbid yourself from discussing. It’s all play acting really, I’m lead to conclude. I think many people have open relationships as a way of testing the strength of their relationship, nothing else. Of course we all know, the blind man never sees, although he always feels, always knows.’

So, what do you readers think? Were they stupid or liberated? Will the relationship last. I have little doubt of its strength myself, of course, with the French men being so far away, I’ll probably never find out.

And whilst we’re on the subject of M, as you’re all undoubtedly aware, M is due to come to the big smoke for a flurry through the streets and boroughs in the name of Christmas shopping. Although, one would hope this was a secondary purpose to the visit. In our earlier conversation it transpired that M would quite like to hold my hand during this little flurry. Ha. Never. Why? Because holding hands is something those flowery couples do in Tescos (when they have a spare hand ). After all, this is precisely what ‘proper relationships’ are for; holding hands as you walk around Marks and Spencer.

So, let me get this right, M wants to hold my hand and sleep in my bed completely naked. And I’m supposed to be all embracing (in the emotional sense you understand). Although I hate this particular phrase, I can’t at this time conjure up a softer version. A cock tease. M is being a cock tease. Provocation surely should be a defence to rape one would hope. I have a feeling one is about to be tested to the brink of orgasm.

Ps Nigella Lawson (Foogasm (food induced orgasm) Goddess) has reappeared on BBC2 (not sure what renders her unworthy of Channel 4 this time around). And all of a sudden I feel as though I should cure my own salmon, prepare my own ham and fuck food (including the Christmas turkey) right up until the new year is here upon us. I’d marry her you see. Ms Lawson, Come Hither!