A Cracking Little Sex God

Well, I’m back from my lovely (albeit at times rather saucy) week away with the girls, rested and raring to go.  And given that I have new found energy and a fabulous tan, I’m hopping back on the dating train since I’d let that slide a bit whilst getting ready for my jollies and getting over JC.

So let me update you.

JC is no more.  The “complications” were always going to be hard for me to handle and try as I might, I could never quite shake off the thought of his wife and kids back home. 

I feel I now owe a short explanation, given my “no married men rule”. 

JC was (is) married.  However, things had been on and off between them for a couple of years, and they were separated.  (No, really, they were!). I’m told that after their second child was born he’d moved out and she had a new chap in her life.  However, at the end of last summer they had reconciled and he moved back home.  It didn’t work out and they decided to get divorced.  However, shortly after this reconciliation, wife discovers she is pregnant...  with JC’s baby. 

When I met him, he was upfront about the marriage and kids one and two, but made no mention of impending baby three.   Now for me, a not yet ex-wife and two small kids is hard enough to get my head round, but as he really is a cracking little sex god with a body to die for I thought I'd give it a go.  And given that he was really, really into me too (which was refreshing after MB’s casual indifference and his propensity to keep his eye out for a better offer), it would be OK, right?  It therefore came as a mighty shock to learn of a further, hitherto previously undisclosed baby to be, and even after his plausible (albeit tardy) explanation I was still reeling.  Somehow, however, he convinced me (or maybe I convinced myself) that it would be OK, it didn’t matter, things will sort themselves out, etc etc.   

Clearly I am a master of self-persuasion and have no grip whatsoever on self-preservation.

Having heard him out (over a bottle or three of red wine) he agreed to let me have some time and space to think it through and wait and see what happened when said baby arrived.  My fear was that he would change his mind when faced with a third bundle of joy, his fear was that I wouldn’t hang around to find out.   Seems he was right.  Because when I learned of the baby being born I freeeeeeeaked out.  Not sure quite why I felt shocked – it’s not like I thought she’d be giving birth to a Renault Megane or something, but for some reason it now feels real in a way it didn't before.  I also feel mighty guilty that whilst she was (unbeknownst to us) in labour  he’d called me and we'd spent hours on the phone and the conversation had become, at times, a little fruity (again, blame the wine).   So in the space of a few hours, I had gone from feeling like a sultry temptress to a slutty father stealer and I just couldn’t do it.  So I did what any mature, self-respecting woman would do:  I made like an ostrich.  I ignored the message, and to this day I can’t quite bring myself to make the call.  I do feel a little guilty that I have not acknowledged the birth (don’t even know whether it’s a pink one or a blue one) but what I do know is that I can’t be part of that particular set up.

So it’s back to the drawing board now.  I’ve had a wonderful holiday and time to think.  Since coming back I’m hitting the gym with gusto, I’m eating healthily, I’m going to bed at decent times and have refrained from my usual evening glass or more of wine (yes, I know I’ve been back less than 48 hours but it’s a start!).

I’m going to unblock my dating profile now and see what’s out there.  I very much doubt I'll find the future Mrs EB online, but hopefully I'll have some fun, perhaps I'll make some mistakes, but either way I’ll keep you posted.

EB xx