Sexual healing. It's not working....

When I wrote this post, I didn't expect it to come back and bite me in the ass. (Unfortunately, not literally. I'm yet to feel him nibble anything.)
I'm dating/seeing/bedding/getting cosy with (I'll delete as appropriate, just as soon as I work that out) a great guy. He's funny, he listens, he remembers things, he's considerate, incredibly good looking, and clearly a great catch. If you can keep a hold of him. He also seems to be slippery and evasive when it comes to contact, decisions, or direct questions. But that's another story.

What I wanted, what I needed was to find a man who wanted to look after my needs. Who's aim in life bed was to treat me right. And, in this cute young thing, I have found it. He's committed to making sure I have a good time. By asking continuously. And approaching foreplay in a rather organised fashion. With military precision. And possibly a checklist that I can't see.
And sulking if I don't achieve by his carefully planned schedule.
And refusing to actually have sex if I haven't hit my happy place beforehand.
This rather puts pressure on me. And nothing happens.
Which means I'm left without.. anything. As is he. But he won't let me do anything about it. Because that 'wouldn't be fair.' FUCK FAIR! I want sex! My enjoyment be damned, I want to see him enjoy something!
There's got to be a happy medium out there somewhere.

In my quest to make things good with him, I'm starting to think outside the box. Maybe things would be better, more fluid and easier between us if we were to lose the condoms? They do tend to put a bit of a dampener on the whole occassion... wet patch avoidance aside..
So, off to the GU clinic just to put my mind at ease I'm ready to rock; clean, healthy, coil still doing it's job...

I forgot how embarrassing these appointments could be. I'm good at talking straight about icky things, I'm even pretty stoical about stripping off, getting my feet in the stirrups and showing off my lady-garden to all and sundry (I do this by inducing an out of body experience and talking about socks and the weather with the doctor while secretly repeating the mantra 'this isn't happening, this isn't happening' in my head. Please. Try it. It helps.)
But when it comes to taking down my sexual history... even I lose my nerve.

'So, any particular concerns to warrent a check up?'
'Er, nope, just... a new partner. I want to lose the condoms.'
'Ok, how long have you been with him?'
'Well... not.. exactly.. I don't know. Couple of weeks? Three? Not... really... sure.. if he's a... thing... or... if we're going anywhe...'
'How long have you been having sex with him?'
'Oh. Erm, 2 weeks. Probably.'
'OK. Has he had a check up already?'
'Well, it's not really something we've talked about... I'm not sure if he want's a relatio... er, no. He hasn't.'
'And, in the past 6 months, have you had sex with anyone before that?'
'Er, yes.'
'What was his name?'
'His name? er... M.'
'And before him? Anyone else?'
'Er.. yes.'
'Name?'
'F....why do you need their names? Do I have to go through it?'
'Just so you know who you need to contact if you have anything. It's not that I'm sitting here going 'goodness she's been busy!' I'm not judging,you can say Tom Dick and Harry if you want, just as long as you know who Tom Dick and Harry are. So, before F, anyone else in the last 6 months?'
'Tom.'
'Oh, there was a Tom? Really? Haha, didn't mean to say Tom, Dick and Harry then...'
'Well, there definitely hasn't been a Harry. Clearly.. there has been a few dicks...'
'Anyone else?'
'*forgets a name* erm... yes... there's... *counts on fingers*.... I mean... really? Do I have to carry on? Can we just agree to leave it at there's been a few, but I've always been safe with them?'
'Well... yes...'
'Excellent. Can we move on?'
'So, how many, shall we say.. 5 or 6 partners?'
'whoa... seems a bit high.... *counts in head, remembers someone else, realises that's a rather low estimation* err..... yeeessss.... 5 or 6.... that's.... fiiiine......'
'OK. Let's get on with the physical checks. You're quite tall, aren't you? I'll find the extra large speculum...'
'HUH????! WHATSAYNOW? Nonononononoooo.....'

Extra large?! She was sooooo judging me. I was judging me too by the time I left her office.

I wish......

.......that one single potential employer would look beyond the fact I have dreadlocks and give me a fucking job.
At least, I think that's the reason I'm turned down.... well.
 Not even turned down.
What happens, is I have a fantastic interview, we both make really positive noises about our future working together, we say we'll talk tomorrow with a definite plan/start date/agreement, and then I never hear from them again.
So I ring. And I ring. And I leave a message. Then a text. Then ring again. Maybe an email. None of this in a stalker-ish fashion, reasonable distances between calls, being perfectly polite...
I hear nothing.
I say I loved their family. I say how warm and welcoming they were. I say what a joy they'd be to work for. I say I'm not looking for much money. I say how adorable the kids are.
I hear nothing.
I say look, even if you've decided to go for someone else, could you just let me know for certain, so I can line other interviews up?
I hear nothing.
I might finally get through.
Oh, so sorry, driving right now, I'll ring you right back.
I hear nothing.
Ok. Well. I get it. You don't want me for the job. But could you please, please, have the common courtesy to reject me to my face when we've specifically said we will talk the next day. That is just rude, and ill-mannered, and I'm sure your pampered children will grow up to be horrible people with such charming guidance from their morally fucked up middle class parents.

I wish...
... that I wasn't feeling increasingly compelled to cut off my hair and to take out the most obvious of my piercings. The liberated, open minded, well off, successful, wouldn't-dream-of-being-un-PC middle classes are not, apparently, ready to accept me as I am, even after days previous to the interview of gushing amazement at my reference and CV. Not even after their children have flung their arms around me and said they really like me and have force fed me ice-cream. Not even after saying it was so lovely to meet me, and goodness, haven't I done well to run my own business so young, and aren't I a refreshing change. The door still gets slammed.
Just say it. You don't think my image fits with your Conrad shop sofa and pale beige walls.
You don't think my hippy hair has a place at the table.
You don't think the other mums would like the look of me pushing your pram.
Just say it to my face.