Wednesday, 24 February 2010


Those of you who have been with me for a while will know of Alistair. You will probably have asked yourself why I still have anything to do with him. It's a fair question. I could flop down on the floor like the proverbial doormat, list the lies, the hurt, the times when my needs have been completely ignored, and then add: but he's actually a wonderful man...

And he does have the capacity to be very wonderful indeed, which in some ways only makes bad misbehaving Alistair seem worse.

But I digress.

Why am I still fraternising... especially as I technically left him a while ago? (And no, I am still not ready to document the great betrayal). It could be one of a few reasons... For example, try as I might, I just can't do without the sex. It's not just good sex, it has been consistently fucking amazing sex since we first started this circus, over a year and a half ago. It could be that I am in love with him, and so I want to see him, even though part of me always feels as if it has been a little damaged when I do. But, hey, the sex is that good, that I can live with the damage.

Oh god, maybe I am that much of a pervert that I am aroused by men who fuck me up.

But there is another very important reason I continue to fraternise with Alistair. He smells irresistable to me.

Never under estimate the power of scent. And I am not referring to his perfume/cologne/deodorant/eau de frou frou toilet, no, I am referring to the simple, nothing added, nothing taken away, as god intended, natural Alistair smell.

Different people react differently to various smells. But to me, few things smell as wonderful as that fucking, cursed boy. One whiff, and it is as if all the oxytocin valves in my brain explode simultaneously. He has a smell that is sex, love, comfort, safety, all at once. Which sounds insane, because very often when I have been buried in that smell of his, my heart has ended up somewhat crushed.

But it doesn't matter. His hair and skin smell sweet and soft and inviting. I want to smother myself in it, and drift off to the warm, soft, happy place. I swear sometimes the smell of his hair almost makes me high. I am only glad that the fact I make no attempt to disguise my creepy sniffing of his hair doesn't bother him.

Scent is a very powerful thing. It can make or break relationships. It might even keep a flame burning long after it should have been extinguished.

But who the hell knows.

Not me, that's for sure. I only came here to wrap myself in long, fragrant boy-hair.


You kiss your mother with that mouth?