Potentially Prodigal

I realise I have been conspicuous in my absence. I wish I could say that I had also been promiscuous in it but somethings never change. The same karmic energies which ensured that my virtue remained in tact with the aid of a delayed text message a few months ago have subsequently enlisted the support of a seized engine ( his, not mine), two cold sores ( his again) and a cancelled office party ( his wife's).

Confident in the knowledge that an illicit affair is not meant to be, I am having no hesitation in conducting a virtual one, mainly in my own head ( which is where I've had some of my best relationships). I get all the thrills of anticipation and male attention, indulge in profuse preening ( or should that be pruning? I occasionally take advantage of the cold, dark opaque tight-wearing days and let my leg-shaving lapse a bit), lay in luxuriously high weave-count cotton sheets without any of the worry of wet patches. Perfect!

The only downside is that I still have to suffer flipping stomach cramps every month without any relief. Forget paracetamol, feminax, hot water bottles or chocolate. The only effective method of making period pains bearable, maybe even welcome, is the joy of knowing you're not pregnant. After almost 5 years ( not counting Bank Holiday '05 as I'd like to forget it even if I could remember it), the anaesthetic is starting to wear off.