actually I wasn't going to bother writing anymore, especially as I still don't seem to be listed - what's the point in writing if no one is ever going to read it, but anyway, reading someone else's, I noticed that he had only written twice since February. It is funny reading the last entry - that is just such a long way away now - the terror of being loved, the discovery that he wasn't actually that marvellous and the week crying to Eva Cassidy - yes thank fuck that's all over. Now it's Chris, who's lovely, but not very passionate, who is in the south of France with a dose of the clap but he doesn't know that yet. I must say having sex in parks is a hell of a lot simpler than relationships - I mean when you get the clap and you go to the clinic, and they ask you how to contact the guys you've had sex with you can be quite honest about not knowing the first fucking thing about them ( and last week was particularly greedy - it could have been anyone of about seven people). Perhaps it's time to move on to the next man I have lined up who lives in the building opposite and is mmm ... sexy. We had one of those conversations where each line is like a physical caress, it was like we were deep snogging towards the end. I had to lie on the floor and scream afterwards just to release it. Ridiculous really - he's been living there for a year, but we have never been crossing the courtyard at exactly the same time before. I'll call him this weekend, though how shit it will be if we meet next week and I can't shag him (no sex till next Friday, doc said).