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I hooked up yesterday with a large, muscled bear of a man. We had flirted online for a couple of weeks beforehand, and when he turned up at my door, we could barely keep our hands off one another. We made love for hours, I lay back against the downing comfort of the bed and surrendered to his marvellous touch; delightfully gentle for such a big man.

We had a conversation which we could connect with too in the hazy aftermath, which was nice, but it was mainly his body that I connected with.

As subtle as I thought I was being about it, my new housemate and old university friend Chris helpfully yelled: “When you’re done, there’s donuts in the kitchen” through my open window.

The lusty fun that I’ve enjoyed with men lately has, although it’s certainly been fun, has only reminded me of his much I miss Charlie. None of them really compare to him; none make me feel and relaxed and enhance me as much as he does.

He truly is the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.

I do not know how we are supposed to make a future for ourselves, I can only hope and pray that the universe has some plan to unfold which winds up with us being together.

But until then there are more immediate issues to attend to. Like the work situation.

I had an interview at a different big agency yesterday, a second and final round.

I can only wish that it was as positive as the first level.

I was interviewing with the Chief Exec at this level, and presenting a plan for a fictional PR launch. This woman evidently viewed herself as some sort of Grand Dame of the PR world, yet she struck me as the kind of person who brought herself up by pulling other people down, rather for any great talent of her own.

She highlighted the job hopping that I’ve done in my 20’s, using some rather unkind wording to describe it.

As I left I walked through Green Park and wanted to cry. It was all the things that I’d worried about myself, wondering if I’d sometimes left jobs too soon and how I could have been stronger with some of the challenges I’d faced.

I’m not sure what to do. What if people don’t even want to interview because they see me as being flighty rather than multi-faceted? My variety of roles in my 20’s, some of them contract and freelance positions, has given me a broad scope of the industry and yet, to some aging PR bitch, I’m just a liability.

I remind myself that the previous contract role, which I recently completed, was at one of the world’s premier agencies. That they didn’t even care about what the pattern of my past work history looked like. They only cared what I was able to do and how I would handle the workload.

It made me question about how I’ve moved around in my 20’s and what the decisions have really have been. Have I made huge mistakes? In my rush to find the right thing, have I made the wrong decision by not slowing down and doing things right?

Have I learned my lesson about attitude and how to do the day to day work far too late? I think I’m only just realising how messed up I’ve been in my 20’s, trying to banish the demons that built up since my childhood and moving around the different jobs trying to find where I’m supposed to be.

I was strong and didn’t stand for the crap of managers because I wanted to feel connected and enjoy what I was doing. Should I have been strong and just endured some of it? Why did I find some parts of it so damn hard? Why was it the everyday parts which were so hard?

And have I now messed up so badly that I’ve ruined my chances at getting into certain places? I can’t help but feel a sense of dread that I’ve made some terrible mistakes over the past few years. That as strong as I’ve had to be, I should have been stronger. I should have been more of a grown-up. I should have just endured certain things for the sake of my career and my CV.

Or is life too short? Or is being miserable just part and parcel of the modern ability to work hard?

I felt a little better today when I ran into a colleague from the big agency I loved being at the gym, and they said how there may be opportunities there coming up soon; that she’d drop my name into the conversation. I met with my friend Marc and he is interested in having me do some freelance work for his company.

Is starting my own business the way to go and build up my own success?

In terms of full-time work, my mind doesn’t know which way to go. It didn’t and it still doesn’t. I may make love and cover my insecurities with sex, but I don’t know if I’m about to enter a wonderful new chapter, or if I’ve been getting it so wrong over the past few years, and am about to realise just how stupid I’ve been.

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