PRIVATE Private.com Fucking on a plane
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I live at the very top of the 407 bus route.
It's a longer journey to the office,
but I like the fact that I live at the start,
or even the end of the line.
It gives me a sense of belonging somewhere.
I came to London 102 days ago.
Why London?
There's something filthy about the place,
and anonymous.
I can be whoever I want to be.
There's Hot Coffee Guy.
Hot as in, he wears a shirt open just enough
for me to see his skin is slightly tanned,
and he buys expensive pants to show off his best asset.
The coffee bit relates to,
well, he's never without one at 8am on the 407.
But maybe he reminds me too much of David.
Discovering your fiancé is a cheat is devastating.
Finding out your fiancé has always been a cheat,
and with more women than there are people on this plane,
it's earth shattering.
So I changed the locks, I sold his stuff,
and I bought a ticket to London.
And that was just the start of the new me.
Because the truth is,
David, I sometimes like to imagine telling him the truth.
You wouldn't think it of me, but
I've always been obsessed with sex.
What people do, where they do it, how they do it.
I'd walk down the street imagining people doing it,
every day.
But I never told you because you'd think I was slutty.
You always made out you didn't like that sort of thing.
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