Guilty Pleasure



I am about to admit something that I am probably going to regret.  Something that if the next guy I consider spending any significant amount of time with reads I bet it shortens our liaison by a considerable margin.  Something that not many other girls would admit I don’t think.

Looking back at the treatment I have endured and tolerated in the past from ex-boyfriends, lovers and friends with benefits and the way in which I have vowed to girlfriend after family member after friend that I would never tolerate again; experiencing the exact opposite of these things is…a huge turn off.  I’m not saying that I miss the way I was treated by some of them, the alcoholic and the nose breaker are things I would never do again but some of it, the stuff I have really bitched to my friends about I never realised how important it was for the dynamic of a relationship…until now.

Every girl has a back-catalogue of useless wankers that she used to date.  From the emotionally unavailable, selfish, inconsiderate arseholes to the lying, cheating, alcoholic and nose breakers.  Every girl because of these men has a list of traits and deal breakers as long as a piece of string; things that they will never deal with again.  Things that will send up the red flags.  The reasons they just want a nice, reliable, dependable guy.

My confession is the last thing I want is a nice, reliable, dependable guy.

I am aware this may just make me a masochist.

Over the last few months in my newly found state of singledom I have been a magnet for these nice, reliable, dependable men that apparently want to rescue me and treat me like a princess.  And it leaves me cold.  12a and his noncommittal, cold shoulder approach irritates the shit out of me, but I find that dance much more interesting than a few hours spent being told how amazing and beautiful I am with the kind of wide-eyed honesty and depth of truth in their tone of voice that just gives me the herby-jeebies.


I don’t find the implication exciting that if I say the word he is going to transform before my eyes like Optimus Prime from some normal, everyday average Joe to wannabe Prince Charming, I don’t find it appealing in anyway that should I want it, I can have it.  All of it.  The knowledge that there would never be any anxious excitement of not knowing whats coming next, that there would be no mystery, no wondering, no…for want of a better word games.  I don’t like game-playing but I do like a bit of an edge that means I don’t feel like this person has some form of glass roof on their head displaying everything that they are thinking and doing.

Maybe it’s knowing that if I went for this guy he would never hurt me, I would win every fight without raising my voice and I would get my own way without any hesitation.  Every. Single. Time.  I don’t know to some people that might seem like the perfect relationship, but this idea leaves me colder than the chunk of ice that sank the Titanic.

I want the mystery, the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach, that rush you get when you don’t know whether something is going to work out the way you want it to or not.  I don’t want to date in my comfort zone, that’s boring, it’s playing it safe.  And when was the last time you said to someone you have to try that it was so much fun and a rush because of how safe it was?  Up to now I have dated pressed up against the edge of my comfort zone, one foot firmly planted there so it didn’t get too scary.  And the variety of bottom-feeders I have dated heralds that, that didn’t work.  So my choices are date the nice, reliable, dependable guy that turns up when you want the other guy to and says the right thing when you’d rather be grabbed and pinned up against a wall making up properly.  Or get completely out of my comfort zone and date dangerously.

I think it might have to be the latter because I would rather feel that rush than wake up one morning fat, old and bored.

My name is Hell DeJour and after experiencing a glimpse of what I guess I myself and other girls have announced that they want in a guy I hold my hands up and admit I don’t want that at all.

HDJ xxx

The Hypocratic Oaf


I was only going to do one blog today but something occurred to me as I read a text message I received earlier from a member of the Dangly Bits Brigade.  And that is, and it will come as no surprise to anyone who has been in a personal relationship with anyone of the male gender, men are hypocrites.


Ok, ok not all men.  Unbunch your panties male readership I am sure that you, and possibly only you, are the one exception to this rule.

Moving on…

You see as I have talked about in previous blogs men like to believe that they have the eternal defence when it comes to women and relationships, the get out of jail free card of ever being in the wrong because…drum roll please..women are dramatic.

Ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce you to the Drama Kings.


You see I can be honest.  When I have a text a guy who has not responded in a time I have considered appropriate for a response, I would text again some snarky, sarcastic comment which varied in severity based on how pissed off I was in the first place and the contents of the original message.  Apparently acting in this manner means that men think you are needy and pathetic and just being a royal pain in the ass and so they take this to be the best time to step up not replying because they don’t want to deal with the drama.  FYI men of the world, if you simply replied to the first message even if you don’t have time to go into great detail you would spare yourself a world of hurt.  The second message usually calls for some sort of explanation about not replying to the first message and this will head off about 98% of the time the argument and drama (as you see it) from continuing.  It is actually that simple.  Granted there is the 2% of the time but I’m not a relationship counsellor.  The more you ignore the more your ears get sore.  There’s a mantra for you.

So yeah, my point was that I have done this and I admit it. I think every woman has done this.

But what exactly are we women supposed to do when the shoe is not on the other foot, its on a whole other person?  When you get a text from a guy and you’re busy.  You assume because when he doesn’t reply being busy is a good enough reason to be generally discourteous that he won’t get his bollocks in knot about no response.  That he will be calm and completely understand.  So you don’t worry about it and go on with your day.  Because he thinks requiring an instant response is needy, and of course he’s not needy…

And it’s been a few days I forgot about the message and I get another one.  Now I could have broken my plank pose to reply but my arms were shaking so much I felt like Michael J Fox off his meds so I have to admit I was otherwise occupied.  So that’s two messages in 3 days with no response.  Let’s put this into perspective before I continue, I am still awaiting a response to the last message I sent to this guy almost 2 weeks ago.  Am I sweating it? No. Did I find it annoying and a little rude? Yes.  But my lady parts were in no form of irritated state about it.  Fast forward a few hours and lo and behold I get the snarky, sarcastic message…

So if I had a penis I could claim that this was someone polishing his crown and going all Bobby from TOWIE type drama king on me. But I have lady parts and therefore this has to be something different other than a seriously butthurt guy seeing his ass about the fact that this is happening the other way around and he didn’t really expect that…  It just has to be. Men aren’t needy and clingy and don’t panic that the girl they are texting might be trapped under something heavy and unable to respond to his message (that something heavy being some form of ripped rugby player or similar).  Men don’t do that.  Do you boys?

Now we all know that someone’s bollocks are in a knot about the fact that I didn’t come running when he whistled and that when he reached out and put his ego on the chopping block I left the kitchen without even noticing, but I can’t call him on this.  I can’t accuse him of being dramatic because in the act of pointing out this drama that I have been accused of (sometimes rightly) so many times over the years it will be turned around that I am trying to cause drama by highlighting his drama. I have to admit that somewhat boils my bearded clam. How do men do that?  And as great as it would be to point this out, to make it known that he is acting no better than the needy, clingy, searching for validation woman that he has often accused me of being; I’m going to do the one thing men never do when faced with this drama.  I’m going to fucking enjoy it.  Yeah it’s annoying, it’s hypocritical but its also deliciously satisfying at the same time.

Someone forgot when you play with HDJ she plays by her rules.  Not yours.

HDJ xxx

Moving the Goal Posts


So, it’s been a while, I will admit I feel bad about that; but I am back and as HDJ as ever!

I’ve dealt with this phenomenon before, and it’s not new to me at all.  Despite the fact that every time a guy does this in my presence or directly aimed at me, they appear to expect me to react as though I have never danced this dance before.  That I don’t see straight through the thin veil of bullshit that is being dangled in front of me.  That phenomenon? Moving the goal posts.


What do I mean by moving the goal posts? Ok, let me explain…

Now, when a male friend who has announced unashamedly that he wants to stick various parts of his anatomy into various parts of mine; states that he wants to come and visit me for a weekend (with a hotel stay) that there is the potential for something possibly, maybe, perhaps to happen.  That possibly, maybe, perhaps that hotel room might be worth every single penny and that potential hangs in the air for the entirety of the visit creating some much needed sexual tension.  Who’s going to make the move if it’s going to be made?  It makes life a little less…expected.  Now this to me, is fun.  This to me is grabbing life by the balls, not saying no, not going into this with a plan (although my legs will be shaved and the lady garden with be suitably trimmed – that’s just good prep and manners after all).  It’s open, it’s out there, its a field of potentiality and that to me is kind of a turn on.  After all some of the best sex I have ever had has been with people I never planned on sleeping with (albeit my legs were shaved and I was well groomed, you know just in case).

So the visit was talked about, it was booked, it was confirmed.  It was confirmed that the confirmation of the confirmation was confirmed and then strangely look who is shifting a goal post or two.  I’ll give you a hint, it isn’t me.

What I mean by this is the ‘unforeseen’ change in circumstance that calls for only a one night stay, arriving late, leaving early.  I believe someone may have counted his chickens a little too early.  You see it might be out there that sex could be a part of the trip but I never stated the need to bring a jumbo pack of condoms, three different flavoured lubes, an array of sex toys and a crate of energy drinks.  I hinted, I didn’t declare it outright.  Hey, I might be a lady after all.

So now I am left with the choice of making it another weekend or putting to the test the somewhat ostentatious declarations of just how much this friend has missed me and how much a trip across the country to see me for a even a few minutes would be worthwhile.  Part of me says that I have already shaved my legs so why waste smooth skin but the other part of me says why do I, right now in this moment, have to decide if I am going to let someone ride the Helldecoaster or no?.  Why do I have to plan something that would be so much more fun without any planning?  I asked a friend and her response was as awesome as ever ‘because you have the vagina’.  Do I really have the power to decide whether or not this guys dick is being called into active service this weekend?  Apparently I do.

You all know I am not against the idea of meeting up simply for sex and then going separate and ‘no need to even talk about it’ ways afterwards.  You know that I don’t need to be wined and dined to be de-thonged if that’s what I am wanting anyway.  I mean why waste that time, energy and the guys money to make idle conversation so you don’t feel judged for being a slapper by just jumping into bed with someone? I’m not talking about the fact he needs to be here to put some effort in, if I decide I want to sleep with someone it’s a fairly straight forward affair but what I don’t like is the assumption that I had already made up my mind and that he knows his luck is in.  Do I know this guy wants to get bollock deep into HDJ? Yes of course I do. But does that mean I want the same thing? I’ve already said when it’s too easy it’s often not at all appealing and this is rapidly losing that spark that it had managed to muster with the tension, the anticipation and the possibility.  If I wanted to call someone just for the sex without the build up, the flirting and the chemistry I am beyond certain that it wouldn’t be him…sorry friend.

So I bounced that ball right back over to his court and left the decision up to him. I might not get laid this weekend but a few hours of hearing how much of a goddess I am while he tries to get himself some can’t hurt.

HDJ xxx




I never told you all about what happened with McTrainer and my shallow date did I?  Damn I am slipping being all busy and shit.

So as you may have read I cancelled my date with #18.  In the end the potential for a deep connection and someone that I could finally discuss the later events in Game of Thrones with was too much for HDJ to stomach and he was relegated back to the fields of potential dating (anyone else).  He took it well, seeing straight through my ‘I’m sick can we rearrange’ message and never contacted me again.  Everyone understood then, that’s what I like.

McTrainer I admit I was much more excited about, something about him made me very curious (and by me I mean my lady parts).  However, he did what I have encountered a couple of times.  The bait and switch.  He went from masterful male at the top his game, hot, direct, no real substance displayed to lame, tail between legs eunuch.  I don’t doubt that he had man parts in perfect working order but after a text message the morning we were meant to meet I gathered that they were in some other woman’s trophy cabinet. “I’m not in the right headspace to date” – that was him, not me.  I thought we both understood we weren’t dating we were making a hook up for sex something a little more respectable than it needed to be.  Needless to say I wasn’t too upset.  In fact I found myself in bed with someone else (perhaps not my best decision ever) that night and he doesn’t need to know he was a back-up choice.  Although it might reign his ego in if he knew that.

Yes I have been spending time with 12a on and off for a few weeks and it’s been weird.  There’s a lot unsaid, a lot of assuming I don’t have my HDJ hat on but also a lot of reminders of why we got on so well in the beginning. I have no idea where it is going, if anywhere but sometimes you just need someone who knows where everything goes, the way you like something done and even a few surprises along the way.  In terms of the purely physical I couldn’t be happier, well I could as I’m not one of these twice a week types but that’s a logistical issue.

May was an interesting month. I got older (sarcastic yay), I met a guy so blatant in his hitting on me he did it while his girlfriend sat between us and she never said a word.  I was the muse for a wet dream in a guy over the age of 14.  I am still unsure why I needed to know that.  I discovered that all talk and no action gets less exciting as time passes and that despite having #8 on a plate I couldn’t bring myself to do him.  I felt like a bad lady taking advantage of someone that needed some form of sexual chaperone.  A blast from the past crawled out of the woodwork (the subject of today’s earlier blog) and I got to discover that my lack of biological clock is still very much a feature of myself I love and finally that I can not handle 2 bottles of Rose on an empty stomach.

I wonder what June is going to teach me?

HDJ xxx

Easy Cum, Easy Go



So for the first time in a few months I have the chance to do something very, very HDJ.  Or should I rephrase that, I have the chance to do someone and reinstate HDJ after horrific (and somewhat drawn out) break-up with 12a.  The question is not whether I should, there is no doubt in this devious little mind that I should but the question is whether I am contemplating this for the right reasons.  My reasons are:

  1. I am single and can do whatever (or whoever) the fuck I want.
  2. It is without doubt the easiest thing on offer.
  3. I’m a red blooded female with needs; and
  4. Why the fuck not.

I don’t want a relationship, I don’t even want to have to cuddle afterwards.  I don’t want to have this guy follow me around like a puppy or think of me as his potential next long term anything.  I want a wham, bam, thank you ma’am easy cum , easy go situation.  This appears to be on the table but with men (yes I’m generalising again) it never seems to be that easy.  Have you ever noticed how the one you want to call never calls but the one you don’t give a shit about can’t seem to wait to tell you how his last inhale was for him? So I have found when I sleep with a guy I don’t particularly care about that they suddenly become a limpet.  This is something I do not want.

Now the guy in question is a friend of sorts and even though we aren’t close enough that bumping uglies and him thinking this means we are betrothed would cause a huge a gap in my life when I give him the old elbow in the ego parting shot.  But he does come with some friend dabbled there too baggage that although should cause no trouble is a chlorine-free pool, someone might have peed in it before you go swimming and you won’t know until you get in.  I know he doesn’t care, his blatant disregard is a little troubling because I know this means it’s going to get discussed at length later with a guilt filled chat of ‘I’m trying to be a good guy now I got my dick wet’ and I don’t think she would care either but I am wondering whether it’s too easy because, well it’s too easy.

Easy is good when it comes to sudoku but when it comes to sex and men easy is always a little red flag. After all #8 is a pick up, use and disregard repeatedly situation.  If I ever agreed to sleep with that guy I doubt it would last very long or he would get near me before his trouser volcano spluttered a little and erupted in one tiny little glob.  Which as you can imagine is not at all a turn on for me because where’s the work needed? Where’s the challenge and that thrill of not knowing.  I’ve seen so many pictures of that guy’s cock I am starting to think it takes selfies while he is sleeping.  As with LDLDM I don’t know whether doing something just because I can is really a good enough reason.  After all I have got Frank back now. ;)

Shallow Hell


So I figured out something about myself that I would have before now denied strongly. I, it turns out, am shallow.


Now I am not saying that being shallow is a bad thing in any way but before recent events I would have thought I was all about personality and sense of humour and all that bollocks but the truth is I’m a sucker for a pretty face and that doesn’t have to come with a side order of substance either.

In the last week I have been asked on two dates.  One with a guy (#18) that seemed like a really nice guy, lots of common interests and someone that could not only keep up with my banter but bat it right back to me like a baseball pro; and the other a rather hunky personal trainer that cut straight to the chase and asked me out straight out of the starting blocks.  Now let’s just point out that I didn’t get asked on these two dates at the same time.  I had, after much consideration and debate with my none HDJ side, decided to cancel my date with #18 due to the fact that I considered myself ready in theory for a date but not in practice.  That was however until McTrainer asked me on a date.  Then all reservations and doubt about being ready or not went out the window.  Like I said, shallow.

But it made me wonder, was it the idea of getting to know someone again and connecting with someone that turned me off and made me do the ‘I’m sick can we re-arrange’ text message or was this guy just not pretty enough to get HDJ’s pilot lit?  When it comes down to it is physical attraction stronger than anything else?  Does the prospect of getting laid have more appeal than that of getting a real connection and a relationship?

I guess in my case much can be said for getting my lady garden tended, I’m not adverse to someone who has a very talented green set of fingers getting dirty and give me a good seeing to; and they don’t have to be a Mensa candidate to do it.  In fact in my experience I have discovered that intellectuality has nothing to do with sexual prowess and that the best sex I ever had was with someone I went out of my way not to converse with.  I am not sure they would know what converse meant (unless they thought about the shoes…) So the concept of getting a little drunken and amorous with someone that was obviously seeing the blonde, the boobs, the banter and nothing else was more appealing to me than making deep and meaningful conversation with someone who wanted to demonstrate that they knew there was so much more to HDJ than an awesome rack and a non-prudish approach to life.  There is, but I guess at this time my shallow nature just wanted to get the little hooded man in the boat some tongue, finger or whateverthehellwasoffered action.  I didn’t want to have to work for it and feel like I was going to get accused of using him for his body the next morning.

I wanted pretty, I wanted hot, sexy, confidence not an evening spent discussing whether taxonomy within various aspects of society can actually be beneficial and indeed necessary.  Yes, I can do that, I’m clever you know, but I just wanted some hot guy to try getting his hand up my shirt.

Women complain that all men want is sex and maybe in some people’s world’s that is a problem but at this juncture in my dating experience I’m going to take cock over consideration, hot over heartfelt and the more fun form of oral communication of wants and needs.

So what I learned is that perhaps I’m not shallow, perhaps I just don’t want to spend all that time and effort getting to know someone before we have very polite and considerate sex.  Instead I want to bypass all that crap (yes I called forming a relationship with someone crap *shock horror*) and just find myself in a panting, sweaty mess at the foot of someone’s bed not even sure what day of the week it is without having to stay the night or arrange another date to feel as though they got something emotionally from it.

Maybe I’m developing a ‘Y’ chromosome.

Or maybe I’ve decided that because I don’t want to form an emotional connection with someone that my lady parts shouldn’t have to suffer.

HDJ xxx



I am not a prude.

I am not adverse to sex in most forms, although I’m not in any way, shape or form interested in anything scat related.

I would like to think that I am an open minded, easy going kinda gal.

That said, I am not impressed when someone tries to make me their booty call.

I have nothing against booty calls per se. I have no issue with meeting someone simply for sex on a basis agreed beforehand by both parties and I don’t need a commitment and a diamond the size of Cumbria to drop my panties.  But, when someone I don’t really know all that well decides that I’m running HDJ’s Ring-a-Ride I tend to take a little step back from this person to assess them.



So I have a date next week. The first one since 12a and the first first date I have had in almost 4 years. The excitement is…I’m sure I will find some.  There have been the planning stages, the swapping messages and finally it was decided to meet up on Tuesday to see how we get along I guess.  What I didn’t expect was a message at 10:30 last night asking me to drag my shapely ass into town to meet up.

Now, I’m not enthusiastic about meeting for coffee with the potential for it to lead on to dinner and as far as I was concerned I had to dial up the enthusiasm to arrange that in the first place.  I had waited 20 days to go back to confirm our initial plan… So, the idea that I would get my glad rags on and go to join him (already marinaded in Dutch courage) a 30 minute drive away from where I live was not something I was expecting. Nor can I say it was particularly welcomed.

I know that some women would have been dressed, and out the door faster than Usain Bolt. I know some would have been flattered that in the midsts of a drinking session with friends and the array of women shoe-horned into all manner of small Lipsy dresses that he thought of me. I on the other hand only had one thought: ‘this guy doesn’t know me very well does he?’

I am not the type of girl that is going to join you at the tail end of the night to be plied with cheap cocktails and taken home.  I’m not the type of girl that is waiting by the phone for your call and will plan my evenings and weekends around you.  I am not the type of girl you can mould into a booty call because I’m not sure I want to even watch you drink coffee let alone your looming pink sex face bobbing in and out of view.

But it made me wonder, is this really his fault? I mean would he be asking if he knew that women everywhere lived to the same standards I do in terms of not thinking any guy is so exciting I would drop everything I was already doing to go make him happy (with minimum energy input or effort on his part).  If women everywhere said no when a guy attempted to initiate booty call protocol 1.4 wouldn’t word get around that maybe they needed to try harder?

Are men just taking advantage of female self-esteem loophole?

So now I’m left wondering if I should bother with Tuesday at all…

HDJ xxx