Anne Sexton's diary

There were orgasms aplenty Chez Sexton this year. A couple of boyfriends and a one night stand or two helped to make it possible.
January
Boyfriends: one, arguments: four (poor), orgasms: 10, birthday gifts: 10 (excellent).

Hmmm…. Not an auspicious start to the year, all told. This long-distance relationship business is more difficult than originally anticipated. After not seeing Conor since Christmas, he arrives for my birthday. All going well initially, drinking, dancing, receiving gifts with gracious manner, am belle of the ball etc., until Gareth makes some reference to the fact that he knows me, in a biblical sense. Conor has fit; rages of jealousy. Surely realises am no longer blushing virgin? Anyway, Conor refuses to have sex with me for rest of the weekend. Am annoyed, upset, but mostly horny. Damn, damn, damn!
February
Boyfriends: nil, unsuitable men: three (not bad), orgasms: sparse and mostly self-inflicted.
Conor wants us to move to Australia. Can hardly decide what to do next week so cannot commit to major lifestyle upheaval, despite promise of warm weather and cheap wine. Major blow-up ensues. Return to single life only answer. Decide best to check flirt skills ASAP as may be rusty. Meet Interesting Italian in pub and he invites me to dinner. Excellent start or beginner’s luck? Further investigation deemed necessary. Get chatting to David, who is surely Ross O’Carroll Kelly made hideous flesh. Spends ages telling me how rich he is. Scintillating conversation. Is surprised when I refuse to return to his place for high jinx in the hot tub. Next I meet Mark who tells me that on average men are more intelligent than women. Return to the sanctity of my bed, alone.
March
Boyfriends: nil, dates: five (continuing good work).
Have turned into unstoppable flirt monster frightening men into submission. Then meet Thomas at friend’s place. V. sexy and funny. Decide to ask him out. Am modern, emancipated woman. Thomas charming, polite, amusing and seems too good to be true. Is surely axe murderer, bunny boiler or similar.
April
Boyfriends: (0.5), dates: many (v. good), ex-boyfriends: two, orgasms: 25 (excellent).
Due to some weird planetary alignment, not one but two exes call me within the space of two weeks. Suddenly v. popular with men who have not seen me for years. Finally have sex with Thomas. Is even better than hoped. Don’t get dressed or leave house for whole weekend. Bliss.
May
Boyfriends: one, holidays: one, orgasms: not enough.
Plan of footloose, fancy-free single life of flirting with unsuitable men gone pear-shaped. Cruelly rent from sexual ecstasy to go on holiday with friend Brian. Am welded to mobile phone, which is beginning to piss B off. No sex, and no privacy to jerk off either. Damn, damn, damn. Love Sicily, but desperate – in more ways than one – to get home.
June
Boyfriends: one, orgasms: 30 (things looking up), offers of sex from strangers: two.
Get home to find two messages on my phone from strangers offering to give me a great seeing to. Contact them both to find out where they got my number. Someone has put my name and number with a request for dirty sex on a website. Bit scary actually. Hope my address is not listed as well. But why only two offers?
July
Boyfriends: one, orgasms: many (continuing good work), sticky toffee puddings: 20 (poor).
Crisis! My clothes don’t fit. Put on my fave jeans only to hear sickening wrench as zip pops. Thomas has obviously decided that the way to my heart is though my stomach and has been feeding me desserts between shag sessions. Thought sex was supposed to be good exercise?
August
Boyfriends: one, orgasms: plenty (need the exercise), sticky toffee puddings: 10 (improving), offers of co-habitation: one.
Thomas wants me to move in with him. Had vowed never to live with a lover again, but find myself strangely keen on the idea.
September
Boyfriends: one, holidays: one, orgasms: foreign.
Holiday in New York! Have come over all Carrie Bradshaw drinking cocktails in Manhattan bar wearing sexy new dress and vertiginous heels. Should really be getting out as much as possible, but Thomas and I keep heading back to hotel for more nookie.
October
Boyfriends: one, orgasms: three million (approx), lost weekends: one.
Thomas takes me to Cork for weekend. The heavens piss down and show no sign of stopping over next four8 hours. Excellent. Lovely rain! Now do not feel guilty for spending entire weekend in room, having sex and ordering room service instead of exploring European City of Culture.
November
Boyfriends: one (although AWOL), orgasms: 10 (triumphant return of the Rampant Rabbit), weather: freezing
Baby it’s cold outside… Just when I could use a nice, warm body to keep me toasty at night, Thomas has been sent away on business trip. Upon his return he ask me the one question that all women long to hear at some point in their lives: “Have you lost weight?” He’s a broken man, jet lagged and tired – but I insist on shagging him right there and then!
December
Boyfriends: one, trees: one, orgasms: 60 (hopefully), presents: many (hopefully), Santa suits: one.
Thomas appears to have a bit of a fixation with sexy Santa suits. Have promised to get one before Christmas. Several days off, with nothing more strenuous to do than eat, drink and have sex. What more could any reasonable woman want for Christmas? Well, perhaps something small from Agent Provocateur… All in all, a very good year!